#wc: 25k+

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STUPID CUPID! ─── JAEHYUN ONESHOT ✶

𓊆 🪽 𓊇 CUPID’S HANDBOOK ✶ Nothing could've prepared Jaehyun for the moment you, his ex, walked through the doors of his matchmaking business, hoping to find someone new. As a Cupid undercover, he sees this as his chance to finally move on by setting you up with someone "better." Determined to prove he's over you, Jaehyun throws himself into the task—only for a small mishap with his powers to send everything spiraling out of control.

OR IN WHICH Instead of helping you find love, Jaehyun accidentally amplifies his own buried feelings—the very ones he swore he’d left behind. As he's desperately hoping his magic wears off before you notice, Jaehyun can’t help but worry that you’ll think he’s sabotaging your chances at love simply because he can’t let you go just yet.

MATCHMAKER & HIS CLIENT × cupid ! jaehyun x f ! reader

🗒️ › THE GUIDELINES ⟡ cupid au, exes2lovers, second chance, pining, slowburn(ish), fluff, angst ( ? ), crack

PRECAUTIONS ノ jaehyun absolutely being a nervous but almost lovesick mess 👍, playful bickering, a bit of jealousy?, teasing (#you’llfindthemainculprits), some denial and i believe that’s really it! ( FEAT. all of boynextdoor as CUPIDS! )

WORD COUNT ────── 25.9K+ ( 25907 WORDS ) !

𓊆 🗯️ 𓊇 CUPID’S RULES ✶ happy (late) valentines to you all ♡ !! this WAS supposed to be released on vday, but i lost track of time and was busy playing cupid for my friend so �� (rhin can confirm) special thank yous to alya, rhin, and lili !! alya & rhin my main people that i gave them sm updates (i know they were tired of me always saying my new wcs for this…) and lili being an amazing motivator for this as i was trying (more like stressing) to get this out as soon as possible… SO this fic definitely holds a special place in my heart & i hope you guys enjoy this as much as i did :] !! again, happy month of love ♡

🏹 ────── PLAYLIST LINKED IN ‘STUPID CUPID!’

RULE #1: Remember and Follow the Cupid Handbooks

Being a Cupid comes with its perks—the ability to make people fall within seconds—but it also carries a weird curse: struggling to find love for yourself. It’s ironic, really. How could one in charge of creating love stories be so helpless when it comes to their own? 

So, if there’s one rule every Cupid should know, it’s to avoid getting tangled up in love themselves. 

Jaehyun knew that better than anyone. He didn’t spend countless nights studying Cupid Handbooks just to break the most clear but unspoken rule in the book. But, when constantly exposed to love—causing romantic connections and having soulmates find each other—could he really be blamed for wondering what it might feel like to fall too? 

Jaehyun hated the idea of him doing something so forbidden—he knew his limits, had always known them, and he has never been so set on keeping himself within them. But the more time he spent practicing his spells and shooting his heart arrows, the more he felt himself daydreaming. Even during his shifts, he kept catching himself drifting off to the thoughts of what he wanted in a relationship. 

His imagination that led to his hopeless scenarios had him wanting love. Not just any kind of love, though. 

Jaehyun wanted to find love the natural way. No use of his magic. No arrows. No shortcuts. It was interesting, given the fact his abilities could naturally make the person he wanted to fall for him. But with the amount of time he spent in this field, all he wants is to be able to feel things everyone else would’ve if no one interfered with their love life. 

He wanted something genuine. 

He wanted to experience all the little things—interlocking fingers and swinging arms during a late-night walk—and plan romantic gestures and dates that would leave someone speechless. He wanted to laugh until his cheeks hurt because of the joy someone else brought into his life—someone that he could call his partner. 

It was so human, really so simple. Yet for someone like him, it was out of bounds and strictly off-limits. His magic was meant for others, not himself. Still, the thought lingered, nestled deep within him.

Even though it seemed forbidden, Jaehyun couldn’t stop himself from wondering: wouldn’t it be worth it, just once, to know what it felt like? It could be a good experience, he told himself, a lesson in understanding what he had been helping others achieve for so long.

And against all odds—or perhaps because of them—his fantasies became his reality. For the first time, Jaehyun found himself in a relationship. His first one ever. Everything he had imagined, all the sweet little moments he dreamed of, unfolded before him. Late-night walks, planned romantic dates, and laughter that left his cheeks sore were everything he’d wished for.

It was perfect. Almost too perfect, as if the universe was teasing him with a fleeting glimpse of something he could never fully keep.

If only he had known how it would all end. If only someone had stepped in to shatter his hopeless fantasies before they took place. Maybe then he wouldn’t have fallen so hard.

Maybe then he wouldn’t have become the hopeless mess he is now.

It wasn’t that he regretted the relationship—not entirely. The memories were precious, the kind he would carry with him forever. But who could have guessed how much a first love could change a person? That those bubbly feelings he felt would be so short-lived and immediately replaced with nothing but guilt? 

Unless, of course, Jaehyun was just a hopeless romantic, unable to let go of his first love. Maybe that was his problem all along—he clung to the memory of it, replaying every moment like a song he couldn’t stop humming. Or maybe it was simply a part of the consequences of not following the Cupid’s rule—avoid getting tangled up in love. 

It’s as if once a Cupid gets out of love, that emptiness will forever stick, and yet there would be no attempt to fill it up again. Instead, it simply lingers over like a shadow that would never disappear. 

Even with his so-called tragic attempt at love, Jaehyun refuses to let it interfere with his performance as a Cupid. If anything, he tries to hide it, and it only fuels his dedication to helping others find what he couldn’t. It helped him so much to the point that he even opened his own matchmaking business in the human world—a thriving one at that. 

For Jaehyun, it’s much easier to act like the one who steps into someone’s life at just the “right” moment, soon setting them up with their perfect match disguised as a human. With him constantly surrounded by success and purpose, he was able to effortlessly complete his tasks at a quick pace and climb up the ranks. His undercover Cupid life was truly working in his favor. 

For once, it seems like everything was finally working for Jaehyun. 

And that was all he ever wanted. 

RULE #2: Help anyone — everyone deserves love. 

It was a typical day for Jaehyun if he was holed up in his office, scrolling through the reviews on his website. A satisfied grin tugged at his lips as he skimmed through the comments praising his flawless love advice and unmatched ability to set up the perfect soulmate-worthy dates. 

“Jaehyun!” Woonhak’s voice burst through the quiet room, startling Jaehyun to jolt upright, abandoning the relaxed posture he’d settled into moments before. “You’ve got new clients!” 

The door swung open, and in walked Woonhak, his assistant, with a stack of papers that balanced in his arms. He remained completely oblivious to the sharp glare Jaehyun shot his way, too caught up in his excitement—or perhaps too used to his expressions to care. 

“It would be better if you just entered the room without yelling like that,” Jaehyun muttered, watching as Woonhak approached his desk and plopped down the heavy stack of papers.

“You just get scared too easily,” Woonhak teased, dragging out the last word as if to further test Jaehyun’s patience. Despite the playful jab, his grin never faltered. He nudged the papers closer, clearly expecting Jaehyun to skim through them quickly so he could set up the appointments and get back to whatever mischief he had planned for the day.

Jaehyun chose to ignore his teasing, snatching up the papers and flipping through the stack as fast as he possibly could. Meanwhile, Woonhak let out a low whistle, tapping his fingers on his thighs as his eyes wandered around the room to fulfill his few minutes of boredom. 

With Jaehyun looking back at Woonhak every so often, his attention soon landed on the white wings peeking out from Woonhak’s back. 

“And hide those winds before someone walks in here and thinks you’re an odd person.” He pointed in their direction, giving it a small look. 

Woonhak immediately twisted his body, trying to get a glimpse of the wings, only to end up spinning in an awkward loop. Jaehyun let out a chuckle at the ridiculous sight, shaking his head before returning to the customer requests sprawled out in front of him.

“I had to help Taesan with his mission. Cut me some slack,” Woonhak huffed, hurriedly tucking his wings out of sight—even though it was just him and Jaehyun in the room.

“Besides,” he added, straightening up and crossing his arms, “I’d be diligent enough not to get caught looking like this in front of a human.”

Jaehyun raised his eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Uh-huh. Like you never had something like this happen on numerous occasions.” 

Woonhak opened his mouth to argue but quickly shut it, his lips pressing into a thin line as he suddenly remembered a few of the times that almost led him to exposing his true identity. 

“Just focus on looking through these so I can go back to work before someone calls for me again,” Woonhak grumbled under his breath, leaving Jaehyun unbothered to even hide the small smirk he had. 

“Yeah, yeah—” Jaehyun started, his words trailing off the moment his eyes landed on a familiar name.

L/N Y/N.

For a moment, the room felt smaller, and the papers in his hands suddenly heavier. He stared at your name, unable to move past it, as if seeing it in print made it all too real.

He almost felt as if he was being physically dragged down, feeling the weight of such a familiar yet unfamiliar name crush him. 

His heart felt like it was sinking. 

Snapping out of it, Jaehyun quickly slid the paper out of the stack, slipping it aside like it didn’t exist. But before he could fully hide it, Woonhak’s sharp eyes caught his movement.

Woonhak slid the paper back in front of Jaehyun, his eyes narrowing in confusion at Jaehyun’s sudden action. 

“What?”

“Uh, I don’t think I can take this applicant,” Jaehyun replied a little too quickly, pushing the paper aside once more. 

“What’s wrong with this one?” he pressed, sliding the paper back yet again and this time keeping his hands firmly placed on it. Woonhak couldn’t seem to let it go that easily. He leaned in, squinting as he tried to make the words on the page from his view. “See something that goes against our policies?” 

“It’s not that—” Jaehyun paused, the sudden thought of him technically being the one that went against Cupid’s "policies.”

Avoid getting tangled up in love. 

The same phrase that haunted him echoed in his head, almost threatening to bring him back to the phase where he felt everything was going wrong. But he quickly shook it off—he had to. Now wasn’t the time for him to dwell on his past actions. He needed an excuse—any excuse. 

His eyes darted to the description you’d provided at the bottom of the application, scanning the words as fast as he could.

“They just seem... bland?” he blurted out, scrambling for an explanation. “Like they don’t actually want our services. Feels like a waste of time, honestly.”

Woonhak tilted his head before flipping the paper around, finally taking the time to read it properly. He hummed softly, nodding as if he agreed, and Jaehyun let out the smallest sigh of relief—until Woonhak abruptly stopped.

His expression shifted, brows furrowing deeply as his eyes darted back and forth between the paper and Jaehyun. 

“Since when did you, out of all Cupids, opt out of helping a client find love?”

“I mean…you saw the paper yourself!” Jaehyun stammered, trying to say anything to seem valid with his reasoning. He could feel the heat rising to his face, and no matter how hard he tried to keep calm, his words kept fumbling. This was spiraling fast—faster than he wanted it to. Instead of seeming like the confident, professional Cupid he prided himself on being, Jaehyun felt like a deer caught in headlights.

“The Jaehyun I know wouldn’t turn anyone away,” he stated clearly, folding his arms. “So, you? The Cupid who preaches about ‘love being for everyone,’ rejecting a client because they seem odd with their reasoning?”

Jaehyun didn’t know what to say—matter of fact, he didn’t want to say it. He had no comeback—no witty excuse to hide behind. Honestly, how could he possibly explain the truth? That he didn’t follow the very rules designed to keep Cupids professional? 

How was he supposed to bring up the fact that he had a deeper connection to you than other humans? 

That it was what he’s been wanting to avoid even remembering for the longest time? 

Jaehyun’s stomach churned, the thought looming over him greater than before. With falling in love as a Cupid seems to go against their morals, Jaehyun would absolutely forbid himself from telling someone he had gone against it. 

No one could know. Not even Woonhak, one of the very few he trusted the most. 

Nothing could deter Jaehyun from believing that this guilt should be only carried by himself. Otherwise, who knows what could happen to him if the word got out that he did something “bad”? 

Because if they found out? Suspension would be the least of his problems. He could be stripped of his powers, exiled from this world, or worse—losing his powers as a Cupid. 

Regardless of what punishments there could be out there, Jaehyun was not planning on getting into any of them. 

Jaehyun clenched his jaw, forcing himself to hold Woonhak’s gaze. “Can I just say...the vibes are... off?” Jaehyun managed to murmur, putting on a hopefully convincing look. However, Jaehyun even thought he wouldn’t be convinced by his own excuse with Woonhak towering over him, trying to analyze his true intentions. 

“Is there something you don’t want to tell me?” his voice was still laced with suspicion; however it was softer than it was before. 

Jaehyun felt the weight of Woonhak’s stare, and for a split second, he debated keeping the truth buried. But the tension in the room was suffocating, and if he didn’t give Woonhak something—anything—it might only make things worse.

It could at least make him feel a bit better in this situation. 

“Okay…well,” Jaehyun began, his voice wavering as he struggled to find the right words. “It’s someone I used to know. Someone I—” He paused, catching himself before saying too much. “—someone I haven’t spoken to in a while. I just... I don’t want to mess things up for them.”

Woonhak tilted his head, his brows furrowing slightly, but he nodded as if to show he understood. “So it’s personal?”

“Kind of,” Jaehyun admitted, his gaze shifting down to the paper that now felt like it was burning a hole in his desk. “I just think it’d be better if someone else handled it.”

“Alright,” Woonhak finally said, stepping back slightly. Hearing that, Jaehyun could’ve sworn he let out a huge exhale of air he didn’t even realize he’d been holding.

Relief flooded through him, but it was short-lived. Woonhak reached out, gathering the stack of papers—including yours—and Jaehyun’s eyes lingered on them longer than he meant to.

That’s when it hit him.

You applied. You. To find someone new?

Before he could fully process it, Woonhak’s footsteps snapped him out of his spiral. He abruptly turned back before reaching the door, making Jaehyun’s shoulders tense up all over again.

“But if no one takes this application,” Woonhak said with a grin, “you’re going to have to handle it no matter what.”

Jaehyun’s eyes widened. “Wait, what?”

“She applied for you to help her, didn’t she?” Woonhak grinned, clearly enjoying the panic written all over Jaehyun’s face. “Cupid rules!” 

And before Jaehyun could even form a response, Woonhak was gone, shutting the door behind him within an instant. 

Jaehyun slumped back in his chair, running a hand through his hair as the words echoed in his head.

She applied for you to help her. 

For the first time ever, Jaehyun had never felt a stronger urge to break Cupid’s rules.

Just for his own sake. 

RULE #3: Focus on the Present, Not the Past

It didn’t take long for Jaehyun to realize that Woonhak had only been joking and that no such rule actually existed. Honestly? He was relieved—especially after mustering up the courage to ask Riwoo a series of awkward and borderline ridiculous questions. Poor Riwoo had been forced to sit through Jaehyun’s rambling without even understanding why he was so worked up.

According to Riwoo, applications were simply sent and put on hold until someone willingly picked up the task. It didn’t have to be Jaehyun—thankfully. That small piece of information lifted a massive weight off his shoulders, allowing him to breathe easier for the first time since he’d seen your name on the paper.

And while the thought of leaving your application in someone else’s hands felt oddly conflicting, Jaehyun convinced himself it was for the best. You’d be taken care of soon, and he wouldn’t have to risk getting involved in your life again.

As cold as it might sound, Jaehyun knew his intentions were good. He wasn’t trying to be cruel—if anything, he was trying to protect you from not seeing him again, as maybe the sight of him could possibly hurt you too. 

That reassurance brought him an unexpected sense of peace, enough to push him back into focus. With his worries temporarily set aside, Jaehyun found himself performing better than he had in weeks, even earning a few more praises here and there.

It was more than enough for Jaehyun to be set right back on track. 

“Send the next client in,” Jaehyun spoke into the earpiece, his tone steady as he leaned back in his chair. He reached for a pen, idly tapping it against the surface of his desk while he waited.

“I’m on it,” Woonhak’s voice crackled through the line, followed by faint shuffling noises. Jaehyun could just barely make out Woonhak murmuring something to the next person in line, probably offering some last-minute reassurance before directing them inside.

Jaehyun straightened up as he heard the door creak open, forcing himself into professional mode. He plastered on a welcoming smile, just like he had practiced, ready to offer all the help he could give. 

“Welcome to—” he looked up, the grip on his pen faltering, nearly causing it to slip from his fingers. His lips slightly parted before continuing, “KOZ of Cupid.”

Out of all clients he could’ve seen today, why did it have to be you?

At first, you didn’t want to sign up for something like this. You preferred the more “natural” way of falling in love—the kind of story that felt straight out of a romance movie. Meeting someone in a cozy café, locking eyes with a stranger in a crowd, or stumbling upon someone at the wrong place but at the perfect time. That’s the kind of love you always dreamed about.

Although those kinds of wishes didn’t take you far within your love life. Those fleeting moments never seemed to lead to something more than casual, leaving you in a series of what-ifs and missed connections. So, here you were, making the decision you once swore you’d never make. 

But what you didn’t expect was seeing this. 

You froze the moment you stepped inside the office, your eyes locking with his as the realization sank in. Out of all the people who could’ve been behind this desk—out of all the Matchmakers people raved about—it just had to be him.

Your ex.

Well, maybe if you knew who he actually was prior to this, you would’ve probably avoided getting into this situation. 

Your body stiffened, your hand gripping the strap of your bag as if holding onto it could somehow ground you. He looked just as surprised as you, if not mortified. 

“Cupid MJ…?” you finally asked, your voice laced with disbelief as you eyed the nameplate on his desk. “That’s you?”

Jaehyun swallowed hard, his hand instinctively reaching up to rub the back of his neck. Despite having gone by the alias for what felt like an eternity, hearing it come out of your mouth suddenly made it sound ridiculous.

“Yeah…” he muttered, his voice softer than usual. “That’s me.”

“I see...” you trailed off awkwardly, already hating the steps you took to be caught in this kind of predicament. 

“Well, take a seat, won’t you?” Jaehyun finally broke the silence, gesturing toward the chair he’d carefully positioned in front of his desk. You nodded stiffly, your legs carrying you forward as if on autopilot, each step feeling heavier than the last.

You weren’t sure what shocked you more—seeing Jaehyun again after all this time or realizing he was now running a matchmaking business, posing as some kind of modern-day Cupid...now in charge of your love life. 

The only difference is that he's no longer a part of it—not in that kind of way. 

“It’s been a long…time since we last saw each other,” you managed to say as you took a seat. Your eyes fell into your lap, unable to meet his gaze face-to-face after all this time. It felt unnatural given how you two were practically strangers who used to be lovers, now meeting up together in the same room. “I didn’t know you were doing this kind of thing now.” 

Jaehyun wasn’t surprised by your reaction. He had expected this to throw you off—how could it not? After all, back then, he’d practically put his cupid duties on pause to be with you. He left it all in Riwoo’s hands just so he could experience what love felt like firsthand.

And for a while, it was perfect.

But now? Now, he was just a matchmaker, and you were just another client sitting across from his desk, needing his help. You two were not on boyfriend-girlfriend terms anymore, so Jaehyun had no choice but to snap out of it. 

“It has been,” he finally replied, forcing a polite smile despite the tightening in his chest. “I never would’ve expected to see you again—especially not here. And definitely not in this... field of love.”

You let out a small, nervous laugh, nodding your head. “Yeah, well…change of plans, I guess.”

Jaehyun also nodded, but his mind was already spiraling. Change of plans? To make things fair, he hasn’t seen you in a while—it’s been a good year or two of him avoiding crossing paths with you. 

“Getting back on topic, I assume you’ve already gone through our website?” Jaehyun asked, his tone shifting to something more professional as he turned his attention to the computer beside him. His fingers moved quickly over the keyboard, typing your name into the database.

“Well… could there be anything I missed besides setting up this appointment with you?” you asked, hoping your rushed application hadn’t left out anything important.

“It actually looks like you didn’t fill out the section about what you’re looking for in a future partner.” Jaehyun frowned slightly, refreshing the page a couple of times as if expecting the missing information to magically appear. “Huh. That’s odd…”

“There was a form for that?” you asked, genuine confusion lacing your voice.

Jaehyun hummed in response, his eyes still fixed on the screen. “Yeah. It’s part of the application process. You must’ve skipped over it.”

You sat back in your chair, trying to piece together the memory of filling out the form. “I probably did. I was kind of in a rush when I submitted it,” you admitted, already cringing at how careless you’d been. It was supposed to be something quick—just something to get your friends off your back about your ‘tragic’ love life. 

“Well, don’t worry about it.” Jaehyun reached for the drawer beside him, pulling out a clipboard and sliding a clean sheet of paper into the clip. “I have a physical copy you can fill out instead.”

He handed it to you along with a pen, prompting you to take it without hesitation. Your eyes quickly scanned the questions on the form, and almost immediately, you felt like you were being put on the spot. The questions were more personal than you expected—asking about values, expectations, and even deal-breakers—but you pushed through, determined to finish it as quickly as possible.

The silence in the room only made the process feel longer. You could feel Jaehyun’s occasional glances, though he tried to keep himself preoccupied with the computer screen in front of him. It was as if he was pretending not to notice how much effort you were putting into answering the questions—questions he already knew the answers to, at least back then.

After what felt like an eternity, you were able to finish the last question, settling the clipboard down with a soft thud. 

“All done?” 

“Yeah,” you replied, sliding the clipboard back across his desk. “Sorry, that took so long. Some of the questions were…very detailed.” 

Jaehyun let out a small laugh, picking up the clipboard and flipping through the pages to make sure you didn’t skip over anything accidentally. “It’s supposed to be thorough. The more detailed your responses are, the better we can find the match for you.”

You nodded, though the idea of him—or anyone—reading through your answers felt a bit humiliating. Even if you regretted it, there was really no coming back from this now. But Jaehyun’s silence couldn’t help but worry you, making your stomach churn. 

“Okay, it looks like you filled out everything,” he said, placing the clipboard down in front of him. “We should be able to get you set up with a match that fits what you’re looking for.” 

You didn’t have an answer, so you simply nodded, forcing a small, polite smile even as the tension in the room lingered.

“That’s all for today’s session,” Jaehyun said, leaning back slightly as if to signal the end of your meeting.

“Really? That’s it?” you asked in surprise. 

“Considering how you forgot to fill that part, I can’t do much more than make you wait until our next session to find you a match,” he replied. “I’ll have Cupid KW set up the next appointment for you when I’m all settled.” 

“Oh right…” Your voice barely rose above a murmur as you stood up, sliding the chair back under the desk carefully before you left. You hesitated at the door, your hand hovering over the handle before instinctively turning back to him.

“Thank you, Jaehyun—” You froze, quickly correcting yourself. “I mean, Cupid MJ.” The slip-up made you cringe internally—you certainly weren’t on the terms to be addressing him like that. You didn’t choose to stick around long enough to explain or even see his reaction. Instead, you hurriedly added, “Have a nice day,” before stepping out and pulling the door closed behind you.

Jaehyun barely managed a “You too,” but his voice was low, almost drowned out by the soft click of the door shutting. Letting out a quiet sigh, Jaehyun shifted his focus back to the clipboard you left behind, flipping through the pages filled with your handwriting.

Jaehyun? It was nice to hear that name from you again. But he hated how much he missed hearing it. 

It had been so long, and yet it still sounded so familiar—so warm, as if it provided a sense of comfort to him. It was as if he was transported back to the past, the time where he had known everything about you. 

He scanned through your answers carefully, noting every detail you had written down. As he continued to flip through the pages, he wore a faint, bitter smile, noticing how clear everything was. 

It was silly to think about reconnecting, wasn’t it? Silly to even let himself reminisce about what everything once was.

Everything you seem to want now—the qualities and expectations—no longer reflects who Jaehyun was. But what should he expect? That you would still want someone like him? 

He was only someone you had once wanted. 

Now, he’s just a stranger with a familiar name. 

RULE #4: Act Fast; a Client is Top Priority

“Where’s Woonhak?” Jaehyun suddenly asked, his eyes narrowing as Leehan walked in carrying a stack of papers instead of the usual face he expected to see every day.

“He told me Sungho called for him for the day,” Leehan replied, setting the papers down on Jaehyun’s desk with the same precision Woonhak typically would. “So, I took over his spot.”

Jaehyun barely held back a groan. Of course, Woonhak wouldn’t be here today. If he was, Jaehyun would’ve made sure he didn’t leave this office without a long lecture—or a few cuts and bruises, if Jaehyun felt like being dramatic. Technically, this entire mess was Woonhak’s fault—for lying and, even worse, allowing you in on the day Jaehyun could’ve least expected it.

It would’ve been easier if Jaehyun had some kind of warning. Just a heads-up that you’d be walking through those doors.

“So, these are the correct ones, right?” Jaehyun asked, forcing himself to focus as he looked through the papers.

“Yes, Woonhak taught me,” Leehan confirmed, glancing at him like he could already tell where Jaehyun’s mind was drifting. “And don’t worry. I’m only unlucky when it comes to using my powers, not simple tasks like these.”

Jaehyun let out a sharp exhale, giving Leehan a pointed look. “Let’s hope so.”

“You seem to have a lot on your mind,” Leehan said, tilting his head slightly as he studied Jaehyun’s expression.

“Me?” Jaehyun scoffed, feigning indifference as he leaned back in his chair. “I’m fine.”

“Sure,” Leehan replied, clearly unconvinced. “That’s why you’ve been staring at the same paper for the last five minutes.”

Jaehyun blinked, glancing down at the form in his hand. He hadn’t even realized he hadn’t turned the page.

“It’s nothing,” Jaehyun muttered, flipping the sheet over as if that would somehow prove his point.

Leehan didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t press further either. Instead, he slid another set of files across the desk.

“Well, whatever it is, try not to let it mess up your matchmaking,” Leehan said with a shrug. “Clients tend to notice when you’re distracted.”

Jaehyun let out a small, humorless laugh. “Funny to hear that from you, Leehan.”

“A few mishaps doesn’t mean I can’t read you clearly,” Leehan hummed, pausing briefly at the door. “You’re bad at hiding it.”

Jaehyun opened his mouth to retort, but Leehan was already gone, leaving him alone with nothing but the faint echo of his words.

His gaze soon shifted to the glowing computer screen, displaying one of your most compatible matches. The person seemed to perfectly align with the preferences you listed—which is a good thing—yet Jaehyun’s chest seemed to tighten the longer he stared at it. 

Jaehyun loves his job, and yet he can’t help but wonder how his situation became like this. 

It’s just funny how he has to be the one to set you up with someone else. 

“You found me a match already?” you exclaimed, your eyes widening as Jaehyun quietly sipped his hot chocolate. He gave a small nod, barely looking up from the swirling steam rising from his cup.

“Yeah, it was easy to find some candidates,” he replied, his voice steady but his expression unreadable. He was bundled up in layers, his scarf wrapped snugly around his neck, yet he still seemed cold despite having been in the café for over ten minutes.

“Are you sure these are good ones?” you asked, trying not to sound doubtful but failing miserably. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Jaehyun’s judgment—you did—but the process felt almost too fast. Weren’t matches supposed to take time? Shouldn’t there be more thought put into something like this?

“I don’t have good reviews under my website for no reason,” Jaehyun said with a small, proud smile as he set down his cup. He seemed confident, which seemed to reassure you. 

You pressed your lips together, unsure how to respond. Maybe you were overthinking this, or maybe it was just nerves. But a tiny part of you couldn’t help but wonder if Jaehyun was rushing this—if he was just trying to get it over with.

Would this—you—even matter to him? 

“Right,” you still managed to say while your thoughts spiraled, forcing a smile as you leaned back in your chair. “I guess I’ll just have to trust the expert, huh?”

“Speaking of me being an expert, your match should be appearing soon,” Jaehyun said casually, his words suddenly shifting the calm mood into something else. 

You blinked, caught completely off guard. “Wait—what?”

Before you could even process what he meant, Jaehyun stood up, eyes glued to his phone, as if this were the most natural thing in the world. “His name is Heeseung, by the way.”

“Heeseung?” you repeated, panic rising in your voice. “Jaehyun, wait!”

But he didn’t wait. He didn’t even turn back. 

It felt almost too familiar. 

Instead, he gave you a quick, dismissive wave before disappearing toward the café door.

You sat frozen in your chair, your heart pounding so hard you could feel it in your ears. 

A match. An actual, real match. And he was about to walk in any second now.

You glanced around nervously, suddenly hyperaware of every person in the café. You stared at everyone that walked in your direction, seemingly holding onto your breath. 

You didn’t even know who this guy looked like—this was practically a blind date. 

Your hands clenched around your cup. What were you even supposed to say?

You hadn’t been on a date in so long, and the fact that this one was unplanned made it feel so much worse. 

“Y/N, is it?”

The voice pulled you out of your spiraling thoughts. You looked up, meeting the gaze of the man standing in front of you.

It was Heeseung.

With you exchanging awkward greetings with Heeseung, it was obvious you weren’t the only one feeling nervous. His stiff smile and the way he shifted in his seat mirrored your own unease, but at least the tension was mutual.

Meanwhile, Jaehyun remained outside the café, positioned just far enough to avoid suspicion but close enough to keep an eye on the two of you. From his view, things seemed to be going well—or at least not terribly wrong.

Setting down the hot chocolate cup he had brought with him, it was time. Now came the moment Jaehyun had been waiting for. This was where his real work began—the part that set his matchmaking business apart from the rest.

Looking around to make sure the coast was clear, Jaehyun swiftly turned himself invisible, the faint shimmer of his form disappearing as he reached into his bag. Humming softly, his fingers brushed against each arrow, carefully inspecting for any marks or scratches. He settled for one of the newer arrows—the ones Woonhak brought in weeks ago. 

As his selected arrow radiated a faint glow of enchantment, Jaehyun was satisfied with his choice. He drew in a steady breath, positioning himself not too far from you two. Raising the bow, he aligned it to his target, Heeseung, who was sitting across from you. 

Adjusting his stance, Jaehyun closed one eye, lining up the perfect shot. The goal was simple—strike Heeseung’s heart and make him lovestruck. It was Cupid’s mission, after all.

With his grip steady, Jaehyun murmured a small incantation under his breath, the magic swirling gently around the arrow. This was the moment where everything would change—Heeseung would feel unexpectedly bubbly inside as his romantic feelings intensified. 

All he had to do was shoot. 

Just as Jaehyun was about to release the bowstring, a sudden, chaotic noise erupted behind him—a crash of metal and hurried footsteps disturbed him. Jaehyun flinched, his head immediately snapping toward the source of the sounds. In that split second, his grip faltered, the arrow slipping from his grasp. 

Before he could even react, the faint hum of magic pulsed through, a streak of shimmering pink light quickly disappearing into thin air. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered under his breath, a stream of barely audible curses following as he frantically looked around his surroundings for the arrow and the disturbance. Oddly enough, whatever—or whoever—caused the noise was nowhere within his sight, leaving him in silence. 

But there was no time for him to investigate. He had to shift his focus back to you and Heeseung, ignoring the strange feeling in his chest—possibly from the scare and the sudden aftermath of his mistake. 

That’s when the feeling seemed to hit him. 

Jaehyun’s eyes naturally gravitated to you, and suddenly, everything around him seemed to blur. His vision tunneled, examining the way there was suddenly almost a shimmering light that radiated from you. It seemed to grow brighter every time he noticed something about you—every second seemed precious to him. 

He tried blinking, but it only got worse, his eyes unable to peel away from you. 

It was odd. 

Did he... miss you that much? That it was only starting to really hit him now? 

But right now? He had to get over you. At this time, he couldn’t afford to get distracted—the mission was most important, after all. 

Clenching his jaw, Jaehyun forced himself to look away, reaching for another arrow to correct his mistake.

But the moment his gaze dropped, his breath hitched.

There, in the center of his shirt, was the pink stain—not on the ground, not on an arrow, but on him.

Panic bloomed in his chest, his pulse quickening by the second. The bow fell to the floor as his hands grasped at the fabric, pulling it to examine the stain more closely. The sparkly glow was enough to tell him everything he needed to know. 

“No, no, no-" Jaehyun muttered under his breath, frantically rubbing at the fabric. It was completely useless. The stain didn’t smear or lift, but instead, it shrank. 

It sunk deeper into the fibers of his shirt—no, into him. The glow started to dim with every passing second until it was no longer visible, leaving Jaehyun frozen, his fingers still gripping onto the fabric. 

Jaehyun swallowed hard, his eyes flicking back toward you. 

This wasn’t right.

The sound of your voice was faint but warm, making his pulse race even more despite him setting you on a date with Heeseung. 

This wasn’t supposed to happen. 

 The pounding of his heart was deafening, drowning out the noise around him. Jaehyun bolted from where he was, his footsteps quick but unsteady as he pressed a trembling hand against his chest.

What had he done?

RULE #5: Don’t Mess Around with Cupid Powers

Jaehyun couldn’t stop feeling the need to constantly pace around his room. His footsteps echoed softly against the wooden floor as he ran a hand through his hair for what felt like the hundredth time.

Your text message sat open on his phone screen, glowing back at him. It was nothing more than a casual update—how the date went and how Heeseung seemed nice—but it still managed to make him smile.

That was the problem.

Jaehyun’s fingers tightened around the phone as he muttered to himself, his words shaky but firm. “You’re her matchmaker, not her match.”

But no matter how many times he repeated it, the words fell flat. It was a reminder that couldn’t seem to get through in his head. His own logic wasn’t enough to drown out the emotions that had begun creeping in ever since that arrow misfired.

It was wrong. He knew it was wrong—especially now that your date with Heeseung seemed to go well. That should’ve been enough to push Jaehyun back into reality, but instead, it only made the ache in his chest worse.

“You called for me?”

The voice snapped Jaehyun out of his trance, and he practically lunged toward the door the moment he saw Sungho step inside. Relief flooded through him so intensely that he didn’t even think twice before grabbing Sungho by the arms, gripping him like a lifeline.

“Whoa—what’s up with you?” Sungho’s brows shot up, his eyes scanning Jaehyun’s disheveled appearance. His face was flushed, his hair was a mess, and he looked like he’d been running a marathon inside the room. “You look…weird.”

Jaehyun immediately let go, straightening his posture in an attempt to look normal. But his attempt was useless. His jittery hands and the way his eyes darted back and forth only made him look more suspicious.

“Would you mind helping me?” Jaehyun blurted out, his voice almost cracking.

Sungho crossed his arms, clearly unimpressed. “I mean, that’s literally why I’m here,” he replied, walking past Jaehyun and flopping onto the couch without hesitation. “You don’t usually act like this. What’s up with you?”

Jaehyun trailed behind him, struggling to keep himself composed as he hovered nervously by the couch. He hated how out of character this was for him—desperate and completely unfocused. He wanted it to stop, but the way his mind kept racing and his heart refused to calm down made it nearly impossible to pull himself together.

Jaehyun cleared his throat, his fingers nervously fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve. “So, uh... hypothetically speaking—emphasis on hypothetically,” he stressed, his eyes flickering toward Sungho as if silently begging for reassurance. “Is it possible for a Cupid to, you know… seriously mess up with their powers?”

Sungho raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting from mild curiosity to concern. “That depends,” he said slowly. “What kind of mistake are we talking about here?”

“Well…” Jaehyun hesitated, his voice trailing off before he forced himself to continue. “Like, let’s say something happened—not saying it did, but let’s say it could—where a Cupid accidentally misfired an arrow?”

Sungho hummed thoughtfully, leaning back against the couch. “I mean, it’s not unheard of. Look at Leehan, for example. The guy is completely unfortunate—broken arrows, broken couples, you name it. But his mistakes aren’t anything too difficult to fix.” 

‘Right, fixable. Totally,” Jaehyun nodded quickly, though his fingers continued to fidget against the fabric of his sleeves. “Right, right. But what if—again, hypothetically—a Cupid misfires their arrow on someone... that shouldn’t get hit?”

“Wait.” Sungho looked at Jaehyun, his gaze intensifying. “You did not—”

“I did not! Of course, I wouldn’t have!” Jaehyun cut in, his voice an octave higher than it usually was. “I mean, not exactly what you may think it is.” 

Sungho’s eyes widened as he sat himself up. “Jaehyun.” 

“Okay, okay!” Jaehyun caved, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “Maybe I might have accidentally—sort of—shot myself.”

Sungho’s jaw dropped.

 “You what?!”

“I didn’t mean to!” Jaehyun blurted out, panic seeping into his voice. “There was this loud noise, and I got scared, and my hand slipped, and bam! I suddenly see pink liquid on my shirt that just quickly disappeared!”

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me." Sungho dragged a hand to his mouth, visibly mortified that Jaehyun—out of all people—would get himself into a situation like this. “Turning your powers against yourself? Really?” 

“Was this why you asked me a bunch of questions about whether you had to take a client? Because it was about Y/N?”

Riwoo’s voice cut through the room, making both Sungho and Jaehyun jump—though it was Jaehyun who practically fled the couch with a yelp. His hand instinctively latched onto Sungho’s arm, eyes wide with panic as he spun around to face the unexpected intruder.

“Since when did you come in?!” Jaehyun demanded, pointing an accusatory finger at Riwoo, who looked thoroughly unimpressed.

Riwoo lifted the stack of files he carried as if the explanation was obvious. “Woonhak sent me,” he said, before casually walking over to Jaehyun’s desk to drop them off.

“Of course, Woonhak did,” Jaehyun muttered under his breath, rubbing his temples. “And you weren’t supposed to say that, Riwoo.”

“Oh,” Riwoo halted in his steps, soon turning to see Sungho with a puzzled look on his face. No matter how many times Sungho tried to think back on everything he remembered, the name wasn’t familiar to him at all. “I thought he knew.”

“What are we talking about—who is Y/N?” Sungho finally asked, almost as if it were excruciating while watching Jaehyun and Riwoo send each other odd but failed telepathy through the usage of their eyes and mumbling. 

“Jaehyun’s ex,” Riwoo quickly blurted out, leaving Jaehyun’s eyes widened in horror, his hand still in the air after shooting it up in an attempt to cover Riwoo’s mouth, but it was too late.

“Are you serious right now?” Jaehyun hissed, slowly dropping his hand in defeat. “I wouldn’t have told you about this if you were going to say it that easily.” 

“He had to know at one point—you can’t hide the fact that you tried to find love from us much longer,” Riwoo shrugged as he leaned against Jaehyun’s desk. “You could at least tell Sungho—he wouldn’t tell anybody... yet.” 

Next to him, Sungho sat in stunned silence, his mouth hanging open in shock. He blinked rapidly, his gaze darting between Riwoo and Jaehyun as if trying to process what he’d just heard.

“Y/N?” Sungho repeated, shaking his head as he pried Jaehyun’s arm off him. “So, you’re telling me, you managed to shoot yourself with your own arrow and ended up hopelessly in love with your ex again? That’s... really something else. Even for you.”

Jaehyun groaned, slumping back against the couch as he covered his face with both hands. “Don’t need to keep pushing it.”

Riwoo and Sungho exchanged a look, both struggling to suppress the fear but also the amusement threatening to creep onto their faces. It really was funny—at least to an extent.

After all, how could a Cupid be this careless? And not just careless—reckless. Jaehyun had managed to turn what should’ve been a simple matchmaking session into a full-blown catastrophe.

But what made it worse—what made it really ridiculous—was the fact that his eyes had landed on someone who was never supposed to be anything more than a client. Someone who had only walked through his doors looking for love and not to accidentally become the reason Cupid himself got caught up in this mess. 

“So, what did you feel when you saw her?” Sungho asked, making sure to check on his friend’s wellbeing. He had never been in this kind of situation before, so it wasn’t something he could instantly jump in and fix things like he usually would have. 

“It felt weird—it still does!” Jaehyun threw his hands up in the air. He paused, soon placing his hand on his chest as if he could physically do something to calm the irregular pounding of his heart. “Anything or everything that has to do with Y/N, it feels like—like I can’t think straight at all! It’s all about her!” 

“Were Cupid’s powers always this strong?” Riwoo questioned, eyebrows furrowed as he plopped onto the couch across from them. 

“I mean...” Sungho hesitated, leaning back as if running through possibilities in his head. “It could be different for humans—but he’s Cupid, after all. Who’s to say it wouldn’t affect him even worse than a human? What if it’s like... amplified?”

Jaehyun’s eyes widened, his panic rising again. “Amplified? Are you serious? So what—this could get even worse?”

“Well,” Riwoo started cautiously, “you did hit yourself with the arrow, so who knows what could possibly happen? Or how deep the arrow went? Nothing like this has happened before... or at least, not that we know of.” 

‘What am I supposed to do?” Jaehyun groaned, his thoughts completely all over the place. “She’s not just anyone; she’s my client! And I already set her up with someone else—who she seems to actually like, by the way! But I’m just here, losing my mind over something I really can’t control!” 

Sungho winced. “Well…”

“Please tell me this is fixable.” Jaehyun’s voice was muffled with his hands covering his face due to embarrassment. “There has to be something, or like, a time limit to these powers.” 

“That’s just something we have to figure out,” Riwoo said, trying to reassure him to the best of his abilities. “There has to be a way.”

Jaehyun really hoped Riwoo was right—he clung onto that hope. 

His phone had faintly buzzed with another notification, pulling his attention away. Unable to resist looking at it, he glanced to see another text from you lighting up the screen. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, but reality was able to hit him quickly, considering his surroundings. His expression fell flat, which soon followed up with him clearing his throat. 

Jaehyun shut off his phone and threw it onto the table, as if putting some distance between himself and his phone could help keep himself normal. Slumping back into the couch, his shoulders sank as if the situation was starting to weigh heavily on his shoulders. 

This timing couldn’t have been any worse. His powers should’ve been reserved for only those he was assigned with to help them find love, not for him to accidentally turn himself into some lovesick person. 

“This better not be permanent,” Jaehyun muttered, staring into the ceiling while dealing with the thought of how terrifying that could be if his powers were to stick around. 

“For your sake, hopefully not.” Sungho said. “Because if it is... you might just be stuck with trying to make your client yours.” 

RULE #6: Don’t Run Away from Your Mistakes; Fix It.

“I’m not seriously going to be facing her, right?” Jaehyun blurted out, his voice laced with sheer panic as he threw his hands up in surrender. After the long, exhausting talk he’d just had with Riwoo and Sungho a while ago, this was the last thing he expected to hear. Guide you? Through this whole process? While he’s acting like this?

He can tell Sungho wasn’t pleased either, given the resigned expression he wore while telling him the news. But, with Sungho only able to give him a stiff nod, it hit Jaehyun like a brick wall—it was painfully obvious that they’d run into a dead end. 

Jaehyun’s shoulders slumped. “Can’t you just... take over for me?” His tone shifted into desperation as he tried to wriggle out of the mess he’d created. The last thing he wanted was to make a complete fool of himself in front of you. Though he couldn’t quite figure out if it was because he feared he wanted to impress you—or if it was just the crippling fear of acting weird in front of an ex.

“For someone who basically memorized every word of Cupid’s Handbooks,” Sungho said, rubbing the back of his neck as if he were already exhausted by Jaehyun’s antics, “I really thought you’d know better.”

Jaehyun froze, dread washing over him. He didn’t even need to ask to know where this was heading.

“What’s Rule #10?” Sungho pressed, narrowing his eyes.

Jaehyun let out a defeated sigh, his shoulders sinking further as he muttered under his breath, “Once a client... always your client.”

The words were as clear as day, but Jaehyun couldn’t help but feel like remembering that was bittersome. With how many hours he spent cooped up in his room remembering each page, he’d probably have ended up questioning his qualifications if he hadn’t.

But at this moment? He wished he didn’t know it. He wished the rule didn’t exist at all. 

“This isn’t fair,” Jaehyun groaned as he started pacing back and forth. He pressed his hands against the sides of his face as if doing so could somehow shut out the situation looming over him.

“You wouldn’t even be in this mess if you hadn’t been so fixated on Y/N,” Sungho sighed once again, although he seemed clearly unbothered by Jaehyun’s rising panic despite his behavior moments ago. 

Jaehyun spun around, glaring. “I was not fixated on her!” His voice came out sharper than he intended, defensive in a way that only made Sungho raise his brows. “I was actually committed to my mission, y’know—doing my job.”

“Right.” Sungho crossed his arms, leaning back as he fixed Jaehyun with an unimpressed look. “Then maybe you could’ve aimed the arrow at her instead of him.”

Jaehyun froze mid-step, caught off guard by the observation. The words lingered in the air as if waiting to pounce, and Jaehyun hated how they made his stomach churn.

Sungho didn’t miss the hesitation. “But you didn’t. Instead, you aimed to make him love-sick over her—not the other way around.”

Jaehyun’s eyes narrowed, his pacing halting completely as he faced Sungho. “What exactly are you trying to imply?”

“Oh, I think you already know,” Sungho said, his voice pointed as his gaze locked onto Jaehyun’s.

“Well, if anything—” Jaehyun snapped, his voice tight as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “I don’t have any intentions like that! It’s over between us, and that should be pretty clear to you, given that I paired her up with someone else.”

“Sure, sure—it’s over,” Sungho says, not wanting to cause Jaehyun to be in another frenzy. He could feel his lip twitching, almost as if he wanted to smirk, but he chose to fight against it. There was no need to rile Jaehyun up, especially given the unfortunate circumstances. 

Sungho’s phone buzzed, and as he glanced down at the screen, his expression shifted. He pressed his lips into a thin line—a small but telling gesture that Jaehyun immediately picked up on. It was almost instinctual, his senses sharpening at the sight of Sungho’s hesitation.

“What is it?” Jaehyun demanded, his voice edged with suspicion.

Sungho hesitated, clearly weighing his words before finally speaking. “I know you really don’t want to do this,” he started cautiously, watching Jaehyun’s expression like it might shatter at any moment. "But... your next session with Y/N? It’s today.”

Jaehyun’s eyes widened in disbelief, and Sungho quickly added, “Or, well—actually, it’s not just today. It’s right now.”

“Right now?!” Jaehyun practically choked, taking a step back as if the words physically hit him. “You can’t be serious! No one said anything about it being this soon!”

Sungho grimaced, his grip tightening around his phone. “I just found out too, okay? Woonhak’s the one who sent the notice. He said something about needing to keep everything on schedule.”

“Schedule?” Jaehyun repeated, his voice rising. “I didn’t even agree to this schedule!”

Sungho crossed his arms, clearly unimpressed with Jaehyun’s outburst. “Well, suck it up, because she could walk in at any moment.” He gave Jaehyun a pointed look, then added, “But don’t worry—I’ll be here to make sure you don’t say anything weird.”

Jaehyun shot him a sharp glare. “Oh, that’s reassuring,” he muttered sarcastically, finally deciding to sit on the couch as his nerves threatened to continue to overwhelm him. “You’re acting like I’m incapable of handling this.”

“You’re barely capable of handling this,” Sungho shot back without missing a beat. “I mean, look at you right now! You’re one bad thought away from a meltdown, and we both know it.”

Just as Jaehyun was about to say anything to defend himself, the sound of knocking echoed through the room. Both he and Sungho immediately froze, their eyes snapping toward the door. 

Compared to Sungho, Jaehyun could’ve sworn he felt like he stopped breathing. Sungho was able to recover a little quicker, while Jaehyun seemed to be stuck in a trance. 

“I guess it’s time,” Sungho whispered as if you could potentially hear him from the opposite side, turning to give Jaehyun the look. 

Jaehyun’s eyes wavered. "Wait—what do I even say? What if... what if I mess up?” He whispered, and even with his voice being low, it was hard to ignore that he was frantic. 

“And didn’t you just say you’re perfectly capable of handling this?” 

"Well, that was before this happened!” Jaehyun whisper-yelled, his eyes looking back at the door after hearing the knocking again—this time, slightly louder than it was before. 

“Either way, you’re going to have to face her,” Sungho said, already moving toward the door. He reached for the doorknob, but before turning it, he glazed back at Jaehyun. “Like I said, I’ll handle it if things go wrong—just focus on being able to not do anything out of the ordinary.” 

Jaehyun groaned, running his hands through his hair as Sungho finally opened the door. The second he saw you standing there, greeting Sungho due to his sudden appearance, Jaehyun felt like the air had been knocked out of his lungs.

Quickly, he looked away, his gaze dropping to his hands as he fiddled nervously with his fingers, desperate to stop his thoughts from spiraling. 

This was going to be so much harder than he thought.

“Hi, Cupid MJ,” you greeted him with a bright expression as you stepped inside after Sungho had welcomed you in.

Jaehyun’s eyes flickered up at the sound of your voice, and despite every part of him screaming to stay composed, his lips almost instinctively curled into a smile. His eyes softened, crinkling at the corners in a way that felt far too natural—far too much.

“Hi, Y/N,” he replied, but the moment the words left his mouth, he froze. It sounded weird. Even to him, it sounded far too warm—too full of affection. 

His eyes widened slightly as he quickly brought a hand up to cover his mouth, as if that could somehow take back the tone he’d just used. His gaze darted nervously to Sungho, who was already staring at him with a raised eyebrow and the most frustratingly knowing look.

Jaehyun felt heat rush to his face as he let out a small, awkward cough, desperately trying to mask the slip-up. “Uh—take a seat,” he said, attempting to make his voice sound more neutral. 

“The date went well,” you said, your tone light as you took a seat. It was clear you were more than ready to lead the conversation—especially given Jaehyun’s stunned silence.

For a moment, he just blinked at you, his thoughts spiraling as he struggled to string together a proper response. It almost felt like the roles had reversed—him as the nervous client, fumbling and hopeless, while you sat there like the Cupid, who had quite literally struck him right in the heart.

“That’s… great,” Jaehyun finally managed to say, though his voice came out quieter than he’d hoped. He cleared his throat, trying to regain even a fraction of composure. “I mean, of course, it went well. I—I knew it would.”

You nodded, completely unaware that you were the one that was making him feel like his heart was about to burst out of his chest. 

"What happens now?" you asked, leaning in slightly as if searching for some kind of reassurance.

"Well," he began, clearing his throat. "You can continue spending more time with him since I received a positive response from him too." He paused briefly, gauging your expression before continuing. "Or, if you'd prefer, you can explore other matches—it’s entirely your pick."

You nodded slowly, your fingers absentmindedly brushing against the edge of the table. "I think I could do another day with him," you finally said, though there was an almost hesitant tone in your voice.

Jaehyun's stomach flipped. Was that hesitation good or bad?

"I mean," you added quickly, as if trying to fill the silence, "I’m not really sure about exploring other options just yet. What do you think?"

Jaehyun looked up at you, momentarily frozen as if the world around him had slowed down. He’d tried so hard to avoid this—to keep his emotions in check and his focus sharp—but the second his eyes locked with yours, all of that effort unraveled.

The soft pink hue that had surrounded you the first time he saw you seemed to return, blooming and spreading until it drowned out everything else. It wasn’t just a glow—it was a pull, one he felt himself leaning into despite knowing better.

"What do I think?” he finally managed, his voice quieter than usual, like he was afraid of saying the wrong thing.

“Yeah.” You tilted your head, waiting for his response, completely unaware of the turmoil raging inside him.

“I think...” he trails off, his heartbeat seemingly muffling the sound of his own voice to him. “I think I like–”

“What he means,” Sungho interrupted, sliding onto the seat next to Jaehyun as if to physically block him from saying anything reckless, “is that he thinks it’d be great for you to keep going out with Heeseung.”

Jaehyun flinched at the sudden pinch Sungho gave him, jolting him back to reality. He turned to glare at his friend, but Sungho’s pointed stare told him to pull it together.

You blinked, slightly taken aback by the abrupt response from Sungho rather than Jaehyun, but nodded anyway. “Oh…okay.”

“Right!” Jaehyun blurted out, sitting up straighter and forcing a strained smile. “I mean, Heeseung seems like a good match, and you said the first date went well, so another one makes sense, right?”

Your eyebrows slightly furrowed, confused by the sudden energy radiating from him. Even when you hesitated for a second, as if something about his words didn’t quite convince you, you decided to nod again. “I guess I could give it another try.”

Jaehyun forced a smile, an odd tightness in his chest that didn’t seem to disappear quickly. He should’ve felt relieved that he hadn’t slipped up—that he’d managed to steer you back toward Heeseung—but instead, he felt like he’d lost something.

“Great,” Sungho clapped his hands together, almost serving as a reminder to Jaehyun to focus. “We will be able to set you on another date soon, so please wait for our messages!” he said oddly cheerfully, though Jaehyun could tell it was mostly to smooth things over.

“Right,” Jaehyun added, his voice barely above a whisper.He bit his lip, forcing himself to look away from you after nearly confessing again. His heart wavered, almost betraying him, as he saw you turn your attention to Sungho, laughing at something he’d said.

You were smiling…because of Sungho.

“I’ll take care of the details,” Jaehyun suddenly interjected, clearing his throat loudly enough to grab both your and Sungho’s attention.

You blinked, surprised, but offered a small smile. “Oh, okay. I’ll leave it to you, then,” you replied, completely oblivious to the effect you were having on him. Just because of that small action of yours, his heart was practically close to actually bursting. 

Jaehyun gave a stiff nod, watching you turn to leave. The moment you stepped out, he found his gaze trailing after you, unable to pull his eyes away until the door finally clicked shut behind you.

“Geez, now you’re at the jealous stage of the love effect?” Sungho’s voice sliced through the lingering silence, pulling Jaehyun back to reality. He looked over to find his friend watching him with a knowing smirk, one brow raised. “That was pretty fast-paced."

“It’s not like I was trying to!” Jaehyun quickly snapped, his voice suddenly getting defensive. In frustration, he pointed at the door as he tried to find his words. “It’s because of—”

Before he could finish, the door abruptly swung open, revealing Woonhak, who stood there with a curious yet sunny expression. “How’d it go?” he asked, his gaze bouncing between Jaehyun and Sungho as if he’d walked in on something interesting.

Jaehyun groaned, throwing his hands up in exasperation before pointing aggressively at Woonhak, almost as if he were waiting for this moment. “It’s because of you!”

Woonhak blinked, confused. “Wait, what? Me?”

“Yes, you!” Jaehyun said, standing up from his chair and pointing with even more emphasis. “If it weren’t for—”

“Is this...my cue to go?” Woonhak interrupted, his confusion shifting into playful unease as he glanced between the two of them, already half-stepping back toward the hallway.

 Jaehyun let out a long, frustrated sigh, his eyes squeezing shut as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, it’s not your cue to go, because if you hadn’t accepted that application, I could’ve still been as capable and composed as I was before!”

The room fell into a heavy silence as nobody chose to speak up after that. Woonhak froze, glancing at Sungho with wide, pleading eyes, silently begging for backup. Sungho, on the other hand, looked like he had no clue what to do either to step in.

Before Sungho could even attempt to think of something to diffuse the situation, Jaehyun was already striding his way toward Woonhak. 

“Uh, Sungho?” Woonhak stammered, panic creeping into his voice as he instinctively began stepping back. Jaehyun’s footsteps grew faster, his expression dead set on making his point—whatever that point might be.

“Sungho!” Woonhak yelped, his voice rising as Jaehyun closed the distance between them, taking even more huge steps back. 

Realizing he was on his own, Woonhak made a split-second decision. “Help me!” he screamed, spinning on his heel and bolting toward the door.

“Get back here, Woonhak!”

Their footsteps echoed down the hallway, Woonhak’s panicked screams fading into the distance as Jaehyun’s determined shouts followed close behind.

Sungho quickly snapped out of his amused daze, only to burst into laughter at the absurdity of the situation. However, his grin vanished just as quickly as it appeared when a sudden realization hit him.

“Oh, crap. There could be other clients waiting!” he muttered, scrambling to his feet in a panic.

Without missing a beat, he darted toward the exit, slamming the door as he followed the trail of yelling that was growing fainter by the second.

“Jaehyun!” Sungho called out, his voice echoing through the hallway as he tried to catch up. “Leave Woonhak alone and get back here—this is just your fate!”

The sound of Woonhak’s panicked screams and Jaehyun’s relentless pursuit only made Sungho pick up his pace, muttering to himself between breaths. “Oh my, just accept your fate already!”

And no matter how much Jaehyun pleaded—to the Cupid Gods (if they even existed) or to the universe itself—for some miraculous way out of this fate, his prayers were met with nothing but silence. The crushing weight of disappointment settled on him, a constant reminder of just how trapped he was in this situation.

Now, only a few weeks later, here he was, hiding behind a newspaper in his hand, his breath held as he watched you sitting on a bench, waiting for your second date with Heeseung.

“Why am I even here?” Jaehyun mumbled to himself, his eyes still glued onto you from a safe distance. His tone was low, almost as if he were speaking to no one at all, but a hum of agreement quickly followed.

“I don’t know,” came the unenthusiastic reply from the person in front of him—Leehan, of all people. The sound of a crinkling newspaper accompanied his words, his fingers absently folding and unfolding the corner of the page.

“Matter of fact, why are you here?” Jaehyun whispered harshly, glaring at Leehan, who seemed entirely too relaxed for someone on the lookout, with his random sunglasses and his newspaper upside down. If anything, it would be obvious that Leehan could be up to something. 

Leehan leisurely lowered the newspaper he’d been pretending to read and set it down on the table in front of him, a small smirk playing at his lips. “Because Sungho and the others are busy with their own Cupid duties,” he began, crossing his arms over his chest as if he were getting ready for a sudden fit of frustration. “And Woonhak? Well, we all know you’d rip his head off if he even tried accompanying you. So, I have no choice but to be here with you.”

Jaehyun chose not to respond, letting out a heavy sigh as he rubbed his temples. Oddly enough, he has been able to keep his emotions in check since Leehan and the others have been around lately. They knew how far Jaehyun’s sudden love urges could progress, so they all took turns to be able to supervise both him and you. So, Jaehyun can’t even complain, as he would most likely be a nervous wreck around you.

But, if anything, he wasn’t the only nervous one. You were too, however, for entirely different reasons. Sitting just outside an amusement park—the chosen date spot for you and Heeseung—you fidgeted with your phone. The vibrant atmosphere around you was a stark contrast to the storm of emotions brewing inside. Laughter and excited chatter filled the air as families and couples hurried past you, their faces lit up with anticipation.

Could that be you and Heeseung? 

You couldn’t help but wonder if you’d have as much fun as everyone else seemed to be having. Would this date live up to your expectations? Or were you setting yourself up for disappointment?

Your gaze shifted from the bustling crowd back to your phone screen. No new messages. You checked the time again, your thumb hovering over the screen as if doing so would make a notification pop up.

This isn’t the first time you’ll be meeting Heeseung, but the idea of meeting him in person instead of texting was weird. You tried to calm down, forcing yourself to breathe deeply to steady the feeling of nerves coursing through you. This was supposed to be a fun hangout, and there was no point in thinking of useless questions. Yet, your feelings only continued to gnaw away at you, as with every passing minute, your uneasiness only heightened. 

You hated the thought of coming off as pushy, especially for something as delicate as a romantic date, but eventually, you found yourself sending follow-up texts.

The act itself felt humiliating, like you were clinging to something that might already be slipping through your fingers. Still, you had no choice. The silence on the other end was deafening.

But even after your attempts, there was nothing. No text. No call. 

Were you getting stood up? That thought finally hit you, and your heart couldn’t help but sink with an overwhelming heaviness. 

You swallowed back the lump forming in your throat, forcing yourself to sit straighter despite the weight in your chest. As much as you hated to admit it, the idea of Heeseung standing you up felt more and more like a reality with each passing second. 

Maybe love wasn’t meant for you at all. 

The world around you seemed to blur as your gaze dropped to your phone. For a moment, you stared at the empty message screen, your fingers trembling over the keyboard. It took everything in you to gather the courage to type out a text, but not to Heeseung this time.

Instead, you messaged Jaehyun.

"This date's a failure," you typed, hesitating before pressing send. 

You could only imagine how Jaehyun might feel reading such a message, especially considering the heaviness in your own chest. But should it really matter? He was a revolutionary matchmaker, after all, wasn’t he? There shouldn’t be anything that he couldn’t do, right? And yet, a strange pang of guilt crept into your thoughts. Why were you so concerned about how Jaehyun would react?

Even though you couldn’t fully understand your own emotions, one thing was clear—you still cared about him. Maybe a little too much. So, for just a split second, it didn’t seem unreasonable to think about his feelings over yours.

But with Jaehyun, your feelings were always his top priority. Well, they should be. 

The moment your message reached him, he immediately reacted, his lips pressing into a deep frown as he reread your words. Sitting beside him, Leehan noticed his sudden shift in mood and leaned closer; his curiosity piqued.

“What’s wrong?” Leehan asked, trying to peer over at Jaehyun’s screen. His own expression shifted as he caught a glimpse of the text, his eyes widening and his frown mirroring Jaehyun’s.

Jaehyun didn’t answer right away, his thoughts racing as he stared at your words. His chest tightened, a mixture of frustration and concern bubbling within him. You were upset—the thought of you feeling this way gnawed at him.

“I’ll handle it,” Jaehyun finally muttered, standing abruptly.

Leehan blinked up at him, startled. “Wait, what are you—”

But Jaehyun was already moving, his determination written all over his face. For the better or worse, he wasn’t going to let this ruin your day. 

“Y/N,” he called out as he jogged toward you, his voice cutting through the lively background noise from the amusement park. The sudden sound startled you, making you glance up from the message you’d been staring at. Seeing him right there—mere seconds after your text—felt both unnerving and oddly comforting.

It felt weird that someone—your ex, or better yet, simply just Cupid MJ—immediately came to your message. But you also felt a sense of gratitude, knowing that there was someone who would answer your message right away. 

At least someone cared enough to show up for you. 

“Jaehyun?” you managed to say, though your voice was shaky, caught between disbelief and relief. You quickly stuffed your phone in your pocket, trying to compose yourself. “How’d you get here so fast?”

He came to a stop in front of you, still catching his breath but managing to keep his gaze steady on you. “I was already here,” he admitted, a slight edge of hesitance in his voice. “I was waiting for you and Heeseung to meet... so I could leave.” He shifted his weight awkwardly. “But then I got your text message.”

“Oh,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “Makes sense.” The words felt bitter as they left your lips, as though admitting them aloud made everything sting a little more.

Your fingers found the zipper of your jacket, and you began to fiddle with it, keeping your eyes trained on the ground. Meeting Jaehyun’s gaze felt impossible at that moment. The last thing you wanted was for him, of all people, to witness you in this state.

This was definitely humiliating, and nothing could convince you otherwise. 

Jaehyun could see and feel the weight of your emotions, a pang of guilt washing over him. Deep down, he wondered if this was somehow his fault for pairing you with someone who let you down. Maybe Cupid’s systems weren’t as reliable as he once believed. 

“You don’t have to feel embarrassed about this.”

His voice was soft, almost compelling you to look up at him, but you resisted, shaking your head and letting out a dry laugh. “That’s easy for you to say.”

Jaehyun caught on to how your body hunched over, shoulders curling inward like you were trying to hide from him—or maybe from yourself. Your legs kicked back and forth in a restless rhythm, a nervous energy that you didn’t seem to notice.

He caught the way you bit your lip, a small inhale slipping through before you stopped yourself from speaking. It was like you were fighting against the words you wanted to say, the weight of everything you felt pressing down on you but refusing to come out.

“Y/N,” he sighed, feeling his own heartache seeing you try to hide your vulnerability. Without hesitation, he stepped closer, crouching down in front of you. His head tilted slightly to be within your eye view, his expression open and earnest.

You stopped your foot movements and perked your head up just a little, catching a glimpse of the sincere smile on his face. His posture was relaxed, his arms wrapped casually around his knees, but his eyes truly told a different story from his demeanor. 

“Seriously, this is just his fault. If Heeseung couldn’t see what he had right in front of him, that’s his loss. It’s never been yours.”

His words caught you off guard, pulling your attention to him fully.

You looked directly at him, taking a longer sight of Jaehyun crouched in front of you. His eyebrows were slightly raised, his gaze steady and warm as he waited for your response.  For a moment, the noise of the amusement park around you faded, leaving only the sincerity in his voice and the sweet expression on his face. 

That same smile of his lingered on his lips—a smile you hadn’t seen this close in so long.

And yet, somehow, it felt so familiar, like slipping you back into a memory you hadn’t realized you still hadn’t forgotten.

Without meaning to, you found yourself smiling back, the corners of your lips curving upward as if in reflex. It had been a while since someone made you feel this way—seen, heard, comforted without judgment. And it had been even longer since you’d seen Jaehyun look at you like this, with that quiet reassurance that seemed to say everything would be okay, even if you didn’t believe it yourself.

“You’re still good at this, you know,” you murmured, your voice soft as you broke the silence. Your head dipped slightly, your attention getting fixated on your knees once more. 

“Good at what?” he asked, tilting his head slightly again, his smile widening just a bit.

“Making people feel better,” you replied. You shifted your body upwards, now sitting properly after recollecting your thoughts, even if it were just for a little bit. “Even when they don’t think they can.”

“I do what I can,” Jaehyun’s smile faltered slightly, a crack in his otherwise composed exterior. Inside, his emotions churned slowly but steadily, threatening to unravel him. This moment felt too close—something he hadn’t noticed until now it was finally being pried open. It was almost as if pieces of him were slowly getting chipped away, each piece falling until only fragments remained. 

Fragments he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to glue back together.

Maybe it was the potion amplifying his emotions, or maybe it was the weight of his own unresolved feelings, but a part of him wanted to do something—a push towards the thought he’s been trying to bury away. Even if some pieces were lost, maybe this was his chance to start over. 

To rebuild. 

“Speaking of which,” he said suddenly, breaking the moment before his thoughts could consume him any further, “let’s not waste the day.”

You blinked, staring at his outstretched hand toward you. “What?”

“I’m not letting you sit here feeling like this,” Jaehyun insisted, soon standing up from his crouching position, hand still extended out. “We’re at an amusement park. Let’s go have fun.”

You hesitated. It almost felt like this was wrong, and it went out of your boundaries. This was supposed to be a date with Heeseung, but now Jaehyun is here, standing in front of you, offering to practically fill his spot. So, what made this? 

It can’t be considered a date—maybe a hangout. But, still, a hangout with your ex? 

Your matchmaker? 

The more you tried to sort through the mess of emotions inside you, the harder it became to ignore the almost pleading look on Jaehyun’s face. His fingers wriggled slightly as he held his hand out awkwardly, his other fist tightly gripping the fabric of his pants. He looked nervous, almost unsure of himself, and the sight tugged at something in your chest. 

His reaction made it harder to turn him now. 

At the end of the day, don’t you deserve something, too? 

Slowly, tentatively, you reached out and took his hand. The warmth of his palm instantly engulfed yours, and you felt the faintest tremble in his fingers. Jaehyun’s hand twitched at the sudden contact, and for a moment, it seemed like he might completely malfunction. But instead, his grip tightened—not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you he was there, simply for you. 

“I promise this will be worth your time,” his voice shifted from awkwardness to a quiet sense of confidence, flashing another smile of his. 

Before you could respond, Jaehyun turned, still holding your hand as he began leading you toward the amusement park. His grip didn’t falter, firm yet gentle, as though he feared you might slip away at any moment.

This wasn’t how you expected your day to unfold. Yet here you were, side by side with Jaehyun, the buzz of the park surrounding you as colorful lights and cheerful chatter filled the air. You scanned your surroundings, taking in the endless rows of games, rides, and shops until something caught your eye.

Jaehyun had been busy glancing around, seemingly trying to pick out the perfect first stop, when he felt a soft tap on his arm. Turning toward you, he was met with the sight of your eager expression as you pointed toward one of the brightly decorated shops.

“We should go there first,” you said, tugging lightly at his shirt sleeves. “I’ve always wanted to buy one of those headband accessories.”

Jaehyun followed your gaze to the shop, where a variety of playful headbands adorned with animal ears and other silly headpieces were displayed. He chuckled softly, his usual calm demeanor melting into something more playful as he turned his head back to you. 

Oddly enough, he felt at ease when he was around you this time. 

“Really? That’s what you want to do first?” he teased, though the warmth in his tone betrayed how amused he was by your enthusiasm.

“Yes, really,” you said, rolling your eyes but unable to hide your smile. You were starting to warm up, abandoning the facade you had just a few moments prior. “Come on, it’ll be fun!”

Jaehyun shook his head, a small laugh escaping him as he allowed you to tug him toward the shop. “Alright, alright. Let’s go see which one suits you best,” he said, a glimmer of excitement in his eyes as the two of you stepped inside.

Once inside the shop, you immediately gravitated toward the section of animal headbands. The shelves brimmed with accessories of every kind, and your eyes widened as they trailed over each design. Jaehyun followed behind, initially glancing at the shelves, but his gaze kept drifting back to you. His eyes lingered on your focused expression, the way your lips slightly puckered as you hummed softly while contemplating your choices.

It was almost too endearing to watch, and Jaehyun had to suppress a laugh that threatened to escape. He knew if he let it slip, the potion's effects would surge, making it harder to keep himself in check.

As he tried to hold himself back, you picked up a headband and examined it closely, turning it over in your hands before moving on to another. Finally, you settled on a brown headband with floppy, oversized dog ears. With a satisfied grin, you turned to face Jaehyun.

The suddenness of your movement startled him slightly, his eyes darting from your face to the headband in your hands. You motioned with one hand for him to lower himself, confusing him for a moment. When you repeated the gesture, Jaehyun hesitantly leaned down, still unsure what you were planning.

Without a word, you placed the headband on his head, carefully adjusting it. Your fingers brushed through his hair, lingering briefly on the strands near his forehead as you fixed the headband into place.

Jaehyun could feel his ears getting hot, momentarily freezing up while his thoughts were in a swirl—a similar feeling from the first time he had the potion take its effects. 

He had to keep himself in check. 

“This is for me?” Jaehyun asked, straightening up once you finished. He rubbed the back of his neck, brushing his fingers against his burning ear in an attempt to compose himself. It didn’t look like you noticed as your attention was brought back to the headbands on display, only humming in response. 

“It looks good on you,” you responded, smiling, though your smile faltered for a moment as you instinctively retreated into your thoughts. Once again, you instinctively thought of Jaehyun first, an old habit of yours that never seemed to die when you were around him. 

Before your thoughts could drift any further, they were abruptly interrupted as you felt something soft being placed on your head. You turned quickly, catching Jaehyun’s startled expression as he tried to keep the headband he just placed on you. 

His eyes widened slightly, a chuckle escaping his lips as his hands instinctively reached out—one resting lightly on your shoulder to keep you still, the other adjusting the headband that had shifted due to your movement.

Once satisfied, he stepped back and pointed toward the mirror in front of you both. “Now we’re matching,” Jaehyun declared with a hint of pride, though his confident smile faltered into something more bashful as he caught sight of your reflection.

You glanced at the mirror, noticing how the two of you wore similar designs—yours a white version of the floppy-eared headband, while his was brown. 

It looked like a couple’s item. 

Regardless of that, the sight of you two standing side by side brought a small laugh out of you, and you found yourself smiling despite the earlier heaviness in your chest.

“You look good in it too,” Jaehyun said, his eyes meeting yours in the mirror. 

“I’ll admit, it’s kind of cute,” you said, tugging at the floppy ears. “Should we get these?” 

Jaehyun’s grin widened, and he nodded enthusiastically. Without another word, the two of you made your way to the checkout counter, the cashier giving a knowing smile as you both purchased your matching accessories.

With the headbands secured, it wasn’t long before you and Jaehyun were going through the amusement park, hopping from one ride to the next. From bumper cars that had you both laughing uncontrollably as you tried to hit each other to classic carnival games where Jaehyun insisted on winning you a plush toy—though he missed more than a few throws, making him utterly embarrassed. 

After he was able to win a mid-sized plush that he swore resembled you, you pointed at the rollercoaster ride you two somehow always managed to walk past. Jaehyun’s feet stood in place, not moving from what he stood on. 

You turned to look at him, whose fear and nervousness were clearly evident on his face—trying to hide it would be useless. 

Oddly enough, that expression was cute to you. 

“Are you scared?” 

“Me? Scared—” Jaehyun’s words get cut off after he turns silent while staring at the drop of the coaster, hearing the screams from the people—sending a sudden chill over his body. He gulped quietly, continuing on with his words, “I’m not scared.”

“Then, let’s go in line!” You grabbed onto his arm, getting a better grasp than before, considering how off guard he was by seeing the loops of the roller coaster. 

“Wait!” Jaehyun’s feet tried to remain in place on the ground, his arms flailing slightly during the process. His actions were clearly betraying his words, which you couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“Come on,” you coaxed, finally interlocking arms with Jaehyun to have a more successful chance of dragging him away. 

Jaehyun stumbled forward—not because of the force you put to move him into the line, but from the warmth from your body pressing into his arm

The once squirmy Jaehyun, who wanted nothing more than to teleport away from the situation, was now completely frozen, his gaze fixed ahead, yet his mind was undeniably tethered to you. He simply allowed you to drag him, as his thoughts always seemed to follow whenever you went. 

“Jaehyun?” Your voice finally broke through his daze after calling his name for the third—or maybe the fourth—time. It left you wondering curiously if he is really this scared of roller coasters. There was really no way for you to know beforehand this—you two never went on an amusement park date before. “Are you okay? We can always skip this if—”

“No, no, I’m—” Jaehyun quickly turned to reassure you, even if the expression on his face said otherwise. He truly wasn’t fine—far from it—but when he had a feeling you really wanted to go on this ride, he felt almost obligated to push back his fears. With the way your excitement seemed to glimmer in your eyes the first time, he could handle it, couldn’t he?

Though at this point, if there was anything he should be fearing, it was how dangerously close you two were. 

You two were practically face-to-face, which made Jaehyun feel his breath hitch in his throat. To make matters worse—or maybe better—you were still clinging onto his arm, your touch managing to keep him in place while simultaneously making his heart race out of control.

Jaehyun could see your lips moving, trying to say something, but your words didn’t reach him. It almost felt like you were mumbling when you truly weren’t. His eyes could only try to make sense of the movement of your lips, which was a complete struggle as everything seemed to blur into nothing but silence. 

With that given moment, it felt like everything intensified. It was as if the love arrow potion had decided to unleash its full power, breaking past every defense he’d built to suppress it. The sensation was overwhelming, almost suffocating, as if the arrow had pierced him all over again, but hitting him ten times harder than before. 

And then, without thinking, he muttered a single word.

“Pretty.”

The word slipped out before he could catch it, soft but clear enough that you froze for a moment. Your eyes widened slightly in surprise, and that was enough to snap Jaehyun back to reality.

Panic rushed through him, and he immediately stepped back, pulling himself out of your grasp as he waved his hands frantically.

“Pretty—I mean, I’m pretty fine with us going on this ride!” he blurted out, his voice hurried and tinged with nervous laughter. His ears burned as he tried to salvage the situation, feeling utterly exposed. “After all, we’re only a few people away from entering, right?”

You simply nodded, your cheeks suddenly heating up, even if you didn’t mean to feel flustered in that way after letting him complete the sentence.

But is it really so wrong for you to feel that way? 

The silence felt heavy as you two awkwardly stood side by side, neither daring to exchange glances or words. Jaehyun was able to use that silence to be able to get himself to be composed again. His heartbeat was still going, not racing, and he didn't feel a burning sensation from his ears or face, leaving him calmer—or at least calmer than before. 

As Jaehyun finally arrived at the right state of mind, he now noticed the warmth of your touch had left him. For a fleeting moment, relief should’ve been his first reaction, but instead, it left behind an emptiness he hadn’t anticipated.

It was as if he missed it. 

“Next up in line!” the ride announcer called out, startling you both from your thoughts.

You turned to Jaehyun, catching the faint hesitation in his expression. But to your surprise, he started moving forward, almost as if he wanted to prove something—not just to you but maybe to himself.

And while you tried to keep your thoughts neutral, you couldn’t help but lean toward one explanation over the other. You wanted to believe that he was doing this for you. But that thought alone wasn’t good for you.

And it wasn’t good for you to have your mind wander to that possibility. 

Despite your inner turmoil, you found yourself seated in the middle of the ride. Jaehyun had suggested the spot, reasoning that it felt “safer” knowing there were people alive in front of him. His logic had been so ridiculous that you couldn’t help but laugh. You didn’t argue, though—you liked sitting in the middle anyway.

As the ride attendant double checked the seat restraint for you two, Jaehyun couldn’t help but ramble a bunch of questions that the attendant had no problem reassuring him about—and maybe letting out a chuckle or two. 

“That’s a lot of questions for someone who claims they’re not scared,” you teased, glancing at Jaehyun as he tightened his grip on the metal handles of the restraint.

“I’m not scared,” Jaehyun mumbled, but the stark contrast between his words and his appearance said otherwise. His knuckles were white from clutching the handle so hard, his lips had lost some color, and his eyes were wavering at every slight noise around him. 

“It’s better to be safe than sorry,” Jaehyun managed to say, chuckling nervously, almost as if he’s trying to reassure himself.

“It’s better to be safe than sorry,” Jaehyun managed to say, his voice shaky as he chuckled nervously, clearly trying—and failing—to convince himself more than you.

Even as he muttered words of self-reassurance, it all crumbled the moment the ride operator began counting down. Jaehyun’s face grew paler with every number, and before you knew it, he was whispering what sounded like a series of frantic prayers under his breath.

Seriously, it was almost humiliating for him—the amount of losses he had was overwhelming. His repeated failed attempts to win you a plushie that stumble earlier, and now, his current state as a nervous wreck after agreeing to ride something he clearly hated the idea of. How much more could he possibly embarrass himself?

You couldn’t help but feel even more endeared by this side of him. Watching his clumsy or frightened side of him felt oddly nostalgic. It reminded you of a time long ago, back when you had countless dates with him, watching him flounder when his nerves got the best of him. 

So, you couldn’t help but laugh at Jaehyun, whose eyes were already shut close when the ride finally started to move. 

It’s like you missed that sight of him. 

“Why are we still going up?” Jaehyun managed to say, his voice barely audible over the loud clanking of the roller coaster. His eyes darted open for a split second, only to snap shut again when he caught a glimpse of how high up you both were. From the ground earlier, it didn’t seem this terrifying, but now? 

��It will be fine, Jaehyun,” you said, almost as if you were attempting to cut through the amount of thoughts clouding in his mind. 

As much as Jaehyun wanted to believe your words, the way the ascent was getting higher—agonizingly slow—was making it hard for him to do so. 

“I seriously might pass out,” he muttered, his voice trembling as much as his hands.

“You won’t, Jaehyun.”

“And who are you to say that?” he shot back, his panic laced with disbelief.

“Because I’m here,” you said simply, glancing his way. “And as long as I’m okay, so will you.”

That sentence alone got Jaehyun to finally open his eyes again. Even with his fear gnawing at him, he found himself glancing to his side—where you were already looking at him. You two made eye contact, which led him to quickly forget about the fear pounding in his chest or the sweaty grip he had on the handles. But just as quickly, he broke eye contact, turning his head sharply to the front—only to regret it instantly. 

That was when he realized the cart had reached the top. 

Before he could even react, his stomach dropped along with the cart, and a startled scream was released from his throat, perfectly in sync with the other riders. Jaehyun panicked, his hands flailing desperately after he had accidentally let go of the restraint. His grip faltered as he tried to latch onto the restraint again, only for his fingers to slip against the slick metal after he went through the first loop of the roller coaster. 

And then, without thinking, he managed to hold onto something near him—your hand. Along with him, you also didn’t even notice. You were still screaming in excitement—between the thrill of the drop and the way Jaehyun’s screams were practically blowing out your eardrums, which made things only funnier. 

You were too caught up in the adrenaline to even register the fact his fingers were desperately latching onto yours. What felt like eternity finally stopped when the cart slowly returned back to its original position. The screeching yells also came to a stop, leaving everyone a moment to either catch their breaths or gush about how fun that ride was. 

That was certainly the situation between you two—Jaehyun trying breathing exercises as he felt like he forgot to breathe while you wore a beaming expression on your face. 

“That was…fun,” you started off excitedly, trailing off at the last word as you felt the hold on your hand tighten. Only then did you finally look down, seeing Jaehyun’s fingers still holding onto yours. 

Your eyes shot back up from your hands to his face, in which you only saw his side profile as he was still recovering from the ride.

“That was not... fun,” Jaehyun muttered, mirroring your tone as his own gaze finally dropped to where your hands remained linked. The moment he registered where his hand was placed, his mouth was only slightly gaped. His eyes lifted to meet yours, and for a second, you both wore the same startled expression.

The ride operator interferes before you two could say anything to each other. 

“Arms up, please.” 

His fingers slipped away from yours, leaving behind only a lost sense of warmth—something you didn’t notice until now. Jaehyun’s parted lips pressed shut as he turned to look straight ahead again, letting the ride’s restraint be lifted off of him. 

Neither of you spoke as you stepped off the ride and walked away from the station. It almost felt like déjà vu—just like earlier, when you two had stood in line together in awkward silence.

You decided to break it first. “I’m hungry,” you said, figuring food was a safe enough topic.

Jaehyun turned his head sharply, his previous dazed state replaced with exaggerated disbelief. “You’re seriously hungry after that ride?” he asked, his voice louder than necessary, as if to erase the lingering awkwardness. “I feel nauseated.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction. If nothing else, at least his dramatics had successfully lightened the mood.

After all, it wasn’t like he had meant to grab your hand—he was just terrified, and that was that. You weren’t particularly fazed by it though. If anything, you found it amusing how flustered he was.

“Alright, how about this?” you proposed, shooting him an easy smile. “We’ll take a break, grab some food, and then you get to pick the last ride.”

Jaehyun’s expression instantly shifted, the excitement returning to his eyes like a light switch had been flipped. He nodded eagerly, humming in approval. 

The two of you took your time wandering around, casually debating what to eat as you passed various food stands. There were plenty of tempting options, but eventually, you both settled on corn dogs, agreeing to share a funnel cake afterward. Decisions like these were effortless with Jaehyun—it was easy to compromise and even easier to enjoy the moment.

It didn’t take long for you to finish eating, to which the roles had reversed—Jaehyun was now dragging your arm around to find something to go on. It was getting dark out, so Jaehyun quickly picked a ride in no time. Jaehyun came to a sudden stop, his face lighting up as he pointed ahead. 

“We—or I—never got to ride one of these before,” he announced, staring in awe at the towering Ferris wheel in front of you.

You turned to look at him, only to be met with his best attempt at puppy-dog eyes, as if he needed to convince you.

You chuckled at his expression, simply nodding in agreement, as truthfully, you didn’t need much persuading.

You haven’t been on a ferris wheel yet either. 

The line wasn’t as long as compared to the roller coaster, so it led you two to instantly get into one of the pods, settling into your seats across from each other. 

As the Ferris wheel ascended, you exclaimed in awe as you stared at the things from ground level that were slowly getting smaller. You stared at the glowing lights from all the other rides and booths from above.

“It’s really beautiful, isn’t it?” Jaehyun murmured, his voice softer now, filled with genuine admiration. You hummed in agreement, unable to also look away from the outside view. 

That was, until you peered over at Jaehyun, watching his eyes dazzle with amazement while your eyes lingered on him, warmth suddenly pooling in your chest. 

“You know,” you started, leaning back against the cushioned seat, “I’m really thankful for you today.”

Jaehyun turned his head slowly, his gaze meeting yours as his smile grew wider. “Don’t be,” he said, almost shyly.

“No, like, seriously,” you insisted, your voice more animated. “I don’t think I would’ve had this much fun if I wasn’t with you.”

Jaehyun blinked, his lips pressing together as if holding back another smile. “Well,” he said after a beat, “I’m glad you felt comfortable enough with me.”

You exhaled a small laugh, shaking your head. “I’m even more glad that it was you I spent the day with.”

For a second, Jaehyun didn’t say anything—simply looking at you, his expression unreadable yet soft. However, with a soft chuckle, he leaned back as well, his eyes still lingering on you as if he were seeing something just as mesmerizing as the view outside. 

“Me too.” 

RULE #7: Don’t Leave your Clients Confused 

You didn’t know how to feel. 

From the day you met him again—to now—things had never felt more confusing than before. 

Especially ever since that day, it had never left your mind. Even if you wanted to push it aside, all it did was continue to linger, creeping into your thoughts when you least expected it. 

It wasn’t even supposed to be an actual date—let alone being a real one. Jaehyun had simply stepped in for Heeseung, who never showed up. And yet, at no point did Jaehyun feel like a replacement. Not when he showed up beside you, effortlessly easing the disappointment you had been trying to suppress. Not when he went out of his way to make you laugh, making the entire day feel lighthearted and effortless. Not even when he insisted on taking you home; his concern was so genuine that it made your chest tighten.

It felt almost too genuine. 

Everything about that day felt like it was supposed to be Jaehyun. If he wasn’t there, you wouldn’t have had that much fun with someone else. And that thought alone had your mind spiraling.

You were analyzing every little thing—the way he’s been looking at you these past few weeks, the way he was always caught in a trance when you spoke, and the way his smiles never seemed to leave his face whenever he was around you. 

And for those things, you thought about all kinds of possibilities. You even thought about all the what-ifs, trying to create explanations that made sense with his actions. 

Even with the amount of things you’d try to tell yourself with some made-up reasoning behind his actions, there were obviously some questions that you couldn’t answer. 

Some things were easy to reason with. Of course, Jaehyun had been nervous—he hadn’t seen you in a while, and being thrown into such an intimate setting would make anyone uneasy. Of course, he had been extra cheerful—he was just trying to lift your spirits after being ditched. It all made perfect sense.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

But there were still questions you couldn’t answer. No matter how many times you tried to rationalize it, none of it added up.

Why did he make you feel this way?

And, more importantly—

What exactly were your feelings for Jaehyun?

Why were you feeling the very same feelings you once felt during your relationship with him? Why couldn’t you bring yourself to hate the fact that those feelings were stirring up again?

Why did you—against all logic—want to keep feeling this way?

It was undeniable that Jaehyun had the looks—one of the most attractive people you’ve ever known. But it wasn’t just his looks. He had a sweet personality—his kindness, his bubbly-like energy, and his effortless care for people without hesitation—those were the things that made him all seem perfect. 

Reuniting with him only brought back those flood of memories—the ones you claimed you managed to bury beneath stacks of paperwork and long hours from your job. 

He was, in every sense, the dream guy. 

And yet, feeling this way now almost made you feel guilty. After all, the two of you had chosen to part ways. You had told yourselves it was for the best—that your demanding work schedules had left little room for love. That drowning in responsibilities was easier than trying to hold onto something that was slipping away.

So you buried yourself in work. It was only fair, wasn’t it? If your career was the thing that had consumed your relationship, then it should consume you too.

Your routine always felt repetitive—the days had become a cycle of early commutes, endless tasks, and late nights hunched over your desk. The only real challenge was making it home before the last train filled up, securing a seat before exhaustion fully settled in. And when you did get home, there was always more work waiting. If you were lucky, you’d steal an hour of sleep before doing it all over again.

Some days felt more draining than others, but you had convinced yourself it was normal. This—this routine of working yourself to the bone—was normal.

So, why did Jaehyun’s presence disrupt the kind of lifestyle you had built for yourself?

You mindlessly stared at your laptop screen, your word count barely reaching a hundred. The blinking cursor taunted you, yet no matter how hard you tried to focus, your thoughts drifted elsewhere.

Even if you wanted to forget everything—just like you used to—the thought of him refused to leave your mind.

You let out a small huff, looking away from the document to grab the cup of water on your dining table. As you took a sip, your eyes wandered at the table, landing on your coat draped messily over the table. And right next to it...

The white dog ears headband.

The one Jaehyun picked out for you.

Because it suited you. 

You swallowed your water too fast, nearly choking as you hastily cleared your throat, the sudden clang of your cup hitting the table breaking the silence. Slowly, you steadied your movements, pushing the cup back to its original spot as if that could somehow fix the mess in your head.

But your eyes remained fixed on the headband. You reluctantly reach your hand over to grab it. Your fingers brushed against the soft fabric as you absentmindedly played with the ears, twisting them between your fingertips. And just like that, the memories came rushing back.

Just how could you help yourself?

How could you forget the way he smiled at you, saying the headband was perfect for you? The way he wore the other matching piece without hesitation? 

How could you forget his caring words and consistent reassurance, always checking to see if you were okay? How could you forget the warm grasp on your hand on the roller coaster? How could you forget the smile that adorned his face and how his laughter managed to fill up the entire place?

And most of all—the way his eyes held so much love.

How could you forget the way his eyes looked just like they were before? 

You quickly threw the headband back onto the table, covering your face with both hands. A muffled groan left your lips as you mumbled under your breath, shaking your head.

You truly had lost it.

You wanted to pull yourself together to shake off the overwhelming thoughts clouding your mind. But no matter how hard you tried, it felt as if you had been teleported back in time—except instead of drowning in paperwork, Jaehyun consumed every inch of your thoughts.

No matter what you could do, he just seemingly happened to be everywhere. He would always be lingering in your mind, in the little details of your day—in the spaces you swore only belonged to you. 

So, as much as you had vowed to immerse yourself in work, to not let anything deter you from your responsibilities, your fingers betrayed you. Instead of returning your focus to the laptop screen, you reached for your phone. 

You immediately looked in your photo album, looking over the pictures from that day—pictures of you and Jaehyun, candid moments he captured when you weren’t looking, and secret pictures you took whenever he just seemed too cute to not to. 

Without even trying to suppress it, a smile creeps onto your face. Your chest felt lighter, warmth spreading from inside out as you continued to scroll through the mountain of photos. 

That’s when you knew that you realized it. 

You couldn’t keep pretending. You couldn’t keep denying what had become so painfully obvious. There was no reasoning left to twist your feelings into something logical, no excuse that could explain away the way your heart reacted to him.

Jaehyun managed to do his thing—to strike an arrow directly through your heart, making you unable to even try to escape from it. 

Everyone had always said it. Jaehyun is an amazing cupid.

You just never expected to be his next target.

RULE #8: There’s Never No Solution 

Around Jaehyun’s business, words traveled fast. It was a given—he was the owner, after all. He was supposed to know everything before anyone else did.

Or at least, that was how it was supposed to go.

So why, instead of knowing the latest news firsthand, did he have to go find Taesan after Woonhak had suddenly burst into his office, practically breathless, only not to say much despite his excited appearance? 

"Wait—what's going on?" Jaehyun called out, eyebrows knitting together. He couldn’t even process Woonhak’s words, let alone even be able to process his sudden appearance. 

Woonhak merely grinned, shaking his head. "Taesan will tell you everything."

Jaehyun scowled. "That doesn't answer anything."

But Woonhak was already gone, leaving Jaehyun standing there, even more frustrated than before.

With an exasperated sigh, Jaehyun pushed aside the pile of paperwork he had been working on, knowing there was no point in trying to focus on it now. He had no choice but to go find Taesan himself—again.

It was never surprising. Taesan always had his own tasks, always busy with something, yet somehow, he never had a problem asking others to come to him whenever he had something to say.

It was just the way he was.

And Jaehyun was never bothered by it. But he still couldn’t help but feel the need to feel like something was up. Whatever this was about, he had a sinking feeling he wasn’t going to like it. 

"Jaehyun?" Taesan said, his eyes still glued to one of the drawers he was rummaging through, his ears picking up the distinct click of the door opening.

Jaehyun hummed as he shut the door behind him, his gaze sharpening as he watched Taesan absorb whatever task he was focused on. Jaehyun moved closer, hoping Taesan would be the one to break the silence, but Taesan stayed silent, his attention still fixed on whatever he was doing. Jaehyun couldn’t help but take a few slow steps forward, not wanting to interrupt but silently hoping the man would notice him first before the creeping awkwardness set in.

But, still, he was only faced with the sounds of shuffling while he stood there awkwardly, before finally breaking the uncomfortable silence. 

“So…” Jaehyun trails; his voice was hesitant as it was laced with confusion. “Mind explaining why Woonhak suddenly barged into my office just to tell me to find you?”

Taesan finally hummed in acknowledgement, still not looking up. “How do you feel?”

“How do I feel?” He scoffed lightly. “Come on, I need more than that.”

“Your arrow mishap,” Taesan finally said, now glancing up. It clicked in Jaehyun’s mind. Taesan was always the last to catch on, it seemed. “Is it still affecting you?”

Jaehyun sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah. It hasn’t gotten any easier," he admitted, his mind drifting back to all the moments with you. Just being around you made his chest feel tight, like his heart was trying to beat out of his ribcage. But despite that, he couldn’t seem to stop wanting to be near you.

"The severity of it, I guess, depends on how close I am to the person I accidentally... fell in love with." He chuckled dryly, the words feeling strange on his tongue but undeniably true. “Unbelievable, isn’t it?”

“Not really,” Taesan shrugged, catching Jaehyun off guard.

Of all the reactions Jaehyun had gotten from his friends about his accidental self-inflicted arrow, this was by far the least expected. Every other time he brought it up—whether he wanted to or not—he was met with relentless teasing, concern, or a mix of both. 

But Taesan? He seemed not even the slightness fazed by it. 

Jaehyun wore a furrowed brow, crossing his arms as if that was going to give him the support that he needed. “Just a ‘not really’? You’re not going to... discipline me for it?” 

Taesan finally looked up from the drawer, tilting his head slightly as if Jaehyun had just asked a pointless question. “Why would it be a big deal?”

Jaehyun opened his mouth, then shut it, narrowing his eyes. “Are you serious? I’m a cupid, Taesan. We don’t fall in love. We make other people fall in love.”

“You make it sound like a forbidden rule,” Taesan chuckled.

“It basically is,” Jaehyun muttered, his gaze shifting onto the floor. 

"If you make it sound so forbidden," Taesan mused, his tone teasing. "Then what if I told you I could help you finally erase the effects of the bow?"

Jaehyun’s eyes widened in shock. His arms dropped to his sides before he rushed forward, slamming his hands onto Taesan’s desk with a force that made the other slightly flinch. It wasn’t often that Jaehyun lost his composure, but now, with his hands splayed against the desk and his breath slightly uneven, he looked more frantic than Taesan had ever seen him.

“What—how?” Jaehyun stammered, his words tumbled out hastily. His reaction alone made it clear just how unexpected this was. No one had ever offered a solution before, so hearing it now—from Taesan, of all people—felt almost too good to be true.

“I didn’t expect you to react like this,” Taesan said, leaning back slightly from Jaehyun, who was too close in his personal space to his liking. “But yes, I can help.” 

“How?” Jaehyun demanded, his voice barely above a whisper. His fingers were curled against the wood, almost as if he needed something to try to prove to him that he wasn’t dreaming. 

Taesan didn’t answer immediately—once again. Seriously, Jaehyun could feel like he could collapse with how long it seemed like he was taking to tell him these things. Instead, he reached into the drawer he had been rummaging through earlier, retrieving a small glass vial filled with a shimmering, purple liquid. 

“You’re saying this is all I need?” Jaehyun tried to keep his voice steady, not wanting to seem ungrateful. In reality, he was more relieved than anything.

He doesn’t know how much longer he could be able to contain these kinds of feelings to himself around you. 

Taesan gave the vial a slow swirl, his eyes fixated on the shimmering liquid inside as if assessing its potency one last time before handing it over.

Jaehyun reached out with both hands, nearly freezing when the cold glass met his fingertips. Lifting it closer to his face, he examined it carefully another time. It looked like it was ordinary, purple medicine—except for the glitter swirling within. 

“What do I do with this?” he finally asked, tilting the vial slightly.

“Just drink it,” Taesan said simply. “The effects should wear off soon after.”

Jaehyun’s gaze flickered up, suspicion creeping in. “Where did you even get this?”

Taesan leaned back slightly, arms crossing over his chest. “You’re not the first cupid to fall victim to their own arrow,” he admitted. “It’s more common than you’d think. And well, you could say I’m the one who handles cases like these.”

Jaehyun blinked, momentarily stunned. The solution had been within reach this whole time. He could have come to Taesan from the start and spared himself the turmoil.

Taesan seemed to read his mind and smiled. “Before you start blaming anyone, I never told the others about this. We were never advised to.”

Jaehyun nodded quickly, accepting Taesan’s words before he could even begin to place blame elsewhere. Without hesitation, he popped open the cap and brought the vial to his lips, downing the liquid in one swift gulp.

The bitterness hit him immediately, a sharp, unpleasant aftertaste lingering on his tongue. He let out a hiss of dissatisfaction, grimacing as he swallowed the last drop.

Taesan extended his hand, prompting Jaehyun to toss the empty vial toward him. With ease, Taesan caught it, barely glancing up as he set it aside.

“How soon will it take effect?” Jaehyun asked, his voice edged with impatience. He wasn’t feeling anything yet, and for some reason, that made him uneasy. Shouldn’t there be some kind of reaction? A tingling sensation, a rush of warmth—something?

“It usually happens faster than you could even know it,” Taesan replied, his attention shifting back to the stack of files he had set aside earlier. “At least, that’s how it worked for the others. You shouldn’t be any different.”

Jaehyun frowned, glancing down at his hands as if expecting them to tremble or glow. Nothing.

"Don't worry, you're not supposed to feel any different from your normal self," Taesan reassured, catching a glimpse of Jaehyun flipping his hands over, inspecting them as if expecting some kind of glow or change.

Jaehyun sighed, shaking off his nerves. There was no reason to doubt Taesan—he had already taken the potion, after all. Now, he could only wait for it to take effect. Feeling a sense of relief, he quickly bid his goodbyes and stepped out of the office.

As he made his way back, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Pausing mid-step, he pulled it out, his eyes immediately landing on your contact name.

He paused momentarily, his mind going blank as he stared at his screen before it closed on its own due to inactivity. Quickly pressing the side button, he reopened his phone to click on the notification, ready to type a reply. 

He stopped in his steps to be able to formulate some sort of response—something that would keep the conversation going. The moment you replied, his heart reacted the same way it always did around you, a familiar warmth creeping in.

It felt… off.

He was supposed to be cured, wasn't he? He knew better that Taesan wasn’t the type to lie, and yet, here Jaehyun was, still feeling the rush of excitement and nerves just from texting you.

Maybe the potion just needed more time to kick in.

That had to be it.

After all, that was the only explanation he would take for why he was still so happy just to be talking to you. RULE #9: Love Never Leaves, It Sticks.

It felt strange to admit that you had completely overlooked the fact that Jaehyun was the one responsible for setting you up with a perfect match. And, to some extent, he also forgot about his duties too. 

The only reason was that Jaehyun had done his part—he had found potential matches for you, offering names, profiles, and possibilities. But every time, you declined. It left him puzzled, unsure of what to do.

Who would refuse Cupid’s advances to help them find their person? In fact, who was Cupid MJ to flat out give up their client’s journey to love without a proper explanation from the person he’s trying to set up himself? 

Letting you go wasn’t an option. That wasn’t how he was taught. He didn’t know how to handle a client who showed no interest in any of the matches he curated. His job wasn’t just about arranging dates—it was about guiding the client until they expressed their own satisfaction. Only then could he receive a review, and only then could he reach his quota.

So, with that in mind, Jaehyun found himself sticking around. Messaging you, calling when the opportunity arose—keeping the connection alive in whatever way he could. It was beginning to feel like something more than just a supposedly professional relationship, but still, he reasoned with himself: he was doing a good thing, right?

Now, as he anxiously paced around his room, debating what to wear before heading out to meet you, he reassured himself again.

This wasn’t a bad thing.

If anything, maybe he should embrace the fact that you had asked him to hang out. That had to mean something, right? If he was nervous, then surely you were too.

And you were.

You had been muttering to yourself all evening, standing up every few minutes to readjust the setup in your apartment. It made sense to have the hangout at your place—you had the materials for a clay-making session. The idea had come naturally after you both talked about those tiny clay figurines everyone seemed to be making lately. It was a casual, easy thing to do. A simple activity.

But despite that, you still felt a little jittery.

You weren’t sure what had come over you when you asked him to hang out, but after all those conversations—after all the moments spent talking to him—it only felt right.

A proper hangout.

Not by chance. Not by force.

Just... because you both wanted to.

You sat there, envisioning how the day would unfold, a giddy excitement bubbling within you. It wasn’t hard to acknowledge your feelings, not when they had been creeping up on you for some time now—lingering in the way you pushed through your workload just to have an excuse to text him, or how you found comfort in the soft tone of his voice over late-night calls.

The loud sound of the doorbell cut through your thoughts—two quick rings. Jaehyun was finally here. You shot up from your seat, hurriedly slipping into your slippers before making your way to the door. The lock clicked as you twisted the doorknob, revealing Jaehyun standing before you. He offered a small wave, his familiar smile tugging at the corners of his lips, leaving you to return the same gestures. 

Oddly enough, Jaehyun didn’t seem awkward—especially since it had been a while since he last visited your place. And yet, Jaehyun slipped off his shoes, quickly stepping into your place while you turned to shut and lock the door. 

Despite how long it had been since his last visit, Jaehyun didn’t seem hesitant or awkward. He stepped inside with ease, slipping off his shoes in one smooth motion as you closed the door behind him. His gaze swept across the space, taking in everything as if he were reacquainting himself with an old home.

Nothing had really changed. The furniture was still arranged the same, the decorations untouched, and the overall warmth of your apartment was just as he had remembered. Even after all this time, it still felt familiar.

It still felt like the place where you two once shared so many beautiful memories together. 

Jaehyun’s eyes eventually landed on the wall above your dining table, where a collection of paper prints hung neatly in contrast to the plain white walls. A flicker of recognition passed through his expression. Jaehyun remembers the prints—he was the one that had bought them for you. 

“You still kept these?” Jaehyun asked, his voice carrying a hint of surprise as he stepped closer to the prints on the wall. His fingers brushed lightly against one of them, careful not to accidentally make one of the papers drop. 

You blinked, following his glance, before letting out a hum of agreement. “Of course—why wouldn’t I?’

Jaehyun let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “I don’t know. It’s just been a while.”

You watched as he traced the edges of the prints, his expression unreadable. It was strange seeing him like this. It looked like he was facing nostalgia, or even seeming a little lost in thought. 

“They help make the room look brighter—you were also the one who insisted I put them up,” you reminded him, crossing your arms. “I didn’t really have a choice.”

Jaehyun let out a small laugh. “Right. I did, didn’t I?”

Shaking the thought away, you cleared your throat. “Come on, let’s get started before the clay dries out.”

Jaehyun turned to look at you, finally snapping out of his thoughts. “Right,” he said, smiling. “Let’s do this.”

You both quickly settled into your seats, Jaehyun wasting no time in tearing open the clay packages while you scrolled through your phone, looking for inspiration. The soft scent of fresh clay filled the air, adding to the cozy atmosphere of your apartment.

“What do you want to make?” you asked, glancing up from your screen.

Jaehyun furrowed his brows, rolling a small piece of clay between his fingers. "Hmm, good question,” he mused. “Maybe an animal? A dog—or maybe a penguin? They seem easy to make.”

“Who says we can’t do both?” You smiled, saving the pictures of the clay figures Jaehyun wants to make. “Now, help me look for other things we can make instead of just staring at the clay.” 

Jaehyun huffed out a small laugh but nodded, setting the clay down before pulling out his phone. “Alright, alright. Let’s find something else.” He scrolled through his screen while occasionally glancing at the clay in front of him, as if he were trying to picture how the tiny figures would come to life in his hands.

It didn’t take long for the two of you to settle on which figures to make, especially with how often you leaned in to peek at each other’s phones, exchanging suggestions and other ideas. After narrowing it down to five designs, you both got to work, grabbing and setting the clay blocks in front of you.

You pinched and pulled at the soft material, rolling it between your fingers as you alternated between glancing at the reference photo and shaping your piece, doing your best to replicate the details. Jaehyun was just as immersed, his brows furrowed in concentration as he mixed different clay colors together, determined to get the shades just right. His efforts paid off when he finally achieved the perfect one, a proud smile tugging at his lips—only to quickly fade when he realized he had made way more than he needed.

Turning his attention to you, he noticed how focused you were, carefully crafting the tiny eyes for your figure. Without hesitation, he split the excess clay in his hands, handing you the bigger portion before he returned to shaping the body of his figure.

You blinked at the generous chunk he had given you, glancing up at him with a raised brow. “You do know you just gave me the bigger piece, right?”

Jaehyun, still rolling his clay into shape, barely spared you a glance. “Yeah, but you’re better at this than me. You’ll probably make better use of it.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your amusement as you both continued working. The silence that followed was comfortable, filled with the soft squish of clay and the occasional sighs of frustration when something didn’t turn out quite right. Every so often, one of you would mutter complaints under your breath, only for the other to snicker in response.

At one point, Jaehyun leaned back in his seat, holding up his tiny clay penguin with a smug grin. “Okay, not to brag, but I think I actually did a decent job.”

You squinted at it, leaning in before reaching over to poke its round head. “It’s actually really cute! But…” You tilted your head. “The eyes are a little wonky.”

Jaehyun gasped dramatically, pulling his penguin close to his chest as if shielding it from your words. “Are you hating on my penguin?” He scooted back slightly, placing a protective hand in front of it while wearing an exaggeratedly offended expression.

You burst into laughter at his antics, and he couldn’t hold back his own laughter either, setting the penguin down with a giggle.

“I’m not hating! At least yours is actually finished,” you pointed out, still rolling the orange clay between your fingers as you focused on shaping the penguin’s feet. The body was done, and you had already made the eyes, but you were carefully perfecting the details before assembling everything.

Jaehyun leaned forward, studying your half-finished creation. His eyes widened as he compared the two figures, placing his beside yours. “Okay, hold on—your penguin isn’t even complete yet, and it already looks better than mine. How did you do that?”

You shrugged, glancing between the picture on your phone and your clay figure. “I was just looking at the reference.”

Jaehyun let out a dramatic sigh and carefully picked up his penguin again. “This won’t do,” he muttered, setting it down in front of him as if he were analyzing all its flaws. “I need to make some improvements.”

You chuckled, smoothing out the rounded edges of the feet you were sculpting. “Jae, it looks fine,” you reassured him, glancing up with a small smile.

Jaehyun ignored your remark; his eyes locked on his creation as he smoothed out its uneven features. “Says the person who just called my penguin’s eyes wonky.”

You grinned, setting your now nearly finished figure down. “I meant it in a cute way.”

He shot you a look. “That’s just a nice way of saying it looks weird—if it’s even nice in the first place.”

You nudged him lightly, a small gesture of encouragement. “Well, I’m sure you’ll be able to make even better ones once we move on to the next ones.”

Jaehyun huffed but then smiled, rolling up his sleeves as if only now he was starting to get serious. And surprisingly, he did get better. 

The two of you got so caught up in sculpting that time slipped away unnoticed. What was supposed to be only five figures turned into more as you spent more time scrolling for more ideas, tapping on Jaehyun to recreate them. With that, you couldn’t help but chuckle at Jaehyun’s slightly lopsided creations, which always prompted a round of playful bickering. 

He’d always protest that that clay personally betrayed him, leaving you to only laugh harder as you shake your head to refute that point. Despite that, there were some clear improvements. Even if there were some pieces that seemed a little too round or flat, his figures did end up becoming more refined with the new details. 

At the end of it all—when you both finally checked the time—you realized just how long you'd been at it. The table was now covered with small, colorful clay creations, each one a testament to the hours spent laughing and sculpting.

Jaehyun, with a satisfied grin, began lining them up neatly, carefully placing each figure beside its matching pair. Once he was happy with the arrangement, he pulled out his phone and quickly snapped a picture, making sure to get every little detail. Without hesitation, he sent it to you. “There. Now we have proof of our masterpiece,” he said, turning his phone around to show you the image.

You smiled as you opened the message, admiring the tiny figures you both had worked so hard on. “They actually turned out really good,” you admitted, glancing over at him.

“I would hope so,” Jaehyun said with a chuckle, leaning back in his chair to stretch his arms behind his head. “After spending all that time making them.”

“Worth it, though,” you chuckled, tapping at your screen to save the photo. 

“What do we do with them?” Jaehyun asked, still remaining in his current posture. 

“I’ll keep them,” you announced, before suddenly gasping as a thought struck you.

Without another word, you grabbed as many clay figures as your hands could hold—careful not to squish them—and hurried across the room. Jaehyun turned in his seat, watching you with curiosity as you stopped in front of a shelf.

One of the shelves was completely empty, a perfect space for your new collection. You carefully placed the figures down, aligning them just as Jaehyun had arranged them earlier. Once they were neatly lined up, you turned to face him, grinning.

Jaehyun, who had been observing the whole thing with an amused expression, glanced between the shelf and you. “You’re really making a display out of them?” he chuckled, shaking his head.

Instead of answering, you quickly ran back to grab the remaining figures. This time, Jaehyun stood up, scooping up a few clay figures himself before trailing behind you to the shelf.

Once the last of the figures were placed neatly on the shelf, Jaehyun stepped back, arms crossed, as he admired the colorful lineup. He hummed in satisfaction, nodding approvingly before glancing at you.

"Are you actually going to keep these here?" he asked, raising a skeptical brow.

You scoffed, as if he had just asked the most absurd question. "Of course I am! We spent so much time on them—I can’t just take them apart like they were nothing."

Jaehyun smirked, tilting his head slightly. "Hmm, but how can I trust you on that? What if, the moment I leave, you take them down? Or even worse—" his voice dropped into a dramatic whisper, "What if you throw them away?"

“I would never!” You insisted. “You can visit again next time, and I promise the figures will still be here.”

Jaehyun’s lips curled into a grin. "Wait... was that you subtly inviting me to hang out again?"

"You started it," you muttered, quickly averting your gaze as you searched for a way to change the subject. Your eyes flickered to the clock, and you suddenly got a thought. "Do you want something to eat before you go? We completely forgot to eat anything."

“I would like that.”

Nodding, you grabbed your phone and sat back at the dining table, scrolling through a food delivery app. Meanwhile, Jaehyun found his gaze drifting back to the shelf, his fingers absentmindedly grazing the edge as he admired the tiny clay figures once more.

They weren’t perfect—not even close. Some were lopsided, others a little misshapen, but they held a charm he couldn’t ignore. Maybe it was because they were made with you.

And then his chest tightened.

That all-too-familiar pounding in his heart returned, an effect he swore he had rid himself of. Hadn't he? The supposed cure was meant to work, yet here he was, feeling the same way he always had around you.

Jaehyun’s eyes flickered back to you, his lips unconsciously curling at the sight of your focused expression, brows slightly furrowed as you scrolled through the menu.

Had the potion failed? Or... had his feelings never truly left in the first place?

The way he was feeling wasn’t perfect either—it was far from ideal. The pounding in his chest, the way his thoughts tangled whenever he looked at you—it was overwhelming, almost suffocating. A part of him felt like he needed to escape, to put distance between you and himself just to regain some sense of composure. Maybe if he ran far enough, he could recover. Maybe he could convince himself that this was nothing more than a lingering effect of something that should’ve faded by now.

But then there was you. There was always you. 

Just like the clay figures—no matter how imperfect or uneven—he found himself wanting to overlook the flaws, to overlook and accept the nagging feelings that were tugging at his chest. Because somehow, in the moments he spent with you, everything felt perfect enough. 

And that was everything he was looking for. 

To be in love. 

RULE #10: Once a Client, Always Your Client.

Jaehyun had always been strict when it came to rules, routines, and the careful structure he had built for himself. And yet, when it came to you, he found himself hesitating—not to break those rules, but to carve out quiet exceptions just for you.

It wasn’t that he hated the idea of being with you. What he hated was the feeling of being held back, restrained by reasons he couldn't quite grasp. Because the truth was, he did want those late-night walks, arms swinging side by side, fingers brushing in a way that sent warmth curling through his chest. He wanted to spend an entire day before an anniversary decorating, making sure everything was just right. He wanted to laugh until his stomach ached, gasping for air through tear-streaked laughter, unable to stop because being with you made everything that easy.

He wanted all of it.

And he wanted it only with you.

That was the reason why he kept going back—to chip away at the very walls he had built around himself. He went out of his way to text you, to meet you, to be near you. It felt effortless and natural—something that should’ve felt right. And yet, there was still that nagging thought, a lingering voice that was in the back of his mind telling him to stop. 

Was it fear? The fear of breaking Cupid’s rules, of stepping beyond the boundaries he was meant to uphold? Or was it the thought of being ridiculed, of being the one to fall instead of making others fall in love? 

Or was it the thought of having what he considered his true love slip away from him again? 

Whatever it was, it bothered him, clearly unshakable and noticeable—enough that Riwoo had to drop by, his concern written all over his face, just to check on him. 

Riwoo had always been Jaehyun's safe space—the one person he could confide in without hesitation, the one who always listened without judgement. He was the only one who knew at first—the one who confidently took over Jaehyun’s shifts just so he could be with you. So, seeing Jaehyun sprawled out on the couch, lost in thought, wasn’t just concerning for Riwoo—it was concerning for Jaehyun himself. 

He wasn’t the type to sit still like this, to let his feelings consume him so completely. But right now, it felt like that was all he could do. 

“What’s on your mind?” Riwoo sat back in one of the single-seat couches, his gaze never leaving Jaehyun, who looked like he’d checked out of the world entirely. He was slumped, his body unmoving, his eyes fixed on the ceiling as if he could stare through it into some distant place. It was as if he wasn’t really there at all.

Jaehyun finally broke the silence, his voice low. “A lot of things,” he murmured, his words barely audible.

Riwoo leaned forward, his expression softening. “Tell me one of them,” he said, his tone almost gentle—the kind of voice you use when you know someone seems to have a lot on their mind. “You know you can’t keep all of this to yourself, Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun let out a slow breath, his chest rising and falling as he remained fixated on the ceiling. His mind was a tangled mess, but if he had to pick just one thing—one thought that refused to leave him alone—he knew exactly what it was.

“It’s… about her,” he admitted, his voice quieter than usual.

Riwoo leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. “I figured,” he said knowingly. “What about her?”

Jaehyun shut his eyes for a moment, as if doing so would somehow help him find the right words. “I keep going back to her,” he finally said, his voice laced with frustration. “Even when I tell myself I shouldn’t. Even when I know it goes against everything I’m supposed to stand for.”

“What’s so wrong about falling in love? Riwoo asked, his voice cutting through the heavy silence.

Jaehyun’s eyes fluttered open, slowly processing the question. It was a simple one, yet it felt like an unexpected weight. For as long as he could remember, love was something to be avoided—something that could jeopardize everything a Cupid was meant to do. Hearing Riwoo speak those words, however, felt strange—almost unsettling.

He had been taught his entire life that love wasn’t meant for someone like him.

Every Cupid should know to avoid getting tangled up in love themselves. 

“I should be helping people find love, not falling into it myself,” Jaehyun murmured. The very words that he held against himself finally started feeling heavy with the weight of the years of expectations he set for himself to follow. It didn’t feel right for him to be saying that now, especially given how and what he’s been doing. 

Riwoo’s chuckle interrupted his thoughts. “You make it seem like Cupids can’t find love either.”

Jaehyun paused, his brow furrowing. “Isn’t that what they always told us?”

Riwoo’s smile faded into something more thoughtful. “It may not seem like an ideal situation for a Cupid,” he said slowly, as if reflecting on his own experiences with being around other Cupids. “But that doesn’t mean it’s wrong.”

Jaehyun looked at him, skeptical. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“No, seriously.” Riwoo leaned forward, his gaze more earnest now. “Why do you think I accepted the idea of you dating Y/N in the first place? Why do you think I’ve been covering your shifts whenever you needed it? I’ve always made space for you to be with her.”

Jaehyun felt a knot in his chest. He knew Riwoo was right. His friend always seemed to appear at the right time, sometimes without even needing to be asked. Every time Jaehyun needed to be with you, Riwoo was there to take his place.

“Where are you going with this?” Jaehyun asked, trying not to let his hopes rise too quickly.

“I’m trying to tell you,” Riwoo began, his voice getting softer, “that Cupids can’t hate the idea of love.”

Jaehyun’s mind buzzed with the implications of Riwoo’s words, and then he remembered something Taesan had once said. “Like Taesan said before,” Riwoo continued, “you aren’t the only one who’s been put in situations like this.”

Jaehyun shifted his position, moving from sprawling lazily on the couch to sitting upright, his posture tense. His mind raced, but the words still felt trapped in his throat.

“You’re still lost?” Riwoo asked, eying Jaehyun’s every sudden move. 

“It’s not that." Jaehyun let out a slow breath, his gaze drifting to the floor as he processed his thoughts. “From the moment I drank that potion Taesan gave me, I was told everything would just... disappear. But it didn’t work. I still feel exactly the same. I just feel…confused.”  

“Do you hate the idea of liking her?”

Jaehyun shook his head almost immediately, his fingers absentmindedly tapping on the edge of the couch. “I don’t. I really don’t. And I don’t know what to do with that.” 

““And I’m telling you that it’s okay if you want to love her,” Riwoo said with a smile. “Helping others find love doesn’t mean you have to give up your own.”

Jaehyun hadn’t realized how badly he needed to hear those words. All this time, he’d convinced himself that his feelings weren’t meant to be accepted, even though deep down, he yearned for that very thing. Hearing Riwoo’s reassurance lifted a weight from his shoulders, replacing his lingering worries with a silent urgency. The need to act, to take the step he’d been hesitating on, was suddenly clear.

“I think I need to go,” Jaehyun muttered as he stood, grabbing the nearest hoodie hanging by the door. He barely even looked at it before pulling it over his head, his mind already a few steps ahead, fixed on the next thing.

Riwoo didn’t need him to say more. He just sat back, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He watched Jaehyun with a mix of amusement and understanding. Even if Jaehyun hadn’t said the words directly, it was clear what he wanted.

Jaehyun was heading straight to you.

“You got this,” Riwoo said softly, as if the words could somehow give Jaehyun the last bit of courage he needed. Jaehyun paused before stepping out of his door, offering Riwoo a small but genuine smile, whispering a thank you. 

The moment Jaehyun stepped out and closed his door behind him, his heart picked up speed. Each step felt like it was pulling him closer to something he wanted but couldn’t quite understand—something that had been waiting for him. The answers weren’t clear, and maybe they never would be. But for once, at this moment, Jaehyun didn’t feel the need to chase them. He didn’t seem to mind. 

He just needed to show up. 

As he neared your place, he could feel the anticipation building in his chest, almost like a tightness he couldn't shake. His hand hovered over his phone, his thumb hesitant for a brief second. He took a deep breath, telling himself to stop overthinking. 

He was already here. He couldn’t turn back now. 

Before his mind could talk him out of it, Jaehyun pressed the call button next to your contact. One ring, and he immediately felt a rush of jitters flood through him. The second ring, his fingers twisted the fabric of his hoodie, his nerves getting the better of him. By the third ring, he finally heard your voice on the other line.

"Jaehyun?"

He froze for a moment, hearing his name fall from your lips. The sound made his heart race, but he quickly composed himself, trying to ignore the sudden increased pacing in his chest.  

"Y/N... Hi."

"Hey, what's up?" 

"Can I see you?" Jaehyun wasn’t too sure if you could hear the sudden tremble in his voice, but he could only pray that you didn’t. 

"Like... right now?"

"Just for a little while, yeah. I don’t want to rush you or anything, but I’m nearby, and—well, if you’re not up for it, that’s totally fine. I know it’s late."

"Stop worrying, Jae. I'll be out in a few. Just wait for me." you said, and Jaehyun couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips. He was already a little lost in the thought of what he wanted to say, but for now, he just waited, allowing himself to calm down as the seconds ticked by.

"I’ll be here,” he responded back quickly. 

He could almost picture your expression once he heard the soft chuckle you gave as the line went quiet again, leaving him standing there, staring at the phone in his hand. His nerves didn’t settle completely, but it didn’t matter anymore. He had done it. He had reached out. And now, all he had to do was wait.

After a few moments, Jaehyun spotted you running out of your apartment complex. You waved, and he quickly waved back.

"Hi," you said, as if the greeting over the phone hadn’t already happened. "Where do you want to go?"

 "Is it okay if we just stay out here?" he asked, knowing this was something that he needed. There was something comforting about being in an open space—a sense of calm he didn’t want to lose. He needed the fresh breeze of air, but more importantly, he simply needed a little room to breathe if things became overwhelming. 

"Yeah, of course," you said, nodding. You pointed toward a bench just outside the complex. "We can sit there."

Jaehyun shifted slightly on the bench, feeling the cool night air brush against his face. The sounds of distant traffic blended with the quiet night, giving everything a sense of calm he hadn’t expected. Sitting next to you with no distractions, it almost felt like time slowed down. The pressure in his chest eased just a little more.

“What did you want to see me for?” you finally spoke, turning to face Jaehyun. He also turned to look at you, your face illuminated by the soft glow of the streetlamp. His heart skipped, just like it always did when you looked at him like that—with that same curiosity and warmth in your eyes. It made his thoughts scatter, but he pushed them back, trying to focus.

“I just... needed to talk,” he said, his words coming out quieter than he expected. He wasn’t sure how to put what he was feeling into words. He let out a small chuckle, noticing how ridiculous it was for him to be acting this nervous. “I’ve been holding back from saying this, actually.”

“About what?” you asked softly, your voice laced with both curiosity and a hint of worry. Something about the way Jaehyun had called you out here felt different, and you couldn’t help but wonder if this was something important. Your heart skipped a beat, uncertainty swirling in your chest as you tried to read his expression. 

"About... us,” Jaehyun finally confessed, his voice quieter than usual. “I’ve been thinking a lot about this—about you—and what it really means. I know the timing might seem a little off, especially with me having to be involved in your love life by setting you with others, but I can’t seem to shake these feelings I have for you.”

“You have feelings for me?” you asked, your voice a mix of surprise and disbelief, the words barely leaving your lips.

He nodded, his cheeks flushing as he looked away for a moment, trying to gather himself. The honesty in his words felt foreign, almost suffocating after he’d spent so much time hiding it. “Ever since you walked into my office that day, I’ve been trying not to feel it. I didn’t want to admit it, but when I saw you, it wasn’t fear I felt in my stomach. It was… relief. Relief that I finally got to see you again.”

Jaehyun’s voice trailed off as he shifted uncomfortably, but there was something raw in his eyes that made you pause. It was the kind of vulnerability he rarely let anyone see, let alone you.

“You’ve kept that with you this whole time?” you asked again, trying to reconfirm his answer as your thoughts spiraled. 

He nodded again, his fingers suddenly fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie. “I didn’t want to complicate things, but I knew I couldn’t keep pretending my feelings are simply nothing.” 

The weight of his words was finally setting into you after you tried processing everything. Your mind felt like it was in a haze—this was unexpected, but not completely. You always felt a shift between you two but never allowed yourself to fully acknowledge it. You were the one who brought the idea of breaking it off first, after all. 

And now, it felt as though time had folded itself back, bringing you to that moment when Jaehyun first confessed to you. That same rush of emotions, the happiness tangled with confusion, was there again. But this time, you felt different—stronger, surer. 

You knew better now; you knew that you couldn’t let someone like him slip away again.

“I’m really happy that you’re telling me this,” you said, your voice having an obvious, cheesy tone. “Because I feel the same way.”

Jaehyun’s eyes widened, considering how he was preparing himself for the worst. “Wait… you do?”

You nodded, recognizing how the truth was coming out easily now. “I always thought it was obvious.”

Jaehyun’s lips parted slightly as if he were searching for something to say, but he simply looked at you, his words being taken over with a grin on his face. His gaze softened while he stopped fidgeting with his hoodie, feeling a rush of relief running through him. 

“I was scared that this would have made things weird between us. But hearing you say that..." He exalted, as though he could finally breathe easier. “It’s everything I could wish for.”

You couldn’t help but smile back, considering how you were never quite sure if you’d ever get to hear those words from him if you didn’t show up to answer his call. The way your feet kicked back and forth was the subtle sign of nerves and excitement that had your pulse quickening. 

“Me too.” 

“I’m glad,” he said, his voice soft but sincere. “I really am.” He leaned back slightly, his gaze locked with yours, feeling lighter than he had in a long time. It was strange, yet comforting, knowing that the feelings between you were mutual.

For once, everything felt right again.

“Well then, how about we have an impromptu date right now?” Jaehyun suggested, his nervous look soon turning into something more playful. This was the Jaehyun you were always used to. 

“Oh, so now you’re asking to take me out on a date after I just also practically confessed my feelings?” you shot him a look, only for you to end up breaking into a small fit of laughter. “Very smooth, Cupid MJ.” 

“It’s only fair that I get to ask you out,” he shrugged, wearing a teasing grin. “Had to beat you to it before you were going to ask me out on a hangout again.”

“Alright then, where would we go?”

“To yours? Actually, I’ve been meaning to add a few prints to your kitchen area. It was looking a little plain, and I should’ve gotten you more prints before.”

“Shading my living space after suggesting we go there is crazy, by the way,” you crossed your arms, jokingly staring at him in disbelief. 

Jaehyun let out a small laugh, shaking his head. "You know I didn’t mean it like that."

"If not, then what?" you teased, still shaking your head. "I think you’re just trying to crash into my place, huh?"

He raised his hands in mock surrender, his expression innocent yet mischievous. "Far from that—I just want to see those clay figures you’ve got if you still have them. I’ve been curious."

Another soft laugh escapes from your lips, and the warmth in your chest spreads further. “Come see it then,” you said, the words slipping out before you could second-guess them. Honestly, you were waiting for the next time he’d suggest going to your place. You wanted him to come over again. “I’ll show you that I kept my word on keeping our figures.”

Jaehyun’s smile widened, his eyes lighting up as if your invitation was exactly what he’d hoped for. “Lead the way,” he said, following right after you as you stood up to walk back into your apartment complex—this time, with him by your side. 

The conversation between you two flowed easily, like it always had, and with every exchanged word and giggle, Jaehyun found himself being able to learn a few things.

One, that the Cupid Rules were never as severe or strict as he once believed. Fate had its own way of working, and despite all the supposed boundaries and obstacles, it had led him right back to you—the very person he once thought the Cupid Universe forcefully separated him from. 

Two, he had been so fooled to be convinced that removing the love arrow effects would help erase the emotions entangled between you both. Instead, he was right back here with you. And this time, there was nothing to blame, no external force to credit for his sudden rush of emotions—just the undeniable truth that, even without all of that, he still would have chosen you anyway. He couldn’t complain, not when this was exactly where he wanted to be. 

And three—the one thing he could fully believe about the Cupid’s Handbook was Rule #10. 

Once a client, always your client. 

Jaehyun could only hope those words were true. That no matter where life led you both, no matter what ended up being in the way, he could always find a way to stay by your side for good. 

That’s when he knew that being only with you was the only thing he wanted. 

His first, true love. 

𓊆 🗯️ 𓊇 CUPID’S FINAL WORDS ✶ TYSM FOR READING UNTIL THE END ^^ !! this feels so bittersweet completing like actually… 💔 so… if i were to write for more cupid aus, would you guys like that?? since i do have some ideas but not for all members yet so…. please let me know ♡

BND PERM TAGLIST ( OPEN ) — @juyeoz @j4d @itsactuallylina @rizzwoos @htaesan @macapunoz

[ninsficrecs]

not of a cold nature by bruinss

Fandom: Hockey RPF Relationship: Jonathan Drouin/Nathan MacKinnon Rating: Explicit Published: 7/30/2024 Completed: 9/12/2024 Chapters: 12 Words: 49,944 Summary: An omega who isn’t wanted is an omega who isn’t happy.

Nin's Notes: If you like NateJo, and you like omegaverse, then you've probably read this fic already, but it's worth sharing again.

mind the tags: a/b/o, werewolves

[kaesficrecarchive]

[vernon x seungkwan]

friday i'm in love by mrehk (1/1 | 20,536 | E)

“Frontman. I need him.” Seungkwan lifts his own glass, pinky extended to the stage. Seungkwan noticed him the second he came on stage (all of two minutes ago). He’s lanky, his head is freshly buzzed— and the way he moves oozes with confidence. An absolutely killer smile paired with stage presence— Seungkwan was sold. Soonyoung follows the line of Seungkwan’s point, tiny straw hanging between his lips. He openly scowls when he realizes who Seungkwan is talking about, spits his straw back into his glass. “No shot, Kwannie. These assholes are too popular for us. They’re literally straight off a tour.” “That's great. I don’t give a damn. I’m going to fuck that one.” (OR: Seungkwan doesn't date musicians, but he certainly fucks them.)

(author)

[kflixnet]

Check out our member Duckie's fic!

nonidol!kevin moon x f!reader

another summer break, another annual trip to the lake! except, it seems like when you and kev get there, you'll have to make some tweaks to the original rescue protocol.

▷ genre, warnings. childhood friends 2 lovers, fluff, hurt/comfort, humor, swearing, motherly meddling and matchmaking, shirtless kevin..., kissing, talks of academic expectations/pressure/insecurity/and lack of fulfillment, kim seokjin is my favorite plot device, this could technically be slow burn, pining-ish?, im sorry joshua + serena, little to no interactions with the other boyz 😔

▷ word count. 29.0k (...hah)

this is the sixth installment of the love in unity series! reading the prev fics is not required, but i do encourage it :] all prev yns will be referred to as _!yn

a/n: return to summer with me 😌 or for those of u on the other side of the world, we can give summer an early welcome :') treat her w kindness pls </3 hope u enjoy!!

EPISODE ONE (PILOT): DON’T YOU LOVE FORESHADOWING?

"IT still feels weird, man." Kevin Moon brushed his hand over the surface of his newly cropped hair, freshly cut specifically for this summer break, just earlier this week. He probably should have gotten it done before he took all those pictures with his graduating friends, but life had been busy as of late.

Jacob Bae, best friend, roommate, and one of the recent graduates, chuckled from the other side of the video chat. "I'm sure it does. But hey, it looks good, so it's not like you have anything to worry about."

Kevin glanced over at the car where his dad was gassing up. His mom was in the back seat, waving her arm out the window to beckon him back to the vehicle. "Thanks," he grinned. "Looks like my mom is telling me to come back. This is probably the last time I'll have signal for a few weeks."

Just behind Kevin was the little gas station he and his parents stopped at for snacks and the last leg of their drive. It was tradition that every summer his family made the trek to their lakeside cabin a few hours out of Vancouver. Except last summer, Kevin couldn't make it; in contrast, this summer, Kevin and his parents were going without Kevin's younger sister. Usually, there were a couple other families that were there at the same time, too, who Kevin had grown up with. It was usually a grand time.

Kevin adjusted the bag of snacks he'd purchased from the store that hung on his arm as he made his way back to the car.

"Make sure to take pics! And say hi to your mom for me," said Jacob.

"Why don't you say hi to her yourself, Jacob-ah?" Kevin's mom chided teasingly as Kevin took his place in the passenger seat next to his dad. Ever since Kevin and Jacob had met at that one, fateful out-of-country student mixer at university, neither of them shut up about each other to their own families. It was like finding a needle in a haystack, locating a fellow Korean-Canadian.

Kevin passed his phone back to his mom, and he heard Jacob's immediate, "Hi imo! How are you?"

"I've been doing well. Wah, you look so glowy," his mom marveled, and Kevin felt her nudge him in the shoulder. "Hyungseo-ah, maybe you should get a girlfriend, too, if this is how radiant Jacob looks after so long."

Jacob's warm chuckle contrasted Kevin's groan. The latter rubbed his hand down his face with an embarrassed wince. "Eomma," he said weakly, sliding down in his seat. Not this again.

The car began to roll out of the gas station and he lowered his window to catch the breeze as they went. He already recognized the pattern of trees in this area, and his heart fluttered at the thought of being so close to childhood again. The lake was always a favorite place of his.

"—Kevin mentioned something about other families being there?"

"Oh, yes. We're always there with the Ln family, and more recently, Kevin's cousin—you know Yuna, right? She and her husband Seokjin meet us there with their kids now."

Kevin rested his elbow along the edge of the window. "Uncle Seokjin is an interesting character, Cobie," he mused. "I think you'd get along."

"Seokjin gets along with everyone," his dad chimed in.

"You know who you should get along with, Kevin?—" Kevin already knew where his mom was going with this, "—Yn Ln! You're not gonna be shy after spending so long away from her, are you?"

Jacob's voice echoed in the car. "Who's Yn Ln?"

Kevin squirmed in his seat. "Just—a family friend. Mom, can we please not make this a big deal?" And why in the world would he be shy around his childhood best friend? Three years couldn’t have changed a person that much, could it? You were cute—but in a dorky way—that was how he had always seen you.

She sent him an innocent look. "What? I don't know what you're talking about."

"You know what I'm talking about," he said, twisting around in his seat to send her a pleading look. "I don't wanna make her uncomfortable, especially since… y'know… we're not kids anymore?"

His mom made a sound of disapproval, but relented. "Aish, fine. I won't say anything; I promise."

A beat of silence. Then from the phone, "I still have no clue what's going on."

The twins were being a pain again. Most of the time, since you were away at college, you actually missed the twin hellspawn, but you should have known that bliss would shatter the moment you had to endure another five hour car ride with them.

"—MAMA, CONNOR IS BEING A JERK—"

"WELL, ALICE WOULDN'T SHARE THE GOLDFISH!"

The noise-canceling headphones weren't working. Usually, they worked substantially well when trying to block out the frat party noises at school, but they weren't holding up well against adolescent discourse. You would have thought that once they had grown out of toddler-hood, they would calm down a little, but sibling rivalry prevailed.

You shucked your useless headphones off and twisted around in your seat to peer into the backseat. "Here, have mine," you said, dropping your bag of goldfish into your little brother's lap.

Connor's eyes lit up in delight. "Thanks, Yn!"

Your ears rang as you turned back to the front.

The drive up to the lake house was something you and your family did every summer, except, you hadn't gone two summers ago for a summer internship. It was a tradition completed with other families—namely the Moons, who were longtime family friends out of Vancouver. You hadn't seen Kevin, their only son who was your age, in two years because of your conflicting schedules. It would have happened again this year, but your misfortune had you internship-less. Then again, a trip to the lake was never a bad thing.

You leaned your head back against your seat rest to enjoy the rare moment of silence in the car. Already, you could begin to point out the familiar scenery out of your window.

“I heard we’re gonna be getting new neighbors this year,” you heard your mother say from the front row, breaking the brief quiet.

You blinked out of your daze, shifting in your seat and to give momentary relief to your aching behind. “Oh, really? Do we know who they are?”

“Aw, so Uncle Jin and Auntie Yuna aren’t coming to the lake with us?” Alice pouted from the backseat.

“No, Uncle and Auntie are both still coming up with us,” you dad piped up from the driver’s seat. He caught your eyes through the rear view mirror. “Their little ones are coming, too. We’re just gonna have even more people this year.”

“Should be fun,” you murmured. You leaned down to rummage through the backpack at your feet for your backup bag of snacks (because some part of your brain just knew that the twins would forget how to share).

“I can’t wait to see Kevin!” This was Connor; you could feel the car shake as he bounced up and down in his seat. “I’ve been wanting to show him my new helicopter—”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “Con, you brought the helicopter?”

“Yeah, and what about it?”

Before further argument could erupt between you and your brother, your mom stepped in. “Speaking of Kevin…”

You could feel the coming conversation like there were dark gray storm clouds forming in the distance—impending doom, you liked to think. You fumbled with the opening of your chip bag. “Mama, could you possibly, by any chance, not try and set me and Kevin up anymore?” There, you’d said it. It was out in the open.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” your mother sniffed. “I only think that you and Kevin would be very nice together! It’s already so convenient that our families are long-time friends, and—”

“Mama,” you emphasized. “I don’t wanna get into a relationship for convenience's sake.” Your skin was already beginning to heat. Having known the Moons for so long, as well as having kids the same age, your mom and his mom had harped on the opportunity to bring your families together through more than one way.

“She just doesn’t want to get into a relationship at all!” Your little brother cackled.

You sent him a dull look over your shoulder. “And after I gave you my goldfish?” The situation concerning relationships wasn’t as Connor so bluntly put it; rather, you simply had yet to find the right person, as it was for many people. A relationship would have been nice, but when it came, then it would come. Plus, you were pretty sure that Kevin wasn’t the most comfortable with being matchmade with you by the Mother Matchmakers either. That was what the pact was for, anyway.

“I’m just saying that Kevin is a smart, good-looking young man,” your mother teased.

You hadn’t seen him in almost three years, but how much could three years change a guy? Maybe you would admit that he was cute. If you hadn’t known him since he wore Cars diapers, maybe you would have had a crush on him. “No matchmaking,” you repeated.

Your mother sighed melodramatically. “Fine. No matchmaking with Kevin.”

“Thank you,” you said, settling into your seat. Something stirred in the back of your mind, though. For some reason, you had a feeling that this wasn’t the end of this conversation. But as you turned your attention back to the scenery whizzing past you, you let all dealings with matchmaking, boys, and relationships sink to the very back of your mind.

EPISODE TWO: IT’S CALLED AN AMBUSH

THANKS to the convenience of no signal, you could safely attempt to forget about the internship you hadn’t landed this year. The entire debacle had been a headache and a half, but the residual sadness still lingered. There was something about the lakehouse, though, that gave you hope that you could get over it. While you wouldn’t spend this summer doing something “productive” toward your career, you would at least be presented with a pleasant alternative.

Your dad pulled the family SUV into the gravel driveway of your family lakehouse, and childhood flooded back to you. All of the dark oak walls and browned window sills and wildflowers blooming in the front walkway among the grass… You could remember crashing your bike into that one bush to the side of the house where the rain gutter now stood hugging the building.

The twins had fallen asleep sometime between the matchmaking conversation and here, which left the car in a sort of serenity that matched the surroundings. Your house in particular was one of the few houses that was perched a little higher than the lakeshore. There were a couple around the lake that sat directly on the water with docks built into their lower levels though.

You notched your car door open, shouldered your backpack, then quietly lowered your car’s seat. Connor, who was sitting directly behind you, had his head tilted to the side, mouth wide open to catch flies as he slept. With a cheeky smile, you snapped a picture of him. Once tucking your phone away, you climbed into the back to shake him and Alice awake.

“Hey, we’re here,” you murmured. Your parents were already beginning to unload the car of your supplies for the next couple of weeks.

Your brother’s eyes fluttered open, and his arms stretched over his head as he began to compute his surroundings. “Mmm… I’m hungry,” he babbled and smacked his lips together.

Yep, this one was awake.

You patted his face in your version of sisterly affection as you leaned over him to get to his twin. “You gotta wait, dude. You’re gonna ruin your dinner.”

He rubbed his hand over his face. “You always sound like Mom when you say that.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you huffed. You nudged your sister. “Hey, Alice. Up, hm?”

She shifted in her seat, eyes still closed. “Are we here yet?”

“Yeah, hon. We’re here.” With your task completed, you backed out of the car to make space for the twins to climb out after you. You took a step backwards, your foot catching against something and making you tumble into the person directly behind you. “Ah! Shi—”

“Language!” Your mom called from the other side of the car. “Hi Kevin! Wow, did you get a haircut?”

Kevin…?

You recognized the warm chuckle behind you, and the arms helping to steady you patted your shoulders in greeting. “I did!”

When you whirled around, your mouth stretched in a grin, but you didn’t expect to come face to face with the confident stature of the man behind you. He was in a tank top and shorts, which were definitely proper attire for the humid temperature, and yet, your brain was thinking about the amount of arm muscle there was. Oh, and of course, the cropped black hair. You could have sworn his jaw got sharper, too… This was not the timid-faced Kevin Moon—rising freshman in college—you last recalled.

“Kevin!” Connor’s body rocketed past you and crashed into Kevin’s legs.

Kevin bent down slightly to ruffle your little brother’s hair. “Hey, little man! What’s good?”

“I wanna show you my helicopter—!”

“Connor,” Alice said as she hopped out of the car, “Mama wants you to help bring in your stuff, and then you can show Kevin your helicopter.”

Connor’s mouth gaped open like a fish’s. “Wha—what about Yn?”

“Well, that’s just what Mama said, so,” your little sister said matter-of-factly. She raised a hand in a wave to Kevin. “Hi!”

Kevin returned the gesture with a sweet smile. “Hi, Alice.”

You and Kevin watched as your twin siblings raced into the lakehouse with their backpacks strapped onto their bodies. You could hear their hollering from out here as they fought over who would get the top bunk this year.

“They’ve gotten taller,” Kevin commented, drawing your attention back to him.

You brushed your hair from your face. “Yeah, you should’ve seen my reaction when I came back home and they were like, not small enough where I could trip over them anymore.”

The two of you shared a small laugh, and you held one arm with your other. You hadn’t realized how a few years could reset things between the two of you, but you supposed it was also attributed to the fact that three years away at college could lead to a lot of difference and a lot of growth.

“So what’s new with you?” You asked him and nudged his arm with your elbow. “Have you been working out?” You blurted, but ran with it.

Kevin smiled, reaching back to cup the nape of his neck with that sheepishness you recognized as something distinctly Kevin. Maybe things weren’t so different. “Hah, yeah actually. Is it that noticeable?”

You looked him up and down with what you hoped he saw as teasing and not you actually checking him out. “Yeah, dude. You look good though.”

“Really? Thanks, Yn. I appreciate it.” He stuck his hands in the pockets of his shorts. "You look good, too—and oh my god, I have so much to catch you up on—"

"Hyungseo! Stop hogging Yn and come in to help with dinner." Just a little ways down the path, Kevin’s mom peered out from the front porch of the Moons’ house. The houses in this neighborhood were a little more spread out than the average suburban street, but their house had always been the closest to yours.

You could have sworn you saw a dusting of pink on your friend’s cheekbones. “I’m not hogging her,” he groaned. He turned back to you, throwing a thumb in the direction of his house. “I’ll see you guys over at ours in a few then?”

You gave a nod. “For sure. My mom and I marinated a couple things for tonight this morning, so we’ll be bringing those over.”

“Sweet,” he grinned, already backpedaling toward his house. “See ya, Yn!”

“Bye, Kevin,” you chuckled and bounded up toward your house.

Once everyone in your household had settled in for the most part, your dad corralled your siblings over to the Moon house, while you and your mom brought over your family’s offerings of tonight’s dinner. Instead of entering through their front door, you simply bypassed the invisible property line between your houses and found Kevin and his dad firing up the barbeque on the back lawn.

Kevin looked up from the box of aluminum foil in his hands and dropped it onto the table. "Oh, auntie! Let me get that for you," he said, meeting you in the middle and taking the tray out of your mom's hands.

"Thank you," she said to him. "How has school been, Kevin? Remind me again—you're a…?"

"Photography major," he replied. The three of you swept past Kevin's dad on your way up to the Moons' house.

"Ah, how's that going for you?"

"It's going well—" Your mom slid the screen door open and you all deposited your shoes to the side before entering the kitchen. "—I should be able to graduate two quarters early, which is nice."

Your mom nodded her head. "That's good, that's good. Katherine, it's nice to see you again!"

As your mom shuffled over to the sink where Kevin's mom was washing a colander of cabbage, you and Kevin set the trays down on the kitchen island.

You heard Kevin's gasp of delight when he lifted the foil off his. "No way. I love your mom's short ribs so much," he said, tipping his head back with his eyes closed.

You laughed at his reaction. "Me, too dude. It's never the same when I try to recreate it at school."

"Oh, for sure," he agreed. He cocked his head to the side, a frown coming into his face. "These should probably go back out to the grill then, huh."

You considered the two trays of meat before you. "You're right."

You both covered the trays back over and began to make your way back out to the lawn.

"Has Connor showed you his helicopter yet?" You asked Kevin while you slid your shoes back on.

The screen door slid shut behind him with his other arm carrying his tray. "He did." Kevin brightened, "It's cool. That kid should go into aviation or engineering."

"That's what I'm thinking," you said. "Though, he's not the greatest at math, but I guess he still has a long way to go before he even needs to consider all that."

He nodded, sighing. "That's true. The twins have a long way to go. Crazy how far we've gotten, y'know?"

You both dropped the marinated meat trays over by Kevin's dad, only to greet your dad on the way down to help out. You were sure that you and Kevin were needed up at the house anyway; your dad had mentioned something about having Connor and Alice start on the batch of kimchi. You hoped he had set up some newspaper this time to avoid a mess.

"My sister says your porch swing broke last year," Kevin said as he followed you back into the kitchen.

"Oh yeah!" You snorted. "Pro tip: don't try to fit two families on that thing. Not a good idea."

The moms directed you both over to the fruits and vegetables on the counter that still needed to be prepped, and you picked up a knife, and Kevin a peeler.

Kevin's brows knitted together as he tossed and caught an asian pear with one hand. "You guys tried to fit both families on that thing? It could barely handle two people the last time I remember."

"Hey, in our defense," you started, already giggling at the memory, "we wanted a cool picture, but then we ended up almost putting a hole through our porch. Lesson learned."

"Lesson learned, indeed." He shook his head as he shucked the pretty ring of golden peel he'd gotten from the pear into the paper bag beside him. "Is it fixed now?"

"Should be," you said. You used the blade of your knife to help coax the peel of the red onion off, then diligently began to take the rest off. "We need a maximum occupancy sign to go with it."

He laughed. "Something like 'less than four people' or something?"

"I think it can handle four people!"

His eyebrows arched high. "You wanna test that theory?"

You glanced up from your diced onions for just a second to meet his gaze. "Uhm no. But you are definitely welcome to."

"Oh, no, no! I'm not getting looped into this solo again like you did with the tire swing that one year."

"Okay, that time wasn't my fault! You said that you bet we could ride it together without breaking the tree branch, and I said—"

Your thought train cut off when the doorbell rang. Both yours and Kevin's heads perked up at the sound and darted in the direction like a pair of meerkats. Even from this room, you could hear the front door being opened and the commotion firing up. There was only one family left to join the party, and you knew exactly who had come to make his presence known.

In minimal time, a lanky man with dark brown bangs and a magazine-cover-worthy face barged into the kitchen with his hands raised, full of grocery bags, and a child riding in a carrier on his chest. "Hello, everyone! Your favorite, most handsome uncle has arrived."

"Hi, Uncle Jin," both you and Kevin chorused, as Kevin's mom took the grocery bags from him with thanks. Your mom must have been the one who opened the door since she had gone into the other room to monitor the twins and their kimchi.

"Hello, children—wow," Kim Seokjin said as he made eyes at Kevin's arms, giving them a little squish. "Close the gyms, everyone. What have they been feeding you at college?"

Kevin's face reddened. "It's nothing, really."

"Nothing?" Seokjin made eye contact with you. "You're seeing this, too, right?"

You swallowed your laugh, but you couldn't suppress your smile. "I'm seeing it, too," you confirmed. You set your knife down and gently ran your finger over baby Leena's head; you wondered how she was still asleep with how loud her father's voice was. "Awh, she's adorable."

Your uncle by association put his hands on his hips. "Fatherhood is great, but let me tell you," he said with flair, "after two kids, I don't want anymore. I think I've seen enough dirty diapers for you both combined."

Kevin laughed. "I'm sure Yuna-noona's on the same page."

"Yes, your cousin and I are definitely on the same page," Jin confirmed while clasping a hand on Kevin's shoulder. His eyes widened, and he gave the muscle beneath his fingers a squeeze. "Jesus—"

"Jin! Do you know where the bag with the formula is?" That was Yuna, Kevin's cousin, calling from the next room over. Soon, her head poked in through the doorway, and her mouth curved into a delighted smile at the sight of familiar faces. "Oh, hi everyone!"

"I think it's in the red colored bag, babe," Jin said as he turned away from you and Kevin and waddled over to where his wife was.

"That's what I thought, too, but I can't find it."

With the young couple now off in search of their bag of baby formula, you and Kevin were again left to yourselves with the fruits and vegetables.

You scooped the diced onions up with one hand and the blade of your knife into an empty bowl for later. "Well, that was…"

"Quite an entrance?" Kevin finished. You could still see the rosiness in his cheeks. "Yup."

"You can always count on Uncle Jin to liven up a place."

"Oh, definitely." Kevin picked up another pear to peel; they would probably either be sliced up for the kids to eat or maybe used to make a dessert later. Something of the sort, at least. "Now where were we?"

You raised your brows as you picked up a carrot. "I think we were talking about how you broke the tire swing in seventh grade."

The evening progressed swiftly with everyone's combined efforts in throwing dinner together. By the time the sun was about to make its descent into the horizon, all three families were moved out onto the back lawn with chairs set up and meats cooking on the grill. There was something beautiful about the lake at this hour—then again, there was always something beautiful about the lake. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but even the way the mosquitoes danced in the waning sunlight made your chest feel warm and fuzzy.

If you strained your vision a little, you could even make out the shapes of people on the opposite shoreline beginning to light campfires of their own. Most of the people who lived around the perimeter of the lake sublet their properties during the non-vacation seasons like your family, the Moons, and the Kims. Then, when the time came, they would return to their lakehouse hideaways for much needed rejuvenation.

As golden hour painted the landscape glorious shades of auburn and butter, you caught your mother making her way toward you out of the corner of your eye.

“Yn-ah,” she said to you with a plate of the fruit that you and Kevin had cut earlier in her hands. She gestured for you to take it from her, then nodded up over to the house on the other side of the Moons’ place. “Take the twins and go welcome our new guests.”

You furrowed your brows. “New guests?” When you followed her gaze, you saw that the house next door had acquired a new car in its driveway. You definitely didn’t recognize it, but you managed to spot what looked like someone disappearing in the front door of the house.

“They’re one of the new families, I think,” she told you. She then gave you a little nudge, urging, “Go. We’re still working on dinner anyways.”

You glanced between the plate of fruit in your possession, then searched the back lawn for the hellspawn. When you located their whereabouts (skipping through a pair of hula hoops over by the big oak tree), you marched over to them to repeat your mother’s instructions.

“Oi!” You called out.

Alice looked over at you as she stopped her skipping. “I don’t want fruit,” she said when she saw what you were holding.

You stopped just short of Connor’s hula hoop circumference. “It’s not for you. Mama wants us to go say hi to the new neighbors. Come on.”

“Do we have to?”

“If I do, then yes. And Mama said so.” Plus, you were not planning to go alone upon any circumstance. Your social anxiety could not take showing up at a stranger’s doorstep alone and with fruit.

The twins dropped their hula hoops and begrudgingly trudged after you. No child could trump the “Mom said so” card. At least, not in this household.

With your siblings following after you like two ducklings to a Mother Goose, Kevin saw the line of you walking past from where he was stationed beside his dad. His eyes zipped from you, the kids, and the plate of fruit, then cocked his head to the side in bemused inquiry.

You inclined your head toward the house you aimed for in the distance and lifted the plate of fruit as if that was enough explanation.

He gave a grave nod for your sake, teasing of course, then held up his free hand in a thumb’s up for encouragement.

Nonetheless, you and your siblings carried on.

The lakehouse on the Moons’ other side was similar to all the others around the lake: dark wood walls, doors encased in a protective screen door, grass and flowers growing out of the cracks where the house met the earth. You could feel your siblings converge on you, nearly hiding behind you, as you all approached the front door. It wasn’t that the house looked scary in any way—it was just the prospect of new people that was the scary part. You were sure this family was just as friendly as everyone else, but it didn’t hurt to be a little nervous.

When the three of you reached the front door, you raised your hand to ring the doorbell.

You could hear the echo of the bell inside the house, followed swiftly by a man’s voice, “I’ll get it!”

Footsteps drawing closer… then the locks came undone, and finally, the main door inside the screen swung open.

“Hi,” greeted the young man on the other side.

You paused when his face became clearer after opening the screen door. He was, to put it bluntly, awfully pretty. Dark hair swept back out of his face and behind his ear, a prince’s facial features, and a smile that was as beautiful as the golden hour greeted you and your siblings. Even his voice was soft.

Alice held onto the side of your shorts pocket. “You're pretty.”

The man made an expression of humble surprise, and heat rose to your neck. “Sorry,” you stammered. “We’re from a couple doors down and we wanted to welcome you to the lake. These are for you and your family.” You managed to pass the plate over to him without being any more embarrassing.

He accepted the offering graciously. “Oh, wow. Thank you so much! That’s so thoughtful.”

You placed your hands on either of your siblings’ backs to push them forward slightly. “I’m Yn, and these are my little siblings, Alice and Connor.”

Your siblings chimed in their hellos to the pretty man.

His eyes narrowed in upturned crescent moons, smile widening. “Well it’s really nice to meet you guys. I’m Joshua, but my friends call me Josh or Shua.”

EPISODE THREE: MAMMA MIA! HERE WE GO AGAIN…

IT turned out that your mother had an ulterior motive for sending you and your siblings to greet the newcomers. She had popped up behind you soon after Joshua had introduced himself to invite him and his family to have dinner with you. You could sniff out the conspiracy from a mile away, but you still wanted to give your mom the benefit of the doubt.

When the first night passed without anything happening, though, you slowly let your guard down. (Rookie mistake.)

Everyone crashed into bed after cleaning up dinner. The move up to the lake was a tiring one, and the promise of an early start the next morning proved to be more than enough encouragement to hit the hay.

You were on the living room couch with Alice sitting on the floor between your legs the next day. It was late morning by this time, and you and your siblings had just woken up less than an hour ago. Your dad was still asleep, and your mom? Well, you weren’t really sure where he was.

“Ow, can you stop tugging?” Alice whined under her breath, her hand rocketing up to the back of her head to stop your hands.

You paused your movement for the third time in the past fifteen minutes. “It wouldn’t hurt this bad if you would just let me run a comb through it.”

“The brush works fine if you use it correctly!”

You exhaled sharply and pressed your lips together. There was never any rest between your two little siblings, whether it was amongst themselves or against you. You supposed you could just suck it up for the time being; it wasn’t often that you got to braid your little sister’s hair. She usually just liked to leave it down.

You heard the backdoor open and shut behind you, and the both of you turned your heads to see who it was. Your mom entered the house with perspiration gleaming on her face as she took off her sun hat and tossed it onto one of the dining room chairs.

“Hi Mama,” the two of you said, one after the other.

Your mom settled onto the couch cushion next to you. “Hi girls. Is your brother and dad up yet?”

“Connor’s with Uncle Jin and Aunt Yuna,” said Alice. “Daddy’s still asleep though.”

“Mm,” she hummed. She combed her fingers through her sweat-soaked hair. “It’s a warm morning out,” she murmured, then quickly added, “hey you.” She knocked her hand against your arm.

“Hm?” You asked as you finished up Alice’s braid and tied it off with the blue Cinnamoroll hair tie she’d chosen. You patted her back with your hand. “You’re done.”

Your little sister hopped to her feet. “Thanks!” She dashed away and out of the room—to where, you had no clue. You figured she knew where the food was if she was hungry.

You angled your body to squish your side against the couch cushions and face your mother. “What were you saying?”

“Ah, I was going to talk to you about the Joshua Hong boy.”

Joshua Hong. You didn’t realize you could hear a man’s name so often within twelve hours.

You made a gesture with your hand. “What about the Joshua Hong boy, Mom?”

“Well, isn’t he a handsome one?” She asked you enthusiastically, straightening in her seat. It was alarming how bright her expression became. “I spoke to his mom while Kevin and I were walking just now, and he’s only a few years older than you, you know.”

You heard a metaphorical record scratch. What? There was so much in that one sentence that you needed to unpack. You raised your hands to signal her to pause. “Wait, since when do you and Kevin take walks together?” What could they have been talking about? You knew Kevin was an exceptional conversationalist, but never in your time at the lake had you known of this interaction.

Your mother blinked. “Oh, we started the tradition when you didn’t come up with us that one year.”

“Tradition?” So this happened more than once? You didn’t know why you were so scandalized by this information—it was just Kevin after all. You knew your parents and even your siblings were all fond of him—of course they were. You were arguably even more fond of him, but that wasn’t the point. You hoped she hadn't said anything about you and him as an item at any point of time… you trusted that Kevin could handle that though; that was what the pact was for, after all.

“Why are you making such a big deal out of this?” She arched a brow. “But anyway, yes, so we bumped into Josh’s mom on the last leg around the lake, and she mentioned that he’s majoring in chemistry and planning to go into medicine. You guys might have something in common.”

You pursed your lips. Perhaps the two of you might have something to talk about, but your track was pre-veterinary rather than pre-med. There was probably a middle ground though... Maybe you were just being stubborn.

“Just make friends or something,” she said to you while standing up from the couch. “You need more of those.”

Your eyes shot wide open. “Hello? Mom?” Now that was simply uncalled for.

She chuckled impishly as she walked away and disappeared down the hall, leaving you to yourself. You were lucky neither of the twins were here to hear that burn.

It wasn’t much longer than a couple hours later that you found yourself on the backyard lawn space setting up the badminton net between two oak trees with Kevin’s assistance. Everyone was outside and awake, and the kids were all seated up on your house’s back porch munching on the watermelon that Yuna cut for them.

You tightened the string on one side of the net. “So he didn't kiss her?” You queried.

Kevin sputtered a laugh, yanking his side to test its integrity. “Yeah,” he said. “Isn’t it so funny? According to multiple sources, Sunwoo and Chanhee barged in at the perfect moment, and frankly—” Kevin raised his arms up in the air and let them fall for effect, “—ruined the moment.”

"Pfft.” You considered that for a moment. An almost kiss ruined by a comedically timed interruption from a guy drunk off liquor and love, and the friend tasked with dumping his ass at home. That was bad luck if you ever heard it. “And what about that other dude? The Hyunjae guy? Did he finally fix his eyesight?”

Your friend leaned back against his oak tree, ankles crossed over the other and arms braided over his chest. A pair of shades rested backwards on his head to complete his summer-worthy ensemble of shorts and T-shirt. “His literal eyesight is still shit, but yeah, he and HJ!Yn are together now. Took for-fucking-ever, but—”

“Language!” Jin yelled like a referee on the sideline of a soccer match. “We have children in the vicinity.”

Kevin brushed a hand through his hair. “Whoopsies, sorry!” He turned back to you. “Anyways, yes, they are finally together. Man, having someone watch my cursing makes it seem like Jacob is here with me.”

You noticed the fond twinkle in his eyes as he stared out at the still waters of the lake just down the way from you both. “You talk about this Jacob guy a lot,” you said to him. “I think I need to meet the person who’s threatening to knock me off the best friend pedestal.”

“He already has,” he jested.

You let out an indignant squawk. “Hurtful!”

Connor, watermelon juice smeared all around his mouth, added rather unnecessarily, “So you don’t want a partner and you don’t have friends. What do you have, Yn?”

You leveled a scowl at him. “An annoying little brother.”

“Hey!”

In a tone dryer than the Sahara Desert, Alice chimed in, “Guess that makes me the favorite twin.”

“I should tell you about Sangyeon. I need to yell about Sangyeon,” Kevin huffed indignantly, snapping his fingers as if the thought just hit him. You whipped your head back over. “Oh my god, dude, you know what happened at the graduation ceremony? It was like, straight out of a scene from a movie—!”

You never got to find out what was just like it was out of a movie, because your mom appeared in the distance with the Hongs. They all came wielding badminton racquets—how convenient. You didn’t mind the extra company, of course, and despite your stubbornness, you knew Joshua and his family were very nice people.

You caught the tail end of your mother’s conversation with Josh and his mom: “...Yn used to play badminton on the high school team. She could’ve gone to the Olympics if she really wanted to—”

Well, that was only partly true. Your team had gone to Nationals, but the Olympics was one step above Worlds. You liked to think you were pretty good at the sport, but you hoped your mom wasn’t talking up you and your abilities too much.

“Oh, wow. I’m a soccer person myself,” said Joshua good-naturedly. “I don’t really know much about badminton, but it seems like a really fun sport.”

"Yn's a great teacher. She taught the twins how to play." Ah, there it was.

When they were within a comfortable distance, you raised your hand in a wave. "Hi hello!"

"Hello Yn," Joshua's mom said back. "Hi Kevin."

Kevin dipped his head with a smile. "Hi Auntie."

"Yn-ah," said your mom as she took you by the arm, dragging you over toward Joshua, "I was just talking to Josh about how good you are at badminton."

Your eyes widened slightly, and you noted the way Joshua's did the same. You made eye contact with Kevin as this happened. He seemed caught at a crossroads, unable to help or say anything. "I guess I'm okay at it."

"Liar," Kevin suddenly jumped in.

You sent him a look. Wait really?

He shrugged sheepishly. "I don't wanna downplay your abilities, dude. You're really good."

Oh. "Thanks, Kev," you said, blinking. Your heart warmed at the finger guns he sent your way. It was nice to know he had your back.

"Good! See? You and Josh should play doubles together." Your mother somehow got a racquet into your hand. She clapped her hands and ushered her two other children off their butts. "Come on, you two, you can be on Kevin's team."

"But that's not what doubles means, Mama—"

Joshua sidled up beside you with an apology in his smile. "Sorry, you don't have to do this if you don't want to. I don't want you to be forced to teach me or anything."

Guilt wormed itself into your stomach. "No, no! It's totally okay," you amended swiftly. "This all just happened really quickly, but I'd be so down to teach you badminton, if you'd like."

He bobbed his head up and down, patting the netting of his racquet. "Okay, yeah. That'd be really cool actually."

You nodded, returning his expression. "Cool."

You and Joshua had somehow taken over the makeshift badminton court. The twins had gotten tired of the "big kids" playing too hard, and Kevin… actually, you didn't know why Kevin put down his racquet. But at some point, you noticed that he was just hanging out in a chair, sipping some kind of fruit juice as he observed you and Joshua. (That was what you assumed he was doing. There was a book propped open in his lap, but you hadn't seen him turn a page in a while. And he had put his sunglasses on, so you couldn't exactly see what his eyes were doing.)

You tracked the birdie as it flew over the net to your side. "Nice!" You praised, taking a few steps in the diagonal to hit the birdie back over with an easy backhand flick.

Joshua stumbled forward, but hit it back over. "Shoot," he said, barely catching himself before he crashed into the netting.

You chuckled, "Careful." You backed up and gave the birdie a gentle bump.

It sailed over the net, but it landed too close to it for Joshua to get a clean shot back over. He sighed as he bent down to pick the projectile up from the grass. "Dang. Nice hit, Yn."

Content with your shot as well, you walked over to the net to meet him. "Thanks, man."

"Hyungseo-ah!"

You watched as Kevin stood up from his chair at his mom's call. "Yeah, what's up?"

As she strolled over to him, she was reapplying sunscreen onto her arms and face. "We have more new neighbors. Since you're not doing anything, you should come and welcome them with me. There’s someone I think you should meet."

You and Kevin locked gazes for a second before he turned back to his mom. You didn't know why you kept looking at each other—this all felt like déjà vu, but maybe it was the fact that it seemed like your moms were separating you both instead of bringing you together that was throwing you off.

"Uhm, sure, Mom." He dropped his book into his seat and followed after his mom.

Your gaze trailed after him for a moment before you snapped back to reality. You swiped the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand. "Sorry, where were we?"

Just then, Seokjin made his way down the lakeshore with baby Leena strapped to his chest again. He threw up an arm in greeting. "Hey, kids. You guys still at it?"

"Yup," you said back. "He's getting good at it!"

Joshua laughed lightly. "Ah, you flatter me. It's just 'cause Yn's a good teacher."

Seokjin's eyes flickered between the two of you. "Huh. I'm sure she is."

"Anyways," you coughed. "Did you just come from the new neighbor's house or something?" He hadn't arrived from the direction of his own house, which was on the other side of yours.

Your uncle by association gave his affirmative, one hand pressed gently on the back of his baby in his holster. "Of course! You know I'm too nosy to not have gone to introduce myself and see what's up. The couple has a girl around your age, Yn-ie. Their son is off in Paris for his job or something though."

The two men could probably see the gears in your brain turning. Another person who was around yours and Kevin's age? You really didn't want to read too much into it, but—you pushed the thought to the side. It probably wasn't what you were thinking, right?

"Uh, you good, Yn?" Joshua asked.

Your eyes shuttered. "Yeah. I was just thinking about something." You gestured with your racquet in a flourish. "How about another round?"

EPISODE FOUR: THE DAMSEL IN DISTRESS DEAL™

THE crickets were particularly melodious tonight. Their chirrups became lovely background music as you perched on the stairs of your back porch beneath the warm glow of the outside light. Moths swarmed the bulb, casting little shadow puppets along the wooden deck.

You were hunched over one of the few books you brought along with you for the trip. Your siblings liked to tease you for bringing “school work” on a summer trip, but these had been purchased out of your own interest. It was an anthology of experiences related to animal behavior. The certain piece that had originally caught your eye had been about the Alaskan husky’s primal nature to run, and their participation in dog sled racing. You’d come across it originally in a magazine on an airplane, finding yourself enthralled in a story of the stamina, determination, and hard work that these dogs faced in the brutal Alaskan winters.

When your plane landed, you had gone online and found more stories like them. Thus, the book in your lap and money down the drain. (Though, you would argue that it was money well-spent.)

“Warm night out.”

You startled, heart galloping in your chest, as Kevin appeared in your periphery and stepped into the light.

To his credit, he took on a sheepish sort of grin. “Oops, sorry. Probably should have given a warning or something.”

You pressed a hand to your palpitating heart and scooted over to give him room to sit on the step next to you. “No, it’s all good. I don’t think there was really any way that you could have warned me.” You were probably way too deep into your book to have even noticed if he was any quieter.

He took a seat beside you, posture mimicking yours with his forearms pressed onto his knees. “You’re right,” he murmured. “Whatcha reading?” He asked while inclining his chin toward the pages in your lap.

“Oh.” You kept a couple fingers wedged between the pages you were on as you flipped to the cover to show him. “It’s just this, uhm, collection of stories on animal behavior. Real fascinating stuff, actually, and a lot of it is kind of inspirational.” You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, unsure of why you were always shy about telling people about something you were passionate about. You shouldn’t have thought so little of Kevin Moon, though. He never gave you any worries about being judged.

“Oh, that sounds neat,” he said, scooting closer. “Is it for your major? You’re still doing wildlife biology, right—or is it ecology?”

“Wildlife biology,” you confirmed. “It’s not for my major or anything, no. Just something I was interested in.”

A thought suddenly occurred to you and you were rewinding all of the things that had happened in the past couple of days. Before Kevin could comment further on the topic of majors, you piped up, “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

His eyes widened a smidge, his posture straightening. “Oh? What about?”

You felt around the porch deck for the receipt you had been using as a makeshift bookmark, hand flopping around before you snatched it up and slipped it into the pages of your book. You set the book aside. “Is it just me, or are our moms… you know…”

“Doing the Thing again?” He finished. He sighed with a little grimace, “Yeah, I think I’m seeing it.”

The “Thing” that both you and Kevin were referring to was none other than the very act of matronly matchmaking taking place between you and the new kids on the block. At least you could confirm that you weren’t overthinking it.

You recalled the events of earlier today when Kevin and his mom had come back to where everyone else was with the new family that had just arrived. The Xus were another party of just three—their oldest son was in Paris, as Seokjin reported, but their youngest, Serena, was yours and Kevin's age. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out who Kevin's mom wanted to introduce her son to.

“You know what’s crazy?” You said to him then, “On the car ride up here, I asked my mom—like, point-blank, you know?—to not try to matchmake us anymore.”

Kevin perked up. “Dude. That’s crazy, because that’s what I asked my mom on the car ride up here.”

You sputtered, “You’re kidding.”

“Great minds think alike,” he said, lip curling upward into a smile and his arms coming up in a halfhearted shrug. “But I should have known it wouldn't be that easy.”

Now that you were thinking back to your own conversation, you should have known something fishy was going on when your mom mentioned Kevin specifically… You only thought that she was being thorough in her understanding of what you were asking her to do, but turned out, it was only a loophole. “You’re so right,” you groaned and tilted your head backward. “Literally what are we gonna do?”

The two of you stewed in silence on this fine night.

There was one night, similar to this one, where you had sought each other out. You couldn’t remember what year it was—something close to sixth grade when both of you had the mind to realize the game your moms were trying to play. From that night came a pact of sorts, one that would hopefully try to steer each other away from a fate that neither of you were sure that you wanted yet. After all, eleven years old was a little premature to be talking about who you wanted to spend the rest of your life with, right?

Kevin leaned back onto his palms. “We need to make a new pact, I think.”

Your head swiveled over to him. “Amendments to the pact?”

“Either amend it or come up with a new one to fit our current situation,” he said. “A rescue protocol.”

A rescue protocol… you could see it begin to take shape in your head. The previous pact was different—an agreement between you and Kevin that you were both simply friends, no matter how many times your moms made you do chores together, or tie each other’s shoelaces, or swap numbers and emails and social media. And it had worked, for the most part; you were both still friends after all these years.

But this time would have to be different. Your moms weren’t driving you toward each other anymore.

“The Rescue Protocol—is that what we’re calling it?” You mused in an attempt to bring mirth to the conversation.

Kevin made a sound like a laugh. “Better than ‘the pact,’ I like to think.”

“How about the ‘Damsel in Distress Deal?’”

He let out an actual laugh this time. You got to watch his eyes turn up into crescent moons, the corners crinkling with pretty smile lines. His smile was always contagious, even after all this time. “The ‘Damsel in Distress Deal?’” He parroted. When he allowed the phrase to soak into his brain for a second, tongue massaging his bottom lip, he relented. “Okay, that’s actually not bad.”

You giggled. “So we either call it the Rescue Protocol or the Damsel in Distress Deal, trademark.”

“Trademark?” His reaction sent you into a flurry of snickers, hand clamped over your mouth so the sounds wouldn’t wake up your family. “What? Are we gonna advertise this idea to people?” He chuckled.

“It’s a good idea!”

“We don’t even know what the parameters are yet,” he sputtered. Kevin lightly punched your upper arm. “Silly goose.”

“Geese are not silly,” you found yourself replying. They could be mean creatures. “But I think they’re cute.”

“Jacob thinks they’re scary.”

You gave a playful roll of your eyes. “This Jacob guy again?” After a moment, you sighed, toeing the dirt on the bottom step with the tip of your shoe. “Hey, can I ask you a question?”

Kevin sobered a little, but the remnants of his merriment remained in the shine of his irises. “Shoot.”

“Are you…” You struggled to string the words together. There was a question you’d come up with already, but you didn’t know if it was too forward or not. “Are you ready for a relationship?”

The question caught him off guard. His gaze flickered from you, to the grass, to his lap, to the moon-soaked surface of the lake further down the hill. “I… I’m not sure, really,” he muttered, then added, “I think I would know the right person when I meet them.”

“Yeah,” you agreed.

“Or maybe not,” he shrugged. “Maybe I’ve already met the person I want to spend the rest of my life with, but the relationship just hasn’t gotten there yet.”

You pondered on that for a moment, then realized you agreed with that, too. If you already met the person you were meant to be with, the thought of a relationship was a little less daunting. You already knew this person. “So we’re in agreement then? This new pact is something we both want?”

“As usual, we are in agreement,” he nodded. “What’s our plan then? Fight fire with fire?”

You snorted. “Pretty much, right? We just have to, you know, swoop in whenever we can to counteract their movements. Help each other out, y’know?” You laughed at how ridiculous this all sounded. “I guess it’s really just doing what they’ve wanted us to do this whole time.”

Kevin grinned to himself. “Spend time together?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m down for that. You?”

“Yeah, man.” You shifted to angle your body toward him and stuck your hand out. “You still remember it, right?”

Kevin sent you an incredulous look, as if offended that you could think so lowly of him. He reflected your angled body, hand primed and ready. “Uh, yeah. Do you remember it?”

You clicked your tongue. “Of course, I do! It's the seal."

You knocked the back of your hand against his to signal the beginning of the handshake.

Like second nature, the two of you made your way through the unnecessarily (but also completely necessary) convoluted masterpiece that was your sixth grade handshake. It was what you used the first time you sealed the deal on the pact, and whenever you made any other agreements of significance (e.g. the Juice Pouch Accord of Eighth Grade). Now, it would seal the Rescue Protocol/Damsel in Distress Deal, too.

When the handshake combination finished (marked by twin flicks to the forehead—"Ow! You always flick so hard.”; “Yikes, hope that doesn’t leave a mark…”—and a… proper handshake), the only thing left to do was put it into motion.

Teasing, you sent him a look of approval. “You did remember.”

“Funny how you say that as if you have the better memory out of the two of us,” he quipped back with an unimpressed look.

You hummed your own amusement back to him, taking the book that you’d set aside earlier back into your lap but leaving it unopened. There wasn’t any signal in this area, so devices were practically useless, so books and board games and sports became the go-to for entertainment. It was what your parents originally liked so much about the place, and eventually you and your siblings. It allowed for moments between the moments like this… whatever this was.

Kevin leaned back onto his palms again, and the shadows and moonlight cut across his jawline like glass. “I didn’t think you’d be up so late.”

“Yeah,” you drawled and picked at a strand of grass sticking out between the boards of a stair step. “I couldn’t sleep for some reason and decided to read, but then I opened my window and realized it was a nice night out, so here I am.” You nodded to him, “You?”

He gave a soft sort of chuckle. “You know I never sleep.”

Your chest felt heavy all of a sudden. “Still have the sleeping issue?” You asked softly. It had been a big thing when he was a kid. It had started off as being a very light sleeper, but over time, you discovered that sometimes Kevin just did not get sleep.

“Yeah…” he said, "I'm usually able to sleep when I'm here though, y'know? The peace, the quiet, the familiarity—it all helps. It was just tonight that was out of the ordinary." When he glanced over at you, the side of his lip quirked upward. "Don't worry too much."

You'd always thought about the lake as your home away from home, your safe space. A part of you had always thought it was the same way for him.

“How could I not worry?" You asked, poorly masking your concern as you leaned over your knees and looked at him. “How did you ever get used to your place at uni?” There must have been some reason that he was able to survive over there.

The corners of his mouth curled upward into a smile. “I was lucky,” he admitted. “I met people who have become some of my best friends and family. I guess it’s just weird being so far away from them and it's catching up to me.”

As much teasing as you did about this Jacob character, you were glad Kevin had found him and his other friends. Being away from home like that could not have been easy. At least you could rest assured that he was taken care of over there.

He had grown so comfortable over there that even his subconscious missed them.

You shifted a little closer to him and gently leaned your head onto his shoulder. He seemed surprised at first, but relaxed and let you keep your head there. “That’s good,” you whispered. “I’m happy for you.”

A beat passed, and the crazy thought occurred to you that maybe you should have asked to do this first. “Is this okay?”

His hand warmed the top of your head. “More than okay.”

The two of you sat there like that for however long—you couldn’t really tell. Time passed by differently here, it seemed. Friends definitely comforted each other like this though, right? Right.

EPISODE FIVE: [SHENANIGANS ENSUE.]

"KEVIN, would you mind giving this snack pack to Serena?"

"Oh, I got it, Auntie!" You snatched the Ziploc bag of trail mix from off the counter where Kevin's mom had set it out. "I haven't properly introduced myself to her yet," you said as some kind of explanation.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Kevin look away to conceal his laugh at your inconspicuousness.

Today, the five families planned to go on a long nature hike as a large group. There was a specific path that your family, the Moons, and the Kims always took at least once every year that led out to a waterfall. It was a beautiful slice of nature, but then again, you thought this entire area was beautiful.

You swung out of the Moons' kitchen and out onto the back lawn where everyone was slowly gathering to take off. Eyes scanning the immediate area, you located Serena Xu standing off to the side plaiting her hair into a simple braid over her shoulder.

As you made your way over to her, your Uncle Jin suddenly appeared beside you. “You look like a woman on a mission, Yn-ie. What’s the sitch?”

Your brain took a second to register the reference. “Has Sana been watching Kim Possible or have you, Uncle?”

“And if I said it was both of us?” He sniffed. Sana was his eldest daughter, only three years old, but Jin and Yuna were very updated in the essential kids shows they wanted their daughters to watch.

“As you should,” you said with an indulgent nod. You turned your gaze over to your intended target.

Serena’s eyes wandered up from her hair and met your eyes, then glanced over at Jin. You hoped she didn’t think the two of you were ganging up on her or anything. Two new people at once could be intimidating.

“Hi, Serena, right?” You asked as you and Jin approached her.

She gave a small nod, pulling her braid’s end over her shoulder as she fidgeted with it. “Uh, yeah. And you’re Yn?”

“We already met yesterday,” Jin said chipperly.

Serena nodded again.

Your fingers danced along the edge of the Ziploc baggie in your hands, squeezing along the edge to make sure that it was closed properly. Your teeth ran over your bottom lip before you were passing her the bag in your hands. “Kevin’s mom made all of us snack bags, and I just wanted to say a proper hello.”

She accepted the bag, eyes wide as she inspected its contents through the clear plastic. “Oh, wow. Thank you; that’s really thoughtful.”

“Oh!” Seokjin illuminated like a lightbulb, clapping his hands loud enough to make both you and Serena wince. (You and she met each other’s eyes with awkward laughs.) “Didn’t you mention yesterday that you were pre-law?”

Your eyebrows flew upward. “Pre-law?” Your head bobbed up and down with a low whistle. “That’s cool.”

“Yeah, uh, I guess so,” she said. “It’s a little intimidating right now, if I’m being honest.”

“Yn!” Ripped out of the conversation, you excused yourself and found the source of your name. Your mom was perched on one of the picnic benches outside of the Moons’ place, slathering sunscreen on your brother’s face. Connor’s face was wrinkled in extreme displeasure as she patted the white cream into his skin with a slapping sound.

Always amusing.

Perched upon the picnic table next to them was none other than Joshua Hong. He sent you a friendly greeting wave.

“What’s up?” You asked, leaving Uncle Jin with Serena so you could make your way over to your chagrined little brother, your mom, and Joshua. “Where’s Dad and Alice? Hey Josh.”

He replied pleasantly, “Hey Yn.”

“Your dad’s grabbing something from the car with her,” she dismissed. “Would you mind showing Joshua where we put our bandages? We have so many of the little ones—”

“It’s just a little cut; I swear I’m fine!” Joshua chuckled good-naturedly. He showed you the slice in the side of his finger that was only a couple of centimeters long, but you could tell that he’d just recently cleaned it up and was holding it with a small piece of napkin.

Your mom made a noise of disagreement. “It’s going to get infected on the hike.”

You shuffled on your feet, offering him a small smile. “Sorry, man. I have to agree with her.”

“Thank you. You remember where the bandages are, right? You and Josh just go run up really quick together.”

You didn’t even realize when Kevin got here. “Oh, why don’t I just get one from my place for you?” Kevin waltzed into the conversation with an innocent expression, hands tucked into the pockets of his shorts, as he appeared at your side. “Since we’re just right here.”

Joshua gestured toward him with his hand-clutching-hand situation and hopped off from the picnic table top. “If you don’t mind.”

“Yeah, dude, it’s no problem.” Kevin’s hand met the place between your shoulders with a warm pat, and he led Joshua up to his family’s cabin for the bandages.

Your amusement followed after them as you watched them leave. Your mom sent you a curious look, eyes narrowed in question, and you could only shrug helplessly.

The hike commenced shortly after the boys got back from raiding the Moon’s medicine cabinet. Your dad and Alice returned sometime before they did, and Alice had once again requested you put her hair up in, as she said, “Something nice.” As if the wilderness would care about her nice hair-do, but you gave her a plait that matched Serena’s.

Your brother and sister kept near to you as you led the group through the beginning of the trail. Though you didn’t consider yourself as someone who exercised religiously, you never turned down a good foraging session. Your freshman environmental science course had presented you with plenty of opportunity to dive into the dense forest areas near the building. Even in the early reaches of the morning (8:30 morning labs were sometimes difficult to be disciplined about, but you were determined), when the fog clung to the forest floor and dew slipped down velvety oak leaves, you found yourself at peace.

At some point in time, Connor picked up a large fallen stick and used it as a hiking staff. “You shall not pass!” He declared after running a little ways ahead of you and mimicked the deepness of Gandolf’s voice.

You snorted as you passed by him and ruffled his hair. “Name the series that’s from and then we can talk, dude.”

“You’re never any fun!” Connor garbled, jogging after you.

You scoffed, pressing a hand against your chest in feigned offense. “I’m way more fun than you are,” you retorted.

“Okay, prove it! Make this more fun.”

“So you’re saying this hike isn’t fun?” You gasped.

Connor stabbed at the dirt path warn into the ground that weaved through the trees ahead for miles. It was by no means a challenging hike, just a lengthy one that required a bit of enthusiasm and endurance. “Well last time, you brought that thing—”

“Sugar water,” you supplied.

“—yeah, that one—and we caught butterflies!” Painted Lady butterflies were a common species of butterfly that was widespread among North America. Luckily, it hadn't been too difficult to find them.

“Woah, you guys caught butterflies last year? Without me?” Man, this guy was just everywhere today, you thought jokingly, as Kevin appeared on your other side with a boyish grin on his face. “That’s cool.”

“We didn’t catch them,” you corrected. It was more so a lure with the sugar water (a substitute for nectar), letting the kids see the insect up close, and then setting it free. You were no lepidopterologist—butterflies were cool, but no special interest of yours. “They just landed in my hand for a little. You should’ve been there to take pictures.”

Kevin hit the palm of hand against his forehead. “That’s what I forgot! I forgot to bring my camera on the hike.”

“Tsk tsk, what would your sister say now?” You chided playfully.

He pressed his lips together in a grimace. “Don’t bring her up—I can hear the echo of her voice as we speak.” To prove his point, he pressed his fingers to his temples, eyes fluttering closed, as if he really could hear his sister’s teasing from wherever she was.

You humored him with a laugh—

“Yn! I’m gonna climb that boulder!”

Okay, fun time was over. You tracked the sound of your brother’s voice, and with barely enough time to catch up to him, you set off the beaten path to follow. “Hey, you better be careful or Mom’s gonna put you on bedrest for the rest of the trip,” you chuckled as Kevin fell in step beside you. You said to him offhandedly, “Would you possibly mind…”

“Yeah, I got it.” He did a small jog over to the cluster of boulders your brother had begun to scale. Going bouldering wasn’t a new activity for you and your siblings, but you remembered that these ones were a little larger than your mom was usually comfortable with. You were grateful Kevin understood immediately.

He was already standing below where Connor was, playing along with whatever roleplay your brother had made up, all the while hovering in case he fell.

The rest of the party caught up to you at this point, and Alice, Uncle Jin, Sana, and even Josh converged upon the rock formation in a flurry of giggles and mirthful playtime. You observed the action with ill-concealed fondness for everyone there as they came together and helped one another climb to the topmost boulder as if it were the peak of Mount Everest. Something warmed within you at the sight.

On your left, Yuna, who was on Leena duty this morning, came to stand beside you. Some of the parents were pulling out cell phones to record all the chaos going on. “Why don’t you go up with them?” She asked, inclining her head to the rock formation.

Josh was just beckoning Kevin up with him, and you saw Kevin’s head turned back over his shoulder. When his eyes found yours, Kevin waved you over, too.

“I should,” you murmured in agreement.

Yuna hummed as she adjusted the little bonnet on Leena’s head. “You know, Kevin…” she began. You waited for her to finish, but she smiled instead, shaking her head. “Nevermind. Go have fun, you bean.”

You giggled at the nickname, then wasted little time going to join everyone else. You could probably ask her what she was going to say later.

The evening found the group of you gathered on the shady back lawn between yours and the Moons’ cabin for dinner once again. The Xus and Hongs had all retired to their own respective houses for downtime, so it would just be the three original families. You perched a little ways away on the back stairs of your house’s porch, a bowl of peelable tangerines in your lap. At your feet, you had rolled the edges of a brown paper bag you’d found beneath the sink to use as a disposal. All of the compostable waste you and everyone else produced while here would become great fertilizer and mulch. It was something you usually had your siblings help with, especially before you left the lake.

Kevin had his cap turned backwards as he made his way over to you in flip flops. “That seat taken?” He asked with a nod toward the board next to you.

Your eyebrows rose. “All yours.”

“Thanks,” he beamed, doing a silly waddle, then sitting down next to you. He reached into the bowl on your lap for an orange, and you moved the compost bag between your bodies. “Your mom was talking about Josh again,” he said as he dug his thumb into the skin of the tangerine. Its juices sprayed into the air and released its sweet fragrance.

“Why am I not surprised?” You sighed with a shake of his head. “You know, he’s really good with my siblings though.”

“Oh, is he?”

You shrugged, shoveling a tangerine half into your mouth. “Mm—yeah,” you said once you’d swallowed. “But you’re also good with my siblings. I dunno, it was just an observation.” Based on what you saw on the hike, you could confidently conclude that your siblings agreed with both Kevin and Josh. They were both friendly beyond means, easy on the eyes, kind on the soul.

Kevin didn’t say anything for a beat, and still didn’t say anything until he’d finished the orange in his hands and picked up a new one. “I hear he’s going into medicine. I have a friend who’s going into medicine.”

“Which one?” You asked, then joked, “Don’t tell me it’s Jacob now…”

When Kevin gave you a sheepish expression, you shook your head, “Okay, now I think you’re obsessed with this guy.” All the teasing was in good fun, of course.

“He’s just my soulmate,” he lamented with a hand draped over his forehead for added effect. “No biggie.”

“Damn,” you laughed. You popped a wedge of tangerine into your mouth, eyes going to the sky for a moment as you pondered on something. “So you say that when Jacob met his current girlfriend, it was because of you.”

“Yup.”

“So you set them up? You matchmade them?”

He nodded. “I’m very proud of myself, actually. I take credit for all of their milestones and anniversaries. I better be the Best Man at their wedding, and—”

“But you matchmade them; doesn’t that make you a hypocrite?”

Kevin’s speech came to an abrupt halt. You watched, in blatant amusement, as his face contorted and arranged itself in the five stages of grief. “Oh my god… I am a hypocrite.”

For a moment, you felt bad for laughing at his blanched expression. “It doesn’t make you a bad person,” you assured him.

“It makes me a hypocrite.” He hung his head, but shot back up just as quickly. “Okay, but wait! It’s different.”

“Do tell.”

“It’s different because Jacob never told me he didn’t want to be matchmade.” The calculations taking place in his head were as stark to you, the observer, as if he was working it out on a white board. His eyebrows knitted together. “Yeah. That’s the difference. Plus, that match was fully successful, and he ended up putting in a lot of the work himself by the end anyway.”

You bobbed your head in agreement. “Fair enough.”

Kevin settled his chin on his hand, eyes slicing back over to you. “Aren’t you a hypocrite, too, then?”

You blinked. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

His face said it all. “Jenna from fifth grade.”

Oh. It all came rushing back to you…

But before anything else could be commented on the matter (read: before you could go through your own miniature existential crisis like Kevin had), a presence appeared, squatting down between the two of you. “What—” Jin covered Leena’s ears as he sat down, “—is the mother-effing tea?”

You and Kevin immediately scooted over to make room for the uncle coming in hot. You moved the compost bag back to the other side of your leg.

Kevin chuckled. “You said ‘mother-effing.’”

“Aish,” he exhaled, wrinkling his nose up. “Yuna’s on relax mode right now and has two beers in her. I get a pass, okay? Now catch me up on all of the exciting stuff.”

You and Kevin traded glances. “What exciting stuff?”

Jin’s expression flattened into a deadpan. “Don’t be like that. You two have been so secretive lately; I wanna be let in on the secret stuff.”

“I don’t know if it’s necessarily a secret…” You drawled.

Kevin scratched the back of his head. “Uh, yeah. Well, we’ve kind of figured out that our moms are trying to set us up with Josh and Serena instead of each other now.”

You didn't know what you were expecting Uncle Jin to reply, but he gave a nod. "Ah, I can see that." He sucked in a breath through his teeth, "Why did they suddenly go 360 on the two of you? It seems kind of out of left field."

"Well, we kind of asked them to stop trying to get us two together."

Jin hummed. "Yah, that makes sense. It all makes sense now." He made an old-man noise out of his throat as he shifted his position and the way that Leena rested on his chest. You and Kevin buckled down and hung off his words. "They probably only mean well, you know that, right? Right. But I can see that you both are still uneasy about that, and I get that, too. So—I'll tell you what.

"I'll help you guys out," he said. "I think they already know I'm nosy enough to butt in everywhere, so it shouldn't be a problem for me to… tch tch, y'know—" He gestured very indulgently with his hands, "—do my thing—am I making any sense? It's been a long day."

Another look passed between you and Kevin, then you both shared a laugh, relief making your postures relax and your grins widen. "No, we understand completely."

It seemed like you just gained an ally.

EPISODE SIX: CAN I BE A ROCK IN MY NEXT LIFE? THANKS.

THERE was a collection of jet skis that someone around the lake owned, and Kevin's parents would rent them out once every summer for everyone to use. Of course, it was mainly for the older kids and adults; thus, your siblings and the little Kims were banned from partaking in the festivities, much to your siblings' chagrin. It was for safety reasons that they were forced to find some other method of entertainment for the day.

You trudged your way down the path from the Kims' house to yours. In your hand, you wielded the light blue stick of baby sunscreen Seokjin asked you to fetch for his girls, but based on the fact that Leena, Sana, nor Yuna were even out here, it was safe to assume it was really for him.

Those who were participating in riding jet skis, and some who just wanted to watch and soak up the summer sun, were gathered somewhere between your house and the Moon house again. The two properties shared a single dock made of wood faded out from the sun and washed by the lake water. You could recall summer after summer running down the pier and cannonballing into the water.

"Hey! I got your sunscreen!" You hollered as you neared the group down by the water, raising the sunscreen stick up in the air.

The five or so heads turned toward you at the sound of your voice. You didn't miss Kevin's presence specifically, his arms sticking out from the life vest strapped to his chest. You did not deign to look further.

Jin raised his hand. "My Savior! Thanks, Yn-ie!"

You tossed the sunscreen down to him and he caught it between both of his hands before beginning to slather the cream all over his face.

You noted the last life vest sitting on the edge of the dock closest to land and made a beeline for it.

Just as you descended the hill, your mom appeared in your view with an empty plate in her hands, the bottom ringed in a translucent red liquid. "Yn, honey. Can you do me a huge favor and chop up the last watermelon? I didn't realize we would need more. Your dad and Kevin's dad are driving into town right now for some extra provisions and an extra large watermelon."

"Oh, sure." Your eyes skittered to the vest on the dock, but you realized slicing the watermelon wouldn't take too long.

You took the plate from your mom without further comment and began making your way up the hill to your house.

As you slid the door open, the sound of chatter carried from the living room floor. Eyes peered up from where they were seated, surrounding the coffee table on the floor. A colorful array of beads and string was strewn over the surface, and you came to a distinct conclusion as to where all the non-jet-skiers had gone.

"Hello everyone," you mused, closing the screen door behind you.

Josh was the first to say hello back. "Wanna join us? We're making friendship bracelets." He lifted the craft in his hands as if the beads and materials displayed weren't proof enough.

You leaned over the back of the couch. "Looks like fun! Maybe I will."

Outside by the lake, Kevin monitored the back door of your cabin for when you would make your way back out. He had been wanting to race you on a jet ski ever since the owners brought them over for everyone to use.

There were a grand total of five people surrounding the opening to the dock: Kevin and his mom, your mom, Jin, and Serena. Everyone except for the moms were strapped in lifejackets in preparation to board one of the two jet skis sitting in port.

"Huh," Jin said as he craned his head up in the direction Kevin's was in. "Wonder what's taking her so long."

"I'm sure she's just taking her time or something." Kevin pushed off of the post he was leaning against. "I'll go check up on her—"

“Oh, no-no-no! It’s okay,” your mom protested, her body already turn-tailed to head up to the house. Even Kevin’s mom made a gesture for him to stay put. “We’ll go check up on Yn.”

Kevin’s mom then gestured with her arm toward Serena, who had wandered off further down the dock to inspect one of the vehicles waiting in the water. “Why don’t you go help her with the jet ski?”

“And me!” Seokjin boisterously slung an arm around his cousin-in-law’s shoulders and swung him toward the entrance of the pier.

Kevin’s eyes went wide when he almost tumbled face-first into the hardwood. “Shit,” he sputtered. “Uh, Uncle Jin?”

“Yep?”

“That sounded fishy to you, too, right?”

Jin let out a laugh and patted Kevin’s shoulder in consolation. “Yep.”

“I feel like I haven’t seen you all afternoon.” The words left your mouth as you blocked the unforgiving golden hour sun with a hand to your forehead. The light at this time of day gleamed across the surface of the lake and gave the illusion of a molten pot of gold. You imagined swimming in it, dipping your toes into its warm innards from the end of the dock.

Kevin stood at the edge of the lake’s shoreline with his hair dried from a day of jet skiing, a fresh T-shirt over his chest and the lifejacket from earlier nowhere to be seen. That, along with the jet skis. Those had been returned a little over an hour ago. “We were off doing our separate things, I guess,” he said, his arms folded across his chest. “Speaking of, where’ve you been? You went to cut watermelon and never came back.” He added a small laugh to his words, hoping you wouldn’t think he was bothered by the fact that the two of you didn’t get to hang out on jet skis together.

“Oh, heh.” The sheepishness in your voice made him glance over at you. You didn’t know why you were suddenly getting so shy about it, but from the pocket of your shorts, you withdrew a small piece of beaded string, tied at the end in one of those fancy loops that were adjustable. You didn’t know how it was done; Joshua had done something with the end like magic. “Yuna, Josh, and the kids were all inside making friendship bracelets and they kind of roped me into it.”

“Ah.”

“This one’s for you,” you said, holding it out to him. It was a quirky piece with white block letter beads strung together next to acrylic star and pony beads. You’d scavenged a crescent moon somewhere amongst all the pandemonium, and it sat next to the letter N on the chain.

Kevin peered at you and his irises gleamed with the brilliance of golden hour. He frowned in joy, delicately accepting the chain from you with his bottom lip jutted out in a combination frown-pout. “You’re incredible,” he gushed as he inspected the little gift. “Dude, I’m honestly so touched. This is so cute.”

You broke out into a grin, your heart bursting with pride in your chest. “Glad it’s not cringy.”

“I’m offended for you,” he scoffed, aghast. “How could you think this is cringy?” It was probably a genuine question, but you kept silent as you watched him loop the end of the bracelet around his wrist and struggled to figure out how to tie off the end with one hand.

You stepped forward, and he stuck his hand out to you. “Shua showed me how this works,” you murmured, wracking your brain for the quick how-to Joshua showed with his own wrist. (You had been too confused to ask him to see it done again, and only nodded and smiled.)

“Shua?”

“Mm, yeah, apparently he makes a lot of friendship bracelets, especially for friends at school.” Your tongue stuck out of the corner of your mouth as you tried something and… “Ta-da!”

With the bracelet secured onto his wrist, Kevin beamed like a kid on Christmas, and held it up to show it to the setting sun. “It’s great—it’s perfect. Thank you, Yn.”

It was some sort of cosmic magic that corralled everyone back down to the shoreline again, but this time, with all of the kids and non-jet-skiers, as well. Another tradition that your party liked to share every year at the lake was rock-skipping. Perhaps it was more of just an activity than a tradition, but it was something that none of you failed to remember to do whenever you were up here. Since you were a kid, you had been practicing to hone your technique.

Your siblings and the Kims, especially, all ran up to the shoreline beside you and Kevin, and the search for the perfect throwing rock began. In the chaos of merriment and childlike glee, the lot of you trudged into the cooling water of the lake’s shallow shore.

“I know you just gave me the coolest friendship bracelet ever,” said Kevin from beside you as he sifted through the rocks beneath his flip flops, “but I hope you know that I’m gonna crush you this year.”

You snorted. “Okay, Kevin.”

“No, I’m serious!” You guffawed at the sight of his expression; he’d even stood up straight in the water, a pair of flat stones in either hand. “My friend YH!Yn—she’s an engineer, right—”

“Oh, so you’re gonna win by cheating?”

“Nuh-uh,” he rolled his eyes, unimpressed by your posturing. “She showed me this video online. You know Mark Rober? She’s a huge fan, but that’s besides the point. The point is that the video taught me the perfect technique to rock-skip.”

Something in you liked to think that was still cheating, but then again, neither of you had ever really established any ground rules to this, and certainly none about doing research. Your eyes narrowed. “Explain yourself.”

Kevin decided between one of the two rocks in his hands with a brief peek at both of them, before discarding the one in his left hand back into the water with an anticlimactic sploosh. “You’re supposed to launch the rock so it hits the surface of the water at a twenty-degree angle.”

Joshua trudged into the water near both you and Kevin with the sleeves of his plaid over-shirt rolled past his elbows. “I don’t even know what kind of rock to look for, and you guys are bringing trig into this?”

“Oh my god, don’t even get them started,” Jin grumbled from a handful of meters away from the three of you. He kicked through the shallow water with his eyes pinned to the ground in his own search for a rock to skip. “Yn almost gave me a black eye one year.”

“That was an accident and I was ten!”

“Yeah, well rocks hurt!”

Joshua bent down slightly and scooped up a rock from the water. He considered it for a minute, taking in its size, its weight, and how pretty it was. “I guess this can work. So do you guys have, like, a training boot camp for beginners or something?” He chuckled.

“I can show you,” you offered once you’d decided on your own rock for the first round.

“Tch,” Kevin huffed, “if you wanna show him the wrong way to do it.”

Your jaw unhinged. “If you keep this up, I will take back that friendship bracelet, Moon Hyungseo.”

Jin covered his mouth with one of his hands and sidled up next to Joshua. “Ooh, she used the government name.” That coaxed another laugh out of the Los Angeles boy.

Kevin held his decorated wrist to his chest. “You can pry it from my cold, dead hands.”

Suffice to say that when it came down to it, Kevin did have the better technique. There were really four main things to consider when rock-skipping, one of them being that the rock ideally should hit the water at twenty-degrees, as Kevin had mentioned before. Though, you did have to give yourself some credit for managing to work your way up to thirteen skips in a row without the help of an engineer friend.

EPISODE SEVEN: ALWAYS TREAT YOUR PLANTS WITH CARE

VACATION granted you the express permission to be the laziest bum in the world. After three years of college work, sometimes it was nice to have even a single day to yourself to do what you always wanted to: relax. In a world that moved as fast as this one, it was nearly impossible to take breaks without feeling the aching guilt of a day without productivity.

But there was something about the lake… you didn't know. Maybe it was just because years of coming here and associating it with the ease and carefree air of childhood that made it easier to sleep in and feel the sun on your toes.

The house and the neighboring ones were quiet this late morning. At ten or so, the Kims had swept up your siblings and their children and towed them off to town for ice cream and provisions. (You hoped they remembered to grab you some bird seed. You still had yet to replenish the bird feeders around the lake.) You weren't sure where your parents were off to, but you recalled them briefly mentioning a visit to the hidden swing at Lookout's Peak about a three mile hike from here. That meant that you had the whole house to yourself.

And what else did that mean? That you would not be in the house.

When it hit noon, you ate a quick lunch at the kitchen counter before gathering up your supplies to head outside. There was always a spare picnic blanket stashed in the hallway closet, and you grabbed a book, your neglected sketchbook, and a pencil to come along with you.

The weather was perfect, you liked to think—temperate, and not popsicle-melting, with a hint of a breeze wafting through the boughs of the oak trees. You trudged your way over to the largest oak tree with the most amount of shade, gunning to get some full relaxing done when you realized that you were not as alone as you thought you were.

You and Kevin locked eyes from where he sat against the trunk of the tree, his iPad left at his side and his camera being fiddled with between his fingers. The friendship bracelet you gave him the other day still hung around his wrist.

"Hi," he grinned. "I thought you went into town with the twins."

"Ah, nah" you sighed pleasantly as you shifted the things in your arms, "I decided to sleep in. You?"

"Same here." He amended, "Well, as much as someone like me can sleep in." He gestured to the picnic blanket bundled over your arm. "How about I help you with that?"

With teamwork (because that made the dream work), the two of you laid out the picnic blanket on the shady grass beneath the oak tree, overlooking the view of the lake. You settled yourself atop it while Kevin moved his things beside you; shoes were discarded at the edge, so you both sat comfortably on the blanket, half-facing the other.

You reached for your sketchbook, inclining your chin toward the DSLR now sitting abandoned as he picked up his iPad. "What were you up to before I got here?"

"Oh, uh, just looking through some photos I took this morning to maybe use as a reference," he said, twirling his Apple pencil between his fingers. "I keep forgetting to take pictures on this trip."

"Maybe it's a good thing," you offered. You tucked a lock of hair behind your ear and flipped to a blank page. "Let's you live in the moment, y'know?"

"Yeah. I guess so." He tapped the end of his pencil against his cheek. You were never the type for fancy technology and equipment, mainly because you were a little stubborn, but nothing could beat a good pencil and paper. "I'm gonna draw you," he suddenly declared.

A giggle bubbled out of your chest. "What? Me?"

"Yeah, why not?"

"Well then, I'm gonna draw you."

His eyebrows shot up, an amused smile worming onto his face. "You do you, honey."

The two of you, coincidentally, came to share quite the handful of interests. One of them was sketching, and you liked to give credit to your ecology and biology classes at school that gave you the time to practice your drawing skills, even if super accurate drawings weren't always required. It just gave you an excuse to combine two things you loved.

You never did pick up how to use a DSLR though. At least, not like Kevin knew how to.

You sat there for a moment with your cheek to your fist and your eyes glued to the man across from you. Drawing people was difficult—it was always the subtle details that threw you overboard, the movement of the hands and fingers, the crevices in the wrinkle of one's eyes, the… the look. The thing that made them look like a human being.

Kevin had always been a beautiful subject matter. His bone structure was near perfect in your eyes; his smile was awful to draw just because it was so pretty, and you couldn't do it justice. You could never achieve the right curl of his lips, or infuse it with his humility. And even now, you watched the way his eyelashes fell so gently over his eyes and the dusting of pink falling across his cheekbones…

"You're staring."

You blinked, breaking out of your daze. "I'm studying my subject," you clarified pointedly and began to sketch out a rough outline of his head. A portrait would do just fine for the day.

Kevin mimicked your position from earlier where he leaned in slightly and rested his cheek against his fist. "There was this internship I turned down this summer."

His words made you glance up from your paper for a moment.

He continued on, straightening, then absentmindedly sketching out an outline for your face. "It was supposed to be in New York, at this studio, but…" He blew air out between his lips, "I don't know; I couldn't do it. It was a great opportunity and it didn't call to me, but I feel so guilty about not even trying."

You waited a beat in case he wanted to continue. You could see the conflict warring across this face, the subtle flex in his jaw at his frustration—with the portrait or himself, you weren't sure.

"Sorry, I don't know why I suddenly just thought of that," he said to you. "I was just thinking about this place and not being here last year, and I think my brain just went to that."

You looked over at him in earnest. "I feel you, I mean… some things just aren't meant to be, and you shouldn't force it. That's how you get burnt out, y'know?"

"Yeah," he murmured in agreement.

"I was looking at an internship, too," you piped up with a shape exhale. "I—I didn't get it, clearly, but uhm…" It still hurt.

Kevin frowned. "Oh, man. I'm sorry, Yn. I feel like I'm just complaining now that—"

"No, oh my gosh, no!" You hurried to interrupt him. "Don't be silly," you said gently, "you shouldn't invalidate your feelings like that. Some things just really aren't meant to be." It didn't mean it hurt any less that they weren't, but maybe this was the path you were meant to take instead. "It's something I'm coming to terms with, too, but don't compare your troubles against mine. Please."

He worried his bottom lip between his teeth, and it took him a little to finally try for a half smile. "You're gonna get the next one."

You smiled back at him. "Thanks. And you'll find one that suits you."

"I hope so."

"Do you ever worry about," you began as you played around with the slightest curve of his nose on your paper, "not being who people want you to be?"

He hummed. "What do you mean?"

"Like, successful. I'm not really sure where I'm going with this." You didn't know where this had sprouted from in the first place, but one insecurity in particular had nested in the inner cavities of your chest and made itself a home. As someone who wanted to be at wildlife encampments, not catering to fancy rich dogs in a clinic, your path wasn't conventional. You were becoming a veterinarian, but your parents always thought you would end up someplace nice with a pay that was equally nice. Something practical, something they didn't have to worry over. Your calling was… elsewhere though. Somewhere a little more difficult to reach without the prying eyes and mouths of those around you.

Kevin marinated on it. "I think… the two of us are kind of similar in that way. We're both not taking on things that people have expected of us."

Out of everyone you knew, you had a feeling he would be one of the few who could empathize. "There's—there's this thing I want to do," you said. You couldn't figure out the words to string your thoughts into coherent speech; you felt like it would never come out right. But Kevin was patient. "I've always wanted to go on safari expeditions, and observe wildlife in the wild, and do research, and work with conservatories. It feels so unattainable sometimes, when I think about the people looking at me and expecting something good. Does that make sense?"

He gave a thoughtful nod, his Apple pencil tucked behind his ear for the time being. "Yeah, that makes sense. I remember you talked about it before."

That rang a bell. "When I made you watch the David Attenborough Our Planet doc series," you mused. In association, your brain sparked images of late nights, blue-light screens, and flashlights beneath blanket forts. You had been fully convinced Kevin would say the documentary series would be boring like everyone else, but to your pleasant surprise, he had been just as enthralled as you'd been.

"You didn't make me," he smiled. "I liked it."

Your chest warmed. "I still have it downloaded on my phone if you wanna watch."

He screwed his face up in amusement, shaking his head. "You're one of the biggest dorks I know. And I know so many dorks now."

"I'm still your favorite dork though, right?" You smiled down at your paper when you were satisfied with how his eyes turned out.

"Always."

A beat passed, and from your periphery, you saw him tap the blanket in front of you to get your attention.

"Hey, you're gonna be okay," he said. "One day, you will go hide in a bunker in the Siberian winter to wait for tigers like a crazy person—"

"Okay, wait, out of all the examples you watched in the doc, you chose—"

"Anyways!" He grinned at the look you sent him, unfazed. "We're both gonna be okay, alright? We're chasing dreams, and sometimes the chase is hard, but the reward is sweet."

You knew he was right; of course he was right. Talking things out was always a good idea, especially with a trusted person, and who better to trust than Kevin Moon? You had friends who understood, but not really understood.

You reached for his pencil with the end of yours and you bumped ends like ET. The corners of your lips curled upward as you met his gaze, and you were struck by the softness in his rich, chocolate irises. No sketch, painting, portrait could do those beautiful eyes justice. "Don't call me a nerd for this."

"No promises."

You fixed him with a look. "There's this thing that plants do called phototropism. Because plants need light to synthesize into food and energy, they often turn and grow towards the nearest light source. So even in, let's say, a dark hole in the ground—if there's a crack in the roof that brings light in, the plant will grow in that direction, and probably grow its way out." You cleared your throat. "Thanks for showing me the light."

Kevin's eyes shone big and wide, doe-like you liked to say, almost in awe of the explanation of a basic function plants performed to survive. But twisted in a certain way, and one could apply it to everyday non-plant life, as well.

"Now how can I possibly call you a nerd after that?" His voice went raspy and he had to clear it, too. "I think I'm getting misty-eyed," he said, fanning his eyes.

You chuckled at his antics. "Oh, hush. I guess it's my way of saying thanks for reminding me I'm not gonna be a failure." It was scary how often you thought about it, especially at college.

Kevin reached over and warmed one of your hands with his. "You're not gonna be a failure, Yn. I promise you that."

All of the kids were asleep in the back of the Kims' minivan, and it took two trips back and forth between the car and the living room to transfer all four sleeping munchkins. By the time Jin and Yuna were done, the former was certain he was going to need a cane much earlier in his life than previously anticipated.

He held his back as they made their way out onto the back porch. "I think I'm aging faster," he said to his partner.

Yuna sputtered out a laugh. "Aye, so dramatic, and for what? You're gonna survive."

"No sympathy," he sighed melodramatically as he hung off her frame. "I wonder where everyone else is."

His voice trailed off as they stood on the porch and overlooked the valley below. Just further out, they could easily see the occupants of the big oak tree between yours and the Moons' houses. You and Kevin sat slightly angled toward one another, not quite sitting next to each other, but not quite facing each other either.

The laughter was apparent on your faces as Kevin showed you something on his iPad. You grabbed the screen with ill-concealed delight, your eyes lighting up like a pair of fireflies. "No, oh my god, the little sprout on top of my head! You didn't!"

Yuna murmured softly to her lover with a chuckle, "Should we go say hello?"

Seokjin adjusted his position so now his arm rested around her shoulders. A smile etched onto his face at the view; he was so fond of the very thing neither you nor Kevin could see just yet. "Well, how could you possibly want to break that up?"

EPISODE EIGHT: NOD AND SMILE… YUP.

YOU weren't really sure why it took so long before you all deigned to take a proper dip in the lake, but as they said, better late than never.

The sun beat down on the little lake population, even at ten in the morning, which made it perfect weather to go swimming. Your house was a-bustle with life, thunderous footsteps, and motherly yelling to her children of “You better all have sunscreen on!” You were just finishing up the task yourself, rubbing in the last handprint of sunblock onto your calf before you were grabbing your towel at the end of your bed and heading out.

You caught Alice coming down the stairs with her floral one-piece on and a set of blue goggles strapped to her head. This morning, her hair was in two braids. “Do you have sunscreen on?” You asked her as you opened the back screen door.

“Yes,” she groaned as if this was the hundredth time she’d been asked that question today. Knowing your family, it probably was the hundredth time. “Do we still have the flamingo floatie?”

“We can probably pop down to the shed and see,” you suggested. You blinked in surprise at the person you found leaning against the railing of your back porch. “Why hello there.”

Joshua glanced up from the piece of string in his hands that he had tied at the ends to form one, large ring. “Hi guys! Either of you ladies know how to play Cat’s Cradle?” His hands slipped in between the string so that the ring rested on the backs of his fingers. In a movement that sent a wave of nostalgia down your spine, he maneuvered his hands through the string to form the zigzag pattern correspondent with the beloved childhood game.

“Ooh! Me, me!” Alice bounced around on the balls of her feet and rushed over to where Josh was to pick out the next pattern.

The screen door behind you opened up again as soon as you stepped foot onto the deck. Your dad appeared with your little brother, both of whom were dressed in rash guards and swim trunks. Your dad hustled his son along. “Yn-ah, we’re going down to the shed to get swimming things. Wanna come?”

“Wait, Daddy, can we get the flamingo floatie?” Alice asked your dad. Joshua finished up the next pattern, and your sister was quick to grab the next.

“Sure. We have to go now, though.”

With little else left to say or do, your dad ferried your little siblings off and around the house to where the shed was. It was tucked out of the way somewhere between your house and the Kims’ place.

You sidled up beside Joshua and slung your towel over your shoulder, noting his tank top and shorts. “You going for a swim with us?”

He gestured to his attire, nodding. “Seems like it. My parents wanted to run into town to do some shopping, see the sights. Your mom mentioned last night that you all were planning to go swimming today, so I thought I’d tag along, if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, man—it’s totally cool.”

You gazed far out toward the lake down the lawn. There were already a few people there, including Kevin and the Kims. Sana and Leena were already frolicking around in the water with their dad, while Yuna and Kevin stood off to the side on the dock. It seemed that Yuna had brought down a pair of foldable chairs to set up there, perhaps to soak up a little sun.

The two of them exchanged a couple more words before Yuna left him there so she could go pick up Leena from falling face-first in the water. Leena was still an infant, after all.

You decided that this would be a good time to run and join him, but your thoughts slowed to a halt when Kevin picked up the bottom hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head. You even heard Joshua beside you lose his breath. The sunlight had to be a paid actor or something, because the way it glowed across your friend’s shoulders, enunciating the firm muscles in his back, had to be illegal in nature.

Joshua’s low whistle of appreciation met your ears. “Wow… he’s ripped.”

You nodded absentmindedly. “Yeah.” Whoops, did you say that out loud?

The man simply chuckled and bounded down the porch. “C’mon, Yn. Let’s go join them before he catches you staring.”

If there was anything else that you and Kevin took seriously besides rock-skipping, it was the game Marco Polo. The rules were simple: an elected tagger would play with their eyes closed, yelling out “Marco” in order to locate other players in the water. The tagger had three or five opportunities to open their eyes (this was enforced for safety reasons) in order to tag everyone. Those who were not the tagger were required to reply with “Polo” in response to the tagger’s call.

Boundaries of the game ranged from your house to Kevin’s house, and no hiding beneath the dock. (Only the tagger could pass beneath that zone.)

By the time it was Kevin’s turn to tag, nearly an hour and a half had gone by, and you could feel the sun’s rays seeping into you. The heat was getting to you, and by the looks on everyone else’s faces, it was getting to them, too. But… one last round never hurt anybody.

"Are you guys ready?" Kevin's mom stood on the dock with her hands on her son's shoulders. Kevin's eyes were screwed shut where he sat on the edge of the dock, his feet swinging where they dangled over the water. Everyone stood scattered in the water, biding their time before Kevin's mom let him hop in.

She surveyed the surrounding water for nods of confirmation. You lingered just at the outer edge of the boundary, face half in the water with your eyes peeking out to hide your smile. You would swim back in should he come this way, but the buoy behind you kept you from cheating.

When she was satisfied with what she saw, she patted him on the shoulders. "Okay, Kevin."

He lowered himself into the water. "Marco!"

"Polo," came the wary response, a voice from every corner and reach of the boundary, it seemed.

He honed in on a voice—not yours, it seemed, but Uncle Jin's—and slowly treaded over toward that direction. You saw your uncle's eyes widen in fear, and he ducked under the water for a swift second to attempt at a silent getaway.

"I can hear you," Kevin chuckled as he swung his arm over his head to adopt a freestyle stroke. The tone of his voice sounded awfully menacing.

"YAH! GET AWAY FROM ME!" Jin screeched, no longer trying to stay quiet.

One by one, Kevin picked people off. Yuna had a little disadvantage since she had Sana clinging to her back the whole time, so she was given a merciful second life. But when she was caught once more, it was onto dry land for her and her daughter.

Kevin treaded water on the other side of the boundary. In the water, it was just you two.

"Fighting, Yn-ie!" Jin cheered from the shore. A towel was draped over his shoulders with Sana sucking on a watermelon by his leg.

You saw your siblings and Josh raise up their fists in encouragement. "Get him, Yn!"

"Wow, thanks guys," Kevin replied dryly, shaking the water out of his hair. His eyes were miraculously still closed; you had no idea how and when he got so good at this. He still had one more opportunity to open his eyes.

You grinned. "Are you sure you're not cheating by the way?" You drawled with a feigned look of consideration, as if he could see what you looked like.

He gasped. "Me? Cheating? My abilities are far greater than the need to cheat."

"Okay, prove it."

Why did the universe curse you with such a big fucking mouth?

A swear left you as he launched himself across the safe zone. It was like he knew exactly where you had been hovering in order to reach his ridiculously long arms over his head to try and tag you. You gunned out of the way, narrowly missing the dock as you backstroked back from where he came to avoid him.

"Marco!"

"Screw you—polo!"

His white teeth glistened as he grinned, eyes closed completely shut still. Damn. "I can smell fear."

"Sometimes you can be so dramatic," you taunted.

"Now that's just hurtful." And he took it personally.

Around and around you both went, lakewater thrashing as your arms and legs kicked and pumped as hard as you could. You felt so agile and free at times, a dolphin in your own right.

There was a lull in the game for a minute when you managed to evade Kevin's grasp yet another time. He was patrolling the other side of the dock while you loitered just around the corner, by a post. You could hear on land that everyone had turned their attention away from yours and Kevin's competitiveness in favor of the bag tossing boards Kevin's dad brought out.

"Oh, Yn," he smiled, brushing a hand through his hair absentmindedly. "I'm gonna get ya."

If you weren't worried about being so close to him, you would have thrown a retort right back.

But there was another poor, poor hinge to your plan, and that was the very core of the game you were playing.

He whispered, "Marco."

You screamed internally. "Polo," you whispered, barely audibly.

His head whipped in your direction, and before you could even blink, he used his shortcut beneath the dock to yank your wrist back toward him. "Gotcha!"

"Goddamn it," you groaned as you rested up against the post behind you. The water in this area was just shallow enough that your feet could reach the bottom.

Kevin chuckled as he finally opened his eyes. He blinked feverishly to adjust to the sunlight, then ran a hand through his slicked-back hair. He was so close that you could see the water droplets on his head dribble down the sharp slope of his nose. He took in his surroundings, a sly kind of smirk curling up onto his face. "No hiding beneath the dock, Yn."

"I technically wasn't beneath the dock," you shot back.

"Mhm," he pressed his lips together, brows furrowing. He moved closer and braced one arm against the post above your head. "Say I believe you."

You brushed the sudden butterflies in your stomach away as the heat melted your brain (and not Kevin). "That sounds like you don't believe me."

"Well, either way…" He brought a finger close to your face and tapped your nose. You could have sworn you saw his eyes dart downwards for a second, away from your eyes, toward your mouth. "I win."

EPISODE NINE: KINDLING FOR ALL KINDS OF FIRES

A campfire was always in order.

There were quite a few things that needed to be done before it could happen, however. One of the few things on the list just happened to be going out to find firewood, as well as filling up the bird feeders you left hanging out in the forest beyond. You could kill two birds with one stone. (Definitely not literally though. You hoped you never needed to kill two birds with one stone unless it was for pure survival purposes.)

The bird seed you'd requested to be brought back was… somewhere around here. You couldn't remember where exactly Auntie Yuna said they put the bag, but you would go hunting for it.

You meandered through the first floor of your lake cabin, gradually approaching the kitchen area where you heard voices. As far as you were aware, your parents were holed up in the kitchen with Kevin’s parents, as well as Kevin himself. Your siblings were probably either upstairs or at the Kims’ place. Probably.

“—know Judy’s daughter, right?” You recognized your mom’s voice among the fray. By this time, you stood in the middle of the living room with your hands on your hips. Where in the world was that sneaky bag of bird seed?

Kevin’s mom replied next, “Ah, she’s doing that drawing major or something, right? I forgot what it’s called—”

“Animation,” supplied her husband.

“Yes, that’s the one.” A clinking of metal on china; they were most likely digging into the trifle cake that was assembled earlier in the day.

“I hear there’s something going on and it’s getting more difficult to find work for them.”

A disgruntled sound. “Yah. That's the risk that comes with those art majors. If she had gone into bioengineering like Judy wanted her to, then she wouldn’t be worrying so much.”

You paused from your position in the living room. From your vantage point, you got a clear view into only part of the kitchen, but it was where Kevin lingered with his back to one of the cabinets. He had a bowl of dessert in one hand, the other using the tines of his fork to prod at a bite of cream and cake. His head was tilted down though, and you caught his periodic glances toward the part of the kitchen you couldn’t see where the adults probably were, prattling on and on as if he weren’t standing right there.

Your heart sunk to the pit of your stomach.

Why was he subjecting himself to this? Why didn’t he just pick himself up and leave—? The thought came to you that maybe he thought he deserved to hear this.

Having surveyed the living room enough to know that the bird seed wasn’t here, you did happen to note the presence of his camera sitting on the coffee table. You snatched the device up and headed for the kitchen.

“I think it’s good to cultivate creativity, but there’s a difference between a career and hobbies—”

“Psst.” You grappled onto the side of the doorway, quietly catching Kevin’s attention.

His head perked up at the sound and his eyebrows shot up in question. He offered the bowl in his hands to you. Want some? He mouthed.

You shook your head, then used your free hand to wave him over. Bird seed?

He seemed to understand. With one, massive bite, he finished the rest of his bowl, deposited it in the kitchen sink, then quietly slipped out of the room with you.

When the two of you were in the clear and you were following him over to the closet beneath the stairs (damn, had you really forgotten that this closet existed?), you handed him his camera. “I’m invoking rescue protocol,” you told him.

Kevin accepted his camera with a furrowed brow, watching as you opened up the closet door and found a canvas sack of birdseed sitting there. Huzzah! “Wait, but…” He considered you for a moment, and a slow smile slid onto his face. He ducked his head and threw his camera strap around his neck. “I appreciate you. Have I told you that?”

“And I—” You grunted as you picked the bag up into your arms and used your foot to kick the door closed. “—appreciate you. How’d you know this was where the bird seed was?”

“I just remembered what Uncle Jin said,” he told you with a shrug.

The two of you meandered out of the backdoor and onto the porch in a silent agreement to go fill some bird feeders together. The forest at this time of day was streaked in golden sunlight, emerald green leaves painted over in an amber wash of glitter. It felt warm and comfortable like autumn, but with the color palette of summer. The air was fresh, not crisp, and there was still a dollop of pollen floating around in the air from the tailend of spring.

You and Kevin entered the forest proper, and you shifted the bag into your right hand when you finally got the bag’s handles up and at ‘em. “I know the protocol wasn’t meant for those kinds of situations,” you started.

Kevin let his camera rest in his hands at midriff once he had fiddled with the settings enough to his liking. “I know.”

“They’re wrong, you know?” You turned to look at him as you stopped at the first feeder and let the sack of seed and grain fall to your feet with a thump against the earth. Before you opened up the bag, however, you peered up into the wooden house hanging from the branch, slobbered in messy paints and melting smiley faces. There wasn’t a speck of grain or seed left in this one. Satisfied, you bent down to rip the bag open and take out a scoop with your hands.

The shutter of a camera lens fired. He sighed, lowering the camera so he could inspect the test shot he took. “I’ve come to terms with that—all of their opinions, I mean.” He lifted the viewfinder back up to his eye and took another shot as you shoveled the bird seed into the hole. A small stream of it missed and tumbled to the forest floor. “Sometimes I do think like that, though. Whether or not I should have stuck with psychology and become a teacher instead of photography.”

You folded the edge of the bag over itself after dusting your hands off, and the two of you continued onward. “Are you happy with photography though? Do you like the things you’re learning, the work you’re doing?” That was one of the few metrics that kept you clinging onto your dreams—your hands were getting scraped and sweaty holding onto the side of the cliff face, but even though your shoe slipped against the ledge and threatened a long drop, you held on. Some days, you thought it was a sad, desperate effort; others, you found extra strength to dig your soles in.

He didn’t have to think much before answering. “Yeah, I do. It’s… it’s fulfilling.” He shot you a glance. “I guess it’s something I enjoy so much that most days it doesn’t even feel like work. All of the logistic, ‘real world,’ adult stuff is kind of a headache, but…” Even though his sentence trailed off, you could still follow.

You plopped the sack of seed down on the ground beneath the next bird feeder. “I know that it’s hard to think about what-ifs, and I’m kind of a hypocrite about it, too—but I think—” you scooped up a handful of bird seed and poured it into the opening. This house had a little sunshine painted on the roof. “—Kevin, I think you made the right choice. Obviously, it shouldn’t matter what I think; that’s just what I’ve observed so far.”

“It matters what you think,” he replied quietly. “To me, at least.”

The two of you shared a smile as you dusted your hands off again. The chase is hard, but the reward is sweet—those had been his words to you the other day.

“Do you want me to carry that for you?” He mused, in view of your struggle to pick the damn thing off the ground.

You suddenly gained a spurt of strength and energy. “I’m—great.”

His low chuckle followed you as you went. You could hear his shutter go off again.

“Thank you for assuring me that I took the right risk.” Kevin fell into step beside you once more with his camera cradled in his hands. There was a softness to his eyes again, a kind of tenderness you recognized only when it was just the two of you.

You went for a smile. “I feel you, you know? Maybe not on the same level, but you’re not in crisis alone, okay?”

His shoulder bumped against yours. “Get on my level,” he jested.

Your smile haplessly curled up further. “Yeah, yeah, you five year old.” You leaned over his arm to peer at his camera screen. Your heart hammered, blood spiking, when you saw what the subject of all his shots had been thus far. “Oh my god, have you been taking pictures of me?”

He giggled at your reaction. "What? What else am I supposed to be taking pictures of?"

"Uhm?" You gestured with your arm in a wide arc. "There is literally a whole world around us. Nature is much more photogenic than I am." A nervous laugh bubbled out of your chest as you adjusted a lock of hair that had gotten in your face.

"You are totally photogenic," he scoffed. "Literally look."

The two of you stopped in the middle of the path so he could show you the pictures he had taken thus far. Like most people when they saw a picture of themselves, you wanted to grimace, but you tried to search for what Kevin was seeing.

They were all incredible candid shots. The color was so vivid and bright, the edges crisp and focused. He had captured you at the moment when you were smiling, peeking into the bird feeder. It was that split second before the smile bloomed into something bigger when it only teased at the corner of your mouth.

You leaned back and coughed. "I only look good because you made me look good."

"Now that's bullshit."

You both resumed your walk to the next bird feeder. He said to you, "You can't possibly appreciate nature's beauty without appreciating your own, Yn."

You tilted your head and sent him a sidelong glance. "Why did that sound actually profound?"

"What do you mean actually profound?" His face arranged into an expression of offense. "Am I not regularly profound?"

You smiled to yourself. "I mean… if you had to ask—" Click! "Hey, now wait a minute!"

He beamed something boyish at you from over his camera lens. "Whoops?"

The bird seed bag thumped onto the forest floor again and you moved to check the inside of the next bird feeder. To your utter delight, you were greeted by the sight of sticks and mud and leaves slotted together in a messy riffraff, otherwise known as a bird's nest. You could hear the bright chirping coming out from the feeder's hole, and dark gray feathers poked out.

"We won't disturb these ones," you whispered, backing away to collect your bird seed. But before you left, you took a little of the grain to sprinkle on the outer landing ledge.

You didn't even realize you had been smiling out of pure giddiness until you reached the next feeder on the path. You had always secretly hoped that a bird would take over one of the houses as their own. Lo and behold, that hope manifested into reality.

Kevin helped you out with the next one since this tree was hung with a duplex. It was similar to a human duplex; the house was split down the middle to hold double the feed. The two of you carefully transferred seed and grain into its proper place.

"If you really are uncomfortable with me taking pictures of you," he said as the two of you picked up where you left off, "then I can totally delete them." He made a gesture with his hand. "No harm, no foul."

Heat rose to your cheeks. "It doesn't bother me that much," you admitted sheepishly. "They were good pictures."

"See!" Elated, he slung an arm around your shoulders and tugged you against his side with an affectionate shake. "You see the vision? Do you see it now?"

You couldn't possibly say no to him when his expression was brighter than the sun at high noon. At this moment—this perfect moment—when the sunlight streaming through the trees painted his face in a filter of buttery gold… you could definitely see the vision, but perhaps not the exact one he saw.

EPISODE TEN: YOU WOULD NOT BELIEVE YOUR EYES…

"OH, thank god, you guys went and got firewood!" Jin pressed his hands together in prayer as he jogged over to you and helped transfer the lumber in your arms over to his. On your way back from replenishing the bird feed, you let Kevin hold the remainder of what was left in the bag while you picked up any spare tinder for the fire. There were quite a few loose sticks around that would work nicely for the campfire tonight.

He walked off with your gatherings from the trip, and you and Kevin continued up to your lake house to drop off the bag of bird seed.

"So you were saying about the animal representation thing?" You piped up, recalling where the two of you last ended before your return to home base.

"Oh!" Kevin grinned. "It's so funny because some of my friends—you can totally see the resemblance of an animal, right? But then others don't really get an animal. Like Younghoon: he's just kind of bread."

You nearly tripped over a patch of dirt. "Bread?" You stammered incredulously. "Come again?"

"Bread," he nodded. He murmured in thanks to you when you slid open the screen door for him so he could shuck off his shoes and step inside the house. "But Changmin's a squirrel. Or a giraffe. That's what JC!Yn calls him, anyway; it's because of his long neck."

"Huh," you pondered. Interesting friend group they had going on there. You wondered what you would be…

As you passed by your bedroom on the first floor, you could hear your phone sounding off in aggressive vibrations even through the wooden walls and the closed door. You swore under your breath and pushed into your room to turn it off, then paused when you realized why it had gone off in the first place.

Fireflies.

"Everything okay?" Kevin's voice came back around the bend, his head poking into the space and the bird seed bag nowhere to be seen. He must have put it away just now.

You glanced up at him as you silenced the alarm and tucked your phone into your pocket. You hadn't needed it all that much this entire trip, but you would definitely hold onto it tight tonight. "Huh? Oh, yeah. Ready to head out?"

He didn't question your behavior and nodded. "Ready when you are."

Sometimes campfire smoke burned Kevin's eyes, but that was mostly when he was younger and didn't know any better. The embers of the fire were always so warm and inviting, always luring him toward it and inviting him to stare into its core. He could still feel the sting of the ash in his pupils as he looked at it from afar now.

The summer sun had sunken down into the horizon and gave way to a comfortable nightfall. Above your heads hung curtains of leaves from oaks, and above them was the blanket of night sky bedazzled in stars. Nature, as you had said earlier today, was quite photogenic.

He sat perched slightly away from everyone in the group, settling at the picnic table with his back to the table surface so he could still face into the fire. When everyone regrouped, Joshua had brought along an acoustic guitar and played it for everyone now.

"Sunday morning, rain is falling."

Someone lit up in a small hoot of approval. Kevin observed the group before him, the several families that had come together. He was especially pleased that the Hongs and the Xus were still hanging out with the lot of them, the latter being around a little less, but still coming out to join the fun, nonetheless.

He hadn't even realized when the last time his mom tried blatantly pushing him towards Serena. At some point, she stopped and it slipped his mind.

"Clouds are shrouding us in moments, unforgettable. You twist to fit the mold that I am in."

Kevin scratched his jaw as he turned his eyes down to the iPad settled in his lap. After he had finished up dinner, he ran inside to swap out his camera for his device to get some sketching done. There wasn't a particular project he was working on; he just wanted to practice a little.

When he lifted his gaze back up to pick a subject, he found himself looking in your direction. Your dad and Connor brought out the goodies to make s'mores. Long, slim skewers were passed around the circle, and the kids were the first to receive marshmallows to spear.

You and your sister sat beside one another and you helped her grab two of the mallows to impale. The light from the fire flickered across your face in differing levels of shadow, a play on contrast. Your expression seemed softer here—he wasn't really sure what it was. Maybe it was the tenderness at the corner of your eyes as you laughed at Connor's marshmallow falling burnt into the pit; maybe it was the triumph you shared with Alice when you helped her sandwich her marshmallows between a slab of chocolate and twin graham crackers.

He liked to believe his hand started before he consciously knew what he was doing.

"That may be all I need… In darkness, she is all I see."

"Are you sure you don't want me to make you one?" You asked your brother as he grabbed his redemption marshmallow from the bag.

Connor huffed, puffing out his chest. "I got this."

Your eyebrows flew upward. "Okay, big guy. Have at it." You chuckled and grabbed a marshmallow for yourself, sticking it onto your skewer to let it broil over the heat.

Kevin traced the lines of your face with his eyes, his hand transferring that memorization onto his screen. Sometimes human expressions were a little difficult to portray accurately, and there was a thorn pricking the back of his mind, urging him to do you justice. He didn't know if he could.

Your head slowly swayed to the sound of Joshua's pretty melody, the corners of your mouth tilting upward. Kevin shifted his position on the bench and drew the little tick mark at the edge of your mouth for that slight smile.

He always knew you were beautiful—for fuck's sake, he'd practically said it today in the forest. It had been among the crush of other important conversations, but he meant it. He still had the image of you engraved in his brain, the moment when you discovered the family of birds in the feeder house. You'd lit up like a goddamn star.

You stood up from your spot once your marshmallow became the perfect golden tone over the edges. You stepped over to the chair that held all the ingredients and smooshed the marshmallow between chocolate and cracker. Then, you turned and marched over to him.

Surprise alerted in his features, and he subtly tilted the screen of his iPad up against his chest. "Hey," he greeted softly while you approached.

You returned the expression and held out the s'more to him. "Here. It's for you."

The organ in his chest did a somersault. "What?" He laughed, "For me?"

"Yeah, silly. I don't know why you're so far away, but I know you like 'em." You settled on the bench next to him with one arm braced behind you on the table and your legs crossed, one over the other.

"Thank you," he said, using one of his hands to bite into it with childlike giddiness. The mixture of flavors exploded in his mouth—the crunch of the graham cracker, the soft, gooeyness of the chocolate and marshmallow. A perfect, sweet treat, and done exactly right. "Mmmh, this is so good," he mumbled behind his hand to catch any crumbs on his lips.

You chuckled. "Nice, glad it has your stamp of approval." Your eyes wandered down to his iPad, and you could see the white screen lit up against his shirt. "What have you been up to?"

His eyes widened a smidge, and there came a bashfulness to his face. (Cute.) "Oh, uhm," he swallowed down the remainder of the s'more and tilted the screen away from you. Huh, strange. "It's nothing really. Just sketching."

You hummed in understanding, though it was a little out of character for him to hide it from you. "Ah, I see."

The two of you descended into silence, and you leaned your back against the table to get comfortable. Kevin passed you sidelong glances from the corner of his eye, unsure of how you knew he wanted you to stay. (Because he definitely did want you to stay.)

Perhaps this was a sign. Thoughts had been brewing in his head as of late, and he wasn't quite sure what to do with them. They all just… sort of piled up in his hands and he didn't know how to free them up to reach out to you.

He opened his mouth to say something—anything—maybe even about the pact—to retract the pact?—it didn't matter.

But when he turned to look at you this time, your gaze was elsewhere. That soft, tenderness remained, but you had turned your attention to Joshua.

Ah. He shouldn't have jumped so soon. A hopeless kind of ache twisted in his stomach that made him uncomfortable. He briefly glanced down at his screen of what he'd sketched of you so far and decided it might be better to finish it later.

Fireflies. You nearly forgot that you planned to sneak out and see fireflies tonight.

By the time the campfire was cleaned up and everyone was tucked away into their beds, it was probably nearing midnight. You quietly rustled around your room in the dark and used only your phone's flashlight to gather things into a little knapsack—just the essentials, of course. There was no need to get fancy with it.

You wished you had signal so you could text Kevin and warn him ahead of time that you were about to go appear at his window, but you figured it would be fine anyhow. Even if he wasn't awake, the excitement buzzing inside of you could hardly wait.

Shouldering your bag, you headed out the door and crossed the divide between your house and the Moons'.

You located Kevin's window on the second floor, quietly rejoining when you realized it was cracked open. This had to be fate; what other reason would his window be open? (Clearly not for the cool, evening breeze or anything…)

You cupped your hands around your mouth. "Kevin!" You stage-whispered. "Kevin!"

A moment later, a head popped out the open frame. His hair stuck up a little bit and his eyes squinted down into the darkness at you. "Yn?"

"Yes," you said with a grin that he probably thought was idiotically too large. You waved him down. "I'm gonna go see fireflies!"

It took him a second to compute. "What time is it?"

"Like, midnight."

"Okay."

Seven minutes later, Kevin emerged from the back door with a T-shirt and sweatpants on, a yawn splitting his face. He shook his head out as if he was shaking out the remaining remnants of sleep from his system. You met him on the back stairs.

"So what's this about fireflies?" He asked you as the two of you ventured off into the wilderness.

Last year when you were up here at the lake, there was one night when sleep refused to take you. Your solution had been to go on a walk, and as completely dangerous as that sounded (because it was), you'd stumbled upon the meadow you now took Kevin toward. You hadn't the faintest why you never knew about this place after years of coming up to the lake town, but it was where the fireflies took flight.

The meadow was not too long a walk from where you both lived, and by the time you arrived, Kevin was wide awake.

"It's just over this crest," you told him, the jubilation in your voice nearly spilling over.

Kevin smiled at the sound of your excitement and eagerly followed you up the hill.

As soon as you made it over, you lost all your breath in awe. The meadow sprawled at your feet for miles was completely a-glow. Little beads of yellow-green light dotted the field in every corner like light bulbs strung together by invisible string. You had only ever seen this once in person, the rest via the internet and popular culture (movies, TV shows, and the like), and yet, it never compared to the real life experience.

You and Kevin stood there for a moment to soak in the sight. What a wonder of nature this was.

When you finally gained the sense to, you dug around in your bag for wherever you'd stashed your phone. Your tongue stuck out of the corner of your mouth as you fidgeted with the settings on your phone camera. You just wanted one little picture to show one of your professors at school, but it seemed your camera-working skills left much to be desired.

"Here, let me," Kevin murmured and gently took the phone from you. He showed you the screen as he fixed the settings—et voilà! Like magic, the field before you became visible on your camera screen in the crispiest, sexiest quality you had ever seen. "And… there you go."

He clicked the photo for you and handed you back your phone.

Mouth agape, you zoomed in on your completed photo. "Thanks, Kevin!" You gushed as you admired his handiwork.

He clasped a hand against the back of his neck. "No worries. Just a few tricks I learned."

You still warmed at the gesture. With your phone now tucked away, the two of you could sink back into the glory of the field of fireflies.

You heard Kevin's voice, soft, "How do they light up like that?"

"Bioluminescence," you replied in a whisper back. "It's a biochemical reaction that basically lets them convert energy into that light you see." There were plenty of other examples of bioluminescence in nature, as well. One particular instance you'd read about once, was a wave of bioluminescent algae appearing on the shores of a Southern Californian beach during the summer. It was neat stuff.

"Wild," he marveled.

A wave of calm fell over your form. You'd never felt so at peace in your life—just you, the outdoors, and one of the few people who made you actually feel this comfortable. You swallowed at the thought.

You were suddenly hyperaware of how close you were standing to him, the backs of your hands grazing against each other. You could feel his skin, his knuckles against yours—and maybe your brain was making it up, but the touch felt intentional.

For a second, you indulged yourself in what it might be like to close the distance and take his hand into yours. Of course, it wouldn't have to be in the romantic way; friends could hold hands… right? They could hold hands and your heart could skip several beats and he could look at your lips, and you would still be friends. Right?

You cleared your throat, and the sound seemed to thunder in the silence. "We should—we should probably head back," you said, sparing a glance at him.

He caught your eyes and held them. His lips turned upward, and the shine in his eyes was fond. "Okay."

With renewed energy, you made the trek back into the neighborhood. Your bucket list items for the summer had nearly all been checked off—not like you had a physical list written out. These were simply traditions you hoped to fulfill every summer while you were here in your happy place.

The crickets chirped a lovely serenade as you and Kevin strolled back onto the street where your houses stood. At the point where you both needed to split off, you nudged him with your elbow. "Thanks for coming out with me tonight."

"Thank you for inviting me," he countered with an amused hum.

"Good night, Kev."

You both lingered for a second. "Good night, Yn," he said back, pausing for a moment. Then he leaned over toward you and pressed his lips to the crown of your head. Your eyes fluttered shut. "Hope the lovebugs bite."

EPISODE ELEVEN: ROCKING THE BOAT

IF there was one thing that Kevin Moon was good at (besides the myriad of things he was actually good at), it was waking up his cousin to exercise with him in the morning.

"I think I deserve a nice, fat stack of pancakes after this," Yuna grumbled after nearly tripping over a raised tree root and kissing the forest floor. She grappled onto her cousin's shoulder to steady herself, the cousin in question giving a light chuckle at her antics. "When your mom said we should exercise together, I thought she meant the next time I was in Vancouver, not right now."

"Well, it's only because Yn's mom planned to go out with my mom this morning," Kevin mused. "Usually I have a designated walking partner."

"Woe is me. Alas, I have become your Plan B," Yuna sighed melodramatically with a hand draped over her forehead.

This morning, at a lovely 9:46am, the lake and its surrounding forest was just as alive and awake as Kevin was. The sun had taken up its perch in the clear, blue sky and the birds had long since begun their morning songs. They were awfully loud at this part of the lake, the exact three-quarter mark around the perimeter. Kevin thanked his parents for choosing houses away from this area—he would have never slept ever if they bunkered up here. (Not that he slept anyway, but that was beside the point.)

The walk began a little later than he usually did with your mom, but he granted Yuna a bit of leeway since she hadn't exactly been given a head's up. (He argued the opposite, but he let this once slide.)

"You're so dramatic," he chided playfully. "Watch out for that rock."

Yuna's mouth morphed into a deep frown, eyes wide open, as she narrowly missed being nature's fool another time. "Oh, speaking of Yn… Yn's mom? Whatever, I just mean Yn."

Kevin perked up at the topic change. His brain was fresh from last night's midnight endeavor with you and the fireflies. His lips still tingled from when he ventured to kiss you on the head… he wasn't sure where that courage had come from, but the memory of it kick-started his heart into a gallop. "What about Yn?"

She shrugged. "I dunno. You tell me." A smile crawled onto her face, and Kevin could smell her slyness a mile away. "The two of you have been hanging out a ton recently."

"We usually stick together," he sniffed, fidgeting absentmindedly with the beads on the bracelet you'd made him.

"Aish," she pressed her features into an unimpressed look that reminded Kevin of a typical Chanhee deadpan. "You're so unhelpful. You know what I'm talking about!" She smacked the side of his arm, and Kevin erupted into a fit of laughter.

His smile grew shy. "I don't really know what to say! I'm sorry—that's the truth." Because how could he even begin when it came to you? Where did it end, where did it begin?

"I see the way you look at her, Kev."

Kevin shoved his hands into his shorts. Suddenly the bird nest he spotted in a nearby tree became all too interesting. The bird nest reminded him of the birds who had made a home out of one of your feeders, and that reminded him of the adorable elation on your face when you discovered it and that reminded him of—he came to a stop. Oh, god, he was so far gone. "How do I look at her?"

Yuna peered at him curiously, then stopped to face him. "You look at her like I look at Jin. At least, that's how I think I look at him." She offered him a supportive smile. "But right now, you look like you're going through your midlife crisis."

"I might as well be."

She barked out a laugh. "Save that for when you buy a house, my friend."

He rubbed his temples with a wince. "Houses, domesticity, money, partners. Why is adulting so hard?"

"Hey, you'll get through it," she told him and nudged his shoulder. "What's going on, dude? What's on your mind?"

Kevin swallowed. He still hadn't the faintest idea where to begin, but everything had to start somewhere. Yuna had always been kind to him (a menace at times, but that feeling was mutual), and he trusted her with his vulnerabilities. He toed the ground. "Okay, last night, I kissed her—"

"YOU WHAT?"

He sputtered, red rushing to his face, as he grabbed her shoulders. Her eyes were practically falling out of her head. "Nonononono! Let me finish, you—I kissed her on the forehead, okay?"

Her gaping mouth closed only slightly. "Oh…" She thought about it some more. "Oh."

Kevin nodded gravely. "Yup."

Yuna straightened with a furrowed brow. "Well, that's not that big of a deal, is it?"

"What do you mean that's not a big deal?" His hands shot to the top of his baseball cap. "How is that not a big deal!"

"That's because the two of you refuse to acknowledge or entertain the obvious!"

Kevin hissed when she reached over to give his forehead a very hard flick. He rubbed the spot that began to smart; getting flicked in the forehead twice in one lake trip was twice too many. "The obvious?"

"That you guys can have the mushy gushy feelies without it being a product of the placebo effect from your moms' collective matchmaking efforts."

He made a face. "That was a lot of words…"

She deadpanned. "Kevin, listen to me: just because the two of you made a stupid pact when you were ten—"

"Eleven."

"Whatever. Eleven—doesn't mean that you can't leave room to, you know, amend that. You have to give yourself the opportunity to explore it, especially when I can clearly see that your feelings are changing about this girl." Yuna grasped her cousin by his shoulders this time in an attempt to telepathically insert these words into his brain. Or at least, just make him listen.

The words seeped into his head. The two of you had already made amendments earlier this trip, but you had never commented on the "only friends part." He even entertained the idea of bringing it up to you last night at the bonfire.

He didn't realize Yuna already began tugging him along the path to circle around the remainder of the lake to get back to the house. Everything was so muddled… but a part of him recognized that Yuna was right. He just wished he could get an idea of where your thoughts laid.

There were moments when you thought life could be like a movie, but then why was doing this pedal boat thing so much less glamorous than it seemed? Then again, maybe you shouldn't have thought doing this at high noon was the greatest idea.

You should have been like your Uncle Seokjin, who sat to your left, swallowed up in a blue lifejacket, a pair of big sunglasses, and a crocheted bonnet with a duck face to keep his face out of the sun. Yeah, maybe glasses would have been a good idea.

Sweat dribbled down the side of your face and down the slope of your nose, and you wiped it off with the back of your hand. "It's so hot, Uncle. We couldn't have waited until later today when it cooled down?"

He leaned back, his cheeks and skin reddened and damp from the heat and the fire in his calves from pedaling. "Okay, okay. Let's stop here."

"Right in the middle of the lake?" You asked incredulously, but immediately brought your feet off the pedals to give your legs a deserved break.

"What better place to do so?"

The two of you lounged in your seat beneath the molten afternoon sun, limbs screaming, water draining from your bodies through your pores. This would have been nice if you brought a sun umbrella… or maybe some water… man, did you make so many poor choices today.

"So what's going on with you and Kevin?"

The question snapped you out of your heat-fazed daze. You nearly thought you hallucinated him saying that. You stammered, "What about me and Kevin?"

You could see his overexaggerated facial expression even from behind his sunglasses. "Yah, don't give me that. You know what I'm talking about—I saw you two last night."

You lurched out of your seat and caused the violent rocking of the boat. You and your copilot let out twin swears as the boat evened out on the waves, and luckily, did not capsize. "Sorry—the fuck? You did?"

"Actually, I didn't," he snickered. "But now I know something did happen. So what's the tea, girl? Hit me with it. It's hot outside but I always take my beverages scorching." He shifted in his seat, carefully, in order to give you his full attention.

You couldn't believe he dragged you out to the middle of the lake just for this conversation. Total Uncle Seokjin move. You walked (or pedaled) right into his checkmate.

Moments of last night flooded into your brain—the campfire, the fireflies, the kiss, the… the him. Kevin. You gulped. Where did you even think to begin? "I took him to see fireflies last night."

Jin scrunched his eyebrows together. "Fireflies? Since when did we have fireflies? You didn't take me to see the fir—oh, you know, what? It was your little romantic moment; I got it."

"It wasn't a romantic moment!" You sputtered helplessly, uselessly. "It was—it was a moment of serenity and scientific marvel."

"You are such a nerd. What did he do, huh? Did you guys hold hands or something?"

Almost. "No," you said. "He… he did kiss my forehead once we got back though."

"Aha!" You both careened as the boat trembled violently from Seokjin's sudden Einstein epiphany. "I knew that something happened," he said once the boat slowed to a stop again. "I just had a feeling in my gut."

"Are you sure it wasn't the yogurt you had this morning?"

"How dare you," he huffed. "I brought my lactose pills. And hey! Stop changing the subject."

You laughed aloud, but inwardly, your gut was churning. Maybe you could blame the heat, but you knew the real reason why you were suddenly feeling as unstable as the pedal boat you sat upon. The idea that the entirety of your friendship could be so easily uprooted… well, perhaps not easily. Picking apart your friendship would be like flushing weeds out of a garden—you would have to get at the roots, and right now, the roots were so deep that you would fall into the ground before finding the bottom.

Not that you wanted to uproot your friendship, or relationship, with Kevin. Of course not.

What did that forehead kiss even mean? What did all of the moments you shared between him this summer, as a whole, even mean? Why, all of a sudden, did you want the way he looked at you to mean something different besides platonic affection? Why did you want more when you had never really thought about more before?

You voiced all of this aloud to your uncle, who sat staring out onto the calm surface of the lake. When you were finished with your ramble, he said, "You need to get your shit together, girl."

You coughed. "Thanks, that was so helpful."

"I'm told that a lot," he beamed. "But really, those are all very good questions, Yn. And they're super important, too."

You frowned, lifting the rim of your baseball cap to wipe away the perspiration collecting at your hairline like a cult. "Do you think that these mixed feelings are a result of all the matchmaking going on? Like, somehow, we've let it affect how we view each other?"

"Honestly?" He sighed, his shoulders lifting and dropping in a half-hearted shrug. "Could be. But, Yn honey, is it really such a bad thing? And let's think about it this way—how do you feel about Joshua?"

You didn't need to think too hard about it. "He's a catch, but not my type of butterfly."

"Exactly, and oh my go—"

"Don't," you chuckled menacingly, "call me a nerd."

He gestured vaguely with his hand. "I wasn't; I was gonna call you a dork."

You snorted. With another swipe at your dripping neck, you said, "But Kevin and Serena—"

"'Kevin and Serena' don't exist," he told you with a smack of his lips. Jin peered at you from over the rim of his glasses, which in kind, made the duck's beady eyes stare straight into your soul, too. "That girl bats for the other team, and Kevin has shown zero interest in her other than helping her not fall off a jet ski."

Huh. You leaned your elbow onto the knee of one leg, propped up to your chest. "Well when you put it that way…"

"When I put it that way," he finished for you, "it makes it a little clearer, hm?" You were quiet for a moment, and Jin gave your shoulder a pat. "Some things are just meant to be."

The words, so familiar to you, rang true as a bell. Some things are just meant to be. You couldn't help the smile that started to work its way onto your face, and it was all thanks to Seokjin helping you sweep away some of the webs confusing your brain. You weren't completely confident, but you could feel yourself being nudged in a certain direction, and this time, you weren't pushing back.

The tide could take you where it may.

Your uncle by association added quietly, "Haven't you thought just once that, after all this sneaking around, there's been another reason for it other than a pact?"

EPISODE TWELVE: FISH IN THE SEA, ANTS IN THE GROUND

BY the time you and Jin returned to solid ground, you discovered that Kevin was away with his dad helping the Xus pack and clean up. Today they would be departing the small lake town, as they hadn't planned on spending as much time up here as the rest of you did. You and most of the others already said your goodbyes at the campfire, so you had little else to do but twiddle your thumbs until you could confront Kevin with your thoughts.

A shower always produced productive results, especially after melting Wicked Witch of the West style in the middle of the lake.

There was time, you realized, to bring things together. Of course, there was a part of you that shied away from wanting to even address this epiphany. What if bringing this up opened up a whole new can of worms? In other words, what if talking about the elephant in the room only led to regret? You didn't want to lose Kevin, and because your families were always so close, you didn't want to lose this. This connection, this tradition, this place.

Too many memories made their home here at the lake. It was your happy place… his happy place. It was everything.

Everything could change, and wasn't that terrifying? But it could also be great, and who best to share the scariest, greatest moments of life with other than your Kevin Moon?

As rubber tire wheels ate gravel, Kevin nodded to his dad and set off back across the lawn toward your cabin. The afternoon had him busy with helping the Xus head home, which he didn't mind doing, of course; the lot of them had fun with his party, and his party with the lot of them. He and Serena left on friendly terms, undeterred by his mother's half-hearted attempt to get them sort of talking. Serena said she understood.

Kevin needed to talk to you though. After the morning was spent with Yuna getting him to see the big ass elephant in the room—trunk in his face and trumpet in his ear—there was no other course of action left but to tell you the truth.

The truth. God, the truth. The truth was that he didn't want the old pact in place anymore. That was it, plain and simple. It was crazy to think about how long the two of you had let it restrain your relationship—wait, did you want it to though?

"Hey Kevin!"

Kevin slowed to a stop, attention perking up at his name when he saw Joshua making his way over to him. He worried his bottom lip. You didn't… like Josh, did you? He just had to be sure because, well, that would throw a rock into things. "Oh, hey, man."

Joshua offered him a bright smile. "Hey. Did Serena and her parents just take off?"

Kevin cupped the back of his head. "Uh, yeah! Just now, actually."

"Cool, cool." Joshua nodded his head. "I wanted to talk to you about something."

His heart threw itself over the side of a cliff. Oh no. He let out a laugh, hoping to push the nerves out of his voice, but he was sure it wasn't too convincing anyhow. "Really? What—what about?"

"It's about Yn—" Oh, double no. "—I kind of," he winced, "noticed that her mom was trying to… nudge us together?"

"Oh god, let me be the first to apologize—"

Joshua broke the tension with a chuckle. "Hey, it's no worries! I just didn't know if you were aware or not because you and she kind of seemed like a couple to me, but I didn't know if her mom knew."

Kevin blinked, heart quickening for a different reason. "What?" He stammered. "Sorry, can we rewind?"

"Hm? That you and Yn are a thing? Are—are you not?" He gasped, eyes going wide. "Shit, that was stupid of me to just assume. Sorry if that was totally awkward!"

Oh, but quite the opposite. Kevin could feel the blood rush to his cheeks, clear as day. There was a warm feeling in his chest knowing that more people thought that you and him looked like a couple. It was ridiculous how the thought got him giddy now. Kevin shook his head though. "No, no, you're good, dude. But we aren't a couple." Yet. Hopefully.

Joshua cocked his head to the side curiously. "Oh? I guess… it's still a little strange of me to assume, so I apologize. You're…?"

"Interested?" A nod. "Yeah." (Wow, that was a verbal admittance. One step closer to the real thing.)

Kevin cleared his throat and grabbed his shoulder with his opposite hand. "You're not—you're not interested in her, are you? I mean," he rushed to add, "it's totally fine. I understand—"

Joshua shook his head. "Oh shit, no, I'm not interested. Not that Yn's a bad person or anything, but I'm taken."

Pause.

…that made sense.

Joshua laughed, ducking his head to hide the smile that blossomed on his face. "Yeah, I'm already spoken for. My parents don't really know yet, but… yeah. I didn't wanna get in the way of whatever you and Yn have, and hopefully I'm not saying this too late."

On the contrary, a weight lifted from Kevin's chest and he sucked in a lungful of summer breeze. "Nah, man. Thanks for saying it in the first place; I appreciate it."

"Yeah," Joshua said pleasantly. He nodded at him, lips pursed with one eye squinted. "She digs you, too, you know? I've seen it all throughout this trip."

Hope filled his heart like the air ballooning his lungs. He didn't know what to do with all of these. They just kept coming up onto the stack of things in his hands that he wanted to take into consideration and tell you to your face, once and for all. Your face just kept flickering in his mind's eye, and the nerves were slowly melting into excitement. He wanted to share this with you, as the two of you had done for years.

"I hope so."

Joshua clasped a hand on Kevin's shoulder. "I would say 'go get 'em, tiger,' but I have a friend at school who is scarily obsessed with tigers, so I'll just say—" A squeeze of his shoulder, "you got this."

Kevin didn't know what to do with that extra factoid, but he gave Joshua a grateful grin. "Thanks, man."

The pair split off from there, one heading back toward his own cabin, and the other, marching toward the future. Whatever laid ahead, he could take on.

His step gained a skip, and soon, he was jogging across the green until he appeared at your back porch. He hadn't really prepared anything—no romantic gestures, no flowers or candles, no chocolates. All he had were the words on his tongue and his newly realized love for you. Love, a strange phenomenon. He had his love for you stashed away in his breast pocket and it blossomed every summertime.

He let himself into the house and went poking around for you. "Yn? Yn, you back yet?"

No answer.

He ducked his head into the kitchen, the living room, before he came upon your bedroom door left slightly ajar. Through the sliver, he saw the bottoms of your feet on the bed, and he gently knocked on the door before pushing through.

"Yn…? Ah," His voice quieted to a whisper.

You were curled up over the bedsheets, asleep. Kevin slowly tiptoed his way over to you where your body was angled toward your phone screen, lying discarded on the pillow and actively running an episode of Our Planet.

A smile, fond and tender, pressed itself into his mouth. He reached over to carefully turn the downloaded episode off to descend the room in complete silence.

His head swiveled toward the foot of the bed where your patchwork quilt hung off the railing. He carefully draped it over your sleeping form, then made his exit.

You deserved the rest. And though he couldn't confess to you now, this gave him the time to ensure he got this exactly right.

EPISODE THIRTEEN: THE DAMSELS IN DEVOTION DEAL™

TIME passed by differently here.

One moment, you were biding your time and indulging in an episode of Our Planet; the next, the bedroom was dark and the house was quiet. You roused from sleep confused and delirious. You stretched your limbs up over your head, taking note of the quilt draped over your body.

Huh, you wondered how that got there.

Your eyes fluttered and squinted when you stood up and saw a flicker of amber light from outside your window. The view looked over only part of the backside to the house, so all you could see were the shadows that the campfire created. They danced by way of the breeze, their puppetmaster.

The time on your phone read a (slightly alarming) ten o'clock. You hadn't realized you slept that long. Maybe you were more tired than you originally thought.

Wait, then why was the campfire still blazing?—

"Yn! Psst!"

You pressed your face against the open slit in the window to track the sound of your name. Déjà vu swept over you as you discovered Kevin making his way over toward you from the outside. "Kevin? Is everyone still up?"

He shook his head. "No, no. I've just been waiting," he admitted sheepishly. "Come on out. Have you eaten yet?"

"Oh, no. I just woke up."

"Ah… right." He clasped the back of his neck. "Well, come out anyway. We can sit together."

Together. You liked the sound of that.

Without wasting more time, you promised him two minutes and scurried out of your room to round to the back door. The campfire crackled on your side of the lawn, rather than the middle of the properties this time, and Kevin tended to it on one of the two foldable chairs present.

You took a seat in the open seat. "S'mores?" You chuckled, noting the basket of ingredients at his feet.

He ducked his head. "Yeah," he loosened a laugh, "I thought I'd make you a s'more this time."

It was just a s'more, and yet, here was the organ in your chest palpitating in your chest. You didn't reject the s'more, of course, and watched him skewer a marshmallow and hold it over the blazing embers. As he did so, you caught the way his other hand fidgeted with your bracelet on his wrist, how his tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip. Was he as nervous as you were?

The thing, Yn.

"There's something I—" You both stopped short at your simultaneous words. They were the same, too, and had the pair of you fumbling.

"You first," you said, gesturing to him.

He hummed and tried for a smile. "Do you remember that night in sixth grade when we made the pact?"

You nodded.

"It was kind of like this actually," he mused. The marshmallow had browned into a beautiful gold, and you reached into the basket to help him assemble the chocolate and graham cracker pieces. Your fingers grazed his as he squished the outer crackers together to hand it to you. "A late night, s'mores, the campfire."

You took a chunk out of the s'more and swallowed before adding, "Seems like so long ago."

"Right?" He slipped the metal skewers back into the basket and leaned his arms onto his knees, body angled toward you. "The pact, I…" He considered his words as they melted on his tongue like the chocolate and marshmallow on yours. "I wanted to ask if you would think about another amendment."

You met his eyes now. The burning fire reflected in his dark irises, warm and bright. "An—an amendment," you parroted. Was this what you thought it was? You finished off your s'more, hoping not to choke when he told you whatever he wanted to tell you. You suddenly wondered if the s'more was just to soften the blow.

Kevin nodded. "Yeah, another amendment. We didn't really discuss the biggest part of the original pact when we made the rescue protocol."

"The 'just friends' clause," you finished, breathlessly.

"Yn, I don't wanna be just friends anymore."

It didn't hit you at first. You swore the ash from the fire was making you hear things, but it hit you, milliseconds later. "Oh."

He pursed his lips for a moment. "It's taken me a stupidly long time to come to this conclusion, and I was thinking about what we were talking about the other night—about if we were ready for relationships. And I said that maybe the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with was someone I already met.

"Yn, I think I'm in love with you," he said. "Not just in a way that friends love each other, but something… something more. And I wanted to let you know because—if I'm being completely honest—I want to share everything with you."

You could feel the way your lips curled upward and your heart soared. "I wanna share everything with you, too. And I don't know how long I've sat on this, but what I do know is that I feel so much for you." Every admittance that was released into the night air like sparks flying was another card laid out between you two, face up. "This place, the lake, has been my place, Kevin. But I want you to be my person."

He smiled at you, sweet and boyish, the type of smile that made you feel on the edge of seventeen. He helped you out of dark places with that smile; he was always showing you the light. "Your person," he murmured, letting that sink into his tongue and be familiarized with it. "I would love to be your person, Yn."

Your hand found his across the gap between your chairs. His thumb caressed over the side of yours, and he tucked his other hand over top until you were enveloped in his clasp—safe and sound.

When the fire was reduced to nothing more than ash and memory, you and Kevin raced each other down to the water's edge. The lake was stilled beneath the moonlight, a pool of silvery mercury. You reached for his hand again and intertwined your fingers firmly, a comforting weight and hold.

It felt right.

"So since we made an amendment to the protocol again," you started as he swung your laced hands between your bodies, "we need to seal the deal."

A grin bloomed on his face, and he bit his lip. "Hear me out," he drawled. "Maybe we should update the seal, too."

You narrowed your eyes in jest. "You just don't want me to flick your forehead."

"Sue me, you flick hard," he laughed.

"But shoot."

He licked his lips and turned to face you. "Can I show you?"

Your heart gave one big lurch as he leaned over to you. You closed the rest of the distance and sighed something happy at the feel of his lips against yours. It was gentle and brief, his mouth parting from yours to give you enough room to back away.

You could feel your twin smiles. "I kind of like it."

"Yeah?" He hummed. "Well, that can be our practice round."

You shook your head and threw your arms around his neck to pull him back over to you. His arms curled around your middle, hands pressed to your sides and holding you close.

When you broke apart this time, his warm chuckle ran a delicious bolt of electricity down your spine. "I know things are gonna be different now… But we got this."

It was the way he looked at you—the one that assured you he was the same Kevin he was three years ago and beyond; the kid who broke the swing set when you challenged him to a bet; the kid who sketched butterflies in meadows, and now sketched you in the firelight; the kid who would never judge you or ridicule you for your feelings, but validate them, always. You didn't know how you were so blind to it before.

It wasn't so scary anymore, not when you knew he would be there with you.

"Yeah," you said softly, running your thumb down the back of his neck, "I'm not really worried."

He let out a breathy laugh, and it coaxed one out of you, too. Kevin pressed his forehead to yours, pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose, pressed his heart to yours.

Some things really were just meant to be.

a/n: now the question is how are they gonna tell their moms... 🤡 if you enjoyed, pls remember to reblog, or comment, or send in an ask!! thanks for reading :] see you in at your convenience!

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

[melk-maid]

happy may!! here's my spreadsheet update for april in io's honour <3

[sixeyesonathiel]

i wish i can multitask and write multiple wips at the same time 👹

[cityselcouth]

for research purposes

pairing: caleb x reader

summary: how on earth were you supposed to write a good sex scene with almost zero experience? good thing your best friend was always willing to lend you a helping hand.

themes: childhood best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, friends with benefits, college! au, slowburn, humour, fluff, angst, petnames, profanity, alcohol consumption, sexual tension, explicit sexual content (oral fem receiving, fingering, nipple play, protected + unprotected sex, clothed sex), porn with so much plot, they're both down bad asf

word count: 25k

lyns notes: its been so long since i've written a full length fic like this, and it ended up being so much longer than I anticipated but please don't get scared by the wc 😭 its so self indulgent because i love caleb and I had way too much fun writing this so I hope you enjoy! <3

This was utterly insane, even for you.

The idea started small, though you supposed you couldn’t ever classify it as innocent. At the time, it had been just a flicker, a fleeting thought that slipped through the cracks of your composure. You were in your best friend's dorm, lounging on his bed like it was your own as you complained. 

“I’ve been stuck for weeks now. It’s like I’ve lost the ability to write.”

Caleb glanced over at you from his desk, leaning back in his plush chair as the movement of his fingers over the laptop keyboard stilled for a moment. The expression you received was familiar, you had been on the receiving end of it for years now. One of his lips quirked up, deep lavender eyes alight with amusement, and one eyebrow raised as he took in your anguished state. 

“You haven’t lost the ability to write, Pipsqueak, it's just writer's block. You’ve had writer's block before.”

“Not like this.” You shook your head, pulling your knees to your chest and resting your chin on them. “I usually manage to overcome it in a week or so. It’s been like, three months.”  Your annoyance with yourself was obvious to him, so clear in the slight pout on your mouth paired with that indignant expression.

It was true, you had been writing ever since you were little. Your imagination ran wild as a child, even before you could physically write, you would spin tales and make up stories to entertain yourself with, frequently getting lost in your own little world. You prided yourself on this talent of yours that helped you breeze through English essays and writing assignments, even going so far as to major in English at university. Writing was your bread and butter. It was more than just being good at it, it was the passion and fulfilment you felt when you did it. 

Passion and fulfillment your ass, you couldn’t feel any of that right now.

You were writing a book, your very first one that you started penning in the summer before your sophomore year. The idea had come to you out of nowhere, and once you spent hours outlining all the details, you were certain it was something you wanted to bring to life. The need to finish it burned through you as you spent most of that break stuck at your desk, hunched over your laptop. Caleb had to quite literally drag you out of your room most days, muttering some nonsense about vitamin D and too much screen time.

He had always been like that ever since you were kids – protective, caring, attentive. It was built into his very being, you supposed, ever since he saw you cry outside the first-grade classrooms as a seven-year-old and promised to help you find your way to the correct one. Even now, as he hummed in thought, offering silent support for your frustration. 

“You’ve gotten through a large chunk of it, right?”

“Yep.”

A slow, bargaining smile stretched out on his face. “Hey, you know, maybe if you let me read it–”

“Hell no.” You shook your head stubbornly. “I told you, I’m only letting you read it once it's finished, and I think it’s good enough.”

Caleb snorted, “So you mean never?”

You promptly threw one of the plushies on his bed at him. He deftly caught it, laughter slipping from him as he threw it back. The plushy was a grumpy apple one that he had won you back home at the arcade, but the pile of plushies on your bed was so huge that you graciously suggested that he keep it for you. Partial custody, you had joked, I have visitation rights.

“You’ll be the first to read it. I just….need to get through this one bit.” 

Ah yes, the bit. The part that you seemed to be cursed to never finish. Everything before it had gone so smoothly, the words flowing and pouring out of you so perfectly. A fun romance novel full of twists and humour was what you aimed to achieve, and it seemed like you were succeeding.

That was, until you reached a part of the story that you truly had no idea how to write. The technicalities of it were.…..unknown at best, to you, who had almost no experience in the matter. 

“You know, maybe you could tell me about it. Maybe I could help.” You knew the offer was genuine. Caleb had always been someone you could fall back upon for any assistance. Being two years older than you, in your eyes, he always knew what to do when you were in a pickle. He was the type of friend who placed bandages on your scrapes and offered you candy so you’d stop crying. He carried a hair tie around for when you wanted to tie your hair and helped you study for tests, and explained the concepts that you didn’t understand. Every time you had a problem, he never hesitated to help you in any way he possibly could.

But this….this was something you’d rather die than ask him about. 

Immediately, you shook your head a little too quickly, shooting him a tight smile. “Nope, it's fine. Just something I gotta figure out myself.

He stared at you skeptically but shrugged. “Alright. Let me know if you change your mind, okay?”

You wouldn’t.

Would you?

Absolutely not. Even thinking about it felt like a betrayal. It was like opening a can of worms that held snakes. Deadly venomous ones. 

And yet here you were, your teeth digging into the plush of your lower lip as he turned back to his laptop screen, continuing to work on whatever assignment he had due. He was in his final year and was infinitely busy, though he somehow still managed to make time for you. 

Shamelessly, your eyes studied him. His arms, so well defined and firm-looking, were basically on display for you when he wore that white, sleeveless tee. Dark hair, unruly and messy, no matter how many times you ran your fingers through it in an attempt to fix it. A defined jawline that could probably cut you if you dared touch it. He had grown up unfairly well, no longer the lanky young boy you once knew, now a man. A hot man you had incredible chemistry with.

A very hot man who was completely off-limits. 

Still. You supposed that his help couldn’t be the worst thing in the world–

A sex scene. That was what you were struggling to right. In terms of the story, it was a very natural next move for your characters, and it made sense, and while you could simply artistically describe the ordeal and fade to black, you felt it was a necessary addition. You wanted to showcase the desperation the two characters felt for each other, just how deep their feelings ran through something more primal. You wanted it to feel right, to feel magical. 

The issue? You hadn’t the faintest idea of how to go about it. In all your nineteen years of life, you had only had sex once, and it had been far from magical. It had been uncomfortable and rushed, the result of a very stupid, drunken one-night stand in your first year. The guy very evidently didn’t know how a woman's body worked, and even thinking back on it made you cringe and fold in on yourself. If it were possible to manually pluck the memory out and destroy it, you would have done it in a heartbeat.

So how on earth were you supposed to write the perfect sex scene when your one sole experience in the matter had been so terrible?

And you couldn’t ask Caleb for help. Even considering doing so made you feel as if you would spontaneously combust. He was your best friend, for crying out loud, and this crossed so many lines. You knew very well that he wasn’t a virgin by any means, having caught glimpses of the occasional hickey on his neck despite his best efforts to hide it from you. He was twenty-one, experienced and could probably talk you through it–

Nope. Not going here. 

The idea of Caleb explaining sex to you was mortifying. You didn’t want to hear about any of his conquests, even just the thought of him talking about it made you want to throw up. The notion of him having sex only made your cheeks warm and your throat go uncomfortably dry.

Against your will, the thought festered. It burrowed its way into your mind and settled there as if it belonged, despite its having no business being there. This was completely unethical, but before you could stop yourself, your gaze zeroed in on his tongue darting out of his mouth, licking his lips in concentration as he typed out something. For a second, you wondered how it would feel if he dragged that tongue across the skin of your neck.

Oh my god. What if he simply showed you?

The moment that depraved idea popped into your head, you shot up, getting to your feet with urgency. Startled, he looked over at you, frowning at the alarmed look on your face.

“Are you good?”

“I’m great!” Your voice sounded funny, like you were trying to digest a rock. “I just– er– remembered I have some homework to finish for tomorrow. So I should get back to my room.” You padded over to his door, slipping into your shoes and waving at him. “See ya.”

“....Bye.” He watched your awkward, rushed movements with a puzzled look on his (very nice) face.. You nodded curtly before opening the door and escaping the confines of his dorm, out of his scrutinising gaze that could read you annoyingly well. Another minute in there and you knew he would be grilling you for your odd behaviour. 

Jesus Christ. You were so screwed.

“Y/n? Girl, you gotta get your head in the game.”

Tara’s voice cut through your reverie, causing you to snap out of it. One glance up at her would reveal an unimpressed look directed at you, her hands on her hips. “Our darling editor wants to know why your article isn’t on her desk yet.”

Tara was your closest friend after Caleb, and you had met her when you joined the university paper as a student journalist. She was smart, pretty and always had your back no matter what. Blinking rapidly, you sighed, waving your hand. 

“Tell Jenna I’ll have it there by the end of the day.”

“You better. You know how she is about deadlines.” Tara pulled one of the chairs from the desk beside yours closer and sat on it, resting her elbows on the armrests. “Seriously, though, why are you spaced out today?”

Well, there was no way you could tell her the truth about that. So you resorted to using a half-truth as an answer. “Writer's block.”

“Ah.”

You turned back to the screen of your computer, staring at the article you had been writing. It was almost finished, thank god. At least here, you had the facts to write around, having done your research. Very different to the situation you found yourself in regarding your stupid book.

Ugh. 

“By the way, your boyfriend’s here.”

Your head snapped up at her words, already ready to argue, knowing exactly who she was talking about. Walking into the newsroom holding two coffees was Caleb, wearing that blue-orange jacket that you had bought him for one of his birthdays. He did this pretty often, sauntering in like he owned the place even though he was technically not allowed to be there. Jenna had repeatedly reminded him of this, but he brushed it off, and after a while, she simply stopped bothering. Thus, despite not being on the paper, he spent a lot of time in the newsroom.

This was another problem you faced daily: people mistaking him for your boyfriend. The number of times you had to rehash the fact that he was simply your best friend was astounding, and back when you were a freshman, the constant whistles about you dating an upperclassman– and none other than Caleb Xia– drove you mad. You chalked it down to none of them being fortunate enough to experience a friendship as fulfilling and real as the one you had with him.

“He’s not my boyfriend.” You dropped your voice, keeping it just loud enough for her to hear your rebuttal that held a hint of venom, plastering a smile on your face as he closed in. Tara snickered. 

“Sure, and I’m the queen of England.”

“Hey,” Caleb grinned down at you, his eyes momentarily flitting to your friend. “And what?”

“Nothing,” you said brightly, shooting her a murderous look that silently told her to zip it. She smiled innocently and shook her head, slipping back to her desk without another word.

“She’s an odd one,” he quipped, handing you one of the coffees and then shrugging off the jacket, dumping it on the free space on your desk. You already knew it was your regular order, something he had memorised years ago. You sipped the drink, letting the hot liquid calm you down, grateful for the caffeine. You hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before, spending it tossing and turning in your bed.

And why was that?

Caleb leaned against your desk. “Are you free later today?” 

A dejected sigh escaped you. “Unfortunately, no. I need to finish this article by the end of the day, and it seems like my writer's block has infected every aspect of my life.” It was ironic, just how true that statement ran.

“Damn.” You could hear the tinge of disappointment in his voice. “I was hoping we would have movie night. I stocked up on your favourite candy.” He reached over, his fingers brushing against the skin of your forehead as he pushed some of your hair that fell in front of your eyes away from your face, neatly tucking it behind your ear like it was second nature. It was, you supposed, considering he had done so about a hundred times.

But something was different this time, or perhaps you were paying far too much attention to every little thing. To how he pulled back and the way the muscles in his forearm shifted subtly, making you wish he had kept the jacket on. The brief touch lingered on your skin, burned into it.

Fucking hell, you were a mess. A tragic, down-atrocious mess.

Your eyes lingered on his fingers for a moment. Heat crept up your neck, and you coughed, rubbing it absent-mindedly, hoping to push down the flush you felt taking over your body. It had been like this ever since the day in his dorm when your brain had decided to work against you and infect you with the thought of sex with your best friend.

What better way was there to describe your state than calling it an infection? It certainly felt like some sort of sickness with the way it plagued you against your will. Somehow, it was worse than the doomed crush you had harboured for him back when you were in high school, because at least that had been innocent. That was born out of pure admiration, and you were sixteen. A lot of things done at sixteen could be brushed off under the excuse of being young and naive. You had quickly gotten over it. 

You were evidently no longer so naive. In fact, you knew too much.

“Maybe next time.” You managed to choke out finally after a silence that had stretched a beat too long. Part of you hoped he’d leave you alone now so that you could calm down and refocus your attention to the article. 

But of course, he didn’t. Instead, he occupied the chair Tara previously had, complaining about one of his classes as you nodded along, sipping your coffee and glancing between him and your screen. The smooth cadence of his voice usually soothed you and calmed you down, but now it only put you on edge, flowing over scrambled thoughts like honey. Had his arms always been this nice?

You were going to hell.

All things considered, you held yourself to certain standards. You were a woman with morals and integrity, and you were not in the habit of staring at shirtless men.

Except when it was Caleb, apparently. 

“Why are you half-naked?” You blurted out gracelessly, heat viciously curling up your body as your eyes dropped down to his torso. You gripped the Chinese takeout you had gotten on your way back from your evening class a little tighter as you took in his figure. A silver chain with a tag and apple pendant (something you had given him before he left for university while you were still struggling in high school) on his bare chest and perfect sculpted abs, running shorts hanging low on his hips. 

“I was working out.” He said casually, taking the bag of takeout from your hands and walking back into his dorm, leaving you to follow him. You bit down on your tongue hard, almost hoping you’d draw blood. 

This was ridiculous. You had seen him shirtless several times before and had never reacted like this. The other times hadn’t caused you to flush and definitely didn’t cause your heart rate to spike. It didn’t have you furiously fighting off thoughts that had threatened to consume you for over a week now, pushing them back into the furthest parts of your mind and locking them there. 

“I’m almost done, could you grab sodas from the fridge?” Caleb placed the food on the table beside his bed. You wordlessly complied, picking the apple-flavoured sodas that both of you liked. Turning back to the main area of his dorm, you walked over, only to stop dead in your tracks.

Caleb was on the floor. Doing push-ups.

There was nothing inherently sexual about it in the slightest. You knew he liked to stay in shape, hitting the gym at least thrice a week to maintain his physique– a very nice physique that seemed to be your current undoing. His hair fell across his forehead, a little matted from sweat. You watched as he pressed down and back up, and in a moment of weakness, you wondered how it would be if you were under him instead of standing to the side and ogling like an idiot. Would his necklace dangle above you, swinging back and forth in your face?

Dear god. You needed to be sedated. Put down, even.

Finally, he seemed to be done, lowering himself down and then rolling onto his back. He sucked in a breath of hair, running his hands through his hair and messing it up even further. Finally, he sat up and looked up at you, a singular eyebrow raised.

“Why are you just standing there?”

Brilliant question. If only you could answer it. 

Choosing to skillfully evade instead, you tossed him his soda can and grabbed his laptop from his desk, settling down next to him on the floor. Tonight, the two of you had decided to have dinner together and catch up on an anime you had started together a couple of weeks ago. It had been a while since you had properly hung out, and you knew damn well that it was all your fault. 

You were avoiding him. Mentally and physically, especially physically. Caleb, however, being the understanding, saint of a man that he was, chalked it up to you being busy. He made sure to check in on you, shooting you texts or sending you funny videos he knew you’d like. 

“We should try and finish all the episodes up until the latest one,” You said, opening up his laptop and logging into the anime site. “They released a new one on Wednesday.” 

Caleb hummed, stretching his arms as he shuffled closer. Immediately, you froze, the close contact inciting pure panic within you. Jerking away from him, you glared, holding a hand out to keep an arm's distance between the two of you, much to his confusion. 

“Put on a shirt.”

He frowned. “Why? It’s really hot.”

Indeed, it was. “Exactly. You’re all sweaty and gross.”

You really shouldn’t have said that. The moment the words left your mouth, his mouth curled into a smirk– one so disgustingly attractive that you were sure your knees would have probably buckled if you weren’t already sitting down– and his eyes lit up with a mischievous glint that told you he was up to no good. Carefully, he wrapped a hand around your wrist, and the contact has your brain short-circuiting and going into overdrive.

“I think that means you want a hug.”

“Wait– don’t you dare– Caleb!” You yelped as he tugged you harshly, forcing you to fall into his lap, his laughter resounding through the small dorm room. Awkwardly, you shoot your other hand out to steady yourself, placing it on his shoulder as you tumble into him, knee slotting in between his legs and body so dangerously close to his that you wanted to scream. Smoothly, he wrapped his other arm around your waist, circling it and somehow tugging you even closer, until you were flush against him.

“What are you gonna do now, Pips?” He taunted, voice just above a whisper right against your ear. 

Unicorns, you bleakly thought to yourself. Puppies. Cupcakes. Sprinkles.

“You’re so annoying,” You hissed, throwing as much irritation into your voice as you possibly could in the hopes that it would drown out the shakiness you felt. His skin under your fingertips was warm, and you could feel that warmth through the fabric of your tank top. “Go fuck yourself.”

He laughed harder, the sound so contagious it broke you out of your downright sinful thoughts. You gripped his shoulder a little harder, mentally chastising yourself for the situation you found yourself in, knowing that there was no good reason for you to be this riled up. Playfighting with him was something you were used to; it was natural. It should not have had your blood pressure rising and heart slamming in your chest so violently.

Swallowing thickly, you barely processed how he let go of your wrist, his other arm also coming to rest around your waist as he pulled you further into his lap so that you were now sitting on top of him. Before you even had the chance to react to that, he buried his face in the crook of your neck and inhaled. 

“Missed you this week,” He mumbled softly against your rapidly heating skin. You froze for a split second at the contact, hopelessly blaming the flush spread over your cheeks on the humid weather.

And then you softened. 

Instinctively, your arms wrapped around his neck as you hugged him back. “I missed you too,” You whispered, following up with a lie to keep him off your trail. “Just had a lot of work.”

“I know,” he said so patiently that you instantly felt guilty. He lifted his face from your neck so that he could stare at you, and it hit you just how intimate the position the two of you were in was. Although reserved with others, Caleb had always been pretty openly affectionate with you. His hand on the small of your back, fingers intertwined with yours, a light kiss to your temple in encouragement– he had been doing stuff like that to you since you were ten. 

So why did it suddenly affect you so much? Why did something so normal for you make you feel so different now?

“Just….tell me about it,” he continued, those mesmerising purple eyes of his locked onto yours. “Shoot me a text. Let me know what's up with you. Don’t you remember the last time you shut everyone out because you were stressed?”

You did remember. It was during your finals last year, when the workload you had overwhelmed you so badly that you simply pushed everyone away until they were over. Caleb had to practically storm his way back into your life and demand that you take a break and slow down before you worked yourself to the bone. The fact that he remembered this only made your guilt worse because your distance this time had nothing to do with your classwork. 

It had everything to do with him, though. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you mumbled, slowly slipping out of his embrace and settling down next to him once again. You had to remind yourself of what he was to you, and all this thirsting for him was neither healthy nor something a good best friend would do. “I’m not gonna do that again.” 

“I’m just saying. And what the hell am I supposed to do with my free time if you’re not here to bother me?” He flashed you that shit-eating grin of his that you were starting to think was more devastating than mischievous.

You had to resist strangling him.

There was only one possible conclusion: something was deeply wrong with you.

How else were you supposed to explain your borderline insane behaviour? It had gotten even worse lately, causing you to daydream at the most inconvenient times, like when you were trying to get an assignment done or even in the middle of class. It was a wonder your professors hadn’t called you out for it yet. 

Some level of restraint seemed to remain, though, with you stopping your thoughts from crossing any lines. The moment you caught your mind straying into dangerous territory, you forced yourself to stop, desperately searching for another distraction.

But there was only so much you could do. Thinking was proving to be a dangerous activity.

You pressed your palms into your eyes, hard. It was almost three in the morning, and you hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep. Earlier, you had tried to write around the damned scene, but emerged fruitless. It was like an obstacle you had to clear before you could get to the next level of a game, taunting you with its incompletion.

Something else taunted you, simmering underneath the expanse of your skin. Things that hadn’t even happened yet, but you had already dreamed of them– his mouth on yours, his hands tracing your body with a feather touch. 

You were even wearing one of his shirts right now, the oversized tee reaching down to your mid-thighs. Several, just like the one you currently wore, sat neatly in your closet, having been stolen from him over the years. You could faintly smell his cologne; cidery and comforting, enveloping you in what felt like it could be his embrace. Turning onto your side, you pulled the blanket over your body and stared at the wall blankly. 

Caleb had been your safe space for so long, and perhaps that was why you gravitated so easily to thinking about him like this. If there was anyone you trusted in such an intimate sense, it was him. 

Even if it shouldn’t have been.

God knows you needed to get laid. Unfortunately, you didn’t want just anyone.

You swore you had never been this horny before, least of all for your best friend. Thinking about him in such a salacious way was strictly a new development that was quickly ruining your life, haunting you day and night. Even now, lying in your bed, heat that was impossible to ignore bloomed between your legs. 

Maybe if you just indulged once, this madness would stop. Maybe you just needed an orgasm, and then you’d stop going insane over every single interaction you had with Caleb. It didn’t even have to be about him, and this was normal; everyone needed a release now and then. 

Your fingers slipped between your legs, pushing the fabric of his shirt up, tracing the outline of your cotton underwear. Your eyes fluttered shut as you let your fingertips gently graze against where you needed them most, letting your legs fall apart just a little bit–

Deep purple eyes flashed behind your closed eyes.

Gasping, you retracted your hand like you had been burned. There was no way in hell you could touch yourself with him in mind; that was everything you had been avoiding for the past three weeks, ever since the notion had first sprouted. Groaning, you buried your face into the pillow.

This had to have been the stupidest cause of insomnia ever.

Caleb 🍎 [15:32 pm] : i better see u at the party tonight :D

Caleb 🍎 [15:32 pm] : will pick u up at 9

Caleb 🍎 [15:32 pm] : no buts.

Caleb supposed that this was technically his fault.

Mentally, he had already prepared for this outcome. It was why he had barely drunk the entire night, barely finishing two drinks and opting out of playing beer pong with the rest of his friends, despite Gideon's need for another member on his team. 

“Come on, Pipsqueak.” He had an arm around your waist to help steady you, ensuring you wouldn’t fall flat on your face. You stumbled into the elevator, and he jammed the number of your dorm floor as you wrapped your arms around his torso weakly, leaning into him. Right now, he was the only thing keeping you upright.

You were drunk, slurring your words and unable to walk in a straight line without any assistance type of drunk.  And yes, this was his fault. 

Probably. Definitely.

One of the frat houses had thrown a party, and he had insisted that you come with him. He had always been great at reading you, and for the last couple of weeks, you had seemed tense over something, though you hadn’t told him what exactly it was yet. That was fine, he knew that eventually you’d spill, but for now, all he wanted to do was help you let loose. 

That was exactly what he told you to do when both of you arrived at the party, even pouring you your first drink. Halfway through the party, you seemed more relaxed than you had in the last couple of days, swaying along to the music by his side. He made sure not to drink too much, wanting to be sober enough to safely get you back to your dorm just in case you overdid it.

His intuition always ended up being right when it came to you.

You whined as the elevator dinged, the doors opening. “Everything is spinning.”

“I know, honey, we’re almost there.” He helped you walk into the hallway, smoothly taking your handbag from you and extracting your keys. Holding you tighter, he opened the door and pulled you through, carefully seating you down on your bed and taking your boots off.

Like clockwork, he grabbed a bottle of water from your bedside table, unscrewed it and held it to your cherry-tinted lips. You only used that specific lip-tint when you were going out, and each time you did, he found himself wondering if it tasted like cherry as well. Even now, as he gently propped his index finger under your chin and tilted your face upwards, he entertained the idea of tasting it for himself.

But he wouldn’t. 

“Drink up,” He said softly, “You’re gonna have a nasty hangover tomorrow.”

Obediently, you parted your lips, drinking with his help. Your cheeks were flushed due to the alcohol, hair a little frizzy from the heat, but still maintaining the styling you had done before the party. To him, you looked stunning at all times, but he could see the effort you had put in to look nice tonight, from your outfit (a black halter top and jeans) to your makeup, which he knew he’d have to help you take off now. 

Once he deemed the amount of water you had drunk enough, he put the bottle back and went into your bathroom, knowing exactly where to find your makeup wipes. He had taken care of you like this once before, so his body moved like clockwork. There was no point in trying to get you to the bathroom– you’d probably just sit down on the floor and stay there for the rest of the night– so he took the wipes with him and crouched down in front of where you sat on your bed. 

Smiling, he held your face again, this time a little firmer. “You’d hate yourself if you went to sleep before you took your makeup off,” he whispered, pulling one of the wipes out and dragging it over the apples of your face. Then, he glanced up and into your eyes, noting how you stared at him so keenly, even through a half-lidded gaze, lips slightly parted. 

If Caleb could’ve kept your attention on him like this for the rest of his life, he would have. 

“What's going through that head of yours?” He cocked his head to the side, studying your intent expression. Immediately, you looked away, but he wasn’t going to back down. Something had been troubling you, and he was determined to find out what. If you wouldn’t tell him outright, he would simply have to guess. “Is it your book, again?”

Your inebriated state made it hard for you to hide things from him. You stiffened in his touch, and he chuckled. “Bingo. You know, if you just told me what you were struggling with, I’d help.” He pressed your chin lightly, angling your face downwards. “Close your eyes.” He gently wiped over your eye makeup, making sure it was all off before continuing. “I know I’m not a writer, but I’m sure I'll be of some value.”

Finally done, he neatly folded the dirty wipe and placed it to the side. “Want some more water? Alcohol is dehydrating.”

And then, out of nowhere, you spoke. 

“Sex.”

Well, blurting would probably be a better way to describe how you said the word. Caleb blinked rapidly, wondering if he had heard you correctly as his face snapped back to yours, eyes wide. 

“What?”

“Sex.” You slurred a little bit as you leaned closer to him, jutting your lower lip out in a pout and repeating it once more for good measure. “Sex.”

“I heard you the first time,” Caleb could hear how strangled his voice was, unable to think straight at your sudden declaration. Oblivious to his mental distress, you thrust out your hand and pointed at the laptop that sat on your desk with drunken animosity. 

“I can’t write a stupid sex scene.” 

You sounded so crestfallen, and he would have totally started sympathising with you if not for the reason. A sex scene? What on earth were you writing?

“I–” He swallowed, “Well–”

“I mean, how am I supposed to write a good sex scene if I don’t know what good sex feels like? Or what even like, happens?” Alcohol had certainly loosened you up, and perhaps a bit too much, having erased any filter that you had. This resulted in you rambling on about everything you would have usually kept to yourself, and for good reason. “The sex I’ve had has been shitty.”

The sex you’ve had? Caleb almost bit his tongue off in shock, staring at you incredulously at the information you had dumped on him. He hadn’t even known you had been having sex, and thank every god for that, because he would have probably jumped off a cliff if you ever talked about your sex life with him. Surely, this was some sort of twisted fever dream he had found himself in. This could not have been real life.

“Christ,” He choked out, “I–okay, maybe I can’t help you–”

“Yeah, you can.” Your eyes cut to his, a little too intense for his sanity. “If you fucked me, I’d probably be able to write the scene.”

He gaped at you, about a dozen inappropriate thoughts running through his head before he could stop it. “What did you just say?” 

Teenage Caleb would have died if he had heard you say that. Adult Caleb nearly did. 

You sighed heavily, and it only succeeded in causing him to spiral even more. “I thought about it. I’m sure it would be good, y’know. You’d know what you were doing, you even look like you’re good at it.”

“You’re so drunk.” He tried to reason with himself out loud, but could hardly recognise his voice with how strained he sounded. Looked like he was good at it? What alternate dimension had he just fallen into? 

“Oh, come on, Caleb. I need some hands-on learning, and you–” you slurred the words as you leaned close and wrapped your hands around his bicep, peering up at him through your lashes. “–have very nice hands. They’re hot.”

You, his best friend, his pipsqueak, had thought about sleeping with him. You thought his hands were hot. The news nearly killed him, and he had to force himself to look away from you, his mind running at a mile a minute. Heat prickled at his face and neck, impossible to ignore as he cleared his throat and stood to his feet, pulling away from your touch. 

“You should sleep.” He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans, stepping away from you. “I–I’ll see you tomorrow.” It was as if he were going through puberty all over again, with the way his voice cracked embarrassingly as he spoke. He left your room hurriedly,  barely getting his shoes back on as he closed the door behind him and leaned against it.

Caleb exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose as the back of his head hit your door. All these years of barely keeping it together around you, carefully tiptoeing between right and wrong, only for you to come and crash into whatever self-restraint he had left. 

Right and wrong. 

All of a sudden, he wasn’t sure if he was going to choose correctly anymore. 

Death had to have been more merciful than the pounding in your head. Grabbing the covers, you pulled them over yourself like a cocoon, trying your hardest to block out all noises and sink even further into your mattress. 

Unfortunately, your hangover-induced headache made it nearly impossible for you to go back to sleep. Cursing, you forced yourself out of bed and into the bathroom to freshen up and change out of your clothes and into something more comfortable. Naturally, you gravitated towards an oversized shirt and a pair of shorts, pulling them on after a quick shower. 

Then, you went right back to your bed, not wanting to face the day in the slightest. You had managed to resist throwing up so far, and even the thought of having to function like a normal human being made you recoil into your blanket and stay there for the rest of the week. Just as you began to genuinely entertain that notion, a sharp knock at your door caught your attention.

You would have ignored it if you didn’t know the pattern of this knock by heart. No one but Caleb knocked twice in sequence. 

Cursing under your breath, you scrambled to the door and opened it, squinting as the bright light of the hallway outside nearly blinded you. There he stood, grinning down at you as he held up a paper bag. 

“Aspirin.”

“Thank god,” you immediately let him in, taking the medicine from him and pouring yourself a glass of water. He stood right behind you as you took the pill, ruffling your already messy hair and staring for just a second too long. 

“Bad morning, huh?”

“You have no idea.” You winced at the whiny nature of your voice. “It feels like my head is trying to stab itself.”

Caleb chuckled dryly, sitting down on your bed and watching as you settled at your desk and ran your fingers through your hair, trying to smooth out the knots. Something was different about the way he was looking at you, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

“You’ll be fine,” He muttered, shifting his gaze to the ceiling. You frowned, taking in the way his jaw ticked, and placed your glass of water down.

“Are you okay?”

“Me? Yeah, I’m fine.” He said it a little too brightly, glancing down at your desk. Something flickered in his eyes. “Made any progress on that book of yours?”

A frustrated sound left you buried your face in your hands, elbows on your desk. The reminder of your stagnant writing somehow worsened your headache, as if that was even possible. Of course he’d bring that up. “As usual, no.”

For a while, you had hoped that inspiration would strike you eventually, but it seemed like you were well and truly stuck. It had only taken a turn for the worse, with you suddenly despising everything you had already written, unable to even skim any of it without cringing and wanting to hit delete. Your inability to write had morphed into impostor syndrome, which was a development you didn’t appreciate in the slightest.

“It’s okay,” he said, and you would have mistaken his tone for reassuring if not for the way his lips twitched slightly. “I’m sure you’ll be able to write eventually. After you fuck me, apparently.”

Silence. 

Razor-sharp silence.

Slowly, you turned your head to face him, eyes wide as saucers. “What….did you just say?”

“Only what you said last night. You said you were sure it would be good, which I beg to differ. It would be amazing, thank you very much.” He dared to smile oh-so innocently, as if he hadn’t just upgraded the superlative of what sex with him would potentially be like.

If you thought you were going to throw up before, you were sure you were going to now. You almost choked on your spit, waves of unadulterated shock crashing through your system as you gawked at your best friend, who appeared much too pleased with himself at the moment. If you weren’t so utterly horrified, you would have tried to slap the smug expression right off of his face.

“No.” The singular word comes out breathless, much to your mortification, your gut churning at the implications of that statement. “No, no, no–”

“Oh yes,” He grinned wickedly, leaning back on the palms of his hands. 

“What–what the fuck did I drink last night.” You tried your levity, but your embarrassment ran too deep. Reaching up, you covered your face with your hands in a pathetic attempt to hide away from him. Never, in a million years, had you ever accounted for having this conversation with him, of all people, and you were almost certain there was something in your drinks that had made you say what you did. 

His velvety laugh echoed through your dorm, and you wanted nothing more than to fold in on yourself. This had to have been the worst moment of your life. 

“I guess you don’t remember, huh?” There was an amused lilt to his tone that made you want to jump out of the window. “I can refresh you, if you’d like.”

“NO!” 

The shriek that left you was nothing short of abashed. He leaned forward now, smirking at you conspiratorially. “What's wrong? I thought you needed,” he paused, as if recollecting the exact words you had said to humiliate you even further. “Hands-on learning?”

You pointed to the door, biting back a scream. “Get out.”

The smirk only grew. “Aw, but if sleeping with me is gonna help you write again–”

“OUT!” You glared, cheeks flaming. Your anxiety had prepared you for at least a hundred outright ridiculous situations that had no chance of ever occurring, but none of them accounted for the possibility of your best friend talking about sleeping with you. You couldn’t fathom how he seemed so unaffected by it, as if he were speaking about something as mundane as the damn weather.

Caleb tongued his cheek, evidently fighting off another bout of laughter. He raised his hands to his sides in a placating gesture, but it did nothing to soothe your frazzled nerves. If anything, it only distracted you further, your eyes betraying you and straying to glance at his hands. A suppressed memory from last night resurfaced in your mind's eye, much to your displeasure. 

You have very nice hands. They’re hot.

That was it. You were never going to touch alcohol again. Sobriety was your way of life now, seeing that you couldn’t keep your mouth shut when under the influence. The next time you need to let off some steam, you’d have an iced coffee.

“Alright, alright, I’ll go.” He moved towards your door, hiding his teasing smile behind his fist, disguising his chuckle with an exaggerated cough. “But Y/n?”

He didn’t use his beloved pet name. You straightened slightly, momentarily pushing away your embarrassment at the sudden serious shift of his voice. He opened the door and paused, hesitating for a single second. Then, he looked back at you, all-consuming, violent eyes locking onto yours. 

“I would do it if you asked.” 

You sighed heavily as you walked out of your last class of the day, rubbing the back of your neck and peering up into the darkening sky. Thursdays were the one day of the week when you had longer classes one after the other, which always resulted in you feeling exhausted by the end of it. You barely had the energy to even think about putting together dinner, which your best friend knew, always swinging by once your class ended with enough take-out for both of you and to walk you back to your dorm. 

Which meant…

“I hope you’re in the mood for Thai food.”

Caleb slid into your view with that easy-going smile of his, though lately and much to your annoyance, there seemed to be a knowing glint in his gaze every time it settled on you. 

“I’m in the mood for anything edible.” You sighed as you began walking back to your dorm. He easily fell into step beside you, as always, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. You supposed it was, considering how long your friendship had lasted. It would be almost twelve years soon, and honestly, you could hardly remember a time when he wasn’t around. 

He hummed, knowing how cranky you got when you were hangry. “So easy to please.” It was the way he said it, knowing and with a tone so low that it almost resembled a purr. It had goosebumps rising on the surface of your skin. A little outraged at the way you reacted, you glanced over at him, only to find him already looking at you.

It was how he always looked at you, with conviction and every ounce of his attention. Yet, it felt different, more intense. Or maybe that was just your brain playing tricks on itself. 

I would do it if you asked.

Those seven words had haunted you from the moment he had spoken them. The serious expression on his face mixed with the quiet way he had said it– it had undoubtedly fucked you up a little more than you would have liked to admit. You were beyond infuriated and in complete disbelief over how he had simply offered to sleep with you. Like it wasn’t a big deal or a very major, clear boundary that existed in friendships. In your friendship. 

If you asked. Like it was that fucking simple. He left your dorm since you demanded it of him, but left you to deal with the aftermath of that absolutely criminal statement of his. 

And then there was the teasing. 

Relentless and unsteadying. Caleb would say something a little too suggestive or downright sexual before retreating and pretending like nothing had happened. He’d hold your gaze a little longer, or let his touch linger, before looking away with a satisfied smirk. He knew damn well what he was doing, and although you did too, it didn’t stop you from flushing or freezing up. It certainly didn’t stop scenarios from writing themselves in your head. 

He was torturing you for your little slip-up. He found it hilarious, and now you were the punchline for every joke that blossomed from it. 

He cocked his head to the side now, a small, tilted smile on his lips as he spoke. “What's going on in at head of yours?”

You realised you had stopped walking, and so had he, instead standing right in front of you and occupying every part of your vision. “Nothing.”

Caleb quirked an eyebrow, taking a step closer. “You sure about that? You’re obviously thinking about something.” The cadence of his voice had always been nice, but now the velvety smoothness of it put you on edge in more ways than one. “Are you maybe thinking about–”

“I am not thinking about that.” The statement tumbled out of you before you could bite your tongue. His eyes lit up mischievously.

“Oh, so you’re thinking about something after all, are you?”

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish, struggling to findd to find a comeback to that. Somehow, he was even closer now. 

“Mind telling me what exactly that is?”

“Stop it,” You almost snarled, shooting him a withering look as you pushed him away in order to reclaim your personal space. This teasing streak of his was getting unbearable, especially since it was anything but innocent and was driving you up the wall. “Or I’m gonna take the Thai food and leave you with nothing.”

An offended gasp. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would.” 

He laughed at your threat and finally let up on you, going back to being the Caleb you knew. He spoke of his classes and the group project he had due at the end of the week, for which he had terrible teammates to work with. It was jarring, how easily he could shift back into acting like he hadn’t just insinuated something so….

Maybe it was just your dirty mind. 

Unbeknownst to you, it definitely wasn’t just your dirty mind. Caleb was mentally punching himself. 

Caleb had had years of practising self-control when it came to you. Years of holding back and hiding the feelings he had for his best friend, shying away from every opportunity to divulge them. He knew how to keep his hands to himself, his mind from straying and his tongue from running into dangerous territory. He hadn’t meant to do it, but your drunken confession had flipped a switch inside of him. The lines had gotten a little blurry, but he would never, in a million years, ever actually cross them.

So what the hell was wrong with him? 

You still hadn’t written a word. Unfortunately for you, you couldn’t even complain about it in peace anymore. Not if you wanted to maintain even a modicum of your sanity.

The reason for said dwindling sanity was sitting beside you right now on his bed, his arm slung around your shoulder, fingers tracing abstract patterns on the top of your shoulder. Usually, this would have calmed you down and even made you sleepy, but it achieved the complete opposite right then. You were painfully awake, his feathery touch like electricity against your skin. 

God, you were so fucked. You had hoped that Caleb’s incessant teasing would have put a damper on your sudden, strong attraction towards him, but nothing of the sort had happened. It seemed to have only gotten worse, with you ending up being jumpy whenever he was around, and considering the amount you hung out with him, you were starting to resemble a kangaroo.

Around him, you were constantly tense and always on the precipice of being turned on. To say it was hellish would be an understatement.

“You’re distracted,” he murmured as the credits of the movie you were watching played. Finally, the two of you had managed to find the time to have that movie night you had passed on weeks ago. You shook your head, glancing up at the clock that hung on his wall. It was a little past midnight. 

“Just frustrated,” you said finally, because it was the truth in more ways than one. Your frustration with your writing, or lack of, ran deep, but now it was intertwined with another very persistent reason. Being sexually frustrated wasn’t something you were used to dealing with.

He seemed to have caught on, though, his hand falling from your shoulder to your waist, curling around it. “Why are you frustrated, Pipsqueak?” He drawled, turning his head so that he faced you now. Of course, he’d pick this moment to torment you, when you were already frazzled.

“No reason,” you said quickly, voice clipped. A slow, languid smile stretched out on his lips. 

“No?” He asked, the side of his mouth tilting. “Could it be….”

“Stop talking.” You despised how hoarse your voice sounded. You wanted– no, needed him to stop doing this before it became unbearable. He was your best friend, for fucks sake. The smile on his annoyingly perfect face melted into a smirk that would have had your knees weak if you weren’t already sitting down. 

“I don’t think I will.” He whispered, pulling you even closer as he dipped his head down until his lips brushed against your ear. It was like he wanted you to break, and god, you were so close to doing so. His hand slid up your waist just a little bit. A shiver ran through you, one you couldn’t have suppressed if you tried. 

“Tell me,” He mumbled, the words sounding much too loud even though he was still whispering. “Do your frustrations have anything to do with a certain sex scene you’re trying to write?”

You inhaled sharply.

Rationality was a funny thing. Every bit of it seemed to disappear whenever you truly needed it. Things you had no business thinking rushed through your head, courtesy of your bright imagination that chose the most inconvenient moments to work. Thoughts you had suppressed and pushed aside every time they had the nerve to pop up swirled around.

The spark that you had been trying so hard to put out crackled to life in your core, its flames spreading all across your body like wildfire. You were painfully aware of every part of you that was in contact with him, his hand just above your waist, sitting there so possessively, his breath fanning across your neck– fuck. It was too much, but somehow not enough all at once, and immediately you knew what you wanted.

More.

You snapped. 

Something possessed you as you turned to look at him, a surge of confidence appearing out of nowhere as you drew closer to him. “Yeah.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Right then and there, three things became very clear to you. One: You wanted to write. Desperately and preferably sometime soon, because you did want to finish the first draft before you could go in and edit. Two: For some reason, you needed to have sex in order to get over the mental block you had when it came to writing it. Lastly, three: You only wanted to have sex with one person, and it was the man right beside you.

“My frustration has everything to do with the sex scene.” You said, surprising yourself with how steady your voice was. “But you can help with that, right?” 

Without waiting for his response, you got to your knees, swinging a leg over him and settling down on top. Surprise flickered in his eyes for a second as your hands found his shoulders to maintain your balance, before he spoke again. 

“Pipsqueak,” he started, voice low and careful, attempting to keep the teasing lilt in his voice but royally failing. “What– exactly– are you doing?”

“You told me to ask.” You muttered, dropping your gaze to his lips for a moment before letting it travel back up. “You said you’d do it if I asked. I’m asking right now.” 

Caleb couldn’t respond, still staring up at you, eyes wide and ears a little redder than they normally were. Good. It was about time he had a taste of his own medicine. His hands found your waist again, and he blinked twice, slowly, and you prayed he wasn’t all bark and no bite. 

You wanted him to bite.

“Y/n,” he muttered, “I….I know what I said.”

You raised an eyebrow, your hands slipping up his shoulders simultaneously until they were cradling his neck, playing with his hair at the nape of it. Was he shy? Now? After everything he had said and insinuated, he had the audacity to be all bashful? “So then you know what I’m asking for.”

“Well–”

“Caleb,” You cut him off, shifting so that you were closer. “I’m asking.” 

Conviction laced those words. You could tell he was reasoning with himself, god knows you could read him well enough to know when he was conflicted, when he bit the inside of his cheek before exhaling shakily. 

“Pips,” He rasped out your nickname. “You– you’re sure?”

You didn’t recognise the look in his eyes right then as he looked up at you, but it had you unravelling all the same. You leaned in subconsciously, but he quickly moved one of his hands from your waist to your mouth, covering it as his jaw clenched, still studying you. “I need you to tell me you’re sure, Y/n.”

Oh, so this was actually happening. You could feel the heat of your breath recoil against your face because of his hand. The ticking of the clock in his room filled the charged silence between him and you, his fingers brushing against your chapped lips. You swallowed.

“I’m sure.”

Whatever had shifted in you five minutes ago seemed to shift in him as well now. He let his hand drop from your mouth, shamelessly staring at it. “We shouldn’t.” But he pulled you closer, his arms circling your waist and palms splayed out on the small of your back. 

“It’s for research purposes,” You breathed out, doing your best to justify how badly you needed him. “Please, Caleb, I need–”

He didn’t let you finish. 

You gasped as he crushed his mouth to yours, effectively shutting you up. The pressure of his lips against your own was dizzying, especially with the way they moved; slowly and precisely, as if he was committing the feel of your lips to his memory. You were hyperaware of his touch on your back, the warmth from his hands permeating through the thin fabric of the T-shirt you were wearing.

Pulling him closer, you tilted your head so you could kiss him better. For the number of times you had mentally chided yourself for even thinking about this, it felt remarkably natural to kiss him, your instincts taking over. Your fingers slipped into his hair, entangling in the dark strands and tugging lightly.

Caleb groaned, and you were on fire. 

“God, Y/n.” There was nothing playful about the way he mumbled your name into the kiss, and the unfamiliarity of it sent a shiver down your spine. His lips, soft and just a little hesitant, moved in tandem against your own, slotting in between them perfectly like you were pieces of the same puzzle, meant to be pushed together like so. He nipped at your lower lip before swiping his tongue over it to soothe the sting, and the intoxicating sensation drew out a needy whimper from you. 

The second that sound escaped you, all indecision disappeared from his end, and the temperature in the room seemed to increase, growing hotter with every smack of his lips against yours. Kissing him was addictive, it felt as if neither of you could bear to pull away from each other. 

Without warning, Caleb lifted you off of him and pressed you into the mattress, swiftly climbing on top of you. For a moment, he hovered, looking down at you, taking in the flush on your cheeks and heavy breathing, proud to have been the cause of your breathlessness despite barely doing a thing. Going in once again, he brushed his lips against yours teasingly, before giving you what you truly wanted, the intensity of the kiss taking a turn for feverish.

A hand of his slid up your side until he cupped your jaw oh-so gently, turning your face to the side to give him better access to your neck, upon which he pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses that had heat rush right to your core. The ache between your legs grew, slowly becoming unbearable, and you rubbed your thighs together with a whine, chasing any sliver of friction. 

“Shit,” he muttered against you, his other hand slipping underneath your shirt and coming into contact with your stomach, causing goosebumps to rise on the skin. Spreading his fingers and pressing lightly, he kept you from squirming. “Pips, you gotta tell me to stop.”

“Don’t you dare,” you almost snapped at him, impatient and so painfully aroused it was embarrassing. He couldn’t hold back the breathless chuckle that escaped him as he moved lower, teeth grazing your collarbone. 

“If, at any point, you want to stop, tell me,” he gritted out, trying to hold onto any semblance of self-control he still possessed. “I don’t wanna do anything you’re uncomfortable with.”

You nodded quickly. “I trust you.”

That was all he needed. Lifting his head slightly, he fumbled with the buttons of your shorts as he leaned back, all his weight on his knees. Once he managed to undo them, you lifted your hips slightly to help him tug them off your body. He settled between your legs, spreading them until the pretty cotton panties you wore were exposed. 

Caleb swallowed, his breathing growing erratic and heavy. The wet patch on your panties was his undoing; everything about this situation was bound to be the death of him, but he was too far gone now. He let his hand trace up to your hips, hooking his finger through the waistband of your panties, toying with it.

“Is this ok?” The column of his throat bobbed as he stared up at you from between your legs. When you whispered a needy yes, he pulled the panties down your legs, his eyes darkening the moment they settled back on your core. 

“Y/n,” He said your name like he was drunk, a certain sense of reverence infused in his tone that had your cheeks kissed rouge. “You’re even prettier than I thought.”

Than he thought? You would have to take the time to dissect that statement later, much too distracted to do so at the moment when he began peppering kisses along your inner thigh, starting from your knee and working his way upwards. The sensation of his mouth tantalisingly close to where you wanted it so badly was almost too much. Just the sight of him there was so erotic that it had your head swimming. You had never felt more vulnerable than you did right then, exposed and willing.

And then finally– finally– his breath fanned out over your soaked cunt, driving you insane. Liquid fire thrummed in your veins beneath the surface of your skin as your anticipation spilled over. He pressed a light, teasing kiss against your clit. 

Caleb dragged his tongue over your slit, licking up it all the way to your clit, which he wrapped his lips around and sucked, knocking all the air out of your lungs. You gasped, bucking your hips up against him, and he chuckled, the sound sending vibrations up your body, from your toes to the top of your head.

“Impatient,” he chided. “Let me take my time with you, princess.”

The new pet name sounded so natural coming from him, and immediately, you knew you wanted to hear him call you that again. He flicked his tongue against the throbbing bud that had been aching for his attention this entire time, positioning your legs to rest over his shoulders. The sounds that left you were shamefully loud, and you had never been more grateful that he lived in a single dorm. 

“Cal- oh fuck,” You mewled when he swiped two of his fingers through your wetness, rubbing your folds. 

“You’re so fucking wet,” he all but groaned against you, and you could feel more slick gush out of you at that. “Is this all for me?” 

Your back arched off the bed when he pressed a finger to your dripping entrance, nodding with a sense of desperation you had never experienced before. “Yes,” you exhaled the word as he pushed his finger inside your pussy slowly, your jaw falling open at the pleasurable intrusion. 

Slowly, he began pumping it in and out of you as he continued to give your clit the sweet attention it deserved, basking in the noises that you made. The pads of the fingers of his other hand dug into the flesh of your thigh, keeping you nice and spread out despite all your attempts to shut your legs around him. 

When he introduced a second finger to your cunt, your hands found purchace in his hair, gripping and tugging as you panted, unable to focus on anything else. Your eyes fluttered shut as the tips of his fingers brushed against a spot that had you seeing stars, crooking inside you so perfectly. It was as if he knew exactly how to push you to the edge.

Your best friend was eating you out like a starved man and you were enjoying every fucking second of it. He could feel your legs begin to tremble, your impending orgasm building. Shamelessly, you bucked your hips against his face, and the moment he realised what you were doing, he increased the pace of his fingers.

“Come on baby,” he encouraged you, flattening his tongue against your clit and pulling you closer, spurring you on even further. You ground against his mouth desperately, feeling the coil in your core draw tight, so, so close.

“Caleb,” you stuttered his name helplessly, but he somehow understood, knowing just what you needed. “I–I’m gonna–”

He scissored his fingers inside of you, hooking them just right as he gave your clit little kitten licks, determined to have you fall apart on his tongue. Your sweet gasps sent blood rushing straight to his cock, which was already painfully hard, confined in his jeans. Taking your mound into his mouth, he sucked harshly, thrusting his fingers knuckle deep in your sex. 

A broken moan escaped you when your climax hit you, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as waves of pleasure washed over you. Your legs shook, but he didn’t let up, grinning proudly against you as he drove his fingers back into your gushing entrance, helping you ride out your high and prolonging it. Once he was satisfied, he lapped at you, refusing to waste even a single drop of your essence. 

Caleb pulled away, and the sight of you nearly did him in. Eyes screwed shut in ecstacy and hair fanned out on his pillow, undoubtedly tangled from all your writhing. You looked like the picture of sin, and it was the hottest thing he had ever seen. He climbed back, hovering over you again as he licked his lips.

Your eyes fluttered open, pupils blown out and dark due to the sheer level of desire that coursed through you. You were stunning, and he was destroyed, knowing that he’d never be able to forget the way you were looking at him right then. The way you tasted.

When he kissed you again, it was different. It was a heady mix of heat and tongue and want, messier than the kisses he gave you earlier, the control he had before nowhere to be seen anymore. You could taste yourself on his tongue and moaned, reaching out to touch him. 

You started at his collar, dragging your hands down, down, down until you reached the hem of his shirt, whining against his mouth as you tugged at it. 

“Take it off.”

Who was he to deny you? He stopped kissing you, sitting up so that he could pull the shirt off, exposing his torso for you. The way your eyes raked over him hungrily was more than gratifying, especially when they caught on the silver chain that hung from his neck, the pendant sitting on his chest. Tossing his shirt to the side, he pushed your own up your body, exposing the skin of your stomach. 

“Your turn.”

You let him take off your shirt, tossing it to the side and slipping his hands slip behind your back. He silently asked for your permission, which you gave to him in the form of an impatient nod to which he smirked, unhooking your bra and peeling it off of you, letting the discarded garment join the rest of them on the floor. 

One look at you and he was a goner. 

“Fuck,” he could feel himself straining his jeans as he took in the sight of your breasts, so perfect and plush. He allowed himself a moment to appreciate you in all your naked glory, before leaning back down, his mouth back on your overheated skin. He dragged his tongue down your neck, sucking and biting like there was no tomorrow. 

His lips trailed downwards, kissing the swell of your breast before wrapping around your already hard nipple, stroking his tongue against the aching peak. He palmed the other breast, giving that nipple equal amounts of attention and rolling it under his thumb. You hissed in pleasure, breathless as you arched into his addictive touch.

You could barely think straight; everything he was doing to you sent you into complete overdrive. Every touch was criminally good, the simplest of them causing your arousal to increase tenfold. Perhaps it was because it had been so long since you had last had sex, but you had never before felt so frenzied.

Hooking your legs around his waist, you could feel the outline of him pressing against your thighs. Angling your hips, you pressed your bare pussy against his bulge, the roughness of the denim rubbing you just right. He looked up at you from your chest through hooded eyes, earning another whimper as he pinched your nipple.

“You sound so good.” His words went straight to your head. “Tell me what you want.”

He said it like it was a command, and who were you to disobey, especially when you knew exactly what you wanted? 

“I want you inside me,” you whimpered, voice heated with lust. 

How could he ever refuse you? Caleb gave you one last kiss before reaching over to his bedside table, grabbing something from the drawer and sitting up and unzipping his pants. You couldn’t help but stare as he impatiently kicked off his jeans and boxers, eyes widening when you finally saw his cock. 

Fuck, it was big. Long and painfully hard, you could hardly believe he was hard because of you, but the proof was in front of your very eyes. Your lower lip caught between your teeth as you drank in the sight of him, hyperaware of the wetness that coated your thighs. 

He tore open the condom packet, smoothly sliding it onto himself before settling between your legs once. 

“W-will it even fit?” You squeaked, a spike of fear cutting through the lust-filled haze of your mind. He grabbed one of your hands, bringing it to his lips and pressing your fingers to them, kissing your knuckles soothingly as he bit back a smile. 

“It’ll fit.” 

“But– there's no way,” You spluttered, “It’s gonna hurt.” Not that the prospect of being in a little pain deterred you by any means, you were way too horny to stop now. Complaining was probably the least sexy thing you could have done in the moment, but he seemed unbothered, the dark, hungry glint in his eyes never fading. The amused look on his face, however, was not lost on you, nor was the way he bit the inside of his cheek, fighting a smile. You glared weakly. 

“Are you laughing at me?” You asked, incredulous. “I swear to god, Caleb, you’re going to split me in half, and you’re laughing?”

“Baby,” He breathed, “You’ll be fine.”

“Easy for you to say!”

You wouldn’t even blame him if he decided he was done with you and pulled his pants back on, but nothing of the sort happened. Instead, he gripped your hips, grounding you to the moment. 

Both of you were completely nude, and despite this, you had never felt more comfortable. Not when he looked at you like that, like you were something sacred. 

“Relax, Pips, I’ve got you,” He whispered, sensing your apprehension. You exhaled shakily as he pressed his hard-on against your folds, groaning at just how wet you were. “Eyes on me.”

The way he took control so naturally was alarmingly attractive. You looked up, locking your eyes with his, unable to stay silent when the head of his cock rubbed against your swollen clit. “O-oh.”

He shuddered at the feeling, dropping a little so that he was keeping himself up on his elbows. His necklace swung above you just like you had imagined as he ground against you, but it still wasn’t enough. “Ready?” 

You didn’t think you’d ever be ready, but you wanted it so badly you didn’t even care. Nodding eagerly, you intertwined your fingers with his, letting him press the back of your hands into the mattress. When his tip caught at your entrance, you whined. “Please.” 

Having you beg him like that was dangerous. He squeezed your hands, and then slowly, carefully, sank into your wet heat, inch by devastating inch. Your jaw slackened, loudly moaning his name as he filled you up and stretched you out so pleasurably. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he pushed into you until he bottomed out, going breathless himself. One glance down to where the two of you were connected had him actively having to fight off coming right then and there. 

Caleb was in heaven, and he was fucking delirious. He forced himself to stay still, moaning lowly when he felt your walls flutter around him, adjusting to his size. “You’re doing so well, princess.” He praised, lowering his head to your neck and burying his face in the crook of it, inhaling deeply in an attempt to calm himself down. 

There was so much wrong with this, so why did it feel so right? You felt so perfect, like you were made for him.

“Caleb,” You whimpered once the sting faded, letting go of his hands and looping your arms around his neck, “Move. I need you to move.” 

He pulled out until only his tip remained inside of you, before sheathing himself again, causing you to curve off the bed, nails digging into his skin. He did it again and again, nearly growling when he felt you grow even wetter, coating the length of his cock in your slick. Wet sounds that had your cheeks burning filled the room repeatedly.

“Fuck baby, you’re so tight,” He practically growled, contrasting the tender pace he set, telling you he was holding back for your sake. You could feel every inch of him as he dragged against your walls, reminding you how big he was with every thrust.  

Your friendship was potentially ruined, but it felt too good for you to care. With your legs locked behind his back, you gripped his biceps, a wanton moan escaping you as your eyes fluttered shut, the pleasure overriding every other sensation.  

“So good,” words were hard to put together, and he understood and nodded, holding your hips so tight you were sure there would be marks, just like the marks that blossomed all over your neck and chest from his earlier ministrations. Right now, though, you didn’t care about that, consumed by the waves of euphoria rushing through you.

Slowly, the frequency of his thrusts increased, rendering you completely winded and unable to do anything but gasp for air. You felt another orgasm steadily build up inside you. 

Then he tipped his hips a certain way, the tip of his cock brushing against a spot that made you cry out his name, throwing your head back into his pillows. The look on your face was something he wanted to imprint in his memory; the desire lacing your voice was beyond exhilarating. 

Caleb could feel his own impending high, so tightly wound because of just how long he had waited for something like this. When you clenched around him, he knew you were close as well, but the act nearly did him in.

“Don’t do that.” his voice was all scratchy and strained, but you promptly did it once again, high off the notion that you were affecting him just as much as he was affecting you. His hips stuttered against yours as his violet eyes flashed. “Fucking hell.”

“Oh my god,” you moaned, “I can’t–”

“Look at me,” he demanded, “I want you to look at me when you come all over my cock.”

Never in a million years would you have thought your best friend would be so good at dirty talk, but the shock quickly melted into obedience as you managed to hold his heated gaze. Reaching between the two of you, his index finger found your engorged clit and rubbed circles against it. 

You squealed, overly sensitive. “Shit–I’m gonna– Cal-!”

“Come for me.” 

Caleb would never forget how you looked: at his mercy, crying out his name over and over like it was a prayer as you came, spilling over his cock with a euphoric sob. He snapped his hips to yours with renewed urgency, drawing out your second climax and prolonging the feeling. When he saw the fucked out look on your face, it hit him at once. 

With one final thrust, he buried himself inside you, coming with a moan, burying his face in your neck once again. His body was damp against yours, his hair tickling you as you breathed heavily. He stayed like that for a couple of seconds, recovering from the intensity of what had just happened.

Wordlessly, he pulled out of you gently, the sudden emptiness you felt having you whimper softly. Peeling the condom off, he tossed it in the bin next to his bed before climbing off of you, muttering something about being back. Seconds later, you felt a warm, wet cloth drag over your core. He cleaned you up, pressing little kisses to the inner side of your thighs.

Once he was done, he gathered you in his arms and pulled you close, kissing your temple. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, pulling away just enough so he could try and gauge how you felt, rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone as he cupped your face tenderly. “I didn’t hurt you, right?”

You shook your head and leaned into his touch, completely spent. “No, it was perfect.”

He sighed in relief. You curled into him, and he wrapped his arms around you. “You did so well,” he murmured into your hair, massaging your scalp gently. “You were amazing, actually.” Another kiss to your forehead made you simper as your eyes closed, exhaustion settling into you now that the adrenaline had faded. “Tired?”

“Yeah,” You mumbled. Your legs entangled with his, and he stopped talking, tracing shapes on your back while you drifted off to sleep. He watched you for a bit, savouring the skin-on-skin contact, his mind reeling from what had just happened. 

This was strangely normal, no awkwardness or post-nut clarity hitting either of you. Your body lay against his with all of you pressed up against him like that was exactly where you belonged. He could feel the beating of your heart, strong and steady in your slumber, whereas his remained erratic and fast. This was more than just a taste that he had had of you; it was the entire deal, and the knowledge of it all had his morals scattered and all over the place, because now that he knew what he knew, well.

Caleb wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop.

It was supposed to be a one-time thing.

At the time, you had justified sleeping with Caleb as research, something you needed to do in order to get it out of your system. You had assumed, albeit foolishly, that once it was over, you’d be able to go back to normal and continue with your life.

But research was an activity that required constant revisiting. Most of it had to be repeated over and over, especially if it included gathering data from an experiment. There was always a control, and then variations of the experiment would be conducted to record the differences in the outcomes. 

At least, that was what you were telling yourself right now as you straddled him, his cock buried inside you.

Truthfully, you didn’t know how this had happened. After that day, everything seemed to be normal, until he showed up at your dorm to help you study for a class he had also taken when he was in his sophomore year. One thing led to another, or rather, one heated touch later, you found yourself under him once again.

And then it happened again, and kept happening. Whispers of it being just for research mixed in with both of your moans became a melody you were more than used to. This was all for your book, after all. For the sake of accuracy and your integrity as a writer.

Definitely not because of how mindblowing sex with Caleb was.

And it absolutely was. 

He had made you completely insatiable for him, and almost every time the two of you hung out in one of your dorms, it ended up with both of you in bed. Every other aspect of your friendship remained exactly the same, though, which left you considerably confused. He didn’t look at or treat you any differently, poking fun and driving you up the wall, staying his usual reliable self. 

Caleb’s hand cradled the back of your head as he kissed you now, fingers entangled in your hair and pulling slightly. You moaned softly against his lips, grinding on him.

You were in one of his shirts, panties tugged to the side since he hadn’t had the patience to take them off, needing to be inside of you as quickly as possible. Despite his earlier hurriedness, the pace the two of you settled on now was almost teasing, slowly rocking against him as you lazily chased the delicious high that you had gotten so used to experiencing these past two weeks. 

“You’re so gorgeous,” he muttered, more to himself than you, hand slipping under your shirt and cupping your breast, squeezing. When he caught you biting your lip, he tutted, letting go of your hair and using his thumb to release it from your teeth. “Ah, ah, don’t do that, you’ll hurt yourself, pretty girl.”

“Too good,” you complained in that whiney, desperate tone he had gotten so addicted to. Pinching your nipple for good measure, he smirked up at you when you squealed. 

Caleb quickly learned that he loved having you on top of him. Getting you all to himself like this was a privilege in itself, but fucking you while you wore his shirt? He was on cloud nine. He could feel himself throb in your sweet pussy that welcomed him so eagerly, in turn pulsing around him. 

He cursed under his breath when you started to bounce, eager to get to the finish line with him. He sounded so good when he swore, you’d never understand it, just like how you wouldn’t get how he looked so pretty with a flush decorating his face and sex-mussed hair.

Gripping his shoulders, you tipped your head back, giving him access to your neck. He had taken to marking you up as and when he pleased, new hickeys surprising you every time you glanced in the mirror. Despite his tendency to leave them in places everyone could very easily spot them, you didn’t tell him to stop simply it just felt so good. 

Everything with Caleb felt good, and not only did it feel good, but you felt completely safe. He was so attentive, doing the most to make sure you were never in any pain, often times focusing more on getting you off rather than himself. 

He thrust up into you suddenly, his earlier impatience returning, and you cried out, falling into his chest. He held you, working you through it and dragging you closer and closer to release. One of your hands fell to his torso, tracing the hard lines of his abs and trailing downwards before your fingers found your clit and rubbed.

Shit. If having you ride him was good, being able to watch you touch yourself as you did was unbelievable. When you came, you came hard, and the feeling of it tipped him over the edge. 

You were a dream he never wanted to wake up from.

You didn’t bother moving, clinging to him even tighter like you couldn’t bear to not be touching him in some way as you came down from your high. He smelled like sex, sweat, and that cologne of his that you loved. It was the reason you stole his clothes so much and why you were wearing his shirt even now.

Your first time with Caleb was the getaway drug, and now you were addicted to him, to having his hands caressing you all over and him whispering praises in your ear. 

“Hey there,” He chuckled, rubbing your back. “All good?”

“Great even,” You mumbled, sitting up properly before finally lifting yourself off of him. You failed to register how jelly-like your legs felt, promptly losing your balance. He caught you before you fell, grinning. 

“Can’t walk?” You could hear how smug he was without even having to look at him. It was then that you registered the burn in your thighs and huffed. 

“Don’t sound so proud about it.”

“You’re no fun,” he pouted, leaving you to scoff as he helped you to your feet, following suit. “I’ll help you clean up. Do you wanna watch the new episode after?” 

Ah yes. Of course, he’d start talking about anime after taking away your ability to stand. That had been the reason he had shown up at your dorm in the first place, but the moment he saw you wearing his shirt, it had quickly become an afterthought.  

The whiplash you felt was indescribable, and you could only nod, letting him pick you up and carry you to the bathroom. After a quick shower and change of clothes, the two of you settled down with your laptop like nothing had happened, your head resting on his shoulder as you focused on the show.

Neither of you bothered to talk about your redefined friendship despite having sex regularly. It was just….a new addition. A benefit that you were both taking advantage of, nothing more and nothing less. 

But even as you reminded yourself of that now, you found yourself doubting it.

There was something to be said about formal events. 

You enjoyed getting dolled up as much as the next girl, but that was where the fun ended. Having to sit through the event was boring and not the way you liked to spend your Friday evenings. You would have much preferred staying in and catching up on some much-needed sleep.

The editor of your university’s paper, Jenna, had organised an affair that was being held in one of the college halls. She had worked very hard on it, inviting several alumni who were all successful in the fields of journalism and writing back so that the current batch of students had the chance to make connections. It was open to the entire student body, but she had made it clear that everyone on the paper was obligated to attend. 

Connections were what helped people get further in life. You were grateful for the opportunity to interact with industry professionals, but didn’t understand why she had insisted on keeping it a black tie affair. That probably had something to do with keeping up appearances. 

You stood off to the side, sipping on your cranberry juice from a cup that was made for something much more refined. So far, you had spoken to a couple of the guests, but seeing that you had been here for over an hour already, your social battery was slowly dying out. The dress you wore was a black number, floor length, form-fitting and plain except for the slit that reached up to a little above your knee. Perfect for an event like this, not too much and on power with what everyone else was wearing. 

Still, it was a little overstimulating. You guzzled down the rest of your juice and placed the empty glass down on one of the tables. 

“You’re welcome, by the way.”

You spun on your heels immediately at that voice, eyes widening and settling on the culprit who stood two, maybe three steps away from you. 

“Caleb?” You asked in disbelief, taking in his presence. He was wearing a suit.

“The one and only,” he grinned, his hands stuffed in his pockets. “Here to rescue you from your boredom.”

“What are you even doing here?” To say this wasn’t his scene would be an understatement. He didn’t like wearing the whole suit getup, much preferring casual clothing. Hell, Caleb hadn’t even attended his high school prom (though when you asked why, he would never give you a straight answer), opting to spend the night in with you instead. 

He looked unfairly good. The collar of his shirt hid those lovely collarbones of his and reminded you of how you had bit down on them the other day, the bottom of it tucked into black slacks. He had even worn dress shoes, instead of the sneakers he so loved and a tie around his neck. The entire getup.

“I literally just told you why. To get you out of here. Are you hard of hearing now?”

You returned his jibe with an exasperated sound. “I meant here, at this thing.”

“Oh. Well, you did mention it was open to anyone yesterday,” he shrugged, grabbing a glass of juice and sipping on it. “So that editor of yours technically can’t complain about me being here.” 

That was true. Still, you found yourself bewildered as you stared at him. He was here. For some reason, even though he was allowed to be here, it didn’t make sense to you. You pressed your lips together and cocked your head to the side, studying him. 

“So you dressed up and came here.…only to convince me to leave?” The notion sounded strange even to you. Why on earth would he do that? He finished up his drink and put it down next to your empty glass, taking a step closer to you. The simple movement had butterflies erupt in the pits of your stomach.

What the hell?

“Stop thinking so much. Do you want to stay?”

You considered it. “Not really, no.”

“Do you enjoy arguing with me for no reason, woman?” he muttered dryly under his breath, his eyes catching on something over your head. “On second thought, I think you should stay a little longer.”

Now you were just plain confused. One moment he was talking about saving you from boredom, and the next he was insisting you stay? Before you could undoubtedly start another argument just to spite him, he took you by your shoulders and spun you around, pointing in a certain direction. When you figured out what, or rather, who he was gesturing to, you couldn’t hide your gasp. 

“Isn’t that the author you like?”

You could only nod dumbly. “Raymond.” Last year, you had a phase where you only read his books day in and day out, absorbing the stories he spun like a sponge. His books were the reason you had decided to start writing your own in the first place, inspired by his storytelling skills. 

Caleb nudged your side gently, “Go.”

“How–” you cut yourself off, looking up at him. “How do you even remember that?” You weren’t sure why this entire interaction with him was throwing you off so much, but you felt completely unbalanced. You hadn’t spoken about Raymond or his work in a long time, so how did he know?  He shrugged noncommittally. 

“I know you.” He said it so plainly, like it was something trivial and basic, but his eyes bored into yours. 

Had Caleb always looked at you with such quiet intensity?

He nudged your side gently, reminding you to move. Forcing yourself out of your stupor, you promised him you wouldn’t take too much time and walked over, buzzing with excitement.

The conversation itself wasn’t long, but it was insightful. He answered all your questions about the industry, and you even had the chance to share for appreciation for Raymond's work as well as ask him questions that you had about his novels. You gave him your utmost attention when he gave you advice, but when he started talking about his characters, your eyes and mind wandered.

Back to your best friend, who was waiting for you on the other end of the hall, leaning against one of the walls and scrolling through his phone. He didn’t give a flying fuck about this event, but had still come here for your sake, even when you hadn’t asked him to. He glanced up, his eyes meeting yours, and flashing you a small smile.

Oh.

You looked away and back at Raymond, nodding politely and tuning yourself back into the conversation. Internally, however, you were freaking out. Something was very wrong; that was the only reason you could conjure up at the moment for what was happening to you. How else could you explain the sudden sweatiness of your palms, or the odd, fluttery feeling in your stomach? Maybe it was the excitement you felt from meeting the author you loved so much, but even as you considered this possibility, you knew it wasn’t the answer you were looking for.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

This could not be happening. You plastered a smile on your face as you tried to pay attention to whatever Raymond was talking about, but the damage was done. Your brain had never been one to let go of a single thought you had, especially ones that had to do with Caleb. He had a hold on you that no one else did, and why was that?

Because you liked Caleb.

The horrifying realisation hit you, startling you out of your rapidly spiralling thought process. Blinking, you realised Raymond was done speaking. 

“Thank you so much for your time,” You said, trying not to sound as troubled as you felt. The author smiled at you before turning to another student. 

Swallowing the newfound lump in your throat, you turned around and walked back to Caleb. This was bad. Having sex with him was already vaguely immoral and probably something that shouldn’t have happened– and shouldn’t keep happening like it did– but having feelings for him? That was out of the question.

“Good talk?” He asked, slipping his phone into his pocket. The genuine interest he had in your excitement made the entire situation worse. Why were you noticing all this now, of all times? It wasn’t like he had suddenly turned into someone considerate. He had always been this way; it was written into his DNA. 

You realised he had even tried to tame his hair for today. “It was great.”

“I’m glad. Now I can steal you away from this place.” His eyes were lit up with mischief, just like they did when the two of you were younger and he did something he wasn’t supposed to. Ever the rebel, this one. 

You felt a little guilty. All this effort for you? It seemed completely useless. “Okay, but Caleb, seriously, you didn’t have to do this.” 

He frowned. “Didn’t have to do what?”

“This!” You waved in his general direction and then gestured around. “I mean, you don’t even like wearing a suit, but here you are. It’s not like it's compulsory for you like it is for me. You could be doing anything else.” You were rambling, you knew, but it was hard to stop. He rolled his eyes. 

“Has that stopped me before?”

You paused. “What do you mean?”

“I show up to your newsroom even though I’m sure Jenna wants to castrate me for breaking the rules so much.” He raised an eyebrow. “I attended that lecture of yours when you had a presentation. You know I’m here because I want to be.” You knew he said stuff like this all the time, you always were the recipient of his support. This was normal.

But it didn’t feel normal. For fucks sake, this was the boy you had grown up with. He had seen you fall off your bike, fail tests and puke your guts out when drunk. In each of those situations, he had also been the one to pick you up and bandage your wounds, help you study and hold your hair back for you. 

Did he think it was an obligation now? 

“You….you shouldn’t feel like you have to do that.” You said slowly, but he didn’t let you continue.

“Oh, please. Everyone knows that where you go, I go too.” He flicked your forehead, immediately receiving a glare in return. “We’re like…….” He stopped for a moment, eyebrows furrowing and lips pursing like they always did when he was thinking hard about something. Then he snapped his fingers. “We’re like those yoghurt-granola snack packs!”

You stared at him blankly. “What?”

“You know.” He decided to explain his stupid analogy, as if your head wasn’t muddled enough. “Those things you can buy at the grocery store. The small yoghurt tubs that have a container filled with granola on top of them? Like, they’re both okay separately, but much better when together. People buy those packs for a reason.” He slipped his phone back into his pockets and beamed at you. “We’re like that.”

Oh my god. That barely made any sense. You weren’t sure if you were mortified because of that terrible explanation or because it hadn’t put a damper on your newfound feelings for him. “You’re such a fucking dork.”

He feigned offence, holding his hand over his heart. “Excuse me? You mean cute, right?”

Right. Wait, no, you didn’t. Ugh. “I thinkx ridiculous.”

“Are you coming with me or not, Pips?”

“But Jenna insisted-”

He rubbed a hand over his face in annoyance before fixing you with a droll look. “Would you rather be here or be with me?”

Be with you. 

You ignored the way your stomach flipped. You didn’t have the time or the mental stability to process everything that was happening to you right now. The logical part of your brain swooped in, telling you that you were just confused because of the sex. Yes, that was it. You did not have feelings for Caleb Xia.

Sighing, you relented. “You.” Saying that didn’t mean anything, after all. Nothing about the two of you meant anything, so there was no reason for you to be freaking out, even if it sounded like you had just confessed. A wide grin made a show on his face when he realised he had won, and he tilted his head towards the exit.

“Finally. Wanna get out of here?”

“Just to be clear, this is not what I meant when I asked if you wanted to get out of there.”

You huffed out a soft laugh, fingers curling around his tie as you tugged him closer. “No? Could have sworn you planned for us to end up in a janitor's closet.”

Caleb bit back a laugh of his own, knowing that making too much noise would get both of you in trouble. After leaving the event, somehow, his guiding hand on your hip had turned into the two of you making out in the hallway. You blamed the mess that your head was in for not realising what a bad idea that was immediately, but once you did, you did the most responsible thing you could think of.

And dragged him into the janitor's closet that was close by.

Naturally.

He braced a hand over your head on the cabinet that you were leaning against, essentially caging you in as he dipped his head to kiss you again. “Pretty sure that was you’re doing.”

“Excuse me? You’re the one who kissed me first!” You protested against his mouth, but could hardly complain when he kissed you like it was a relief to do so. Honestly, he was probably the best kisser you had ever experienced.

That must have been the reason for your spiralling thoughts. That and the amazing sex that you were so weak to. 

Yep. That’s all. Anyone could be susceptible to such things.

“Can you blame me? Have you seen yourself in this dress?” His free hand slipped into the slit at your knee, slowly dragging the rest of the dress up until it was bunched up around your waist. “You’re stunning.”

He couldn’t stop kissing you. He knew he shouldn’t have kissed you out there like he had the right to, because he was well aware of the unspoken rules of this arrangement, but he couldn’t help it. If getting too comfortable with whatever you had going on with him was a crime, a sin, then he was a criminal of the highest order. The worst part? He didn’t feel a shred of guilt.

But you were wearing that fucking cherry lip gloss, and god knnows he had waited long enough to taste it.

Warmth spread over your chest first before it rushed to the apex between your legs. The control he seemed to have over your body was truly astounding. In his hands, you were putty. 

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” You whispered back, loosening the knot of his tie and pulling it off completely, dropping it to the side. “This suits you.”

His lips twitched. “The suit suits me?”

“Shut up and kiss me, loser.”

He complied, grinning against your mouth as he pulled you into another earth-shattering kiss that did positively nothing to soothe your frayed nerves. Stubbornly, you pushed down the feelings bubbling around the confines of your heart, refusing to give them any attention if you could help it. 

You gripped the front of his suit jacket, helping him peel it off his shoulders and letting it join his tie on the floor. Without warning, he pressed a knee in between your legs, and you nearly melted against him. 

Sex was great. Sex with him was phenomenal. This was just the lust getting to you. 

Caleb gripped the leg that your slit now exposed and lifted it, propping it up against his waist. He trailed his fingers against your inner thigh, his touch feather-light yet scorching at the same time. When his index and middle finger pressed against your clothed cunt, you were glad for the hot he had on you, pressed up against the cabinet, because you would have surely buckled if not. 

“Wow,” he mumbled amusedly, pushing your panties to the side and teasing your wetness. “You really like the suit, huh?”

The fact that this type of interaction was now commonplace should have been the first sign that things had gone too far. 

Usually, you couldn’t think straight when he touched you like this, but today it was all a mix of feeling way too much and dangerous, fleeting thoughts that made you want to tear your hair out. 

“Maybe,” You peppered kisses along the column of his throat, determined to get out of your head and focus only on how good he could make you feel. Pleasure and person were entirely separate entities, and you would make sure it stayed that way.

“Suit kink.”

“Never say that again.” 

He only smirked, plunging his fingers into you. All you could do was cry out as you gripped the front of his shirt, momentarily forgetting that you were supposed to be quiet. Quickly, his palm covered your mouth, muffling any further sounds you could make. “Can’t have you being loud here, princess. What if someone catches us?”

The way you practically gushed the moment he suggested someone catch you in such a compromising position was downright embarrassing. Raising an eyebrow, he leaned even lower and whispered. “Oh? You like that?”

You whined against his hand, cheeks flushing furiously. You began fiddling with the top buttons of his shirt, and he chuckled lowly. 

“For someone who likes my suit so much, you sure are trying to get rid of it quickly.” 

“For someone who was dying to kiss me two minutes ago, you talk too much.” You rocked your hips against his hand even as you sassed him back. He moved his hand from your mouth into your hair, carding it through gently, tugging slightly to tilt your head back for him so he could kiss you again, swallowing every sound you made. 

No one could sue you for being attracted to a hot man. That was just biology.

You could feel the familiar tightening of your core, signalling your impending crash. You broke away from the kiss, licked your lips and palmed him over his pants, earning a hiss of pleasure in return. 

“Don’t– don’t do that,” He choked out, and you smirked triumphantly, refusing to relent on your movements. Batting your eyelashes, you stared up at him through them in faux innocence, unaware that it affected him so much more than you thought. 

“Just fuck me already.” You whined, half out of desperation for him and party because now you needed him to fuck you to prove to yourself that this was just sex. To be able to brush away all the compliments he dropped that seemed to go straight to your head, to get the intoxicaing fucking way he kissed you out of your head and away from further dissection. To stop the slow-burning feeling of yearning that was growing inside of you for the boy you had grown up with.

Because you couldn’t possibly have feelings for him. You shouldn’t.

“Fuck, okay,” He slipped his fingers out of you and unbuttoned his pants, releasing his cock. You would never get used to the sight of it, precum already leaking out of the tip; the image itself sending shivers down your spine in anticipation of him. 

He pressed back against you, grinding it against your fluttering pussy, going right back to making out with you. It was like he was devouring you whole, claiming every part of you like it had always belonged to him. You could feel yourself get carried away again, forgetting that this was just something he and you did now. 

And then he froze. 

“Shit,” he muttered. “I don’t have a condom.” 

You were too far gone to even care anymore. Cupping his face, you pulled him into another messy kiss, beyond delighted when he moaned, still rubbing his length through your slick folds with a want that rivalled your own. “Put it in.”

Caleb gritted his teeth. “Pips, thats–”

“I’m on birth control,” you kissed his jaw. “And I trust you. I’ve always trusted you.”

That was undeniably the truth. He was the one person in the world that you didn’t have to think twice about when it came to anything, no matter what the situation. He blinked down at you, pupils blown wide with desire but somehow still so focused on you, holding your sides so gently as he hesitated, silently dealing with the conflict in his head. 

“I…..are you sure?”

Oh, this sweet, considerate boy. How could you not love him? The thought was instantly forced to be a passing one as you push it away, refusing to acknowledge it. 

“Caleb, if you don’t stick your dick inside of me right now, I will cut it off.” The threat earned you a winded chuckle from his end, the strain in his face from holding back so painfully evident. Realising he needed another push, you looked into his eyes, bucking your hips against him and licking your lips as you purred. “Now, fuck me.”

There was a reason you phrased it like that. Crude and so filthy, the words set out a challenge for him. If there was one thing you knew about Caleb, it was that he could never back down from a challenge. His eyes darkened as he grabbed both your wrists and pinned them together above your head with one hand, positioning his cock at your entrance.

Without another warning, he slammed into you, once again covering your mouth to soften the obscenely loud broken moan that left you. He pressed his fingers against your lips, smirking mischievously. 

“This is what you wanted, hmm?” He groaned in your ear as he fucked you hard, making it increasingly difficult for you to stay silent. You knew he was doing it on purpose, remembering how he had briefly confessed that he liked it when you were vocal, but here? Here it was risky and stupid, and you couldn’t believe how into it you were.

“Yes,” You gasped, biting his hand at a particularly hard thrust, doing your utmost best to keep all your noises to a minimum. He was just so good, and the feeling of him bare inside of you was almost too much for you. 

“God baby, you feel incredible,” he panted, never relenting on his pace for even a second. His breathing was heavy in your ear, almost pained, along with soft grunts that only succeeded in making you even wetter.

“So b-big,” you could only whimper, too caught up in it all to speak properly. 

He had well and truly ruined you for anyone else. Your heart and mind were at war with each other, but your body was perfectly content with how he held you like this. With nothing between you, he fucked you raw, and it felt so much more intimate than you thought it would have. You could feel everything, hyperaware of every touch and kiss and overwhelming drag of his cock in your sobbing cunt. 

For a moment, you almost wished it wasn’t this good. If only you had never succumbed to your desires that day, maybe you wouldn’t have found yourself in this position, fighting so desperately against feelings that felt so wrong and right at the same time. All this was supposed to have been a temporary fix, a means to an end. Not the start of something you could never see through. 

When both of you came, it was intense and devastating, holding onto each other like nothing else mattered. You could feel him fill you up with his cum and as you went limp, one last terrifying realisation making itself known to you. 

It wasn’t just sex. 

A shattered breath escaped you at the revelation, and you shut your eyes, trying to reason with yourself one last time, but to no avail. Caleb surrounded you completely, holding you up upright with so much care, so deliberately, that it made total sense why you felt this way. With unending affection, he pulled you against him and kissed the crown of your head. 

“Thats my girl.”

Except you weren’t. And it would be better for everyone if you remembered that.

You were writing. 

It had been so long since you had been able to write like this, but the ability had come rushing back to you all of a sudden. Your fingers flew across your keyboard as you steadily typed, focused and satisfied at the work you were producing for the first time in months.

It was two in the morning when you finally snapped out of your concentrated state, yawning as you shut your laptop. Stretching, you quietly padded to your bathroom to get ready for the night and go to bed. You couldn’t believe you had written almost half of the sex scene when even the prospect of starting it had sounded so unachievable not too long ago. 

Courtesy of Caleb, you had plenty of material to pull from.

You splashed water on your face, hoping the cool temperature of it would help you stop thinking about him. To say you were frustrated with your feelings was an understatement; you outright despised them. 

This was your fault, you knew damn well it was. If you were going to get a fuckbuddy, it should have been someone who you weren’t so close to, someone you had no personal connections with. Anyone but the best friend you've had since you were seven years old, who you knew like the back of your hand, who knew you like it was second nature to do so.

Gripping the sides of the sink, you shut your eyes, grounding yourself to the moment. Part of you wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all. How on earth did you let yourself get in such a predicament?

You needed it to stop. For these confusing feelings to leave before things got even more complicated than they already were. Somehow, you needed to forget about them.

But how could you possibly do that? How were you supposed to forget the deliberate way he kissed you, or how good he made you feel when he looked at you that way? How were you supposed to get the scent of his cologne out of your sheets and closet, or pretend like you didn’t know what it was like to be touched by him? 

How on earth were you supposed to get over being in love with him?

You didn’t even notice him walking in. 

Writing for your book again meant that you had fallen behind quite a bit when it came to the work you had due for the paper. As a result, you had to stay behind and work late on the articles you had to present to Jenna, stuck at your desk in the newsroom when it was almost nine-thirty at night.

“Thought I’d find you here.” 

Your eyes flickered up to find Caleb standing in front of your desk, one hand stuffed in his pockets and the other holding a bag of takeout from a diner that both of you liked. He gave you a soft, knowing smile that made your mouth go dry. 

“Hey,” you straightened up in your seat, knowing that your posture tended to get worse the longer you wrote for. “You were looking for me?”

“Not exactly.” He grabbed a chair and parked it next to yours, sitting down. “I just figured you’d be working and forget to have dinner.”

“Oh.”

He was right, and you would have been embarrassed if this hadn’t happened before. Wordlessly, he began unpacking the takeout he had gotten. “Take a break for ten minutes and eat, okay?” 

This was just like him. Knowing exactly when you needed to be taken care of while being well aware you could do just fine by yourself. You bit the inside of your cheek as you watched him, apprehensively nodding slowly. 

“Okay.”

You grabbed a fry and began to chew, turning to face him and away from the computer. He looked the same as always, unkempt hair and all. It was like he knew you were tired and a little out of it today without you even having to tell him, falling into a comfortable silence as he ate with you. 

There wasn’t another soul in this world that knew you so intimately. In the past, this wouldn’t have scared you, because you were so used to him and the ways he fit into your life so perfectly. Now, it frightened you to no end, reminding you of how much you had to lose when it came to Caleb. He was the most precious person in your life, which made it so much easier to fear losing him. 

If there were rules when it came to having a best friend, you were certain you had broken all of them. Number one: Don’t sleep with your best friend. Already off to a rough start with that one, it seemed, but there was nothing you could do about it anymore. Number two: Don’t fall for your best friend. You doubted you even needed to go over the rest of the rules. Breaking those two had caused you enough damage. 

Finishing up his food, he took a sip of his soda, noticing you were watching him intently. For the first time in a long time, he couldn’t quite decipher the look in your eyes. It almost felt as if you were hiding it from him on purpose.

He tilted the soda cup to you, silently asking if you wanted some of his. You leaned closer and took the straw in your mouth, taking a couple of sips before looking away. 

Something was off. “Is everything okay?”

You pressed your lips together and gave him a half smile. “Yeah, everything's fine.”

Caleb narrowed his eyes at you, reaching out and propping a finger under your chin, lifting your face so you were forced to look at him. 

“Pipsqueak,” He mumbled, dropping his gaze to your mouth for a split second, but it was enough to make you feel like you were set on fire. Like you were made of porcelain, he swiped his thumb next to your lower lip, rubbing away a stray crumb that had stuck there from your food. Then he looked at your mouth again, subconsciously leaning towards you as if he was about to kiss you. 

Immediately, you jerked out of his touch. Guilt ate away at you when you noticed how he reacted to this, the flash of hurt that passed over his face as he frowned. As much as you hated being the cause of it, the way he was looking at you has started to inexplicably hurt. You were unable to stop the tenderness that unfolded in your chest anymore. It was potent, too real to fight against. 

“We should stop.”

The words were out of your mouth before you could think about them any further, inciting confusion. He retracted his hand, the corners of his furrowed eyebrows tilting upwards. “Dinner? Because we’re pretty much done with that anyway.”

You could have taken advantage of his confusion and put this conversation off for a while, but you knew that letting this go on any longer would end up being torturous. 

“No, Caleb,” You looked away, trying to ignore the way your throat seemed to close in on itself. “I’m not talking about dinner.”

“Then what are you talking about?” His voice took on that impossibly soft tone it did when he was trying to understand how you were feeling to properly help or sympathise with you. It was something he did when you were younger and got hurt, and he wanted to make sure you knew you weren’t dealing with it alone. 

Sucking in a breath of air, you looked down at your hands in your lap, playing with your fingers. “I think we should stop having sex.”

A beat passed. You could feel the weight of his stare on you. “Okay.”

You weren’t sure where to go from there, your heart pounding within your ribcage like it was trying to escape. The light from your computer felt too harsh and the ticking of the clock hands was unnaturally loud in the stiff silence that settled over the two of you. Clearing his throat, he spoke again. 

“Did…Did I do something?”

“No,” the caution yet dejected way he said it made you blurt that out quickly, refusing to let him think something was completely wrong. “You didn’t. At all. It’s just…..” You trailed off, biting your tongue and regretting bringing this up already. “I….I wrote the scene.”

“The scene?”

“The sex scene. In my book.” The awkwardness in your cadence is foreign to your ears and his. You had never been so apprehensive around him because you had never had a reason to. This was a first you despised vehemently, scorning the way you had to phrase everything so delicately, as if you didn’t, the damage caused would be irreparable. 

“Right.” Now he had an unreadable look in his eyes too, matching yours. 

“Right,” you echoed softly. “So there's no reason for anymore…...research.” Because research had spiralled into forgetting your regular roles when it came to each other. Research had made you aware of feelings that had been dormant your entire life and should have stayed that way. 

In an ironic twist of fate, you had literally fucked around and found out. 

“I see.” 

You didn’t know what possessed you to keep talking when it was so obvious that both him and you wanted nothing more than to move on from this conversation. You risked a glance at him to find him aimlessly tracing the edge of his soda cup, eyes trained on the straw. “So we can go back to being just friends. Regular friends.” 

The clarification made you wince. When his eyes met yours again, you were surprised to find something different in the way he looked at you– those dark purple depths swirling with an intensity that superseded their usual levels, startling you. 

“We’ll always be friends, Y/n.”

Caleb didn’t call you pipsqueak. A minute detail that shouldn’t have shaken you at all, and yet here you were stuck on it in spite of the fact that he had just agreed to being friends again. Or rather, the normal definition of friends, because you weren’t ever anything more than that. You swallowed, turning back to your computer.

“Okay. I should get back to working on this article.”

Your dismissal of him was quiet but obvious. The air had started to get suffocating and you needed as much space from him as you could get until you sorted out the mess in your head, one that was your cross to bear. Your fault.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him nod and get to his feet, turning to leave, but hesitating for just a moment. 

It was only when he exited the newsroom that you realised it wasn’t any easier to breathe without him there. It felt even harder now, like someone had their foot over your chest and was putting all their weight on it, letting gravity do the rest of the work. You pushed yourself away from your desk, the wheels under your chair smoothly rolling away until the back of it hit the wall behind you. 

Even the impact of that wasn’t enough to shock you out of your misery. Surely, love wasn’t supposed to feel as cruel as it did right now, like claws sinking into your skin and making you bleed. It shouldn’t have felt wrong, but you knew that it was. Perhaps this was retribution for allowing yourself to indulge in something that was so clearly off-limits to you. 

A familiar pressure built up behind your eyes as you turned resentful. The sting of your sorrow manifested as tears welled up and caught in your lower lashes. You shut your eyes, but not before those tears slid down your face, cementing the bitter, indisputable reality of your heartbreak.

Caleb stayed away. 

He had known damn well that whatever was between the two of you wasn’t forever. It wasn’t even real, solely for the sake of your writing and the book you were so proud of. It was his fault for getting caught up in it all and expecting you to never call it off, to stay in that limbo with him forever.

Saying no to you was something he wasn't capable of. Not when he was ten and you were eight, and you wanted the last piece of cake even though it was his favourite flavour. Not when he was fifteen and you used to beg him to let you wear his shirts because you liked how oversized they were on you. Not when you would give him puppy eyes and sweetly ask him to cook those braised chicken wings you loved so much. 

And not when you needed help with writing about sex.

Even if it went against all his morals and everything he had forced himself to believe for the past twelve years he had known you. He had held himself together around you for as long as he could remember, hands to himself and thoughts strictly friendly. Caleb was used to the best friend role. He was good at playing it, even when the script pained him to recite, he did so anyway with a smile on his face.

Because smiling back at him was you. It was always you, with your bright eyes and angelic laughter. 

Caleb had accepted this role when he was only nine years old and had stuck to it ever since. He let it consume him, living in ignorant bliss as he silenced the pleas of his heart and what it wanted, no, begged for. 

How was he supposed to know where to go from here? The script had deviated too much for him to return to its safety. He knew how your lip gloss tasted, sweet and inviting and maddening, just like everything else about you. 

So he stayed away from you and your cherry lip gloss, hoping the marks it had left all over him would fade.

It had been almost two weeks since Caleb last set foot in the newsroom. 

Jenna was overjoyed and Tara was suspicious. The latter asked you where your ‘boyfriend’ was, to which you refused to look at her as you muttered the reminder: he’s not my boyfriend. It felt like you were reminding yourself more than her, lacking any of your usual annoyance. 

You supposed this was your fault as well. It wasn’t like you had made any effort to reach out either, stuck in your pathetic little cycle of self-pity and fear. You felt his absence, though, cutting deep into you and leaving you with a Caleb-sized hole in your life. The last time you experienced something like this was when he left for university for the first time and you were finishing up your senior year, suddenly having to deal with not having him around for months on end. 

At least he was calling you back then, and when you joined him at university, it never happened again. You hadn’t realised what a big part of your life he was until he was missing from it. 

God, you missed him.

You missed that stupid, smug chuckle of his when he knew you were getting riled up because of something he said, and his terrible sense of humour. The smirk on his face when you were losing an argument, and how he’d stick his tongue out when he was concentrating on something. Hell, you missed the sound of his voice and the comfort it brought you. 

After you finished your work for the day, you walked out of the newsroom and down the hallways of the university building. The cool evening air swept around you, making you think of one of Caleb's jackets that was still in your dorm from the last time he had been, draped over your desk chair. You almost wished you had it with you right now. 

Your feet carried you to the dining hall, reminding you of your need to eat through the wall of your troubled thoughts. It was not so much hunger as it was a necessity. Your appetite had been less than robust these past few days, your emotions weighing you down in more ways than one. You didn’t have him to remind you to eat or sleep, or run like a normal human being.

Grabbing an apple to appease your stomach, you bit into it and looked around, mentally going over everything else you had to do that day. Start an essay you had due the next week, beg the members of your group to do their parts of the presentation that was worth a whopping thirty percent of your grade and polish the last scene you had written for your book. 

It turned out that your turbulent emotional state had translated into you being more productive than ever, throwing yourself into your studies and writing like you had never before. Anything to avoid thinking about him and what you felt. An unhealthy coping mechanism for sure, but it worked for you. 

Kind of. 

Unable to stomach anything else, you tossed the core of the apple into a nearby dustbin and left the dining hall, eager to make it back to your room. You hadn’t slept very well lately, and you wanted to get all your work out of the way before crashing. Sleeping, you discovered, was another excellent course of action to take when you wanted to avoid facing something, and at least it wasn’t downright unhealthy. The dark circles under your eyes would certainly thank you. 

When you turned the corner, he was there.

Caleb stood there, just a few paces away from you in all his six-two glory. His back was turned to you, but you knew it was him, deep in conversation with his friend, Gideon. You were unable to do anything but stare, your pulse picking up in speed at the sight of him. You wondered if the chasm he had created between the two of you had affected him as much as it had you. 

When he bid farewell to Gideon and turned, you panicked. When he saw you, you remained rooted to the spot, watching as his steps faltered and came to a stop. He looked almost as tired as you felt, dawdling briefly before speaking.

“Hey.” 

Hey. Hey? Was that all he could say after refusing to look your way for over a week? Your apprehension flared up into anger, and you took three furious steps towards him, your docile stare melting into a glare. 

“You sure talk a lot of shit about keeping you informed for someone who has been avoiding me.”

He winced. “I wasn’t….avoiding you.”

“Oh really? Could have fooled me.” You scowled at him as you took another step forward. You were pissed, and rightly so, but it stemmed more from how hurt you felt rather than any genuine anger. 

Caleb didn’t bother to meet your eyes, opting to look off to the side instead. That stung a little more than you cared to admit. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, shifting his weight from one foot to another. “Have you eaten yet?’ Barely five minutes around you, and he had already jumped into trying to take care of you. It was so infuriatingly like him. 

Every time he didn’t want to face something, he would deflect and redirect the conversation. Your years together had taught you well, making it impossible for him to sidestep you even if he tried. You could tell he was avoiding you even when you were right in front of him. 

“Stop changing the subject.”

You watched as his jaw tightened and relaxed, something he did when he was conflicted. All his tells were so laughably obvious to you, and yet you couldn’t make heads or tails of how he was acting right now, so forcibly distant and detached, like being close to you was painful. Your eyes burned.

“Do you hate me?” You asked, hating how your voice suddenly sounded so feeble. His eyes snapped back to yours, wide and defiant. 

“I could never hate you.” The finality in the way he said it told you he was telling the truth, and yet, you couldn’t help but fall victim to the doubt creeping into your mind. He was looking right at you now– except he wasn’t really. It was more like he was looking through you. 

“Then…then why?” You whispered, taking another tentative step forward. The space that both of you created, consciously or not, was unbearable. You just wanted things to go back to normal, was that so much to ask for?

“I don’t hate you. You just don’t understand.” 

“Then make me understand!” You threw your hands up in the air in exasperation, wondering what the hell you had to do to make this conversation go somewhere, because right now it just felt like you were running in circles. “Caleb, please, just tell me why you’re avoiding me, because you are.”

He knew he was and hadn’t a single excuse, other than the reason he swore you never burdened you with. You were looking at him so pleadingly, grasping at straws to figure him out, but for the first time in his life, he found himself unable to give you an answer. Instead, his throat constricted, his anxiety keeping him silent. 

“It’s my fault, isn’t it?” Your face crumbled, and upon witnessing it, so did his heart. Your lower lip trembled like a leaf on a windy day, and you bit down on it to stop it from doing so, doing your best to stay composed. Running a hand through your hair, you let out a shaky sigh. “I knew it, I should have never– we shouldn’t have slept together. That should have never happened and now everything is fucked up, and its all because of me.” 

Yes. No. The answer wasn’t as straightforward as he needed it to be, and it paralysed him. The anguish you felt was on display for him and anyone who happened to walk by you to see, plain as day, as it twisted your features. It felt as if he had been stabbed in the gut when you backed away from him.

Turning away, you walked off. You had ruined things, you were sure of it, and it killed you. Once again, you let the rift between him and you grow with every step you took to escape the crash you had been responsible for. 

A hand on your wrist. You gasped as he caught you, spinning you around and forcing you to face him once again. 

Caleb had followed you into the gardens. 

“Do you regret it?”

The question cut through you, and you gaped at him. The fervour you were so used to seeing in him suddenly returned, burning brightly in his eyes as he pinned you in place with them, his grip on your wrist never letting up. Question for question, with neither of you getting the answers you wanted. 

You scoffed, rapidly blinking away the tears that you felt coming on. “If it's the reason things are weird between us, then yes! I do regret it. I need my best friend, Caleb. I need you.” 

How could you not need him? He was your constant, the one person who had been by your side through thick and thin. You needed him in your life, by your side, in whatever way you were allowed to, even if it wasn’t what you truly wanted anymore. 

He let go of your wrist. “I can’t do it.”

Your biggest fear was coming true right in front of your very eyes, and you hadn’t the faintest idea of how to stop it. It was taking form, bleeding into existence. You were losing him. 

“You can’t do what?”

“I can’t be your friend. I just can’t.” He shook his head, shutting his eyes like he couldn’t bear to look at you. 

Your voice comes out weak. Small. “But you said we’ll always be friends.”

“Well, I lied, okay! I can’t be your friend, not when–” He sucked in a breath, rubbing a hand over his face as he tried to reign himself in, stopping his outburst before it could happen. It wasn’t fair to you, none of this was, but he was at his breaking point. “I could do it before, but not anymore.”

“Why?” You whispered, those tears you had so valiantly fought off surging back. Once again, you felt like you had been trampled on, pinned down by a merciless gravity that had no regard for your need to breathe. You weren’t sure there was a reason to fight against it anymore. 

He looked up at the darkening sky, deflating. Staying away from you hadn’t made it any better– if anything, it had only made it worse, his yearning to be beside you bubbling to an all-time high. There wasn’t a point in hiding anymore, not when it was turning out to be detrimental rather than soothing. 

“Because,” he paused, peering up at the cloudy sky. He couldn’t see the stars. “I can’t go back to being your friend when I’ve tasted you. How am I supposed to act like I’ve never kissed you when I’ve had you in my bed? To pretend like I don’t know how it feels to have you like that? God, Y/n, I can’t do it.

Caleb, whom you had viewed as strong and untouchable all your life. Caleb, whom you had endlessly looked up to, sounded almost tortured, like it pained him to even have to tell you this. 

“What are you saying?”

You hoped you didn’t look as terrified as you sounded. It felt as if someone had pulled the rug out from beneath you, but the ground underneath it was falling apart too, leaving you to stumble around and try to find your footing amidst the cracks that remained. If you fell now, you weren’t sure you’d ever be able to get up.

But that was the thing, wasn’t it? You had already fallen, and hard. 

Caleb was stripped of his usual self-assuredness and confident smile. He was laid bare there in front of you, fixing you with a look that was so pained it tore through you. 

“I’m in love with you.”

The confession ripped through you, although you didn’t register it at first. Those five words felt so improbable to have been said by him to you of all people that the only thing you could feel was disbelief. It just didn’t make sense. Why would something you longed to hear so badly be said with such sadness? 

He mistook your stunned silence for aversion. He should have stopped there, given up and walked away, but now that he had finally, finally let it out, it was hard to stop. It was like a dam had broken within him; everything he had ever kept to himself when it came to you rushed out all at once. 

“I’m in love with you, Y/n,” he said again, scoffing slightly at himself. No nicknames, just your name spoken in that reverent tone, like you were a divine being he was a devout follower of. “And it kills me because I know you’ll never see me as anything more than a best friend. You’ve made that very clear, and I never want to overstep, so I stayed away from you.” 

“Caleb–”

He didn’t let you cut in. “I could do it when I didn’t know what it felt like to have you as something more than friends. The moment we crossed that line, it was all over for me. I would be your friend until I died if I didn’t know.” His hands were shaking, but they stayed by his sides, fingers curled into frustrated fists as he rambled. 

“I–”

“But I can’t, Pips. I can’t do it anymore. I can’t be your best friend when I’ve loved you my entire life.” And you’re falling all over again, gravity pulling you down, down, down as something unfurled in your chest. “So please just–”

“Goddamnit Caleb, would you just shut up for one fucking minute!?”

You hadn’t meant to snap, but he was seriously to piss you off, going on and on without giving you the chance to speak your mind. Immediately, he clamped his mouth shut, preparing himself for the inevitable rejection he had imagined too many times to count in his head. You, on the other hand, thought you were going to faint, overwhelmed by everything that had just happened. It was everything you had convinced yourself was impossible.

And yet…

You kept your eyes locked onto his as you closed the distance between the two of you, so close now that you could feel the warmth radiating off of him, combating the chill in the evening air. Swallowing, you asked. 

“You’re in love with me?”

He clenched his jaw and nodded. He knew what the consequences were, he was ready for them. It was about time he faced the truth anyway. 

What he didn’t expect was for you to start laughing. 

You clamped a hand over your mouth as incredulous laughter left you, eyes practically sparkling. Oddly enough, it sounded a little watery, like you were crying at the same time.

And then he realised you were, in fact, crying, tears streaming down your face. Alarmed, he stepped forward and cupped your face, instinctively wiping them away with the pads of his thumbs. This did nothing to dampen your hysterical laughter as you leaned into his touch. 

“What the fuck?” He muttered, concern overtaking his previous, heartsick expression. “Are you dying or something?”

“Or something,” you managed to get out, gripping his arms, “We’re so stupid.”

“That…..okay, I’m officially confused. And a little scared.” 

“Caleb,” you whispered once you stopped giggling, lethally soft. You looked up at him adoringly, eyes shining and tinged slightly red from your tears. “I’m in love with you, too.”

He froze, mouth falling open. He didn’t have to say anything, though, because honestly, he had said enough. It was your turn now. 

You leaned further into his touch, nuzzling your cheek against his palm. “I think I’ve loved you for a long time, but I only realised after….after everything that happened between us.” You flushed, trying to word it as delicately as possible. “And I drove myself crazy because I thought you’d never see me that way–”

“I’ve always seen you that way.” He breathed out, those captivating eyes of his trained on you in wonder. Butterflies came to life in your stomach. 

“– So I called it off. I said we needed to stop because I was so scared I’d lose you.”

By the time you finished, you were both staring at each other wide-eyed. His grip on you tightened, one hand falling to your waist as he tugged you closer. 

“You love me?”

“I love you,” you nodded. “It just took me a while to figure it out.” 

“Pipsqueak.” You had never been more grateful than you were right then to hear that stupid petname. “Oh my god, we are stupid.”

Without another word, Caleb pulled you into a kiss. You reciprocated instantly, wrapping your arms around his neck as you smiled against his lips, unable to contain yourself anymore. He kissed you like it was the only thing he ever wanted to do, holding you like you were precious, which to him, you undoubtedly were. It was your first proper kiss with him without any pretence or excuse surrounding it, and you couldn’t have asked for more. 

Chuckling when you dissolved into more giddy giggles, he wiped away any stray tears from your face and rested his forehead against yours. After all these years waiting and hoping that you’d feel the same way, he knew he’d never let you go now. 

“I love you, too.” It was a relief to say out loud and to your face, coming out of hiding and letting the truth of his feelings sit out in the light. You pecked his lips again and hugged him, revelling in his warmth and the delight of your feelings being returned. Your best friend loved you back, and everything in the world made sense again. 

“Don’t be my best friend,” You mumbled fondly, cheek against his shoulder as you laid out your final request. “Just be mine.”

He smiled, an expression so dazzling you’d never forget it. “I’ll always be yours.”

When Caleb looked back at the sky, he could see the stars.

“Are you done?”

“Shh.”

You rolled your eyes, flopping onto the pile of plushes on your bed as you pulled out your phone and went through your messages. To be fair, it had barely been two minutes since you handed him your laptop, but you were impatient, wanting to know what he thought as soon as possible.

Caleb’s eyes were focused on the screen as he read, humming occasionally as he scrolled through the scene. If anyone had told you a year ago that you’d be letting him read a part of your writing, let alone a sex scene of all things, you would have either laughed in their face or had a mental breakdown.

Yet here you were. Life sure had a sense of humour. 

Finally, after an agonising ten minutes, he spoke. “Wow.”

“Is it good?”

He shut your laptop and put it back on your desk carefully, before walking over to where you were. Then, he dropped himself onto the bed as well, purposely caging you in his arms and making sure you were trapped under his weight. Squealing, you hit his arm playfully. 

“Caleb!”

Your boyfriend laughed mischievously, lifting his head so you could see the smirk that curled on his lips. “It was good. Very good.”

You sighed in relief. “Thank god.”

“So I must be really good in bed, huh?” 

There it was. You groaned as you tried to push him off of you, even though you knew it was a futile task. “Don’t even try, you smug asshole.”

“What?” He asked, dripping in faux innocence. “I mean, you did use me for research purposes. Is it not a fair assumption to make?” He was so proud of it, and knew damn well that the entire sex scene he had just read had been falicitated because of him. Every part of it had been pulled from things the two of you had done, the thought of which made your skin heat up and your cheeks burn. 

“You’re so annoying,” you huffed, giving up on trying to get him to stop squashing you. Instead, you adjusted, curling into him. Accepting this, he switched your positions, pulling you on top of him and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“You like it.”

“Unfortunately.”

You yelped when he pinched your side, but it dissolved into giggles when he began peppering kisses all over your face. Slipping his arm around your waist, he held you close, grining against your skin. If you had to stay like this forever, in his arms and under the glow of his radiant smile, you would be content. 

“You’re an amazing writer, Pipsqueak,” he cradled your face in his hands, his love for you so achingly obvious in the way he looked at you that you wondered how you had never noticed it before. Rubbing his fingers against your cheek, he kissed your nose. “It would be just as great even if I hadn’t– uh– assisted.”

Though you snickered at him, you couldn’t stop yourself from beaming at his praise for your work. “I’m glad you did though,” you let him pull you closer, arm looping around your waist as you propped a leg over his. “Otherwise we might have never figured our shit out.”

He snorted. “Thank god for research. You would have kept me in the friendzone forever.”

“Hey!”

He silenced any further protests that you could have made, pressing his lips to yours in a sweet kiss. All possible complaints fled your mind the moment he did, eagerly kissing him back. You didn’t think you’d ever get enough of this and you had no idea how you had survived for so long while denying yourself of it. 

Caleb had loved you for twelve years, steadily standing by your side and holding your hand even when you couldn’t see it. He had walked beside you through it all, the highest of highs and lowest of lows, lifting you up high over his shoulders with a grin on his face. He would never leave you behind, because he was your home. The one you had grown up with and wanted to wake up to everyday for the rest of your life. 

He had taught you love without imposing it on you, silently showing it to you with every little thing he did. Your best friend. Your love. It had taken you a long time to catch up, but when you finally made it to the finish line, you found him waiting there for you patiently, holding out his hand for you to take. 

The next time Tara called him your boyfriend, you didn’t correct her.

fin.

[jaylver]

WE CAN'T BE FRIENDS (WAIT FOR YOUR LOVE) — P.SH

SYNOPSIS: Loving someone was easy, but losing them without knowing the truth was far from easy. How Park Sunghoon returned into your life wasn’t the same as what you had in mind. The heartbreak you experienced over the years he was gone had materialised and was haunting you wherever you went. Dealing with your emotions wasn’t enough when Sunghoon was there, waiting for your love. You knew you had two choices to overcome this: either to regret loving him and lose him yet again, or to rediscover your love for him.  

PAIRINGS: writer!sunghoon x editor!afab!reader

GENRE: exes to lovers, angst, romance, slow burn, forced proximity

WARNING(S): mentions of drinking/alcohol, profanities, (lots of) miscommunication

WC: 25k

PLAYLIST: we can't be friends (wait for your love) by ariana grande, back to friends by sombr, the great war by taylor swift

AUTHOR'S NOTE: first fic of 2025! a quite lengthy one too! can't believe time is passing by so quicky, and i haven't been posting since november TT hope you enjoy this one where i (tried my best) to pour every emotion into! please leave a feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated! muah xx

masterlist | © jaylver 2025 all rights reserved

How did you end up standing in front of your first love after years of not crossing paths?

It should've been just like any other day where you came to work with a cup of coffee in hand, waiting for the day of endless typing and proofreading to end, but somehow, the universe always had a way to surprise you. This surprise, however, was an unfortunate one that would take years for you to recover from. 

“Y/N, meet Park Sunghoon, the author of ‘Chaconne’,” your boss, Miss Lee was smiling ear to ear at eight in the morning at the prospect of having one of the country's biggest authors to be in her publishing house. “Sunghoon, this is Y/N L/N, chief editor. She'll be working with you for your new novel,”

No matter how you tried, you just couldn't reciprocate her enthusiasm. Even if you tried to put on a smile, the muscles on your face failed to cooperate with your mind and it only resulted in a deeper frown forming instead. There, standing before you wasn't the famous author that made a name for himself through his breakout novel, but in actuality, it was your first love, Park Sunghoon.

The same man who left you stranded when you needed him most. The very man that broke your heart and left it in pieces. Those teenage years spent together praying for a future where you and him would chase your dreams side-by-side had gone to waste. To you, it looked as if he was the one who succeeded the most out of the two of you. Was it resentment or anger? It didn't matter what it was, after all it was no use denying that there was an underlying grudge you held for the man who achieved everything he wanted after leaving you with no explanations. After those long years of not seeing him in person, fate managed to play him into your life. How funny.

Sunghoon doesn’t look equally excited to be working with you either. He, too, had an expression that was far from enthusiastic. There was a slight tinge of guilt that you sensed, unless it was a figment of your imagination that told you so. He could barely meet your eyes, an uncomfortable unfamiliarity about him hung in the air. 

No, he wasn't the same Park Sunghoon that you knew. He was probably a stranger. Despite knowing him well in the past, you couldn’t bear to cling onto the small hope that he was who he used to be. If he was, he wouldn’t have left the country without telling you in the first place and proceeded going no contact till the point where the news became your source of confirming he was alive and well, living too well while basking in fresh money from his newly published book. 

“N–new novel?” you looked over at Miss Lee, trying your best to mask the panic in your voice. Out of many publishing houses, must he really choose the one you worked in? What happened to the one publishing his previous books? The question marks were probably written all over your face at some point.

“Yes, a new novel,” Miss Lee affirmed, the unwavering smile sitting perfectly on her expression. “Sunghoon here is planning to publish his new book next year. It’s called ‘Wait For Your Love’. Isn’t that exciting? Anyway, I’ll leave him to you to explain the content, you’ll be working together starting from today onwards. By the way, meeting starts in five minutes, we need to discuss everything about the new book,”

“Right, I’ll get ready,” you watched as your boss disappeared into her own office, heaving a sigh of relief now that she was out of sight and you could finally drop the act of being nice. If anything, you were feeling everything but nice. You met Sunghoon's eyes almost in an instant, the awkward silence filling the space between you and him only made the atmosphere worse. 

Out of decent respect, you bowed your head a little and left to head back to your own workspace, hopefully taking advantage of that five minutes to sort out your thoughts. You took one step forward just to be stopped by him calling your name. The sound of your name coming out of his mouth was something that you dreamt of for ages. However, hearing it in reality seemed to have crushed every part of your fantasy.

“Hey Y/N,”

You turned around, slowly and cautiously. In that split second, a million possible scenarios played out in your mind. Maybe he was finally going to explain himself for leaving you, or what if he was offering an overdue apology? An unmistakable feeling of anticipation and hope swelled in your abdomen. It was all wishful thinking.

There was a faint smile on his lips. The look in his eyes said otherwise with an icy barrier that prevented you from reading him further. He truly has changed. Other than the freshly dyed hair and being a couple inches taller, he remained physically the same man from your past that returned to your life recently, the only difference was that he wasn't someone you knew anymore. 

“I look forward to working with you,”

He was the first to draw the line. 

Just as he's always done, from the point where he disappeared from your life till pretending as if you weren't his first love, he's drawn an invisible line that you failed to realise, an indicator for you to know that you were no longer needed in his life. 

You tried to swallow the lump growing in your throat, blinking back the tears piercing your eyes, the corners of your lips twitching in spite. “Right. I hope everything will work out smoothly.”

Truth be told, you wished you had quit your job instead of facing Park Sunghoon once again.  

There wasn’t a day in your teenage years transitioning to your early 20s where you hadn’t wondered what exactly went wrong, specifically between you and Sunghoon. 

There were countless times you found yourself stuck in endless thoughts of whether it was you who was the one that drove him away. How could he do such a thing to someone he loved? Was it ever truly real? The hurt you experienced was immeasurable, it left a deep cut that was taking forever to heal. Over the last four years since Sunghoon’s departure, you were practically spending your days alone. You were too afraid to get close to anyone to start a serious relationship, neither having the energy to attend those stupid blind dates your friends proposed. All of them were deemed worthless to you anyway, because as much as you hated, dreaded to admit it, some part of you still longed for Sunghoon. 

Now that he was actually here, back in your life, crashing into you and your already fragile mental state with no prior warning, you didn’t think the same as before. You wished he had kept his distance from you. Actually, you wished he had stayed far away in the foreign land he was residing in. 

Luckily for you, it was another Wednesday with a cup of coffee drunk halfway sitting next to your laptop, overly preoccupied with a pile of work to settle to even think about Sunghoon for a second, that was until you were met with your actual task which you should be tackling instead of doing other things in order to avoid it. The bright screen of your laptop displayed the bolded italic letters, ‘WAIT FOR YOUR LOVE’. Just from the title alone, it ignited an odd sense of ill feelings that dreaded you to scroll down further. 

“Hey,” Yunjin tapped you on your shoulder, pulling a chair to sit next to you. She was your coworker that has transcended the tier of being just work friends. You could still remember the first time she introduced herself to you where she accidentally spilled coffee over a newly bought carpet in the office and proceeded to get away by lying. From the point where you promised her you wouldn’t snitch, you somehow built a strong friendship with her.

“What’s up? Lunch break isn’t until an hour later,”

“I know that,” Yunjin broke out in a small smile at the fact you thought she was about to pull you to some new cafe she found. On the contrary, food wasn’t on her mind. She nodded to your laptop, the screen on display with Sunghoon’s name under his book title. “I want to ask about the author,”

“Sunghoon?” 

Yunjin raised an eyebrow at you, looking both inquisitive but also interested. "You say his name so naturally,"

"Do I?" you unconsciously bite the insides of your cheek, a habit you’ve grown to have whenever you are anxious. His name alone was enough to send a wave of anxiety through your bones. It also didn't help that Yunjin pointed out how his name rolled off your tongue like second nature. “Whatever. What's up with him?”

“Were you guys … from the same highschool?” the pause in Yunjin’s sentence before finishing it whole almost caused your heart to stop. You expected her to confront you about your past with Sunghoon knowing how well she utilises social media to her will. Did she manage to dig up your past that you tried so hard to escape from?

“We were,”

“Did you know him well?”

What’s with the sudden interrogation going on?

“Somewhat,” you supposed being vague was the safest way to dodge her question, and it seemed she had taken the bait too.

“I saw you in his old post. You were with him and a bunch of other people too,” Yunjin shrugged, mentioning that ever so nonchalantly, but all you could do at that moment was feel the horrors of knowing she’s seen the picture of you and him together. You were more surprised he kept a remnant of you in his account that he barely posted on. Now that he had gained a reputation for himself, you expected him to have deleted his old posts, but you were wrong. 

“Oh, right. We had mutual friends,”

“Is that so? What was he like? I’m down to get some inside scoop of a famous author’s past,” she raised her eyebrows, displaying a cheeky smirk that told you she was up to no good. Between work gossip was definitely one way to fuel passionate energy for the rest of the day.

“He’s…” what could you even say? Tell the truth about how great of a person he was to you or lie and say something he wasn’t? Either way, that version of him solely existed in the past, there was no longer any credibility to your words if you were to compare the person he was in present times. “He’s alright, I guess? Don’t know him that much,” 

Lies. 

“I was thinking you’d have much more information on this guy. He was in America for years before coming back. No one really knows him much, huh? There’s barely anything about him,”

“I guess you can put it that way.”

Avoidant couldn’t last forever. It was proven by Sunghoon’s presence and his draft waiting for you to be edited once you got back from lunch. The screen was still stuck on the front page just as you’ve left it, only then finding a small bit of courage to scroll down to where the main content lied. Staring at the number of pages you had to read through had pulled a groan out of you, and oddly enough, whether it was a coincidence or not, the three numbers of the total pages was also the date of your birthday. Maybe it was a strange coincidence the same as angel numbers were, except you chose not to believe in whatever hidden meaning it has behind it.

Adjusting the pillow behind your back, you settled into your chair for some hours of reading. The story began with two characters in their youth who befriended each other after an interesting accident, getting closer as they spent more time together, and before you knew it, feelings developed. All of those brought a saddening sense of reminiscence to you, every feeling evoked from his words was strangely familiar, even the characters and storyline were somehow relatable in some ways. How weird. 

The more you read his story, the distance between you and the screen of your laptop only becomes smaller. You couldn't believe what you were comprehending and the things your eyes were reading. It was a retelling of your life story with Sunghoon that was replaced by fictional characters that had turned into a plot that Park Sunghoon could manipulate into whatever he wants. The confession between the characters, their first date, them in college together, every one of those specific scenarios were exactly what you experienced in the past.

Were you just a short, momentary phase in the story of his life?

This was the story that he's planning to publish? Was he playing some sick joke on you by coming to your publishing house in the first place? To let you know that he's written a story about how you and him first met leading up to the part where he left? If this was a way of him explaining his side of a story through fictional characters in some alternate universe, then it's a shit way of saying sorry. 

Slamming your laptop shut, you swallowed down a groan that was threatening to escape. You closed your eyes, wishing you could stop thinking about the draft that brought back a flood of memories that you missed. Even then, you couldn't help picturing those moments you had together, there was a bitter taste in the roof of your mouth at the constant haunting of Park Sunghoon. 

You had no choice, there wasn't any other way to face this. So, your hands moved according to their will, picking up your phone and finding the contact under the name ‘Author Park (BLOCK AFTER)’. One press of a finger and it started to ring. For the first time since his reappearance, you didn't feel an impending sense of doom or even the slightest of weariness. Blinding rage at his audacity played a role in it. 

“Mr Park, I have some things to discuss with you about the draft.”

Sitting before your ex lover, now a renowned author that you're working with was a foreign and incomprehensible concept. 

Agreeing to meet up at a cafe was probably a good choice. The awkward silence between you and him was masked by the loud conversations in the vicinity. He took a particularly long, loud sip from his cup, earning a furtive glance over the laptop from you. 

“Mr Park, I think there are some … issues about the plot,” you slid your laptop over to him, making sure he's reading every highlighted sentence along with your careful annotations and remarks. 

Other than the obvious fact that he was basing the story off of his life with you as a focus, there were actual plot developments that you needed to address with him. One of them was a major plot hole where the main character, Lee Eunhyeok, disappeared out of the blue, thus introducing a new character as a second male lead for a certain time being. How cliche. 

Sunghoon pushed your laptop back over to you, an impassive look on his face that you couldn't read, unable to determine what he was thinking or even feeling about your opinions on his story. Sure, you wanted to write out every curse word you knew and pour your heart out the moment you finished analyzing the story, but for the sake of keeping your job and staying professional, you would rather not do so. 

You took his silence as an initiative for you to continue, scared of any possible outburst, though you knew it was unlikely with Sunghoon's personality. Despite the fierce look he had on all the time, he has a gentle heart that would never change. 

“Mr Park, I think you shouldn't—I mean—reconsider making some adjustments to the part where Eunhyeok leaves Saeon's life and a new lead appears. It's quite a massive plot hole that might be deemed unfavourable,” you were trying your best to remain as courteous as you could. Frankly, the thought of the main character disappearing and making his appearance years later was hitting too close to home. But why should you be surprised at this point onwards? Sunghoon was the one who took inspiration from the pain he caused, not even bothering to add some closure for the characters that neither you nor him got.

Fingers drumming softly on the wooden table, Sunghoon seemed to be collecting his every thought as he stared at you for a split second then averted his gaze to a potted plant that sat at a corner. A sigh escaped his lips. "You're right, Miss … L/N," there was a hint of reluctance when he spoke of your name with formality, as if it somehow pained him to act unfamiliar with you even though he was the first to push you away. “I'll make some adjustments and send them to you over the weekend,”

You nodded slowly, not expecting him to have gone with your idea that easily. Job's done for the day, you thought. You had pictured him to be a little more resistant towards your constructive criticism or at least fight back with an argument, but he didn't do either of those you envisioned. 

“Thank you for your time today, Mr Park. I'll take my leave now, and I'll see you at the next meeting.”

The sharp scrap of your chair against the floor filled the silence that followed. You had your laptop packed up, your bag held tightly in your hands, prepared to leave at once to escape whatever this awkward and suffocating situation. You were already standing, ready to take your leave when Sunghoon said your name, the ring of it sounding just like the last you've remembered in the past. Soft, careful. 

“Y/N,” he started, following suit to stand as well, seemingly much more intimidating compared to him sitting. You held your breath, not daring to let out a single word that might interrupt what he was about to say. As much as you hated to admit it, you still held onto a ridiculous amount of hope that some miracle would happen to you and Sunghoon, especially at times like this where Sunghoon reminded you of the person you once knew. 

“H–how have you been?”

You blinked. Once, then twice. It was something out of a scenario you've imagined one two many times. How have you been? Are you doing well? Those sort of questions were what you armed yourself to face if you happen to run into Sunghoon with the condition that he somehow had the decency to talk to you. Well, this was playing out exactly how you wished for it to be. Answers such as 'I'm doing good, great, fantastic actually. I'm the chief editor too' that you prepared for this day only ended up dying in your throat. 

How were you to answer his question either? It was simply agitating to see him acting as if nothing had happened. Pretending like he hadn't ruined your life before this then coming back to play the role of an old friend, what was he truly hiding? You wished you could understand, you wished you had a reason to understand.

“I'll be done with the next round of editing before our team meeting.”

There was nothing left to hide the coldness in your voice and the sadness that flowed in your irises. Just as he had done before, it was your chance to draw the line as well. The more you created a distance between you and him, the closer he was trying to get to you. 

Maybe everything would've hurt less if you went back to the days where you were stuck wondering whether Sunghoon remembered you rather than pretending like you don't know each other at all.

“You're seriously going to stay here to complete your editing?”

The clock had struck five o'clock on the dot, just in time for everyone to pack up and leave for the day, except for you. It was a new week, another day in the office, yet you couldn't stop thinking about the last private meeting you had with Sunghoon at the cafe. Him sending his newly edited draft to you over the weekend only spurred you into further madness as though he's announced his existence was not a figment of your imagination. He was a thorn stuck to your side, annoyingly and frustratingly stubborn. 

That perfectly explained why you were feeling a massive block when it came to editing his story. Nothing could go through your mind when you read through his freshly edited story that contained new content and back stories. Your brain was as blank as a sheet of paper. The moment you thought of his story, you'd think of him, and that pathetic 'how are you' which you brushed off. 

Who told you that it'd be a great idea to say you would be done with the editing before the meeting in two days? You were suffering the consequences of your own actions now that you were stuck with a non-proofread script.

Bidding farewells to your colleagues was almost as if you were bidding your freedom goodbye as you watched them leave one by one until nobody else was there except for you. The worst part of all was that you were the one willing to stay back, because you knew if you brought your work back home, nothing would be completed after a long day at work.

The sun outside of the window eventually set, the dark hues of pink and purple faded into a bleary black sky with stars accompanying your lonely figure. It should be dinner time for you, you should be thinking of what you eat, but fatigue was the only thing pricking you and enticing you to sleep.

So, that was exactly what you did. Head laid in your arms, you slept before your laptop that was wide open, not even bothering to shut it off even though the brightness was bothering you. A power nap, that was it, a ten minute recharge that would spring you back into action then you'd only think of dinner, right!

Wrong.

You've slept for an hour. It was past eight, close to nine, and the sole reason you got to know was because someone had woken you up. That 'someone' happened to be Park Sunghoon. At times like this, you couldn't but think if he was simply a part of your dream, but then his feathery touch was too much for it to be just a dream.

“Y/N?”

It took some effort for Sunghoon to shake you awake until he heard a groan from you, one eye opening just the slightest to realise where you were and who you were facing. Though groggy, your back straightened out of pure shock and impulse, 

“Sunghoon—I mean, Mr Park?”

The small falter in his expression went unnoticed by you in your haggard state, still unable to get the sleepy state out of your system. Sunghoon, however, felt a pang of disappointment at you maintaining your formality, though he chose to shake it off. 

“What time is it?” 

“It's close to nine,” 

Nine? Your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets at the thought of your power nap turning into a full blown nap time that turned another day into unproductiveness. A sigh left your lips, deciding to let go of your mistake, and your focus was now on Sunghoon, who you just realised was squatting in front of you. At this angle, you could finally see his face fully. The mole of his nose sat prominently as it always did, the faded freckles which decorated the expanse of his cheeks were a telling of how time slipped past both of you. 

“Drink some water,” he handed you a bottle of mineral water, making an attempt for you to stop your gaze intensely lingering on his skin that made him crawl in discomfort. You carefully accepted without any questions asked, taking a big gulp.

“What are you doing here?” You set the bottle down on your desk, piercing eyes following his every move as he stood up to his full height. You didn't mean to cut straight to the point, but your bluntness definitely caused a slight rise of awkward tension. 

“I texted you and you didn't answer, so I called you, but you didn't pick up either. I asked your colleague and she told me you're here,” his hand reached for his shoulder and rubbed it softly, an unconscious habit of his whenever he got embarrassed or uncomfortable.

“You called?”

His eyes widened a little, just a fraction that you didn't seem to have seen. There was an abashed smile to his face. “I—uh—wanted to ask you something,”

“Is it urgent?” You shifted in your seat, back aching from the sleeping position, but it didn't bug you as much as the reason behind Sunghoon's sudden appearance.

“No, not exactly …” he muttered, trailing off for a bit and pressing his lips into a thin line as he figured what to say after. “I just wanted to see you,”

The silence was practically deafening. What Sunghoon failed to realise was the weight of his words that befall onto you. As simple as a slip of a tongue that confession might be, in the context of the history you had with Sunghoon, nothing about what he said was simple or casual. 

“Have you eaten dinner?” Taking advantage of your lack of response, he managed to switch the topic even if it pained him to see his words rebounding off of the walls you built around yourself. 

“I haven't,” admittedly, you had the urge to run away like how you always did whenever you were met with an awkward situation, but given the effort Sunghoon was putting, you gave him a chance. Besides, your stomach was about to betray you for the hunger you've put it through. 

“Me too,” a beat passed, his hand that once rested on his shoulder travelled to the back of his neck, the sound of your breathing was loud enough to fill the quietness lingering in the air. “Do you … want to grab dinner together? I can pay,”

There was an edge to his voice, as if he was trying his best to persuade you into joining him for dinner. Was it desperation that you saw flickering in his eyes or were you just mistaken? You didn't understand why he was bothering to get close to you after years of being apart that he caused to happen in the first place. 

“You don't have to be so nice to me,” it was quietly uttered, another unconscious barrier you put up against him. 

Sunghoon averted his gaze away from you, looking out of the window and letting out a small sigh. He turned back to you, a hint of hurt present in those once shining eyes of his. “But I want to.”

There you were, sitting opposite him once again in a restaurant close to your office which you frequented, waiting for your food to arrive as another round of spine crawling silence sets in between you and him. Should you be the first to speak? You couldn't figure out what to say, or where you should even start. The many unexplained questions that lulled in the air contributed to the quietness. Neither of you were willing to budge, not one bit. 

Sunghoon let out a rather strained cough, then proceeded to take a big gulp out of his glass of water. You regretted not ordering any drinks, you needed something to gulp down for some faux confidence as well. 

“I just wanted to ask you how your progress is doing,” Sunghoon spoke out of the blue, breaking the icy silence that formed. “That's why I texted you in the first place. I added quite a lot,”

The feeling of your heart dropping to the pits of your abdomen shouldn't be bothering you, but it unfortunately did after Sunghoon revealed the reason for his visit. You were to blame for expecting something more from him, thinking he might've come to tell you a more important thing that wasn't related to work. Alas, you were disappointed to know he wasn't there to explain himself. You should expect less from him. 

“Oh,” you bit back a frown, remaining tight lipped. “Quite frankly, I haven't really started yet. I'm having a little editor's block,” you bowed your head, smiling apologetically.

“Don’t be sorry, I understand. I experience writer’s block too, it’s only natural to be stuck sometimes,” he waved his hands frantically, a panicked expression plastered on his face. The small details as such made your smile progressively sadder, every little thing about him was the same as it was before, reminding you of his specific habits and motions he’d do at different times. “It’s not the content that’s the problem, right?”

Everything about the content of his story was a problem to you. How he managed to feign ignorance about the inspiration of his story despite being the creator behind it was astounding to you. You hated it. You hated pretending everything was normal, that he was just someone you’re working with and not your first love. In the end, you remained as a coward that was scared to confront him anyway.

“I haven’t fully reviewed it yet,” you said dismissively, hoping your food would arrive sooner just so that you could stop this conversation from progressing. 

Sunghoon hummed in acknowledgement, nodding a little. “What do you think about the story so far? Or about the characters?”

If you could let out a scoff at that moment, you would’ve. The sheer audacity of him to play games with you was an indirect slap to your face. There was no way he had zero idea of what he was doing or the meaning behind his words. What was Park Sunghoon doing?

“I think Eunhyeok is an asshole,” your eye contact never once wavered, neither were you backing down from the fight he initiated from the start. “He abandoned Saeon when she needed him most, then disappeared without a trace just to come back and expect her to accept him back. It’s quite confusing, really, his character and the way he thinks,” you swallowed, pausing for a second to gather yourself. “I just wish I could understand him,” you put on a small smile in an attempt to diffuse the tension right after seeing Sunghoon's furrowed eyebrows. Surely you didn't touch a nerve … right?

“I agree,” you tried to mask your shock from his response, thinking he would've attempted to redirect the conversation away from the fact that you indirectly called him an asshole. The smile he had on his face was small, but it had a twinge of guilt and sadness to it. “Saeon went through a lot because of him,”

You were glad your hands were out of sight from Sunghoon with the way they were clenched into tight fists, turning nearly white, indents of your fingernails were probably formed on your palm. “I'm sure what she needed most is an explanation from him,”

“Do you think she hated him at some point?”

There was a suspenseful pause that gripped onto your skin, finding yourself unable to open your mouth to say something, literally anything. He had struck bullseye at landing on your weakest point: the unspoken grudge you held against him for leaving. 

“I think she has always hated him ever since he left without saying anything.”

If there was a hole that would swallow you whole during dinner and teleport you back home, you would've climbed into it as quickly as you could. The atmosphere surrounding you and Sunghoon throughout dinner could only be described in one word: unfortunate. Stemming from the unresolved tension created from the short conversation you had while waiting for your food, neither of you wanted to talk anymore, both of you were still soaking in the responses from all the questions asked. 

“Thanks for the dinner. I can pay you back—”

“There's no need, Miss L/N. I was the one who invited you out for dinner anyway,” he shook his head, smiling. “Treat it as a token of gratitude from me for your hard work,”

“Well then, thank you. I appreciate it,” for the first time ever since his return, you smiled with full genuinity instead of those awkward, half sincere smiles you put on out of courtesy.

Sunghook waved his hands, shaking his head a little. It was a common thing for him to do as a response to people thanking him. Another part of him that stayed the same. “How are you heading home?”

“I drove to the office today, and my car's just around the corner. I can walk back,”

“In the dark? I'll drive you back to the office,” his words had a finality to it, determined to not take ‘no’ as an answer.

“You don't have to. You've already paid for dinner,”

“And put your life at risk? I'm not doing that, especially not to you, Y/N,” 

You didn’t know what came over you when he uttered your name with some ounces of emotions you never knew he would still harbour for you. Longing, desperation and guilt, a total mix of tragic feelings that bled through his voice and piercing into your heart. He had no rights for showing you his weakest parts after all the things you’ve been through because of him. 

“Fine. I’ll come along.”

The car ride lasted no more than ten minutes, yet that short duration you spent in his car felt longer thanks to the uncomfortable atmosphere that never went away. Years ago, you’d never once thought Sunghoon’s presence as bothersome, not even the slightest, it never occurred to you that one day you’d find yourself wanting to implode instead of spending another passing second next to him. 

The line drawn between you and Sunghoon for the sake of professionalism was turning into a blur. Sunghoon was doing his best to salvage whatever that was left of your ruined relationship while you put everything in maintaining a tall wall between you and him. His efforts, to you, were in vain despite his determination. No matter how he tried, nothing could return to how it was back then. 

You and Sunghoon couldn’t be friends. 

“Thanks for the ride,” you unbuckle your seatbelt once the car comes to a stop, turning to look at Sunghoon with an appreciative smile. “And also for dinner,”

“Like I said, it’s nothing. I hope you’re not overworking yourself,” there it was, the shred of worry and care that overstepped a boundary you set. It would’ve hurt less if he was cold to you, and yet, he was still the same as ever, soft hearted and always looking out for others. For once, just this one, you wished he gave you a reason to hate him, but he was only making it difficult for you. “I’ll see you at the next team meeting,”

“Right. I’ll make sure I’ll have some progress in the editing,”

Sunghoon nodded, another round of silence filled the spaces around you and him. You took it as your queue to leave. “I’ll get going now then. Drive safe. Goodnight,” you reached for the handle, hoping to get a breath of fresh air and away from the stifling tension that has yet to be resolved, but a hand stopped you. It was Sunghoon. 

You looked down at his hand that rested on your shoulder, then you met his eyes that widened in both shock and panic. He retracted his hand away, averting his gaze for a moment from pure awkwardness and letting out a cough to diffuse the situation. 

“Is there … anything?” You stared back at him, curiosity filled your expecting gaze. Sunghoon didn't respond at once, choosing to stay quiet for a few seconds without taking his eyes off of you.

“I … I just wanted to say I’m sorry,”

“What?”

Sunghoon's jaw was tense, his grip on the steering wheel was tightening as each second passed, knuckles gradually turning white. He knew he couldn’t turn back on his word now that he’s said it. “I'm sorry for the pain that I've caused, for letting you go so easily and giving up. It's just … there’s a reason behind all this,”

You should've ran out of the car right before he had the chance to stop you. 

A part of you had high hopes for where this was heading, that you were finally getting the apology and explanation that you deserved, but the other part has long given up on wanting or needing to know. You find yourself struggling between the two, yet you knew what you had to do.

“You don't get to do this right now,” you murmured, barely audible enough for him to catch and almost as if you were saying it to yourself.

“What?” 

“I don't need your apology,” you found some courage at last, your tone combined with the straightforward response was harsh and absolutely throat-cutting for Sunghoon to hear. Unbeknownst to him, your heart was breaking despite being the one to say the cruel truth. “Let's just maintain this professional relationship while your book is still in progress,”

“Y/N, please—”

“You know we can’t be friends,”

You should be used to the amount of uncomfortable and suffocating silence by then, but nothing could prepare the sting you got from your own words. It was painfully true, the fact that your connections with him couldn’t just be “casual” or platonic, neither was it easy to shift from something deeper to something more casual or distant. You couldn’t see him as a friend, not after having history together, one that was too deep to disregard.

Sunghoon couldn't even get the rest of his sentence out, mouth closing to digest what you had just thrown into his face: a reality ever so cruel and blunt where the pain of being together overwhelmed the pain you experienced while apart.

“But I'd like to just pretend … that maybe we can—that we have a chance,” 

“What chance is there now when you never once gave me a chance from the start?” You brushed a hand through your hair in frustration, mentally chanting positive affirmations to yourself so that you wouldn't be the first to break. “Look, I–I think we should talk about this some other time, maybe after we're done with your book. You should sort your thoughts out first. For now, let's just be professional,” you paused, gouging his reaction that was hard to decipher. “I'll get going.”

Sunghoon didn't respond, mainly because he couldn't bring himself to, feeling as if his lips were sewn shut from either embarrassment or a mix of guilt and shame. He merely nodded, and you took it as a sign to leave, closing the door shut in his face as you slipped through his fingers once more. 

He could cling to his papers and pen, writing as many stories as he could with the perfect ending that he couldn't recreate in his reality, but in the end, it wouldn't bring him back to the time where you were by his side.

We can't be friends. Sunghoon just had to accept the fact that he was at fault for letting you go even if you didn't know the actual truth behind it.

Things weren't the same as it was before.

Hell, it never once was the same between you and Sunghoon in the present ever since he came back, but the entire interaction that night only turned the dynamic into something worse. Throughout the entire team meeting with Sunghoon in the room, you couldn't fix your attention on anything. Your mind would often drift to Sunghoon and the memory of his desperation or the part he almost revealed the truth constantly plagued you with the reminder sitting at the other end of the room. 

Right, the truth. He wanted to tell you about it, or it was implied that he wanted to. You were close to finding out the reason behind his erasure from your life. Alas, it was your ego that won over your heart, choosing to let Sunghoon bathe in the consequences of his actions first before you could reach your desires.

“How was work? You look extra dishevelled these days,” Minjeong, your roommate and life-long best friend since high school, brushed a finger through your hair, then took a seat next to you. 

“Thanks,” you mumbled at the last part she added, suddenly craving for a beer to drown away your sorrows. “It's just some work stress,”

“Didn't you mention you were editing Sunghoon's book?”

“I did,”

“How's it going? Sunghoon, that's what I mean,” Minjeong was picking her words carefully, you could tell. She was the only person to have seen you at your lowest point when Sunghoon left, being the witness of you and Sunghoon's relationship throughout high school and even coming to your defence by dialing his number the entire night that he left. The least you could do was be honest to her about how you felt when it came to Sunghoon. 

“It's … rough,” you exhaled sharply through your nose, letting your true exhaustion bleed through your voice. “His new story's about me … about us, actually,”

“No way!”

“That's why I'm going insane,” you groaned, throwing your head back to lay your head on the headrest of the couch. “I'm reliving our every moment together through editing his story,”

“That's evil,” she shook her head, placing a hand on yours in an attempt to provide some comfort. “I'm going to beat him up if I see him. How could he do that to you? And also for leaving without telling any of us,”

“He tried to explain himself the other night, he apologised too,”

Minjeong scooted closer to you, eager to dig out more information from you. “Then? What did you say?” She pressed on, staring closely with full expectations. 

“Nothing. I didn't really accept his apology and I told him I'll hear him out another time,”

“What?” She shrieked, body fully jerking backwards from the shock that coursed through her. Somehow, she managed to regain her composure. “You know what? Good on you. I would've done that too,”

“Would you?”

Several changes of expressions flashed across her face, ranging from deep consideration to disgust. “Maybe?”

You chuckled, shaking your head knowing there was little to none truth value to that. “Is it a mistake? Drawing a line and keeping a distance?”

Minjeong pursed her lips thoughtfully, crossing her arms. “Honestly, you're entitled to do that until you're ready and your heart is fully healed. After all, he was the one who broke it in the first place.”

The whole entire situation was pathetic. Minjeong has already seen you losing it over Sunghoon in the past, you couldn't believe she would be getting a part two as well. However, you and her were no longer in your teen years, which meant Minjeong had an excuse to drag you to her favourite club as a getaway even if it meant you had to be stuck in hell.

“How is this going to make me feel better?” You were referring to the bodies of people dancing in one place, the stench of alcohol and smoke lingering in the air, the unfavourable vibe of being in a club itself was present with the loud music screaming into your eardrums. 

“Get drunk, then there's no need to think anymore,” Minjeong pointed to her head, giggling, but it was more to herself. 

“You're a really bad influence,” you mumbled, clutching onto her forearm for both physical and mental support.

The place she led you off to was the bar, ushering for you to take a seat next to her designated spot (you had no idea how and why she had one). You let her take the initiative by ordering her favourite drinks, then listened as she poured her heart out over the loud music that distracted you. Her plan was working. At least the music was too loud for you to hear your own thoughts.

“I didn't think this would be your favourite club,”

Minjeong made a face, shrugging. “It's one of my favourites. A colleague brought me here, and even though it's not the best, I still find myself coming back. It's weird,”

You hummed, finding her words ringing in your mind, feeling oddly close to your heart and the emotions you had. “That's lowkey really deep. Are you drunk already?”

“Ha-ha,” she let out dryly, completely unamused, but still cracked a smile after. “I wish I was. This is a call for some more drinks!”

You were mostly on the sidelines trying to control Minjeong with her alcohol intake, consuming only a few shots and calling it a night to be the designated sober one. At that point, you wondered if it was you or Minjeong that needed to destress the most judging from the difference in manner.

The time has come for you to end your night and find Minjeong to take her home before she ends up regretting it in the morning. The dance floor was packed with people, it took you barely a minute to give up your search and give yourself another five minutes to catch your breath. You lingered around the area, walking past booths occupied by groups of people.

There was a particular group that attracted your attention, a voice piercing through the loud music which you knew too well who it belonged to. Minjeong wasn't on the dance floor grooving her worries away, instead she was busy screaming at someone drunkenly. You were going to ban her from coming out ever again.

You rushed to the booth, seeing Minjeong's back while a man loomed over her figure. Was it her ex? There was no reason for Minjeong to get herself into fights when she was too cowardly to raise her voice up at someone in the first place. It didn't matter, all you needed was to pull her out of there or else something worse might happen.

“You fucking bastard—”

“Minjeong!” You yelled over the music, hoping that she somehow managed to hear you in her drunken state. Grasping onto her arm, you made sure she was intact physically. She was fine, eyes a little bloodshot and makeup slightly smudged, but other than that, she was fine. 

“I'm sorry—” you turned to the person she was yelling at, only to find yourself unable to continue speaking. You were not fine. “Sunghoon?” Minjeong hadn't seen her ex, it was your ex that she ran into.

“Y/N,” your name left his lips in a hushed, breathless manner, as if he was having a hard time comprehending that you were there and that you had actually said his name without some formality that he scorned. Despite that, the cold, piercing look in your eyes never wavered once while you stared at him.

“I'm sorry about Minjeong. She's a little drunk,” you wrapped a hand around her waist, letting her lean onto you for support as she slipped in and out of consciousness, blabbering incoherently. 

“I figured. I didn't expect this to be my first time meeting her again, especially not here,” he sighed, dropping his gaze to the floor for a moment, pondering. “I didn't think you'd feel … that way about me,” he looked up at you, this time with an expression you couldn't read.

Your eyes widened a bit, mostly in panic and confusion. “What? What did she say? She's drunk, don't take her words seriously—” you averted your gaze over his shoulders for a split second, catching some of his friends looking, but you didn't miss the girls that were in the group, particularly a girl that sat next to an empty spot you assumed to be Sunghoon's. She was the same girl you saw on one of his friend's posts online, posing next to Sunghoon in almost every group picture they had.

You sucked in a sharp breath, rushing to say something before Sunghoon had the chance to do so. There was a gutting feeling to you that you hated, it wasn't foreign, more or less something you've grown to adapt around Sunghoon after he came back into your life. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ruin your—” you couldn't help but spare another glance behind him, the girl was staring right at you, “—fun. I'll be leaving, please don't take any of her words seriously, she's drunk. I'll tell Minjeong to apologise in the morning.”

“Y/N, wait—”

It was cruel for turning away and practically running into the crowd with your drunk friend to escape your ex, you'd admit it, but you'd rather get blackout drunk than to face Sunghoon for another second with his friends around. The chilly night air was welcomed into your lungs once you stepped out into the open, realising it was almost one in the morning. Minjeong was slightly more sober after you forcefully had her chug a bottle of water. She was seated on a curb while you looked through options to call a cab. 

“Y/N,”

What you expected was Minjeong calling for you, but the last you recalled, her voice wasn't deep and masculine. Your head snapped towards the source only to be met with the same person you were trying your hardest to get away from. The exhaustion was clear in his face, the worn out expression he had paired with the lingering smell of alcohol hung on him definitely got some pity points out of you. You sighed, your voice suddenly trapped in your throat as you didn't know what to say. Unlike you, it seemed Sunghoon did know what he would like to say.

“Are you really going to leave like this?”

“What?”

“Are you going to continue being cold to me?” Sunghoon's breath was shaky, the question he held in for far too long was actually leaving his lips, the slight smell of alcohol traceable. “Do you hate me?”

“I—” lost for words was what you were experiencing. The amount of times you've pictured yourself having a confrontational conversation with Sunghoon ended up turning into a waste. Nothing could've possibly prepared you for the moment where it actually happened, and you were the complete opposite to what you imagined yourself to be. “I–I don't hate you,”

“Then why are you treating me like you do?”

There it was. He had successfully touched a nerve. “Are you seriously asking me that? Sunghoon, you were the one who left me without saying anything. You came back thinking I'm going to be jumping when I see you? What do you want me to say? That I forgive you?”

“Can you please give me a chance to explain myself,”

“No, Sunghoon. Actually, I wish life was back to the times where I find myself thinking about you instead of having to face you. It’s much harder this way—to live pretending like we don’t know each other, to know you left me and embarrassed me, to make me feel like I’m not enough for you. So, no, Sunghoon, I want to move on and you’re only making it harder to,”

You were almost catching your breath at that point. The pain in your heart was much bigger than the feeling of your fingernails digging into the skin of your palm. It was impossible to hide your vulnerability by then, your upper lip was quivering and the hairs on the back of your neck were standing upright. 

The whole situation was laughable, you were going into a state of frenzied disbelief and shock, something not even alcohol could induce but purely from the audacity of Park Sunghoon. “Okay, I admit it, I never got over you, so what? But I've learnt to live with the pain of knowing you're never coming back,” you were turning into a pile of pitiness, your voice becoming smaller just as how you felt as you poured your heart out. “Why are you back in my life, Sunghoon? I never asked you to come back,” the last part nearly came out as a desperate sob, the amount of mental fatigue was overwhelming. 

Sunghoon opened his mouth just to close it after a beat. He was speechless, practically unmoving from the effects of your emotions slapping him in his face. Defeated, that was how he looked, shoulders slumped and eyes brimmed with tears that were threatening to flow out at any moment. “I never … I never meant to let you go in the first place. I should've never left, but I was too selfish,”

Your frown deepened, practically etching fine lines into your skin. “What? What do you mean?”

“It was my father, you knew how he was, always obsessed with the family business, he was the one who made me pick. Either I was going abroad or he was going to force me into a marriage with another woman to strengthen the family's business,” he let out a laugh, sounding nearly maniacally as he ran a hand through his dishevelled hair. “Funny, isn't it? Sounds almost like a plot from a movie. But that was exactly what I had to face, and I know it's selfish. It's just … I didn’t want to lose you completely, and I didn’t want to make it harder for you so I left without telling you. It was one of the worst decisions I’ve made in my life, I realised I still lost you in the end,”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Feeling betrayed was an understatement. Certainly, that was a tough pill to swallow. You thought Sunghoon's father, despite being the cliche epitome of a rich, strict businessman, had accepted you as Sunghoon's partner. Instead, it was the contrary where he rather Sunghoon marry someone on his ‘level’. For a second, you mistook yourself for the main character in some low budget film.

“I thought it would be easier if you hated me instead,”

“Well, congrats, you got what you wanted,” you scoffed, taking a step back when he tried to get closer. Distance was what you needed in that moment, not closure in any shape or form, all you wanted was to be away from him. “I'm sorry that happened to you, but I don't think anything could change or fix the damage that's already been done,”

“Wait—”

You were already backing away from him, another excuse for you to run away yet again like a coward that didn't wish to face reality. Wasn't this what you wanted after all? The real truth being revealed on a random night where Sunghoon was slightly buzzed and your friend was on the verge of blacking out was the last you wanted. There was no space for you to absorb the truth, so you chose the easier way out by running away. 

Calling Minjeong's boyfriend, Jaehyun, was the best decision you made right before Sunghoon appeared. He seemed to have answered your prayers and arrived just in time to pick the two of you up. You did feel bad for calling him this late in the night, and you swore to buy him lunch as a way to pay him back. 

By the time you hoisted Minjeong up, wrapping a hand around her waist and letting her place her support on you, Sunghoon had already made a few cautious steps towards you two. You met his eyes, body facing him despite the weight that was about to crush you, not that it could compare to the weight of his gaze that fell onto you. 

“Sunghoon, let's talk about this another time, please? I need time to think, and editing your book isn't helping all that much with this whole … pile of something,” you were making wild gestures with one hand, a frenzied look to your face. “Go back to your—” you paused, the faint memory of the girl coming back to your mind for a beat, “—friends.”

Sunghoon couldn't respond, all he did was watch your figure disappearing into the car of some other man that he didn't know. You left him out in the street, many unspoken frustrations that were unable to be poured out through alcohol stuck with you like a sore thorn. Jaehyun turned to ask if you're alright, but you shrugged it off, though knowing you were the complete opposite of just 'fine'.

You didn't know how to forgive Sunghoon. That is if you could even find the courage to forgive him in the first place.

Whoever initiated a team dinner with Sunghoon should be out there watching their backs. 

You hadn't seen Sunghoon ever since that night. The last time you heard his name was when Minjeong told you about her lengthy apology to him, and that was it. He didn't turn up to the publishing house either, most times you had to communicate through email—yes, email—in order to get a hold of him. That was how bad it got, straight till the point where your boss asked you of his whereabouts. You could tell he was reluctant to show his face again. Just the same as you were in avoiding him. 

That was until a scheduled team dinner at some fancy restaurant to celebrate the progress of Sunghoon's soon published book. The hours leading up to it was dreadful to say the least. You hadn’t felt this way since your petty fight with Minjeong over the last slice of pizza. It was the horrible gut feeling where you knew you had to either confront or be confronted. Both of which were equally despised.

“Once this book is out, our workload will be less,” Yunjin stretched her arms, letting out a yawn while adjusting in her seat. “I’m glad everything is in its final stage now, all there’s left is the printing, and it isn’t our job!” she laughed gleefully, shooting you a knowing wink that you responded with a smile.

Once everything was over with Sunghoon’s book, would the ties between you and him finally become severed? Was there a chance that after this fateful reunion, things would return back to normal? For him to come into your life and mess things up again then leave was quite unfair for you. There was no other chance but to find a way out of this, as much as you hated confrontations. 

Speaking of confrontations, the seating arrangements seemed to have set you up for a perfect opportunity. Not only was it a roundtable, but Sunghoon was also somehow pushed to sit to your right, leaving you no space to run like how you always did. 

“Heard the food here is good,” Yunjin whispered to you, flipping through the menu with a happy smirk, totally in blissful ignorance of the blaring ‘SOS’ screaming in your eyes. “I think I’d like to order this one…” she trailed off with the look of gluttony, whereas you were aimlessly staring at a specific bowl of rice in the menu, trying to not make it obvious that you were bothered by Sunghoon’s presence.

The longer you sat there pretending he wasn’t literally next to you, the more suffocated you felt. This wasn’t the way to go. You knew that you had no choice but to be the person to speak up first, to officially break the ice and ease the odd tension even if you weren’t the type to do so. It was either that or a lifelong torture of living with the truth that you left the relationship to die.

You breathed in deeply, pressing your lips into a thin line. “Hey, Sunghoon—”

“Sunghoon!” your boss announced her presence with a shout of Sunghoon’s name, barrelling into the room and making a bee-line towards the man sitting beside you. As expected, your voice was naturally drowned out by your boss, his attention was focused on your boss’s attack of praises and excitement. There you were, stranded and shrinking back into your shell. 

That was what you got for trying.

You shouldn’t be bothered by the constant glances from Sunghoon all throughout dinner, but you were. Living up to your reputation of being stubborn, you persisted to ignore his advances. The glances, the occasional accidental skin contact, you feigned ignorance to all of them. Being the first to reach out and failing, you no longer dared to do it again, and instead, Sunghoon was forced to come crawling back.

At the end of the night, the team insisted on having drinks at a bar downtown, but you decided to call it a night and declined their invitations. They didn’t know you had already promised Minjeong to a session of binge watching ‘Sex and the City’. The front of the restaurant was crowded with you and your team, still stalling for time by having lengthy conversations before making the journey downtown. 

“Hey,”

You spun around, quick enough for the wind to be knocked out from your lungs, abruptly facing Sunghoon head on with nowhere to hide. It was hard to place a finger on it, yet you had a feeling he was hiding his emotions despite always wearing his heart on his sleeves. Was he trying to create an imaginary boundary? 

“Hey,” you said softly, slipping a hand into your pocket to hide your nervousness and easing the chills running through you. “How have you been? I … didn’t see you in a while,”

“I’ve been fine,” he nodded, following with a pulsating silence that was eating you alive. He kept his answer short and simple, leaving room for discomfort only. There was a moment of uncertainty, not knowing which one of you would be the first to speak. That was until Sunghoon took the initiative to start the conversation. “Look,” one sharp inhale of a breath, he steadied himself. “I’m sorry for the other night, really sorry … for dumping all of that on you,”

“It’s fine. I think it was time for me to learn the truth,” you shook your head, looking at anywhere but him. “This is probably not the best place to talk about this, but after you avoided me for a while, I had lots of thoughts about … us,”

Sunghoon winced at the harshly thrown word, ‘avoided’, even though it was mostly true. He stayed silent, aware that there was no rebuttal to deny that he had done that. “I can’t bring myself to forgive you completely, Sunghoon, I hope you understand that. It may take time … for the wound to heal,” you paused, the tension in his shoulder yet to disappear as he waited for you to continue. “But I don’t want us to end. I missed you, I really do, and I don’t want to lose you again,” 

The wall was starting to crack, emotions began to stream into his eyes like watercolour on a wet paper, the conflicted furrow of his eyebrows spoke louder than words did. “You won’t lose me again. Never. I’m here to stay,” he reached out for your hands, and you let him, powerless against his touch. At that point of time, you were glad you were standing in a corner and away from your coworkers. 

“I still love you,”

Those words came out of his mouth almost like a spear to your heart. Despite knowing deep in your heart that he always did, hearing it from him was different compared to your imaginations. You froze, shell shocked and wide eyed. The only sound you were hearing was the hammering of your heart against your ribs. He still loves you. His voice echoing those exact same words played in your head, and for a moment, you wondered if you had even heard him correctly. Maybe you had misunderstood, or perhaps your mind was playing tricks on you.

Your eyes searched his face, hoping for a sign that he was joking, but there was none. His expression was serious, vulnerable even, and that made it all the harder to breathe.

The weight of it pressed down on your chest, too much to bear, yet too real to ignore. Your mouth opened, but no words came out. You were scared to say anything, to confess that you weren’t on the same wavelength as he was, to admit that the spark of your love for him wasn’t as bright as his. There he was—still standing before you with all those unspoken feelings laid bare.

This couldn’t be real. Not after everything…

“I’m sorry,” he dropped your hand, momentarily panicking from your lack of response, eyes widening at what he had just said. “I shouldn’t—I—you’re probably uncomfortable—I don’t know—” he turned into a stuttering mess, and again, an invisible wall started to build between you and him again. 

You shook yourself out of the state you were in, sheepishly mustering a smile that did nothing to salvage the situation at hand. “It’s alright, I’m totally fine and I’m not uncomfortable at all. Just a little … shocked,”

Sunghoon attempted a smile that ended up too stiff and asymmetrical, his body language was blaring red. Oh God, how did this turn from bad to worse? He ran a shaky hand through his hair, his voice quiet, almost to himself. “I didn’t mean to make you feel weird or anything... I just—” He stopped himself, breathing out in frustration, unsure of how to put his thoughts together. “I don’t know how to explain this... I guess I just thought... maybe... if I said it out loud, it wouldn’t be something I regret not saying later.”

He shifted uncomfortably on his feet, glancing down at the ground before looking back up at you, his face flushed with embarrassment. “I’m sorry if that was too much. I didn’t want to make you feel like... like you owe me anything. Or like I’m putting pressure on you.” His eyes flickered away for a moment, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “I just—honestly, I didn’t know how else to handle it.”

You swallowed, similarly not knowing how to handle his sudden outburst of a confession. 

“You don't have to say anything, I understand. I'm not expecting you to reciprocate, all I want is for you to know,” Sunghoon wore a sad smile, an attempt to mask his actual feelings. To you, he was easy to read like an open book, it was hard to know the truth and pretend that you didn't. 

“Sunghoon—” you started slowly, bracing yourself to say whatever that came to mind, ignoring the confused thoughts playing in the back. What were your actual feelings when it came to him anyway? 

It was never truly hatred to begin with. Resentment was probably the most fitting. As time passed, with the interactions you had together, everything boiled down to be a confusing mess. You didn't know what Park Sunghoon meant to you anymore.

“Sunghoon! We’re leaving for the bar! Come on!”

The voice of your colleague calling for him interjected at the right time. You were saved from having to reply while Sunghoon was saved from knowing the truth. Either way, you didn't wish to be confrontational at all, not when your thoughts were in a mess from his sudden confession. 

You and Sunghoon exchanged a brief look, an awkward one where you both realised it's time to depart. More likely, it was an official end to the conversation that either of you wanted out of for separate reasons. 

“I—I think—” Sunghoon nodded over to your colleagues, offering half a smile. 

“Right, right, you have to go,” you let out a small laugh to fill in the still air. “It's alright. Go, have fun. I'll talk to you soon.”

Sunghoon casted a rather reluctant glance at you as he walked away, whereas you stood rooted to the ground watching him leave. Your words rang in the back of your mind, you doubted if you'd ever get the chance to talk to him again, especially after the entire conversation you had.

The night ended up turning into a sleepless one as you tossed and turned in bed, wide awake and haunted by the face of your ex together with the words he said. All you wanted to do was address the problem in the room, not creating a larger one that blew up in your face. He still loved you after all this time, while you only grew larger resentment in that period of his absence, it just seemed unfair to you for not knowing. 

A loud knock on your front door brought you away from your string of thoughts. It was then followed by your door bell ringing, alternating between the two and it became an annoying combination that assaulted your ears in the dead of the night. Groggy, and rather annoyed, you got out of bed to check who was bothering you through the peephole. 

The figure on the other side of your door was slumped against the wall, eyes barely open. Yet, there wasn’t any mistake in recognising the person that terrorised you both day and night. “Sunghoon?” you half-shouted, scared to open the door as you didn’t dare to face him, maintaining your position at the peephole, monitoring his every movement. “Hey, are you okay—” your hand was nearly on your doorknob until he spoke, sounding sluggish but panicked.

“Don’t. Don’t open the door,” he was almost begging you, the desperation in his voice was evident, and so was the fact that he was very likely drunk out of his mind. You wondered what exactly was his thought process when it came to calling a cab straight to your place. The hand you had on the doorknob remained there, but you didn’t have the strength to turn it. “I … I just wanted to hear your voice,”

“What?”

There was a moment’s worth of silence. You took a look through the peephole, seeing Sunghoon slumped against your door, unmoving. You thought he was unconscious and had fallen asleep somehow, but when a choked sob sounded past his lips, you figured it wasn’t that simple. You called out his name again, palm pressed against your door, feeling rather helpless, but also too much of a coward to burst straight through your door and face him crying.

“I–I’m sorry, I’m a mess, fuck,” he mumbled, still audible for you to hear and distinguish the pain in his tone, as if every word he said to you was physically tormenting him. “I’m just scared,”

You paused, slightly dumbfounded. “Scared? Of what?”

“Of losing you,” he sounded as if he had given up on trying to hold the truth back, letting his vulnerability take over the lonesome hanging in the cold night air. “I tried so many times, to fix things, to make us … us again, but I think I’m just fucking things up instead,” his hands curled into a fist, resting on your door. “I know I’m selfish for wanting you back, I’m aware that I don’t deserve you … but I can’t let you go,”

You couldn’t let him go either. Despite the initial burning hatred and resentment you had for him and what he did, you realised those feelings gradually dissipated the longer you were with him. All those times where he poured his heart out, revealing the truth and what not, you came to a conclusion at last: you had finally let go of your past grudges. Although it was true that you weren’t as cold as you were to him, you still found yourself having a hard time opening up to him. The trust that was built over the years was broken the moment he left, as for now, time was what you needed.

“Please … please … Y/N,” Sunghoon let out a sob, louder than the last, the alcohol seeping into his system and taking charge. After all these years, Sunghoon remained an emotional drunk. Some things never change, do they? “I won’t ever leave, so please … don’t leave me too,” 

A deep sigh left your lips unknowingly, your hand fell from the door knob, suddenly breathless and powerless against yourself. You’ve never seen Sunghoon in such a state, weak and pathetic in contrast to his composed self. The walls you tried so hard to maintain between you and him were crumbling in front of you, before you knew it, you had fallen into a deep hole that you couldn’t crawl out of. There was no turning back, not after you pulled your door open, facing a pair of blood-shot eyes.  

Sunghoon didn’t expect you to actually open the door, to witness him in a dishevelled state that was embarrassing to the human eye. Even in his drunken mind, he could remember your every feature that seemed to have engraved itself into his memory. There was a round of silence, you were trying to gouge the situation standing before you while Sunghoon was stunned into quietness. 

Thinking straight wasn’t your first option, instead you did something you would only dare to do if you were drunk. You reached out for Sunghoon’s arm, grabbing onto him and pulling him in with every ounce of your strength. He crashed softly onto you, and at a speed faster than he could process, you embraced him into your chest, wrapping your arms around his larger body. 

You could feel him freezing into your embrace, the touch that was once so familiar to him needed some time to get used to. It didn’t take long before he melted into you, letting his head fall onto your shoulder and engulfing you closer to him with his arms. The position was oddly intimate, but you didn’t mind it at all. Your hearts were much closer than it had been in years, both physically and mentally. In fact, you hadn’t felt this way in a long time, a specific feeling that only Sunghoon could rekindle. 

No words were exchanged, but you understood much more than before. Sunghoon’s arms tightened around you, scared that you were a figment of his imagination, that you were going to leave just as he had feared. Your hand reached for his head that rested on your shoulder, slowly and carefully making the initial move to stroke his hair. 

“I’m not leaving, Sunghoon,” you whispered, hoping that he was sober enough to process your words and take it into account. “I’ll always be here,” you paused, blinking away a sudden wave of tears that threatened to fall out of nowhere. “Just … just don’t leave me, you jerk,” 

He removed his head from the crook of your neck, pulling away ever so slightly, just enough to face you, barely minding the small gap between you and him. “I promise, I promise I won’t ever make the same mistakes. I’ll be by your side for as long as you need,”

His words, though shaky, settled in your chest like a comforting weight. For some reason, he managed to say the right things that caused the past to wither away gradually from your mind. But the reality of the moment hit harder than you expected. You weren't sure what would come next or if you could fully trust him again, but right now, in this fleeting moment, it didn't matter.

Neither of you dared to break eye contact, holding each other tightly, terrified to let go. All of a sudden, those past months where you acted cold to one another seemed to be much further than imagined, as if it never happened. You stared deeply into those saccharine eyes, searching for any sign of doubt, but all you saw was sincerity, mixed with exhaustion and regret. A part of you wanted to pull away, to keep your distance, but you didn’t. For once, you let yourself breathe, let yourself lean into this fragile connection, even if it was built on broken trust.

“I forgive you, Sunghoon,” you started off slowly, cautiously, picking your words one by one. “But, you’ve got a lot to prove, and I don’t know if I can forget everything right away,” you paused, feeling a tightness in your throat, “maybe we can start over. Maybe.”

Sunghoon’s eyes softened, the momentary glaze over his eyes were gone, a telling sign that he was somehow much sober than earlier on. A faint, genuine smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “I’ll prove it to you. Every day, if I have to.”

You nodded slowly, still unsure of everything but knowing one thing for certain: this was not the end. There was too much history, too much love, even in its broken state, for it to end here. You and him couldn’t be friends, not when there was something more than that existed between the two of you. 

As cliche as it sounded, you knew fate had a play in hand. There was no denying that life led him back to you. Despite all odds, there you were, holding onto the warmth of his embrace, discarding the questions left to be answered after for a glint of hope. A fragile hope that, perhaps, things could still be fixed, even if they never fully returned to what they once were.

For now, you stayed in his arms, while he couldn’t bear to let you go, waiting for your love to return the way it used to be. 

In the next month, with Sunghoon’s book being officially published, the office had turned increasingly busy managing the marketing, promotions, sales and much more. Each department was scrambling to settle the piling work, including the editors, who were thrown into the mix to help out the rest of the team. That meant you were equally busy too.

First, it was the book launching party. 

Sunghoon seemed to have a loyal local fanbase, garnering a full house that sat patiently waiting for him. The cheers were indeed loud once he entered the room, his handsome face paired with great writing skills definitely was one way to be favoured by the crowd. He took a seat on the chair situated in the middle of the mini stage.

“I’m grateful that you’re all here to celebrate the launch of my new book. I believe it’s one of the few books I’ve published here since coming back from America,” he paused, eyes flickering, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “It’s also a book that I wrote based on my experiences here … ” in a room filled with strangers and staff, he managed to find you in the midst of them, eyes locked onto you and the silence somehow thickened. 

He averted his attention back to the crowd, and cleared his throat, his voice was noticeably softer now, as if he was choosing his words carefully. “… I wrote this book with a lot of personal feelings, a lot of things that I’ve been holding onto, and some of those feelings, well…” He let out a quiet, almost imperceptible sigh before his eyes flickered back to you, the intensity unmistakable despite the crowd around you. “Some of those feelings are about a person who's meant a lot to me. One I might never be able to fully explain how much they’ve impacted me, and sometimes…” He hesitated, then smiled faintly, the kind of smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, as if he was hiding something. “… sometimes you just hope they’re listening. Even if they don’t always know it.”

The room was still, the noise from the crowd seemingly muted. It felt like the world had narrowed to just the two of you, that the people in the vicinity had disappeared. His words hang in the air with unspoken weight. Sunghoon’s gaze softened slightly as he looked at you, the faintest twitch in his lips betraying the emotion in his tone.

“I guess, in the end,” he continued, lowering his voice just a little more, “it’s the things you can’t say out loud that end up being the most important to you.” He quickly shifted his focus back to the audience, his smile returning, but the brief crack in his composure lingered like a delicate thread between you both. “So, that is why I dedicate this book to my first love,”

The shock didn’t just pass through the crowd of readers, but also in the group of staff standing around you. You were lucky that nobody else noticed his tunnel vision that was trained on solely you. It didn’t need a second thought to know that he was referring to you. Just as you were his first love, he was also yours, it should be a no brainer that the book he wrote about the two of you was dedicated to you. 

Sunghoon cracked a smile, breathing out a small laugh to ease the collective shock in the room. “I hope this book resonates with you, for those who experienced an unforgettable romance with your first love and stay up thinking about the endless possibilities. Pour your regrets, sadness and anguish into this book,” 

His gaze wandered over the crowd, but you could tell he wasn’t really looking at anyone, he was making an effort not to stray his gaze to your figure. However, old habits are hard to die. His eyes, those familiar eyes, drifted back to you once again, the intensity of his stare never breaking, making the room feel even smaller, forcing you into an imaginary corner.

“Sometimes, the people who mean the most to you… are the ones who leave you with all the things you wish you could’ve said,” Sunghoon continued, his voice barely above a whisper now, but still reaching you as if the words were meant only for your ears. “But I think… I think that’s what keeps the memories alive. It’s not about the things you lost, but the things you never got to say.”

His hand hovered over the microphone for a second, fingers brushing it lightly, and for a brief moment, the faint tremor in his hand betrayed the calm composure he was trying to maintain. The air between you felt charged, an unspoken tension that made it hard to breathe.

“I guess we all have our regrets. But it's how we carry them, how we turn them into something meaningful, that makes all the difference,” he said with a slight shrug, a soft, almost sad smile tugged at the corners of his lips. His gaze lingered on you for just a heartbeat longer before he shifted his attention back to the audience. It was then you could breathe properly again. 

The tension remained in the room, thick and unspoken, as the silence stretched just a bit too long before the next round of applause broke it. His speech was moving, sure, but to you, the meaning behind every word was deeper than what it seemed, following you around throughout the day like some pesky itch.

The event rolled by with questions answered, a short reading session and book signing. You and your team were tasked to run around setting things up, making sure everything was in place so that the event would run smoothly. Thankfully, it did, and your hard work had paid off. Being occupied for most of the time, you momentarily forgot about Sunghoon and what he said, unbeknownst to you, it was sitting in the back of your mind waiting for you. 

At the end of the day, you and your colleagues were working hard to clean and put things away, loud laughs and noisy conversations filled the empty venue, replacing the crowd from hours ago. The atmosphere was only heightened when Sunghoon made his presence known, hands carrying multiple bags of take out coffee. “Thanks for the hard work! Here’s some coffee, my treat,” loud hollers followed suit in celebration of free drinks, he bowed to those around him, lending a helping hand to carry the boxes while the drinks were taken from his hands. “I’m having a small party tomorrow night to celebrate the release of the book, and I hope every one of you will be there too. Don’t worry, food and drinks are all prepared,”

The thought of another celebration had pleased your colleagues and brightened the entire mood despite the tiredness. Coffee was passed around just as the job was done. Instead of heading home immediately, everyone chose to stay for a little more to chat and finish their coffee. You, on the other hand, lingered in a corner to arrange the books in a box. In reality, you were mostly using it as an excuse to hide and think. Turns out, Sunghoon’s words never left your head once, and the intensity of his eyes had burned itself into your memory. 

It was then you were startled by a tap on your shoulder, basically spinning around to see who it was. Speaking of the devil … Park Sunghoon stood right before you, a cup of coffee in one of his hands, the other retracted in a blink of an eye. Seeing him right after thinking about everything he had said felt like a whiplash, or quite close to a slap to your face. 

“Coffee?” he extended the coffee cup towards you, wearing a wry smile. 

You accepted his coffee, taking a quick sip to hide the embarrassment from showing on your expressions. “Thanks,” you replied, lowering the cup from your face, swallowing at the unexpected awkwardness that grew between the silence. One glance at him, you met his eyes, the silence suddenly became less uncomfortable, a smile tugged at the corner of your lips. “Hey,”

Sunghoon couldn’t help smiling, being much more transparent with you than yourself. He shook his head, amused. “Hey,” 

“Good job today, Author Park Sunghoon,” 

“You too, my dear editor,” 

The softness in his voice and the genuine smile he had shouldn’t have tugged at your heart strings, but it did, no matter how much you tried to ignore it. The moment you decided to break down the walls and opened your heart to him was when you realised there was no turning back. 

“I’m expecting you at my party tomorrow. No backing out,” he continued, pointing a finger sternly at you. 

You let out a quiet laugh, mostly at his action, totally unaware of the fact that his eyes wavered for a second, his smile faltering at the realisation that you were laughing, and it was because of him, even if it was merely a giggle. “I’ll be there, don’t you worry,”

Sunghoon cleared his throat, coughing a little to bring himself back to reality. “I can’t wait,” he was casual when saying that, but to you, it only made you wonder what exactly he meant by that. 

You bounced on the balls of your foot, hands crossed, waiting for the right time to speak your mind. It seemed the opening to that conversation was there for you. “So … that was a nice opening speech,”

Sunghoon’s eyes slowly turned wider at the realisation, recalling all the things he had said in his speech, wincing—more so cringing—that he had to be reminded of it. He was stalling, holding back and contemplating his next response. “I meant everything I said,” he inhaled sharply, searching your face for any message to decode. “This book … it’s more of a letter to you. The things I wished I said, they’re all in there,”

“I know,” you set the coffee down, your fingers lingering on the warmth of the cup, trying to steady yourself. “Of course I know, I read it all,” you heaved a breath, unable to tell if you were picking your words correctly. “You’ve got a funny way of asking for forgiveness,” you tried to smile, making an effort to lighten the tension. 

Sunghoon’s gaze softened, responding with a weak smile, but the attempt was futile once you saw him looking away, suddenly avoiding your gaze. For a moment, you could see the vulnerability and hurt in his eyes. He was no longer the confident, composed man he tried to project during his speech. Instead, he was just… Sunghoon, your Sunghoon. The man who had once meant everything to you, now standing before you, laid bare in a way that you weren’t sure how to respond to.

“It was probably a shit attempt at it, wasn’t it? I couldn’t even face you properly until this book,”

“I mean, it did somehow work, didn’t it?” 

Sunghoon’s eyes flickered up to meet yours, finding your response a complete 180 to what he had in mind, a flash of surprise crossing his features before he let out a small, self-deprecating chuckle. His shoulders seemed to relax.  

“You think so?” he asked, his voice laced with both uncertainty and a hint of hope.

You nodded, a soft smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “Yeah, I do. To be honest, I was surprised that you wrote about us in the beginning—actually, I was pissed, to be precise—but the more I read, I could tell you were trying to find a way to fix us through the characters. I’m glad you actually did try, and it wasn’t just in writing. That means something to me,”

Sunghoon stared at you for a moment, as if processing your words. He seemed to be searching for something more—more validation, more understanding—but when his gaze softened, he looked away again, as though the vulnerability was too much for him to bear at the moment. There was an unspoken desire for something that you and him shared in that second, a mutual comprehension passed through the air, which was going back to the way it always has been, to stop the awkward, uncomfortable silence and return to the times you were carefree with one another.

“I never wanted to be the guy who hurt you,” he said, his voice low, close to whisper, more so a silent confession in disguise. “I never wanted to be the one to screw things up so badly that I’d lose you. But I did, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, you did,” your answer was blunt, piercing through the stillness. Sunghoon’s gaze snapped back to you, his expression unreadable for a beat before his lips parted, as if to say something in response. But he paused, swallowing the words. Instead, he let out a slow breath, his hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck. You studied him for a split second, carefully reaching out and placing a hand lightly on his arm, a small gesture of reassurance. “But I thought we’d agree on putting it in the past, to start afresh,”

Sunghoon’s eyes softened as your hand touched his arm, the familiarity of your touch brought a sense of assurance to him, easing the tension that had built between the two of you. “You’re right. What matters most is right now, and the future,” he placed his hand on yours, a gentle smile gracing his features. “I’m just happy,”

You raised your eyebrows in question, head tilted slightly at his random outburst. “About what?”

“That we’re … us again, even if it’s not fully,”

A breath of sigh escaped your lips, a faint smile rested on your face, eyes sparkling just the slightest under the bright lights. “Took us a while, but at least we're here,”

Sunghoon nodded, his fingers brushing against yours, the intensity of his gaze was unwavering. There was a lingering spark straying in the air between you and him, the entirety of this—him being so close to you, basically holding your hand—was far from casual. If anything, it was hard to ignore the sound of your heart beating hard in your chest, or that tingling sensation up your spine. 

“H–hey, this coffee’s pretty good,” you slipped your hand away from his touch, turning your head to the other side so that he wouldn’t see you panicking. Heat crept up on the back of your neck, spreading to your cheeks, painting you a blushing mess. It was a curse to be too aware of what’s happening to you. “So, tomorrow’s party. What time does it start?”

“Seven,” Sunghoon replied simply, squinting his eyes at you, noticing your change in behaviour. He got closer to you, leaning in to scrutinise your face, unaware of the gap barely existing between you and him. “Are you okay—”

“Great! Fantastic, actually,” you breathed out, forcing out a laugh to cover the fact that you were far from just ‘okay’. “I’ll see you tomorrow, alright? I need to finish some stuff and head home. Great job today,”

“You don’t seem that great—” Sunghoon stood firmly with his deduction, only to be met with your dismissiveness. Unlike you, he was blissfully oblivious to the effect his insignificant actions had on you, and that it wasn’t just a friendly interaction between two ‘friends’.

“I’ll get going now, bye!” you held tightly onto your coffee, waving at him with a tight lipped smile. 

“Bye?” That was the last thing you heard before slipping into a storage room, the confusion in his voice still ringing in your ears. You left a very dumbfounded Sunghoon stranded, all to find yourself breathless after the whole conversation that seemed to have sucked out every bit of your social energy.

The realisation has finally hit you and was slowly sinking in. This was the first time you felt your heart racing again after years, the type where you get giddy and nervous over a small interaction till the point it becomes hard to breathe. That was what Sunghoon did to you, your first love, your first heartbreak, and the first to mend your broken heart once more. 

Just as quick as your hatred grew over the years, the feelings you had for him were equally fast in returning back, the same feeling that never once left, staying stubbornly rooted, waiting for you to discover it again. 

You would admit, Sunghoon did pick a perfect place to have his private party. That wasn’t the point though. The focus was mainly on the restaurant being the favourite restaurant that you and Sunghoon would go to in your high school years. This time around, you had access to the bar unlike before, which seemed to be forever ago. That showed how long you’ve been avoiding places which reminded you of him, something you wouldn’t admit to.

The place was the same as you remembered, the dim lighting accompanied by jazz music playing in the background, the entire venue provided an ambiance that proved to be the reason why you loved it there in the first place. It was hard to deny that you were feeling nostalgic the moment you stepped in, bringing back many memories whether you liked it or not. 

On the way to the private room, you walked past the spot that you and him claimed, a table by a large window. The memory of you dragging Sunghoon here every weekend, hogging the spot by the window, ordering a set meal to share came rushing into your mind. Mixed emotions bubbled in the depths of your heart, secretly longing for those great old days to return even if you knew it was impossible. However, it was possible to start something new now that you weren’t on bad terms with him, and that was how you remained hopeful. 

You were brought back to reality once you realised you had stopped in your tracks, staring blankly at the empty table, reminiscing about your past like an idiot. Embarrassed, you rushed away and found the private room while cringing without a pause, finally feeling more relieved when you saw your friends and colleagues. 

“Hey!” Yunjin wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into a low effort side hug to which you reciprocated. The mood in this room was similar to the outside. The same dim lighting complimented by a soft background music, trays of food already prepared, catered by the restaurant itself. There was a banner hung 

“Look who’s here, our dear editor,” her attempt to hype you up was responded with cheers from the group, earning an exasperated eye roll from you. “Enjoy this party, okay? You’ve worked hard,”

You had indeed worked hard for this book. Having to put up with the realisation that it was written about you, then needing to deal with your ex in the whole process of it, you surely deserved a Pulitzer prize just for your efforts. You simply nodded at her words, knowing that nobody here would ever find out about the truth behind the story in Sunghoon’s book and the experience you went through because of it.

“I’m going to go grab a drink, excuse me,” you smiled politely at the rest of them, then carefully escaped from the circle of your colleagues and out of the door, releasing a breath of relief that you didn’t know you were holding in. Walking out into the open space of the restaurant, it was much busier and larger than you recalled it to be.  

You settled yourself into a stool, glancing around and seeing most of the seats were occupied mainly in pairs. Were you the only one alone here? More reasons to be drinking. Being completely lost in thought and spacing out at the bartender making drinks for the customers prior to you, you didn’t notice a figure slipping into the seat next to you, sneaking a glance at you and proceeding to follow your line of sight.

“They’re a bit busy, aren’t they?” 

You didn’t even flinch at the sudden intrusion, already knowing who it was without needing a second guess. Turning your body to face the person next to you, you stared at him with a deadpan expression, completely unfazed. “Hey,” Sunghoon greeted you softly, smiling sweetly at you, as if your presence had graced him, disregarding the pointed look you shot at him. 

“I didn’t see you just now,��� 

Sunghoon pursed his lips, resting both his arms on the counter, leaning into it, shying away from your gaze for unknown reasons. “I was walking around here,”

“Leaving your own party?”

A snort came from him in response, the corners of his lips were pulled higher than a second ago. He was amused, shaking his head at you. “I came here to relive the same feeling I had years ago,” a second of silence passed, as if he was letting his words sink further into the open wound. “The same feeling I have whenever I’m with you,”

You couldn’t tell if your heart skipping a beat was a normal reaction or whether it should be one. However, one thing’s for sure, it wasn’t something that occurred to you on a daily basis. There was a hint of unspoken yearning buried deep in those pupils of his, the additional mention of the past only brought a shift in atmosphere around the two of you. “I walked past our table,”

You were unconsciously holding your breath in, waiting for his reaction, unknowingly looking forward to what he has to say. He didn’t respond immediately, seemingly deep in thought at that fleeting moment, an unreadable smile on his face. “So did I,” he shifted in his seat, adjusting to his comfort, his body was now facing towards you more. “It’s still the same as before,”

“I remember those times we were here,” you said slowly, tip-toeing on the edge, testing the waters to make sure it was safe enough for you to dive into the topic. “I would drag you here so many times till the point where it became our go-to dating spot. You didn’t even try to fight me about it and accepted it,” you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling at the mention of those fond moments, letting a genuine, wide smile naturally creep itself onto your lips.

Sunghoon never once took his eyes off of you, scared that even if he blinked for just a second, he would miss the look of your smile, the carefree smile that you allowed yourself to express around him unlike before. His attention squared in on you, memorising every part of you like life depended on him to do so. “I remember,” he nodded mostly to himself, pressing his lips in a flat line. “I knew I stood no chance anyway,” he laughed, resisting the urge to fully burst out laughing at the change in your reaction. 

You crossed your arms, scoffing, but still remained a lighthearted smile. “Hey! You’re saying it like I forced you,” 

Sunghoon shrugged, choosing to rest his head on his hand, the look in his eyes were unwavering, making you gradually turn smaller under his gaze. You couldn’t describe it, yet you knew it was there, existing in the air. There was something between you and him in that second, in that conversation, and it was far from being just a casual talk. “I just wanted to be wherever you were,”

His words hung heavily in the space between the two of you, almost uncomfortably so, adding another layer to the thick tension that seemed impossible to get rid of. It shouldn’t hit you hard, the simplicity of his words shouldn’t be something you interpreted differently, but the only thing it did was sink deeply into your skin, prickling you just the same as needles did. 

He searched your face for any sign of a response, whatever it could be, but you failed to react, both physically and verbally. Your mind betrayed your senses, rendering you helpless against Sunghoon, against your fragile heart. There was desperation painted in the edges of every feature, calling out for you to give him a sign, any sign, to assure him that he hadn’t crossed any invisible line.

You opened your mouth, wishing you had a proper response ready, but in reality, you had no idea what you could say to him. He was the same person you were with in this restaurant many years ago, yet it only seemed you were sitting with someone you could barely breathe around. You realised it then, a picture clear as light, that no matter how you tried to start afresh with him, you couldn't brush off your past together, not when deep connections and feelings were still present. 

“Excuse me, what would you two like to order?”

Your attempt at trying to say something was futile. A part of you was glad that you were interrupted by the bartender, the other part just wished you had the courage to reply to him instead of freezing and cowering whenever he makes your heart jump. The bartender’s appearance was the only chance you had in breaking eye contact with Sunghoon, diffusing the heavy load pressing in on you, releasing a shaky breath. 

“One cosmopolitan and one scotch on the rocks,” Sunghoon stole a glance at you, noticing your expressions falling, deciding to take the initiative to order on your behalf. He casted another look at you, seeking approval to which you nodded in validation, mind already wandered off to someplace else. That wasn’t what surprised you, in fact, it was him knowing your usual drink order despite barely drinking together. 

The bartender wasted no seconds in getting to work, leaving you and him alone once again to bask in the aftermath of the conversation. There was a moment of silence weighing on the both of you, waiting for either one to break it. You chose to be that person, wanting to fix the cracks you caused for turning everything into an uncomfortable mess. 

“How … How did you know? My order, I mean,” 

Sunghoon shrugged, leaning his weight onto the counter, keeping both his arms resting on the surface of it. He remained facing forward, not immediate in turning back to look at you. “The team dinner. You ordered a cocktail, and Yunjin said ‘again?’, then I heard you saying it’s your usual order,” he stated plainly, as if it was common information that everyone should know. “You’ve always drunk the mocktail version of it when we were together too. How could I forget …” his voice faltered, fading into the faint chatters around you. 

“Right,” you breathed out, fiddling with your fingers, keeping your gaze on him, even if he wasn’t ready to meet yours. “You …” you stopped, the words were suddenly stuck in the back of your throat, hesitating to come out. “You still remember everything about me, even after all these years apart,”

Sunghoon didn’t say anything at first, waiting for a few seconds to pass slowly, agonisingly, silently suffering in his head while you couldn’t find a way into it. He dropped his head, breathing in deeply to fill his lungs with air, ignoring the way his heart clenched. He finally turned his head, meeting your eyes that were begging for a reply. A weak, half smile was all he could muster. “Of course I do,”

I still love you.

Those words automatically translated themselves into your head. The same sorrow, grief, and even longing hung in his voice, cutting deep into your heart. You stared at him, recalling the last time you were here with him, innocently thinking that everything would last in the future. If only you could turn back in time to tell yourself that you would be sitting with him in uncomfortable silence instead, looking at each other for some sort of a sign that never worked.

“Here are your drinks,” the bartender cut in, placing your drinks down in front of you, the pink of your cocktail shined under the lights hanging over your head. You and Sunghoon both expressed your thanks in return, hands reaching out for your drinks and wasting no time to take a big gulp of them. 

Setting your glass down, you stole another glance at Sunghoon, watching his face scrunching up at the strong taste of his whiskey, a quiet hiss followed after. You never knew Sunghoon would be a guy who likes whiskey, it was something you couldn’t picture. It only made you wonder what else you did not know about him, what he grew to like or hate over the years, or if he was still fully the Sunghoon that you personally knew. 

“So, how were your years in America?”

Sunghoon pulled a face, both a reaction to your random question and also a response signalling that it wasn’t a positive experience. He sighed, using one finger to trace the mouth of his glass. “Lonely, I guess?” He wore a smile that was enough to tell that there weren’t many happy memories regarding his years abroad. “Truthfully, I never really connected to the people, the culture and the country. I figured my heart was still stuck here,”

You nodded, absorbing his emotions like a sponge, feeling a tinge of sympathy for him. Those years of cursing him and holding a severe grudge against him, you’d never once thought that he was hurting too, that he had to go through something he didn’t want in the first place. The resentment was built up from the lack of knowing and misunderstanding. Years, valuable years were wasted over being kept in the dark. “I wonder how things would’ve turned out if you never left,”

Sunghoon partially stiffened, not expecting the topic of possibilities to be thrown into his face, a sensitive subject that he often mulled over about. “It would’ve been different. For starters, we wouldn’t be here talking about what-ifs,” he laughed, though it was weak. “I couldn’t settle down. It was hard, knowing that I left many people I care about here,” there it was again, a pause that made you hold your breath, counting down seconds till his next word. “And that I left you too,”

You offered a brief smile, one that fell just as quick as it appeared, finding yourself having no energy to try and fake one. The hurt in your eyes mirrored his, the difference lied with the reason behind it. “What matters most is that we’re both here now, right?” your hand unintentionally crept closer to his, twitching in wishful thinking that you could just hold him, even for a second.

“You’re right,” he hummed in agreement, the look of affection flashed across his expression for a quick second, just in time for you to be totally oblivious to it. “At our favourite spot too,”

“Well, cheers to that.” you held up your drink, staring expectantly at him. He chuckled at your actions, finding it rather amusing. A genuine smile pulled at his lips, he held his glass up, clinking it with yours to produce a short-lived sound. Shared laughter poured from the two of you, mixing into the taste of your drinks, the unbearable atmosphere from earlier on was long forgotten.

The night was young as everyone would say, just like your coworkers who yelled for more drinks once you and Sunghoon returned. Nobody questioned it, neither did they notice you and him disappearing for a strangely long time. You were certain, no one else could sense the lingering yearning you grew to have after your drinking session with him, or the way you stared at him from across the room for longer than a second, minutes even. 

Everyone was oblivious, too engrossed in the luxury of partying to take a hint, while you and Sunghoon were overly aware of each other and the burning ache you had for one another. 

Sunghoon has been officially reintroduced back into your life as days go by. Before you knew it, he had imprinted himself onto your day-to-day life, returning to the times where his presence alone was a norm to you. You didn’t question it when he picked you up from work, called you out for lunch or even dropped by your house for a casual dinner. None of those seemed out of the ordinary to you anymore, though it did take months for you to get used to the dynamic.

“So, what are you writing nowadays?” It was another Friday evening in Sunghoon’s car, sitting in the passenger seat after work, contemplating your choices for dinner. You looked over at him, watching him maintaining his concentration on the road ahead, taking more than a minute to process your question.

He raised his eyebrows, pursing his lips, thinking of his response. “I haven’t been writing. Well, not yet,”

“No wonder you have so much time to pick me up for dinner,” you snarkily muttered, feeling his eyes roll without having to confirm it personally. 

“Is this your way of thanking me?”

“I’m very grateful for my personal driver, Park Sunghoon,” you said dryly, poking his shoulder teasingly, stifling your giggles. Sunghoon took a brief glance at you, but he said nothing in return, shaking his head and smiling to himself. “Where are we going now? It’s a bit too early for dinner,”

“It’s a place I’ve been wanting to go for a long time,”

You frowned, confused at the lack of information and vagueness behind his reply. “What?”

“It’s a botanical garden. I heard the flowers are blooming,” 

The confusion in your face didn’t entirely dissipate, only increasing at the fact that he had a whole plan to bring you to a garden in the first place. This was completely out of character for him, you didn’t recall him being someone who liked gardens or nature. “Are you … stressed?”

“Why’s that your first assumption? I’ve just been doing some thinking, that’s all,” his fingers drummed slowly on the steering wheel, the music in the background seemed to be drowned out the longer your conversation went on. “I’m fine,” he turned to cast a reassuring smile, a sign asking for you to trust him and move on from the topic. “I was thinking we could get some fresh air and a nice scenery,”

“You sure do have many things up your sleeve.”

Sunghoon didn’t say anything in response, merely shrugging with a silent smile on his face. You glanced out of the window, letting the music overtake the space between you and him, watching the evening sun slowly set now that it was spring. Thinking back to last spring, everything you were experiencing currently was a complete one-eighty to then, you wouldn’t even be sitting with Sunghoon in his car at that time.

The chilly air bit at your skin, the only warmth provided was from Sunghoon as he walked closely next to you, shoulders occasionally bumping each other, but neither of you dared to acknowledge it. Even with the sun hiding behind the horizon and sunlight was scarce, the flowers in bloom were as beautiful as you had in mind. 

“Thanks for bringing me here,” you kept your eyes trained on the flowers and plants you walked past, not sparing a glance at him. You were afraid that if you did, that if you met his gaze for just a second, you might not be able to contain some hidden emotions that you’ve been trying so hard to hold back.

“What’s with the sudden gratitude?”

“No idea, I’m just grateful that you bring me to places that I thought I’ll never go to,” you stopped in your tracks, right by a small land planted with tulips of different colours. “I get to experience new things with you all the time,” you turned to face him, a genuine smile accompanied by your sparkling eyes was enough for his heart to swell in satisfaction, though he did not let it show on his expressions.

“I’m glad then,” he hummed, staring at the tulips with newfound interest, unfazed by your lingering eyes at him. “They’re really pretty,” he nodded at the flowers, the variation of colours were dimmed down by the dark, but it happened to be oddly more fascinating under the street light.

“Yeah, they are,” You wished, at that moment, in that split second, that you could tear your eyes off of him. He was just as delicate as those tulips, the prettiest you’ve ever seen. Spellbound, that was what you were. Your heart was only increasing in speed, inconsistently skipping a beat at the thought of him. How long were you and him going to stay in this state where the lines between being friends and lovers were blurred?

He seemed to sense the energy coming off of you, or maybe it was your unwavering gaze that pierced into his soul. Turning his face, he met your eyes at the right moment, an electric wave passing through the air around you. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

Freezing like a deer in headlights, you realised he had caught you in the middle of the act. You were shameless, but thoroughly embarrassed, feigning ignorance that he could possibly see through. “Huh? Like w–what?”

“I don’t know,” he was relentless, even if he didn’t say it, you could feel his stare on you, pressing you to fess up. Classic Sunghoon, he knew what he was doing and he enjoyed teasing you, the grin on his face was clear evidence. 

“It’s just because—” you paused, fighting inner thoughts to come up with an excuse. Seeing the smug look on his face while he stared expectantly at you for your answer was close enough to induce an annoyed eye roll in you that you managed to hold back. “I’m cold,”

Sunghoon tilted his head to one side, making a face that sent a clear message: he wasn’t fully convinced. Nevertheless, he didn’t sound it out, wordlessly peeling the scarf off his neck, then proceeded to wrap it around yours. An action as simple as this shouldn’t have caused you to freeze, automatically holding your breath until it ended, but it did. 

“Why didn’t you bring an extra layer? You don’t do well with the cold anyway,” he focused on fixing the scarf properly before averting his eyes back to you, to meet yours, a hint of sincere worry along with disapproval in them. A gust of wind that came after brushing against the strands of his hair softly, the mole on his nose resembled a lone star in the sky.

“You’d be cold too,” your hand flew to the scarf, mindlessly touching it, as if you were still in disbelief that he had personally put it on you. 

“I’ll be fine,” he waved your concerns away, shifting on his feet. “How about we get out of here and have dinner?” he threw an arm around your shoulder, an action so natural as if it was a muscle memory, slowly moving you away from the flowers and back onto the walking path.

“Sounds good.” All you remembered from that moment on was an awakened feeling which made its presence loud and known, staying with you for longer than you thought: love. It was quietly creeping up on you and waiting for its turn to get into action. The urge was becoming stronger as time passed. With Sunghoon’s being there in your daily life, you could barely avoid him, holding back was just a torture. 

The torment was becoming worse when he sent you home that night, relentlessly denying your rejection in walking you to your door till the point where you had to give up for the sake of avoiding an argument. He was stubborn, adamant that he was going to see you safely go. Sunghoon was making it harder for you to escape his grasp, even though he was completely unaware of your internal turmoil that struggled to come to terms with your actual feelings.

“Thanks for walking me back. You didn’t have to, genuinely,” you were at your doorstep. It was already late, the corridor was empty, leaving you and Sunghoon to some privacy. He shrugged, hands in his pockets, posture relaxed.

“I want to, Y/N,” he said earnestly, shaking his head at you, occasionally averting his gaze away. “Let me do this for you, okay?”

“I don’t want to trouble you,”

“How is it troubling to me when I never once complained,” he raised an eyebrow at you, trying his best to get his point across. You knew he was right, there was no chance for you to fight that. After all, he was the one insisting. It was you that wasn’t used to his act of service, though it’s been the same since you first knew him. 

“Fine. You win,” you scoffed, yet your smile betrayed the annoyance in your voice. The staring game you had with him lasted longer than it should have. You could point out every delicate feature of his that you liked from the top of your head with the way his face was basically imprinted on your mind. That was when you realised his scarf was still wrapped around your neck, giving you an excuse to look away from him. “Oh, I just remembered,”

You grabbed onto the scarf, pulling it off of you in a swift motion, but instead of giving it back to him immediately, you took a step forward, closing the distance between you and him. Sunghoon didn’t move, barely budging one bit, his eyes following your every move like a hawk, breathing turning more shallow as seconds passed, anticipating your next move. 

You ignored the sound of your heart pumping noisily in your ears, trying your hardest to avoid his gaze, focusing on the scarf alone, moving your hands quickly to wrap his scarf around his neck, making a loop to secure it tightly on him. Even then, you didn’t dare to look at him, choosing to turn your head towards the empty corridor. “Your … scarf,” you didn't remove your hand from the cloth that was properly placed around his neck right away, another additional layer creating a barrier to his heart. 

“Thanks,” Sunghoon said slowly, his eyes searching fervently for yours, only to be avoided at every given chance. He could feel the heaviness weighing in the air, an invisible string tied around the two of you was getting tighter, pulling you closer to him. A chill ran up your spine when you felt his stare intensifying, as if he was desperately calling for you to stop avoiding his eyes. “Hey,” he whispered, drawing your attention back to him. “Look at me,” 

His words were a powerful command despite his gentle tone, convincing you to follow without a second thought. You met his eyes, blinking faster as if it could magically make him disappear. Those brown irises stared back at you with furrowed eyebrows, wandering every crevice of your face until he could find the reason behind your avoidance. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I really am,” you assured him, attempting to sound as believable as you could, adding a smile to the equation so that he wouldn’t question you further. It was true, you were flustered simply because of him, and no, you didn’t want him to know, but it was hard for you to hide. “I should go, shouldn’t I?” you were about to drop your hand from his scarf, but his hand appeared, grabbing onto yours, holding it close to his heart.

“Stay. Just a little longer,” his voice was low, a quiet confession escaping his lips no matter how he tried to hold it in.  

A genuine smile replaced the one you forced earlier, pulling the slightest chuckle out of you. “I’ll be seeing you tomorrow anyway,”

“But it’s different tonight,”

So, you weren’t overthinking all along. There was truly something in the air at that moment, undeniable and alive, forcing you and him to acknowledge it even if you didn’t want to. From the second you stepped onto that garden with him, you knew you were in deep trouble. Those feelings you suppressed for months, denying their truth, had only returned to bite back at you. It was then you rightfully realised it: you still had feelings for Sunghoon. You still loved him, but you were scared, terrified that you had missed your chance considering months had passed.

You decided to do something that you could never imagine yourself doing in a million years. Taking advantage of the situation along with the momentary silence, you leaned in, inching your face closer to his, letting everything occur naturally. Sunghoon has always been sharp, quick to get the memo, this was another testament to that fact. Closing his eyes, he tilted his head, bending his body just enough for you to reach him without any challenge. 

This was it. You were about to kiss Park Sunghoon. The months worth of built up tension, silent cries of desperation, a hidden confession you couldn’t bring yourself to say, all of those were going to be melted into this kiss. A kiss that wasn’t as simple as it seemed to be. Instead, it was a promise, a seal to an end to the push and pull that the two of you were stuck in. Just a little bit more, you could practically feel his lips—

“Y/N! What are you doing out there?” the voice of your roommate, Minjeong came from behind the door. Unexpectedly so, the door was ripped open after, your soon-to-be-evicted roommate was standing there, hand on one side of her hip, staring accusingly at you and Sunghoon as though you were guilty of a crime. 

You pushed yourself from Sunghoon, slipping your hand from his, almost choking on your spit from how fast you tried to remove any remnants of the ‘almost kiss’. The suspicions were only more obvious, but you couldn’t be bothered to care about that, thoroughly embarrassed and cringing on Sunghoon’s behalf. Being caught by a roommate wasn’t a bad thing, unless that roommate happened to be Minjeong, your best friend that cussed your ex out, and also listened to your endless rants about him. Now, that was the problem.

“Minjeong, hey,” your tone was the complete opposite to your eyes that were furiously shooting daggers at her. “This isn’t the right time to appear,” you mumbled quietly to her, nodding over at Sunghoon without being too obvious. Disappointment with a pinch of confusion was what you could describe her expression at that precise moment, withholding any judgements that were saved for later. “I’ll come in after I say my goodbyes, okay?”

Minjeong had no other choice but to close the door even though it was written all over her face that she was against the idea of leaving you alone with Sunghoon. Once you heard the door closing behind you, that was only when you let out a sigh of relief. Facing Sunghoon again made you wish a massive black hole would appear to swallow you up. He, on the other hand, was smiling at you. Whether it was out of awkwardness or he was just secretly laughing at you, there was no telling which one it was. 

“Sorry about that. She has really … bad timings,” you bit the insides of your cheek, fiddling with your fingers anxiously. Kissing him meant no return, but a close call of a kiss was far worse when you could barely explain yourself.

“It’s nothing. She’s probably worried about you,” Sunghoon shook his head, offering an assuring smile that did nothing to soothe your anxiousness. Well, there was your attempt at going for a kiss that ended up in a ditch. “Don’t worry about it,” his eyes flickered between your fidgeting hands and your face, noticing the change in your expressions. He reached for your hands, holding them tightly in his. It was sudden, but not too surprising. “I know,”

You looked up at him, a glint of hope sparked in your eyes, your heart picking up speed, threatening to escape your chest. He … knew? Sunghoon was unwavering, a look of determination flashing across his features. “I know,” he repeated, doing everything he could to ease your worries. Even with the lack of explanations, you understood him, needing no more than that to know he has been aware of you and your heart all along. “Let’s talk about this tomorrow, okay?”  

“Alright,” you squeezed his hands, a way of thanking him and also for a seek of reassurance. “Let’s leave this for a proper time,” 

Sunghoon nodded, rubbing his thumb softly against your skin. “It’s getting late. You should get going. I think Minjeong is too protective over you,”

You scoffed, the thought of your roommate only haunted you with those new memories. “She just needs some time,” you were referring to the time at the bar where she nearly skinned Sunghoon alive if you hadn’t interfered at the right moment. Who knew what she would’ve done with her out of her mind? “Anyway, goodnight. Text me when you’re home.”

“I will. Goodnight, Y/N.” 

Minjeong was relentless, practically hunting you down for every single information possible once you entered your supposedly safe home. She was still mildly unconvinced about Sunghoon even though she was willing to hear you out, worried he might break your heart once more. Instead, you were convinced you were the one breaking your own heart from holding back longer. 

There were many things you were scared about when it came to starting a relationship once more, fearing the existing uncertainties and doubts hidden behind the curtains to stand in the way of you and Sunghoon. However, there was one thing you were wholeheartedly certain about, and that was you loving Sunghoon in every stage of life.  

You were a mess.

Ever since that night, you were sure you had left many things hanging and unsaid. The kiss that was meant to happen turned into dust right before you, making the complications between you and Sunghoon worse than it originally was. Not to mention, you haven't seen Sunghoon since then either. The promise of seeing each other the next day went into the gutters when the two of you were coincidentally roped into matters from your jobs. It didn’t stop there. Your busy lives resulted in days of not seeing each other, taking a turn from your usual routine.

Truthfully, there were times where you wanted to pour your heart out over a text message. The overwhelming thoughts you had accumulated in the days you and him were apart was eating you alive. ‘Hey … I think I like you’ surely, a message such as that wasn’t going to suffice. You were stuck in a limbo, going back and forth between having the confidence of confessing to none. In a nutshell, you were petrified out of your mind to face your fear: coming to terms with your feelings. 

Tossing and turning in bed has become a habit when the worries seem to pile up with time. You still had the last message of Sunghoon stuck in your mind as you lay awake, considering the meanings behind it that you were convinced you were overthinking about. ‘Let’s meet tomorrow, no more excuses this time, it’s a must’ since when did he turn into such a clingy person? Or was there some ulterior motives hiding up his sleeves this time around?

You slipped out of bed, pulled a hoodie over your head and headed straight for the front door. It was an impulsive decision to be leaving the comforts of your home in the middle of the night, you knew that, but you also needed some fresh air to think. Your feet brought you to a spot you’ve neglected for a long time, the overhead bridge close to your home. It has been years since you last crossed it, either choosing the long way to walk or drive just so you could avoid the memories resurfacing. 

The overhead bridge was the place you would often cross to head home when you were in highschool. Coincidentally, you and Sunghoon were connected by that bridge. He lived on the other side of it, creating many excuses that walking home with you was on his way home as well, knowing it was the complete opposite, but eventually you gave in, which ended in you and him going on many adventures after school. At the end of every day, your time with him ended on that overhead bridge, though you spent at least half an hour purely talking before going your separate ways. 

Now that you were there again, you found it much surreal that years have passed and nothing has changed. It was as if the memories you made there with Sunghoon were frozen in time, that this place has become an artifact which proves the existence of you and Sunghoon’s relationship. Just by standing there, you could see every scenario you experienced playing out right in front you. There was once where you and Sunghoon did nothing but just share your secrets until the time of your curfew arrived.

“You’re here?”

You wondered if you had accidentally thought about Sunghoon too hard to the extent of you vividly hearing his voice in your head. Overlooking the quiet cars passing by on the road under the bridge, you didn’t turn your head immediately, listening carefully to the sounds of footsteps approaching first, only then you dared to look over to the direction of the source. 

“You’re here too,” your eyes weren’t tricking you, even though you doubted yourself for a second. His figure in the dark was dimly illuminated by the street lights, the familiar rhythm in his steps exposed himself to you. He stood beside you, resting his arms on the railings, staring up at the night sky.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he replied, shoulder brushing gently against yours, mindlessly leaning closer to you. “I thought of coming here. I live near my old home anyway,” he shrugged, averting his attention back to you, an intensely inquisitive look flashing across his face. “What’s your reason?”

“I needed to think,” about you, about us, specifically. 

“Something’s keeping you up?” 

“Well …”

“Or is it someone?”

He surely knew how to read minds, didn’t he? 

You masked the initial shock from showing, covering the guilt of hiding the truth and turning it into impassiveness. However, your silence with the addition of avoiding his gaze gave away the impression that you were, in fact, hiding something from him. He could read you like a book, painfully so. 

“I’m right, aren’t I?” Sunghoon continued to egg you on, crossing his arms, moving his face closer to fix his eyes on you, scanning your expressions to determine an answer. “Is it someone at work causing trouble?”

“Not exactly. There’s no one, Sunghoon. I’m just worried about work,” you waved him off dismissively, hating that the person you had in mind happened to be the same person questioning you as well. Sunghoon leaned back a little more, creating a small space between you and him compared to earlier.

“You’re not seeing anyone?”

You raised an eyebrow at that, frowning just the slightest. “No. Are you?”

He shook his head, exhaling quietly. “I don’t think I’m interested,”

“What does that mean? You’re going to stay single forever?” you teased him, nudging him a little, yet internally, you contemplated the meaning behind his words. Did you truly lose your chance?

“It means, I’m not looking for anything now. Well, at least I haven’t found the right person anyway,” he shook his head, sounding equally dismissive as you did. “How … Why did you think of coming here out of all places? I thought there’s a nice park below your apartment complex,” he was quick to change the topic at hand, although you found it odd, you didn’t complain. You didn’t want to know more when your heart was already fragile because of your worries over him.

“I thought it’d be nice to revisit an old place,” you breathed in deeply, appreciating the quietness of the night, leaving you and Sunghoon in your own bubble, the world seemingly revolving around only the both of you. “I haven’t been here in many years,” 

“So, did coming here after all these years somehow cleared your mind?”

“Not exactly,” you were being completely truthful this time. With Sunghoon’s sudden appearance and the resurgence of old memories, you were far from sane and having your mind straight. However, him showing up right at the moment of you thinking about him was a sign and also a confirmation to your everlasting questions. “But I did find an answer,”

“Oh, really? That’s good then,” Sunghoon glanced away, unaware of your eyes lingering on him, focusing on the way his chest moved up then down, letting the comfortable silence engulf you and him. You didn’t mind the fact that his side was basically pressing into yours, the warmth from his body provided an invisible blanket wrapped around you. The sudden sound of a yawn coming from him disrupted the ambiance, his sheepish grin met your amused chuckle.

“Ready to sleep?”

“Seems like it,” he let out a genuine laugh, looking a little apologetic. Sunghoon rested his head on his arms, glancing up at you, a soft twinkle in those eyes as if you were his world, cradling you in the reflection of his pupils so that you wouldn’t leave his sight for even just a second. “I’m not ready to leave yet,”

“We’ll see each other tomorrow anyway, you demanded it,” you pointed a finger at him, watching his smile turn wider at your direct call out. “Do you have something planned?”

“Of course, I do. Who do you think I am?” he was confident in whatever he had in mind, the smugness in his face said it all. You could see it wearing off in just a split second, letting a slip of his actual emotions. “I thought it could make up for the days we didn’t see each other,”

You blinked mindlessly, allowing the meaning of his words to marinate in your mind, processing the weight of it all. Flickering eyes stared back at him, you put on a nervous smile that was trying its best to hide the fact that you were panicking about the urge to say something you wouldn’t. “You’re acting like we’re something,”

Sunghoon shrugged, raising his eyebrows at you, not showing much of a change in his expressions. “But we’re not exactly nothing, aren’t we?”

“Touche,” you nodded, suddenly grateful that it was mostly dark enough to hide the flush in your face. “Get your beauty sleep tonight, I’ll see you in the morning. It’s the weekend, you should be sleeping in,”

Sunghoon straightened his spine, holding onto the railings, shifting on his feet. “Fine, fine,” he was rather reluctant, doing double takes between the night scenery before him and you, his eternal sunshine. “So, I guess this is a goodbye for the night,” he tilted his head slightly, staring at you with a sense of hesitation, as though he wasn’t ready to part.

“It’s a temporary goodbye, don’t be dramatic,” you clicked your tongue, narrowing your eyes at him.  

Sunghoon laughed softly, mostly humoured by your reaction. He lowered his gaze onto the floor for a few seconds, hiding the affection that filled his irises, before he met your eyes once more, an unreadable look took over instead. “Goodnight, Y/N,”

You smiled, a sudden wave of deja vu hit you, the memory of your past coming back to you in a rush. There you were, at the same place, together with the person that was there by your side years ago, an identical replay of your nightly routine where you bid each other goodbye before parting ways. 

“Goodnight, Sunghoon.”

Sunghoon slowly nodded, taking a few steps back, his eyes never leaving you once. He raised his hand, waving goodbye, to which you reciprocated, an uneasy feeling creeping up on you knowing you had yet left things incomplete, the things you wished you said were buried in your heart again. The moment he turned his back on you, you wondered if you had missed your chance of saying what’s on your mind.

From wanting to settle your emotions quietly, and very much alone somehow turned into an answer that was always there for you to discover and realise: you were not going to let Sunghoon slip away again. You opened your mouth, hoping something, anything would just come out and pull him back, but there was nothing. He was getting farther, with every step he took, you followed, your feet instinctively bringing you closer to him, your heart naturally seeking for him.

“I love you,”

The eight letter word poured out from the deepest parts of your soul, reaching his heart through a single thread connecting you and him together. It wasn’t the first thing you had in mind, and yet, your heart confessed the secret it's been holding onto for far too long. You stopped in your tracks just as Sunghoon did, the silence becoming deafening when neither of you said anything in response. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, hell, his face wasn’t even facing you. There was only room for you to imagine his reaction in that fleeting moment. 

“I love you,” you repeated, a little more louder this time, as if saying it once wasn’t convincing enough. In your case, you were still in denial that it ever left your lips. Lowering your head, you could only place your attention on the ground, not having enough courage to face him. “I thought that if I don’t say it now, I’ll never get to say it again. I’ve been thinking about us, and I didn’t want to lose another chance, another year without you. I was scared I’ll lose you completely, that your heart would be someone else’s—”

Heavy footsteps cut through your voice, a sense of urgency followed with every step taken to get to you. You couldn’t finish your sentence, mind instantly turning blank when you saw his shoes directly in front of you. Still, you didn’t look up, you couldn’t bring yourself to, not until Sunghoon’s hands met the side of your face, palms resting gently on your cheeks, tilting your head upward, lips crashing into yours without any prior warning.

The initial shock gradually withered away, you closed your eyes, letting yourself melt into him. The walls were no longer there, you had fully, wholly given your heart to him, no longer afraid of him breaking it again. The feeling of his lips wasn’t something you’d forget easily. An overwhelming amount of desperation, longing, and love that the both of you had were silently exchanged, the vulnerability was raw, finally understanding that you could fully love one another without anything standing in between, not even the past and the grudges it held.

A choked sob left your lips, the tears were flowing before you could find the strength to hold it in. Sunghoon only deepened the kiss, pulling your trembling body closer to him. There was a weight of his emotions as his lips moved against yours, you could feel it, the desperation of his own to heal whatever pain that was inside of you. 

You pulled away for a moment, gasping for air, the heaviness in your heart becoming more apparent, the tears flowing down your cheeks were met with Sunghoon’s thumb, softly caressing the expanse of your face, wiping away the tears that brought pain to his heart. “I thought I was okay, but I’m not. I’m still in love with you, Sunghoon. I’ve always wanted to tell you this, but I couldn’t find the right time, and I was scared I’d lose you … again,”

Sunghoon stared at you with an infinite amount of admiration, as if you were the sun in his darkest days or the prettiest painting in an art museum, the only person that was made for him, an undoubtable fact that he was wholeheartedly certain about. You were his past, his present, and his future, a mark in every timeline there is in his lifetime. “I love you too. I haven’t stopped loving you, and I don’t think I ever will. You’re my person, you’ll never lose me,”

His eyes were red, brimming with tears, but he didn’t allow a tear to fall, maintaining a smile, though it was weak. You held onto his hand, feeling it shake under your touch. Intertwining his fingers with yours, you gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “You’re my person too,”

“I wish … I wish I could give you back the years you’ve spent resenting me,” his voice was weak, defenceless against the emotions that overwhelmed him. “I wish I could’ve been there, so that you didn’t have to be in pain because of me,”

“It’s okay, Sunghoon, really. The past can’t hurt us anymore, and it doesn’t define us either,” your hand travelled to his face, cupping his cheek. “What matters most is we’re us again,”

Sunghoon breathed deeply, letting out a shaky breath. His eyes flickered, a faint smile appearing in the midst of his tired face. “So, does that mean we’re officially back together?”

“Yes, we are. Back to how it always was,”

He slipped his hand away from yours, instead, he threw his arms around you, pulling you into his embrace, holding onto you tightly. A part of him was scared that everything was just a dream, that you would disappear in any moment. “You’ll always be a part of me, a part that cannot ever be erased,”

“That’s good, because you also make up a big part of my heart.”

His laugh was enough to erase the bittersweet pain that you felt from erasing the past and starting a new path with the person that took up most parts of your life. He was always there in your life even when he became a memory, there was no way in hell you could ever replace him, not in a million years, not in this lifetime of yours.

From the day you saw him again, you had a feeling he was never leaving, not anymore. After all, the ones that were meant to be a part of your life would come back to you, while those that don’t would never cross paths with you ever again. In Sunghoon’s case, he was the one that was meant to be in every stage of your life, whether it was physically or just mentally.

You and Sunghoon could never be just friends, because the two of you were already predestined to be lovers. 

“You’re going to let that go, right?”

Just because you and Sunghoon were officially back together didn’t mean that there was a change in your dynamic. You were still continuing on with your life as usual, Sunghoon had started writing his new book, and once it’s time for you to get off work, his car would already be there to pick you up. Nothing has changed except for the title of your relationship with him. 

Telling Minjeong about it should’ve required a mental preparation beforehand. There you were, in your apartment, eating take out with an addition to the duo, Park Sunghoon, who was being interrogated by an old friend. You were the bystander having to witness everything unfold, occasionally getting embarrassed by Minjeong’s antics that Sunghoon found amusing in the contrary.

“Right, that time in the bar where you came up to me and cussed me out,” Sunghoon laughed, clapping his hands at the memory. It was hard not to let out at least a giggle at that. Somehow, the most complicated times of your life were far, far away from you, becoming a laughable memory for you and your friends to reminisce about.

“I was drunk!” Minjeong tried to fight back, knowing it was a losing battle against her.

“It was funny, I’ll give you that,” Sunghoon pointed his chopsticks at her, shaking his head when Minjeong started to mumble incoherent things under her breath. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to hold it against you. You’re an old friend anyway, and I get where you were coming from,”

“I never got to formally apologise to you though, I swear it was eating me up. How about I pay for our drinks the next time we go out?”

“Sounds like a deal.” Sunghoon nodded in satisfaction, glancing at you to catch your reaction, eyeing you stifling a laugh. He raised an eyebrow at you, to which you shook your head in response to his unspoken question that you understood without a doubt. His eyes lingered on you for another beat before looking away, a faint smile resting on his lips.

Dinner ended with a new promise to meet up for drinks that was enthusiastically met with collective agreements. Instead of the usual routine where Sunghoon walked you home, you decided to follow him till a certain distance from your apartment complex. Despite his rejection, you still clung onto him, leaving him no choice but to let you walk him home, even if it was midway.

“Thanks for joining us for dinner,” you had your arm looped around his, sticking your side to his, close enough to be compared to a koala clinging onto a tree branch. 

“I was scared she’d come for my head,” Sunghoon jokes, but realistically speaking, you shared the same worry as he did, knowing how Minjeong disapproved of him after your breakup up till the time he returned, the memory of her confronting him at the club was concrete evidence to back up your worries.

“I was scared for you too,” you laughed even though you promised yourself you wouldn’t slip, unaware of the look he had in his eyes. Sunghoon smiled at you, not because he found your response funny, but seeing you laugh was all he needed for his heart to feel full from contentment. 

“I made a dinner reservation at our usual spot for tomorrow. I’ll come pick you up after work,” Sunghoon was always pulling the most spontaneous plans when you least expected it, this time wasn’t an exception either. 

“It’s specifically our table, right?” you remembered that night at the restaurant where you and Sunghoon escaped the entire party just to be with each other, ignorant to the fact that you and him were building something stronger than the whiskey he had. 

“Who do you think I am?” 

“Right, the one with many tricks hidden up his sleeves,” you heard him chuckling under his breath, not before long realising that you were already at the foot of the overhead bridge. The both of you slowed down your steps, eventually stopping, standing before each other, hands still tightly holding onto one another. 

“I guess it’s time to end the night,” Sunghoon squeezed your hand, not missing the frown slowly forming on your lips. 

“Can’t you stay a little longer?” 

“If I do, I don’t think I would even make it home. Is that your master plan?” he pulled your hand, closing the distance, letting you fall into his embrace without a pinch of shame. You, on the other hand, weren’t expecting his bold action, landing with your hand planted on his chest, heat crawling up the back of your neck till your face. “I’ll make sure tomorrow’s better than tonight,”

Steadying yourself on your feet, you made sure to land a slap on his shoulder first before thinking of a response. Sunghoon simply smiled, seemingly proud of his own impulsive act. “You promise?”

“I promise,” he pinched your cheek, eliciting a genuine laugh from you, a smile appearing on his face right after as if it had turned into a natural response. For a moment, the two of you stood there with barely an inch in between, thankful that there wasn’t anybody around to intrude, basking in each other’s warmth. Neither of you were ready to say goodbye, though knowing it was inevitable. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” you whispered, as if seeking a kind of reassurance that only Sunghoon’s confirmation could provide.

“Of course,” Sunghoon squeezed your hand one more time, assuring you once again. His touch was gentle, the gaze he had on you was something irreplicable,  just as his feelings were for you. “Goodnight, Y/N,”  

“Goodnight, Sunghoon.”

He kept his eyes on you for another moment before he slowly let go of his hand, leaning in to press a kiss on the top of your head. As he backed away, waving, you watched him with his promise swelling in your heart, some sort of anticipation building on its own, already looking forward to the plan he had in store. 

You knew that as long as you had him by your side, spending the rest of your days with him in your life, your world was going to be much brighter than it had been with him in it. 

( © jaylver all rights reserved. do NOT copy, plagiarise or edit my work and repost whatsoever. once discovered will be exposed and blacklisted. )

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[usmsgutterson]

one thing about me is that my sleeping schedule will get so messed up at a certain point in the summer that I’ll reach 50k words at damn near four in the fucking morning and do a silly little dance to celebrate

[saatorus]

she won't go away— a sukuna fic

art creds to to_0fu (twitter/x)

pairing — college sukuna! x reader

synopsis — of all the people in your chemistry course, you get stuck with ryomen sukuna—the most insufferable, arrogant asshole on campus. he barely does any work, runs his mouth like it’s a sport, and somehow manages to make your life even more exhausting than it already is. if this project doesn’t kill you, he just might.

teaser wc — 1.8k (long for a teaser but i'm desensitised to any word count below like 100k words)

actual wc — 20-25k (gonna try and force myself to stick to this and not go into the 30s..)

tag list status — closed! the fic has been posted

warnings — explicit sexual content!!! sukuna being an absolute vile dick and saying questionable shit (i need him to be at least a lil canon compliant), mentions of reader and sukuna telling each other to go die, reader not being meek and letting him walk all over her, mentions of feeling insecure, multiple crash outs, angst?? will add more as i go along!

“That ‘little homework’ is forty five percent of our grade,” you bite out.

“Don’t give a fuck,” he grunts, sounding bored.

You inhale deeply. “So, I was thinking—”

But he groans, dragging a tattooed hand down his face. “Are we seriously doing this now?”

“Yes, we’re seriously doing this now,” you snap.

He exhales sharply through his nose, glaring. “God, you’re fucking annoying.”

You’re not sure whether you should be offended or hurt. On one hand, obviously as a normal human being, being spoken to like this from a person you’re quite literally talking to for the first time is bound to hurt your feelings. On the other hand, this guy’s dickhead personality is kind of well known through your university. Your grip on your pen tightens, but you keep your voice even.

 “I’m annoying because I want to pass?”

”You’re annoying because you talk way too fuckin’ much.”

 That stings more than you’d like to admit.

You grit your teeth, ignoring the way your stomach tightens, and push forward anyway. “If we divide the research today, we won’t have to meet up as often,” you say, firmly. “I assume you’ll want to do as little work as possible, so let’s just—”

“Holy shit.” Sukuna pushes his chair back with a loud scrape, fixing you with an exasperated look. “Do you ever shut up?”

You blink, stunned.

Toji snickers.

“Oh, come on,” Sukuna scoffs, throwing up a hand. “You’re gonna sit there all wide-eyed like I just kicked your fuckin’ puppy? You started it.”

Your fingers twitch against the table.

“Started what?” you ask, voice dangerously calm.

“This whole thing—acting like I’m some bum ass delinquent who needs a babysitter.” His eyes narrow. “If you wanna play boss, go find some other loser to be a bitch to.”

Your patience snaps. “Or you could just not be a lazy asshole. Do you lack brain cells? You’ve seriously told me to shut up like 5 times in the span of about ten minutes. Do you have a problem where you can’t focus?”

The air between you shifts.

Sukuna’s jaw tics. His expression darkens, something sharp flashing through his eyes, but then his lips pull into something crueler than a smirk—something with edges, something dangerous.

“You think I’m lazy? Got somethin’ wrong with me because I can’t take your nerdy bitching?” he asks, voice low.

You hesitate, but only for a second. “Glad you have the ability to comprehend what I said.”

That makes him grin. “And you think I’m an asshole?”

“Yes.”

He hums, tilting his head. Then he leans forward, just slightly, elbows resting on the table. His voice drops into something smug, mocking—

“Then why the fuck are you still talking to me?”

Your blood boils.

What the fuck is his problem?

You lean forward too, matching him, refusing to shrink under his gaze. “Because I have to, dumbass,” you snap. “I tried to change my group. I begged. I offered to do extra credit. I would have written a whole goddamn thesis if it meant not sitting across from you—but guess what?” You gesture sharply between you. “I’m stuck with you.”

Sukuna raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Tragic.”

You let out a frustrated breath, gripping the edge of the table so hard your knuckles turn white. “So, as much as I’d love to pretend you don’t exist—”

“Then do it,” he interrupts, tone dry.

You blink. “What?”

“If you wanna pretend I don’t exist, go ahead,” he drawls, leaning back lazily. “Do the whole project yourself. You’ll probably enjoy it, since you’re clearly getting off on playing group leader.”

“Oh, my god.” You clench your fists, barely restraining yourself. “Why are you such a dickhead? Parents not teach you basic respect?”

“Because you don’t shut the fuck up,” he snaps, finally looking genuinely irritated.

Your lips part, incredulous. “I’m literally just trying to do the fucking project? Like any normal human being?”

“No, you’re trying to control shit,” Sukuna says flatly. “Like this is some big deal—like I haven’t passed a million of these useless classes already.”

You stare at him. “You think this is useless?”

He smirks. “Yeah.”

Oh, you hate him.

“Some of us actually give a shit about our grades, Sukuna.”

“You know my name? Cute.”

You inhale sharply through your nose, trying to stay calm, trying not to launch your textbook at his stupid, perfect face. “I don’t care how many classes you’ve passed,” you say, voice taut. “You’re doing this one with me. I care about this project. And if I have to suffer through working with you, you can at least pretend to give a shit.”

He tilts his head, mockingly thoughtful. “Mm. No.”

You exhale slowly, trying—failing—to stop your hands from curling into fists.

“I swear to god—”

“What, huh?” he cuts in, voice dripping with condescension. “You gonna whine to the professor again?” He lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Pathetic.”

Your jaw tightens.

He grins, like he’s won something. Like he’s getting exactly what he wants—like this is a game to him, something to toy with, something to waste his time on.

And you refuse to let him win.

So, you straighten your spine, lift your chin, and meet his gaze without flinching.

“Fine,” you say, voice steely. “If you want to half-ass this, be my guest. Just don’t expect me to pick up your slack.”

Sukuna watches you, amused, as if he’s waiting for you to crack.

When you don’t, he smirks.

“We’ll see.”

You inhale sharply, forcing yourself to keep your voice level.

“Well, unfortunately for you,” you say stiffly, “you actually have to do your share.”

Sukuna snorts. “Says who?”

“The professor.” You cross your arms. “Since apparently, students have been slacking on group projects, we have to submit proof of collaboration—meeting logs, progress updates, actual proof that we’re working together.”

His expression darkens.

You fight the urge to smirk. Suffer.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” he mutters.

“Nope.” You press your lips together, trying to hold back your pure satisfaction. “So, congratulations, Sukuna. You have to meet up with me at least once a week.”

He exhales sharply through his nose, glaring at you like you’re personally ruining his life. “You’re telling me I have to sit through this shit every week?”

“Yep.”

“You specifically?”

“Yep.”

Sukuna groans, dragging a hand through the unruly pink strands of his hair. Then, just as you’re about to remind him that this is literally his problem for being a shit student, he lifts his head—eyes raking over you in a slow, lazy once-over.

And then, he smirks.

You freeze.

“What?” you snap, immediately on edge.

His smirk widens.

“Nah, I was just thinking,” he drawls, tipping his head back against his chair. “If you were hotter, this would be way less painful.”

Your stomach drops.

The words hit you like a slap, and for a second, all you can do is sit there, stunned, completely caught off guard by how casual—how easy—it is for him to say something like that.

Like it’s just true.

Like it’s a fact.

Your fingers dig into your sleeve.

And the worst part? It’s not even the insult itself that stings—it’s the sheer, blatant dismissal. The fact that he looks at you and immediately decides you’re not worth even pretending to be interested in. As if you were hoping for his attention. As if you were seeking his approval.

You clench your jaw.

“Yeah?” you say, voice flat, emotionless. “Well, if you were smarter, I wouldn’t have to carry your useless ass through this class.”

His grin falters, just barely, but you see it—and for once, it’s your turn to smirk.

You lean forward, matching his posture, tilting your head mockingly.

“Guess we’re both disappointed, huh?”

For a moment, Sukuna just stares at you.

And you don’t miss the way his jaw tightens, how his fingers twitch against the table like he’s fighting the urge to rip you apart.

Good.

Then—he exhales sharply through his nose, tipping his chair back slightly, acting unfazed even though you saw the flicker of irritation in his eyes. “Damn,” he muses, voice slow, dragging. “Didn’t know you had a mouth on you.”

“Yeah?” You tilt your head. “Didn’t know you gave a shit.”

Sukuna scoffs. “I don’t.”

“Then shut the fuck up and do your work.”

He lets out a low, mean laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You’re lucky I’m feeling generous today.”

“Generous?” You nearly choke. “You’ve been nothing but a dick since the moment I sat down.”

He shrugs, unbothered. “Could be worse.”

Oh, you want to strangle him.

Instead, you inhale sharply through your nose, pressing your palms flat against the table before forcing yourself to stay on track. “Whatever,” you say, shaking your head. “Here’s the deal: we have to meet at least once a week. I don’t care where. I don’t care when. But we need to get the work done, and I need proof that you were actually present—because if we don’t, we both fail.”

Sukuna glares at you, as if the very concept of responsibility offends him.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters, dragging a hand down his face again. “You’re really gonna be a hardass about this, huh?”

You raise an eyebrow. “You don’t care about failing?”

“Not really.”

Your eyes narrow. “Then why are you even in this class?”

At this, he finally drops his chair back down onto all four legs, leaning in slightly. “Let’s get one thing straight,” he says, voice lower, more serious. “I don’t need this shit. I’m here because my old man thinks I should at least pretend to give a fuck about college.” He smirks, sharp and taunting. “But don’t get it twisted—I don’t actually give a fuck.”

You pause, studying him, trying to piece together the weight behind his words.

Of course, you know he comes from money. Everyone does. The Ryomen family name carries weight, old money, power, prestige—so it makes sense that college, for him, is just some bullshit obligation rather than a means to a future.

Still, something about the way he says it—how bitter it sounds—sticks with you.

Not that you care.

You roll your eyes. “Right. Got it. Poor little rich boy.”

His smirk drops.

For a second, there’s silence.

Then—

“You know what?” Sukuna says, voice eerily calm. “Fine. I’ll meet up with you.”

You blink, a little thrown off by how easily he gives in.

“…Okay?”

“But.” His gaze darkens, and the corner of his mouth twitches, almost like he’s daring you to argue. “You work around my schedule.”

Your stomach twists with irritation. “That’s not—”

“Not my problem,” he cuts in smoothly, leaning back in his chair. “I don’t do morning meetups. I don’t do last-minute bullshit. And if you start bitching about how I ‘don’t take this seriously,’” he mocks, voice lilting high, “I will walk out and leave you with an automatic fail. Or whatever the fuck happens to your grade if the other person doesn’t do their part. Got it?”

Your blood boils.

But what can you do? You already tried to get reassigned.

So, through gritted teeth, you say, “Fine.”

Sukuna smirks.

“Good girl.”

a/n: very overused trope but i love college au sukuna. sorry for making him a total asshole but i promise character development!!!!! i looove a good enemies to lovers, as seen with my take on nerdjo lolol!!! also yes this fic is based on "she won't go away" by faye webster and yes this song and it's lyrics will be making a cameo in my fic heheh... hope you all liked the teaser!!

[porcelainbirdss]

forget me not

you gently twirled the small, blue flower between your fingers. you had always held a special fondness for them, as they were like living symbols of memory, reminders of things that should never be forgotten.

“what do you think of forget-me-nots?” you asked softly, letting your gaze settle on Mydei, sitting beside you.

“they’re…” he began, as if weighing each word. “they’re alright, i guess.”

his response was cautious, almost indifferent in a way, but there was something more lurking in his voice — something you had yet to decipher.

cw: fem!reader, thief!reader, descriptions of death, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, but also hurt/no comfort, descriptions of violence, blood, alcohol consumption, hinted depression, relationship established at some point of the story. || wc: 25k

"that was the last time we heard of [name]." Phainon explained, his posture stiff as the palpable tension in the room seemed to crush him under its weight. Castorice nodded along, fidgeting nervously with her fingers.

Aglaea took a moment of contemplation before finally sighing with defeat. even though the story they presented her with seemed almost unbelievable, her golden strings registered not a single waver. they were not lying.

"and what about Mydei?" she questioned, though the answer rang clearly in the back of her mind.

Castorice opened her mouth, but Phainon spoke first. "unresponsive. refuses to talk about it." he confessed, his eyes downcast. "i’m terribly worried about him. what in the gods’ name happened?"

the woman replied with silence, keeping her mouth pressed into a tight line. if only she eradicated the problem from the start, none of it would’ve ever taken place. alas, some things, no matter how tragic in their nature, cannot be undone.

———

your eyes narrowed at the blonde man, now idly talking to one of the many vendors who resided in the Okhema’s town square. Mydeimos. the crown prince of Kremnos, the Undying. at this point, there wasn’t a thing you wouldn’t know about him — long days of digging through information, listening on to another people’s stories, tracking and getting to know him better. Mydei was powerful alright, and if he was still there, he’d probably laugh at your face in that rumbling voice of his, saying "oh, you brainless girl, always biting off more than you could ever chew!". your lips twitched upwards at your own imagination, and even though you knew he was right, you simply couldn’t help yourself. Mydeimos wasn’t only popular, being one of the Chrysos Heirs — he was also dirty rich. it wasn’t hard to tell by the first look at him, golden necklace adorned with lazurite gemstones hanging heavily on the toned chest.

you licked your lips in anticipation as you lowered yourself behind the stacked boxes, the platform big enough to obscure your form entirely. robbery in the broad daylight was never no easy feat. you seldom did it this way, especially to someone of such high status, but the prince rarely wandered the streets during late night hours. you wouldn’t dream of mugging him — he’d knock you out within a second. instead, you’d use your wits and techniques, instilled within your instincts long before you were even taught how to properly hold a fork. patience was the key, and you waited in complete silence until the man finally bid goodbye to the seller, securing the big pouch of money to his belt. he was either as stupid as a donkey, or the holy city simply lacked in crime, hence why he felt no need to look after his belongings.

unfortunately for Mydeimos, you weren’t as honorable as the rest of the citizens, and you needed to steal from him — whether you wanted to, or not. it’s something you always did, and most likely will continue to do until your last breath. a fleeting memory of your old man flashed, and you grimaced, seeing his face in the eye of your mind, worn by age and hardships. your past wasn’t something you enjoyed reminiscing about. perhaps there were some fleeting moments of happiness — when your "Pa" finally managed to get you that doll you dreamt of, or when you both celebrated a generous surge of money, eating and cheering to your hearts content. however now, as you thought of the nameless man that raised you for those long years, all you could see is his agony state, once vigorous body destroyed by pneumonia.

you have struggled to make just enough to afford the medication you couldn’t steal, seemingly endless weeks of psychological torture and beatings you received from the victims of your (more often than not) failed robbery. as fear squeezed at your gut, you began to slip-up constantly, and most of your attempts ended up in vain. it was hell. living in a poor city was never easy, but at least you had Pa by your side. then, fate decided to sneer straight at your face, and take him away too. he wasn’t your biological father, yet you loved him like your own.

just as you thought things couldn’t get any worse, a sudden natural disaster decided to hit your town, hurricane ruining everything in sight. some people managed to survive, some died under the rubble. you wished you had joined the latter group.

your only desire was to lie in the middle of the place you once could call a home, and wait until your consciousness slipped into the nether. but you weren’t like that — fortunately (or maybe not), your drive to survive was much stronger than the grief pulling you down. you have traversed many cities since then, heart still wrenched by despair, but somehow you managed. leading a life of a vagabond was exhausting, and yet, you simply couldn’t give up. perhaps what helped was your rather unique talent — clairvoyance. it was useless most of the time, only allowing you to see brief snapshots of the future, not even on command — however the assurance of a promised tomorrow kept you going.

i’ll show you what i’m made of, old man. you thought to yourself as you got up from your crouching position, steadily tailing after Mydei. you kept a safe distance for now, your keen eyes glued to his back as you calculated what your best option of approach is. you knew you wouldn’t fail, as yesterday the vision revealed to you was of a big bathhouse, meaning — you weren’t imprisoned. unfortunately, the stealing part was still tricky, so you needed to focus, else you could miss your chance and go another hour or so without anything to eat.

you pretended to look at your own feet, 'accidentally' bumping into the man. there it was. you felt the pouch’s weight in your hand as you swiftly slipped it into your bag, the movement so brief no one around would be able to spot it. your head snapped up to look at Mydei with feigned apology. "oh, i’m so sorry, sir. are you alrig—"

you felt your heart jump up straight to your throat as he suddenly seized your wrist, the glare he sent your way sending shivers down your spine. did your vision fail you? no, that simply wasn’t possible — sure, it was just a brief glimpse of a bathhouse, but — gods, on the other hand, you never knew when it’s exactly taking place. it could have been a few weeks from now on, months, years! that stupid clairvoyance, was it supposed to help or torment you?!

you gritted your teeth, adrenaline instantly rushing through your body. Mydeimos was much stronger, it was obvious from the way his fingers clenched around you — but perhaps he didn’t mean to harm you, because the grip faltered slightly when he spotted your distraught expression. you didn’t want to cause a scene, however you had to break free, so you swiftly stepped to the side, pushing your body weight downwards before rapidly jolting yourself up. he seemed to underestimate you — by some miracle — his balanced stance faltered, if only just slightly. you hit the man’s arm with your whole might, wincing when the sharp metal of his gauntlet sent a painful wave through your muscles. with the impact, you managed to twist your wrist, and practically tear it away from his grasp.

you held back the triumphant smile that threatened to creep onto your lips, internally sneering at how Mydeimos’ pity caused you to take advantage of it, and give you a chance to flee. you turned on your heel, accidentally bumping into someone — you pushed that person to the side, making them collide with the prince. without looking back, you sprinted forwards, your calves starting to burn from the mere speed of your run. your vision narrowed as you kept moving between the crowd, your eyes searching for the best escape route. you’d have to leave the holy city as soon as possible.

you ran into a tight alleyway, almost stumbling over your own feet — you were fleeing for some time now, and so you risked a glance behind your back. nothing. you felt as if your lungs were on fire, and you gasped for air, leaning on the wall. you’ll have to resume your sprint soon, but now, you had to rest, else you’d collapse. after a few wheezes of exhaustion, you pushed yourself forwards, and you turned to the left, your eyes widening before you bumped into the very man who was chasing after you just a few minutes ago. how— when?! your mind started to panic as you wobbled backwards, his hand catching your collar just when you wanted to turn away and bolt.

"you damned—"

"what made you think you could steal from me, thief?" he seethed, tone dangerously low. you swallowed, trying to calm your hammering heart. you must think, think!

"let! me! go!" you growled, flailing your limbs around, your fists hitting blindly at him. "i didn’t steal anything!"

it was a poor excuse, you knew about that, but fear way too truthful for your liking started to bloom within your heart, and your usually sharp mind failed you. perhaps you weren’t as cunning as you deemed yourself. nothing other than pointless arguing came to your rescue, and you cursed yourself for your over-confidence.

Mydei swiveled you to face him, grasping both of your arms in just one hand, the other one unceremoniously reaching into your bag and pulling out his pouch. "what is it, then?" he asked, dangling the thing before your eyes. you felt the need to spit at his face.

"that’s mine."

"no, it’s not." the corners of his lips itched upwards, as if the whole situation was slowly starting to amuse him. "have you seen that vendor from earlier? he can confirm it belongs to me."

you huffed under your nose — it’s high time you switched plans. you forced the look of defeat, your shoulders hunching as you let out a big sigh, all resistance simmering down from your body. you could have begged for forgiveness — but you forbid yourself from falling this low, and you were sure Pa would be rolling in his grave from laughter if he saw you on your knees, crying and sniffling as you made up some hardly-believable story about your starving family.

you shook your head, keeping your tone coy. "alright, alright. you got me there."

the sudden surrender seemed to slightly surprise Mydei, but at least he didn’t point it out. "fine then. now let’s see what the Goldweaver will have to say about the whole situation."

Goldweaver. Aglaea. you knew who she was. you’ve never seen her personally, but the stories about her unmistakable beauty and coldness of character stuck, making a rather big impression on you. the woman wasn’t exactly ruthless, but she kept the entirety of Okhema on a tight leash, and you were sure the sentence she’d give you wouldn’t be lenient. damn your luck.

"so what? you’ll just drag me there?" you questioned, starting to feel Mydei tug you forwards. in response, he only nodded. heat of irritation crawled up your neck, as you thought you’d rather have him bind you into chains than pull around as if you were a small child.

for the whole length of your walk, you kept looking for opportunities to break free and run, however none came. people kept giving you dirty looks, but you paid little attention to them, well-used to the scrutinizing glances everyone would grace you with as you stumbled back home with a bruised face, a few dimes held tightly in your palm. when the time of your judgement came, you expected anything but this.

five months of cleaning the public bathhouse. no parole.

well, at least your vision wasn’t faulty after all.

for the first month, you were trying to run away. when the second and third came, you kept on seething, ferociously smacking the rag around as you polished the ceramics. by the forth you begrudgingly accepted your fate, and when the last month of your punishment came, you were almost grateful for such a forgiving penalty. they even gave you food, and a bed to sleep in — although the cell was rather cold. it could’ve always been worse, no? what surprised you furthermore, Mydei seemed to take no personal offense, and sometimes came to accompany you (or rather — make sure you caused no trouble, as during your first day you decided it would be a great idea to spill dirty water everywhere, and bang at the windows). at first you were very skeptical, swinging your broom at him as you tried to chase the man away, convinced he was there to just poke fun at you. as the weeks went on, it became obvious he harbored no ill intent.

"what’s this?" you asked as you bit off a mouthful of some pastry, your speech muffled by the big piece of sweetness.

Mydei chuckled dryly at your lack of knowledge. "you seriously don’t know?” you sent him a warning glare, still chewing on that certain something, so delicious and foreign to your tastebuds. growing up poor, you had no chance of ever experiencing such luxuries as tidbits. "it’s an eclair, [name]. pretty common, if you ask me."

you swallowed, wiping your mouth as you lazily leaned on the mop. "well, i’m sorry that i’ve never seen any of your fancy foods." you mocked, though it lacked in a real bite. "now, give me another one."

"no way, you’ve already had three of them—" he didn’t even get the chance to finish his sentence as you snatched the 'eclair', or whatever the thing was called from his tray. at least now your quick reflexes were actually good for something. you immediately stuffed it into your mouth, delight seeping through your senses as the saccharine melted on your tongue.

Mydei sighed in resignation, and you giggled at him, starting to swipe the floor with more vigor than before. it’s something he often did — bringing you snacks, and while you didn’t understand why he was acting so kind, you never dared complain. truth be told, when he first walked in with a plate full of pastries, you genuinely thought he wanted to poison you. it took some convincing — and eventually a small fight — but you caved in, and decided to give it a try. when you took the hesitant bite, you felt as if your whole world collided and got rebuilt anew in a span of two seconds. ever since then, Mydei kept gracing you with the sweet treats, and you definitely deemed him as a godsend, the merciful cakes and donuts calling out to you while you struggled to clean up the entirety of the bathhouse.

"goodness, what do you put in those little ecleres of yours?" you mused, briefly glancing at his tall form, now leaning against the pillar.

“eclairs.” he corrected bluntly.

"yeah, yeah, whatever, eclairs—" you rolled your eyes, dipping the mop into the bucket of water, "how do you make them? they’re amazing."

he cocked one eyebrow at you, amused expression starting to pull at his face. "want me to write you a recipe? i doubt you’ll remember anything when you finally get out."

you huffed, now looking at Mydei with a feigned hurt. you had to squint your eyes due to the setting sun, its bright rays blinding you. "do you really think my memory is so bad?" you whined, your lips curling downwards before an idea sparkled within your mind. "oh, i know! what do you say — once i’m free again, you’ll just teach me. doesn’t that sound wonderful?"

you had no plans of staying in the holy city any longer than you were forced to, but you doubted you’d meet anyone as talented as Mydei, and your baking skills were practically zero. getting yourself a cooking book, and attempting to lean how to make everything from scratch by yourself sounded… well, it didn’t sound like anything, because you’d probably fall back into the whirl of crime and thieving, so taking up a hobby was out of question. perhaps those few months in Okhema made you too soft, but you desperately clung to the vision of sparse comfort. just a few more weeks, and you’ll be gone, but you still needed to try everything that once seemed completely out of reach. you had to.

Mydei blinked at you, as if your offer took him aback. "i don’t see why not." he shrugged, pretending your enthusiastic expression was of an indifference to him.

you jumped up, cheerily clasping your hands together as the forgotten mop clattered to the ground. both of you cringed at the loud noise, and after a second of awkward silence, you bent down to pick it up, thinking it would be best to get back to work. for now, you had to focus on being meticulous, so that Aglaea wouldn’t prolong your punishment — then, you can think about all the joys the holy city had to offer.

———

in the retrospection, your stupid resolve to flee, and abandon Okhema now seemed almost laughable. you remembered it clearly as a day, your past-self swearing that you wouldn’t stick for long. well, as it turns out, four years have passed since then, and you were striving. you can’t really recall what made you stay — perhaps your nervous system finally calming down, pushing the ever-present urge to "fight" or "run" aside. maybe it was your own indecisiveness, crumbling into one, solid resolution as you got tired of the constant back and forth with your mind. just one week longer, and after that you’ll leave. when the week passed, you usually repeated the same sentence, ultimately making it obvious you weren’t going anywhere. months stretched into years, and you could pat your own back with pride, surprised by your ability of making the right decision for once. you no longer had to fight for your own survival, prolonged days of starvation and dangers looming over your shoulder completely gone. it was comfortable. you were warm, you had enough food to eat, so the need to steal and mug others died simultaneously when the threats finally dissolved away from your life.

it’s not like you had it very easy, though. you had to make money somehow (because, as it turns out, stealing was out of question), and so you decided to use your rather unethical skills to improve your living situation. you have done it previously, and it wasn’t exactly demanding. at first, it was just a small tent on the side of the road, and the fraction was poor, however soon your ‘clairvoyant' career started to bloom. yes, you could predict a future in a way — but that was mostly useless, reserved only to your own person. what really came in hand was a thing called "cold reading". when you were young, your Pa taught you this unbelievably nasty trick, and you knew it was only supposed to make your thieving expeditions easier — however now, you could play an ever-seeing clairvoyant maiden, deceiving others into thinking you actually had some mysterious abilities.

people like this sort of thing, and it’s awfully easy to impress them. locals, tourists, children and adults flocked to your tent, asking you to read their fortune and give some good advice. you’d chuckle in response, your intent gaze catching on every single syllable of their words. how they dressed, how they spoke, all the mannerism and attitude engraving itself into your mind as you cracked them open. you offered them seemingly innocent questions, only pushing to explore further. it came to the point where you’d constantly hear how good you were at this, and you only expanded the trickery you previously fed to others on a silver spoon.

cold reading soon turned into hot reading, and you would spend long hours trying to find out everything and anything about your regulars. it wasn’t morally right, and you were completely aware you were scamming them, but hey — it’s their fault for being so gullible. sometimes, when you had an especially tough case, and couldn’t exactly deduce any sort of important information from your client, you’d just hit them with something extremely universal, like "true love always waits", or "soon your troubles will cease, and you’ll be back on your feet”. every time you cringed internally, afraid if it was too obvious — but five or six days later, they’d crawl back, saying how right you were. you only smirked under your nose as the money effortlessly filled up your wallet. of course, you had met people against the idea, and they seemed to enjoy criticizing your ways — you paid no mind to them, even though you knew they were right, and all the others were in the wrong, blindly believing in your words.

finally, all of your hardships payed off, and you were able to buy a place to live in. it was small, and quite suffocating, but you remember squealing and tearing up from happiness as you gripped the keys to your new house in your hand. he would be so proud of you. now as you had more opportunities, you set up a special place dedicated to your divination within the safe walls of your home. it was going great — both the business, and your life. long gone was searching for any scrapes of food, and worrying whether you’d soak in the rain as the night’s cold air shook your bones.

as for Mydei — and your other friends who were smart enough to see through your dramatic theatrics — they were rather… opposed. that’s a good word to describe it, you thought. it’s not like you’ve ever told them straightforwardly — "it’s a fraud", no, they simply knew of your eccentric nature, and couldn’t believe you’d possibly let go of your old ways. well, good for them, at least they won’t be milked from money just for a few half-assed prophecies. Mydei would often visit your house, so cluttered with trinkets (sometimes he questioned where’d you get all of the stuff from, you simply grinned mischievously in response), and chastise you for shamelessly deceiving innocent citizens.

he kept repeating how wrong you are for this, yet what he did to mar your business? nothing. absolutely nothing. you could barely suppress the salves of laughter creeping up in your throat as you watched someone ask Mydei about his opinion on your divination. the man swallowed, nodded stiffly, took a deep breath — and said it was the best one in area. you recall having to turn your head away, else the awfully contained grin spreading across your lips would betray you. he was so bad at lying, and yet for some reason he tangled himself into your own mess, covering up for you. what’s even better — Mydei’s recommendations were sought after, so the queue before your house was… rather long, at least for a few days.

truth was, Mydei and you decided to stick together, so perhaps that’s why he decided to look out for you. you would’ve never guessed the victim of your miserably failed robbery would carry so much importance to you, brightening up your days with so much more color. every single second here meant a ton for you, as the fleeting nature of life became more palpable than ever. you don’t know when the line got so blurred, smudging like fresh paint.

perhaps it was a long time ago.

you twirled with joy as you excitedly nursed your belongings by your chest — the day of your release turned out to be unbelievably sunny, sky’s hue a deep lazurite, devoid of any clouds or breeze. Aglaea returned your possessions, although now lacking in all of the lock-picking tools and knives. fortunately, you held little sentiment towards physical objects, and so you didn’t cry after the loss.

"okay! so what do we do now?" you asked, enthusiasm dripping from every syllable of your words.

Mydei huffed, running his fingers through the blonde locks. "you never run out of energy, do you?" he asked, his gaze fixing on your form as you skipped beside him.

"oh, i know! you promised to teach me how to bake, didn’t you? let’s go do that!" you blatantly ignored him, your eyes jumping across every other thing as you took in your surroundings. in exchange for your rather 'easy-going' sentence, you were also forbidden from taking walks, so now it felt as if you just got born into the world anew.

"you seriously want to do that now?" he sighed, your idea bemusing him. "wouldn’t you rather… i don’t know, go sightseeing, or—"

"sightseeing? Mydei, please, don’t make me laugh!" you giggled, knocking at your own forehead, "we’re as free as the birds, we should do something more exciting than that!"

"so you think baking is more worthy of your interest than actually learning about the culture?"

you nodded, "you know me so well! but if you’re really so opposed, then—" you paused, mulling over your options, "is there a bar anywhere? we could make bets on who’s going to win a fight."

the man shook his head with resignation. "y-you don’t want to do that? okay, so how about we go and roughhouse up a few of—"

"let’s just stick to the baking, alright?" Mydei muttered, starting to feel overwhelmed by the multitude of your unconventional ideas of spending one’s free time. he also wanted to point out how you’re definitely due for a bit of resocialization, but decided to keep his mouth shut.

he lead the way to his house, and your jaw slacked to the floor as you took everything in. while he prepared the ingredients, you walked about the space, your eyes glimmering with genuine wonder, and you had to grit your teeth as you resisted the urge to pack half of his belongings into your bag. it’s not like you wanted to steal from Mydei, but it was buried deep within your instincts. all of the expensive-looking artifacts, and gemstones… you swallowed thickly, wiping the sweat off of your forehead. it was a small fortune (or rather an endless wealth, at least in your opinion). while the man busied himself in the kitchen, you could swipe some of the stuff, and bolt through the window. you glanced at the glass, measuring the height of your fall — two meters. almost laughable, compared to your previous ones where you’d hit the ground with a sickening thud, feeling the breath get knocked out of your chest. then again, was it really worth it? you weren’t some ungrateful brat, biting at the hand that feeds you.

your fingers trailed over the small stones, their golden-brown color drawing you in. you wouldn’t take them — you just wanted to touch the smooth texture, smiling to yourself at the nice, cool sensation.

"enjoying yourself, [name]?"

you jumped up with a yelp at the sound of a familiar voice behind your back. you quickly turned to face Mydei, your expression twisting with the slightest of distress. "i—i swear i didn’t steal anything!" you pleaded, surprised that he was able to sneak up on you so effortlessly.

"i know you didn’t," his face eased into something more pleasant as he stepped closer to you, "i just asked if you like them."

you breathed with relief, letting out an awkward chuckle as you turned back to the stones. "yeah, i do. they’re beautiful."

the corners of Mydei’s lips tugged upwards. "this one is called tiger’s eye. i have plenty, so you can take one, if you want to."

"really?!" you beamed, selecting the smallest one from the collection. "thank you, thank you!"

the man observed as you placed the tumbled stone into your bag, his eyes briefly locking onto your overjoyed features. “i have prepared everything, so go back to the kitchen."

you gave an understanding nod, falling into step behind him as he led the way. as you reached the countertop, your gaze swept over the assortment of ingredients — flour, sugar, milk and melted butter, eggs. amongst the familiar things sat a peculiar fruit, it’s skin a pretty shade of red. "what is this?" you inquired, picking it up.

"a pomegranate." he responded, and you blinked twice at the name. you’ve heard of it before, though you had no chance of seeing it with your own eyes. you sniffed the fruit, and the vague smell didn’t remind you of anything. just before your teeth sank into its thick skin, Mydei snatched it out of your palm. "that’s not how you eat it. anyway, we’ll need it for later, so be kind and try not to eat anything."

you rolled your eyes at his strictness, but decided it would be better not to argue about it. "well, fine. so, uhh, what are we gonna make with all that?" you pointed towards the stuff lined up before you, wondering what it’ll change into.

"pancakes."

"oh! you mean those flat-like things?" you scratched your nape, starting to feel abashed by your lack of general knowledge. during your whole life, you managed to survive on simple food like potatoes, groats, rarely meat if you and your old man were lucky enough to rob a vendor, or make just enough to buy yourselves a piece of cold cuts. you had no idea of what the world could really offer, your sight focused solely on the basics.

"exactly," Mydei affirmed, taking the bowl and placing it in front of you, "they’re easy to make, so your brain won’t have any problem to catch up."

“hey!" you whined, though you paid no mind to the lighthearted bicker.

"take the flour, baking powder, sugar and salt. whisk it in the bowl." he explained, and you gave him an unsure nod, pouring the previously measured ingredients and starting to mix them together, even though you saw no point to that. in the meanwhile, he set another bowl by your side, his studious gaze watching over you, as if he was sure you’d mess up something as simple as that. "that’s enough. now stir the butter, milk and eggs in the second bowl."

you obediently followed the instructions, wondering why you had to do everything in the separate containers. was it really necessary? still, Mydei would probably sentence you to ten years in prison if you decided to do things your way. you whisked everything, and although the process was monotone, you found yourself enjoying it. it was slow, and calming. you didn’t have to fight, or run while the ferocious barking behind your back rapidly picked up in volume.

"now mix it into the flour."

"why couldn’t we do it with just one bowl?"

"because it wouldn’t work. do as i say."

you huffed, thinking that maybe you preferred the hounds chasing you. you stirred the batter together, seeing as the consistency started to thicken. "when do i stop?" you asked, your eyes glued to the work at hand.

"when you deem it fit." Mydei answered vaguely, causing your eyebrows to narrow together. how do you know once the batter is ready? when it came to cooking, you were absolutely clueless, and you berated yourself for not trying to learn it earlier, even if it was useless to you. after a few minutes of mixing, you decided to put it down, thinking it would be best not to overdo it.

you looked at the man, searching for his approval. he briefly glanced into the bowl before turning on the stove, and starting to heat the skillet. "hey, is it any good?" you questioned, but your voice seemed to fall deaf on his ears as he melted the butter on the pan’s surface. he was doing this on purpose, wasn’t he?

"pour the batter on the skillet. but not too much," he said, completely ignoring your earlier question, "remember to keep it at medium heat, else you’ll burn the pancake."

you rolled your eyes once again this day, but ultimately complied, pouring the bowl’s contents out. you listened to the sizzle, and after a minute or two, Mydei grabbed the skillet’s handle and effortlessly flipped the pancake over. you hummed in acknowledgment, watching it take on a nice, auburn shade. "that’s how you do it. now, your turn.” he instructed, swiftly moving the ready food onto the plate.

you enthusiastically followed the steps, tracking down the minutes. after you counted to one hundred, you started to doubt yourself, your thoughts falling into disarray as you wondered whether that’s enough. just to be sure, you counted down to another hundred, finally grasping the pan’s handle and throwing the pancake up. you gasped in horror as the food flew into the air, way too high for your liking, finally landing with an unsatisfactory plop onto the counter. one of its sides was charred, and the other one looked definitely undercooked.

a stretch of silence filled the kitchen as you observed the atrocity you just made with your own hands. "so, uhh, Mydei… do you think it’s edible, or…?"

he sighed, taking the thing and throwing it into a trash can. "i guess not. try again."

"but—"

"try again."

you huffed, repeating the steps. alright, now you won’t mess this up — it was so easy, after all. when enough time passed, you carefully flipped the pancake, trying to control your strength, and you cheered with celebration when it turned out alright on one side. it could have been better, but you were still proud of yourself. gods, you were getting really good at this, weren’t you?

"what do we think?" you asked, taking in the beautiful sight of pancakes stacked over each other.

Mydei crossed his arms over his chest, a small smile tugging at his lips. "great job. you actually didn’t burn my kitchen." you laughed at his comment, patting his arm with a self-satisfied smirk on your face.

"me? burn your kitchen? oh, i’m way too talented for such mistakes." you boasted, even though you knew it wasn’t impossible for you to accidentally set everything on fire. "by the way, what do we need the pomegranate for? decoration?"

"it’s messy, so i’d rather you leave that to me." he answered, taking out a knife, "while i’m busy with that, you can clean up."

the protest died on your tongue when you realized you probably shouldn’t complain — after all, Mydei dedicated plenty of his free time to teaching you, and for that, you were grateful. you scooped everything into your arms, putting it away in the sink before wiping the countertop. you didn’t even get to finish your task when the man announced he was done.

you swiveled on your foot, clasping your hands together at the sight of the finished dish. a stack of pancakes, dripping with syrop and pomegranate seeds generously sprinkled on top made your stomach rumble with hunger. you exclaimed with excitement, practically bolting to the chair and sitting down.

however, as you two got busy with eating, you started to feel a little guilty — Mydei was giving you food, and you had no way of saying thank you. how’s that fair? what’s worse, what if he demands you pay him back? stress squeezed at your gut as you kept on mulling over all of the grim possibilities, remembering the awful things you were faced with once you couldn’t pay your debt to someone.

"Mydei, i—" you began before he cut you off.

"[name], would you like to learn another recipe some other time?"

you blinked at him, stopping your chewing. "i mean… yes, of course. but why? you don’t have to do this, and i have nothing to give in return."

"you’re foolish if you think i want anything from you." he chuckled dryly, placing the fork down. "and a mere pancake recipe won’t be enough. you have plenty of other things to learn."

you felt your chest swell — perhaps the concept of kindness was still quite foreign to you. you swallowed, your eyes fixating on the table.

"i’m not sure if i’ll stick around long enough for you to teach me." you admitted, though the vision of leaving the holy city behind seemed almost unpleasant.

"we’ll see about that." Mydei announced nonchalantly, and you wondered if he really was so self-assured about you staying in Okhema. still, maybe his gaze reached way further than yours, and he was able of deciphering what your heart really desired.

one year flew over your head like a flock of birds, and the roots connecting you with this place seemed to tighten around your ankles for good.

it was the afternoon. the weather was nice that day, and you thought taking a break from your work could do you some good. the business was booming, and you didn’t lack in money for a change, but the effort you put in made your bones heavy, and sometimes you felt as if you were falling asleep inside your own body. you needed to rest — if only just for a few hours.

you invited your friend to accompany you, even though your body demanded a while of loneliness. still, with how things were going, you were sure that you and Mydei spent way too little time together, both busied with your own responsibilities. earlier on, when you had nothing better to do, you’d constantly stick by his side, trailing after the man, and demanding he tells you more about the history of Okhema. he’d scoff and huff at you, even though you knew he wasn’t really annoyed. people often gave you weird looks, wondering how much audacity you could possibly harbor to unceremoniously bother the prince of Kremnos — however, you simply felt no need to follow the authority. it was as simple as that.

seated by the bank of a shallow stream, you let the cold water lap at your feet, its refreshing touch a nice contrast to the sun beaming on your nape. fortunately, you were already used to the holy city’s climate. a soft hum of contentment escaped your lips as your fingers brushed against the wildflowers swaying near your legs — you plucked one, smiling to yourself.

you gently twirled the small, blue flower between your fingers. you had always held a special fondness for them, as they were like living symbols of memory, reminders of things that should never be forgotten.

“what do you think of forget-me-nots?” you asked softly, letting your gaze settle on Mydei, sitting beside you.

“they’re…” he began, as if weighing each word. “they’re alright, i guess.”

his response was cautious, almost indifferent in a way, but there was something more lurking in his voice — something you had yet to decipher. you nodded with understanding, turning your body to face him as you tugged the petite flower between the stands of his golden hair. "there. now you won’t ever forget me."

you laughed at his perplexed expression, getting up and skipping into the stream, the water barely reaching your calves. you beckoned Mydei to join you, but he shook his head. truth be told, most of the time he didn’t understand you. every day, you managed to do things that surprised him, or say something so bemusing his mind failed to comprehend your words. you were from two completely different worlds — maybe that’s why he felt so drawn to you. your mannerisms and thoughts you’d often muse to yourself out loud, the way your feet fell so gently on the ground, bitter smiles as you failed to catch the grasshoppers into your palms.

you were different. that’s easy to say about someone, yet he genuinely had this kind of conviction — a brick wall separating you from all the others. you traversed unorthodox paths, your nonconformity ringing heavily in your steps as the trail of beargrass grown in your wake. at first he didn’t think you’d decide to stay, preferring to flee the city as soon as possible, yet here you were, splashing the water around as your eager hands clasped on little fishes, watching them wiggle until you let them swim again. you called out to him again, but he refused once more.

you were so pretty, and puzzling. the color of your eyes came out vividly in the sun, and you glanced at him, but he was already staring at you. he often pondered — how can you stay so positive all of the time? even as the rain poured down, you were still packed with energy, hiding under that makeshift tent of yours as you smiled up at him. perhaps that was the face of a person who was denied anything good throughout their whole life.

"how’s business going?" he asked, interrupting your wild chase after the dragonfly. you stopped, wiping the sweat off of your forehead, and slowly dragging your feet closer to the bank.

"good enough." you answered vaguely, that mischievous smirk pulling your lips upwards. "at this rate, i’ll be much richer than you."

Mydei chuckled quietly, taking in your breathless form. "and do you plan on buying a house? or will you spend the rest of your days in your poorly-made tent?"

"hey, you!" you groaned with feigned irritation, splashing the water at the man. a few droplets reached his face, making him grimace at the sudden coldness. "of course i will buy a house! i’m very close to it, actually."

"is that so?"

"yes! and you’ll be the first one to visit me!" you exclaimed, the look in your eyes turning dreamy as you imagined all of the comfort and possibilities once you’ll get your own place to live in. "oh, i’ll be baking tarts and cookies everyday, and i won’t need to worry about the weather, and—"

you kept listing all the stuff you wanted to do, and Mydei nodded along, listening with intent. it was so obvious you desired a home more than anything in this world. he remembers offering you to stay at his house, but you refused, stubborn on remaining independent. short after that, an idea born within your cunning mind, and soon you were making good money on clueless people who got themselves scammed. it came so easily to you, and he often criticized your shady business, feeling bad for all those innocent citizens blindly believing in your lies or guesses made on a whim.

at the same time, he was happy for you — and he didn’t want to admit it, even in his mind, but the way you danced oh-so carefully around your mirage of trickery and deception made him even more infatuated. you were unconventional in every sense, laughing at the fate as you provoked it with astonishing clarity. then, after you were done with your work for the day, you’d search for him and poke fun at the surprised expressions of your clients, mimicking their reactions as you retold the lies you fed to them.

he knew it was wrong. he knew he should oppose it harder, yet all he did was snicker at your silly faces, reminding you to be more mindful.

with the corner of his eye, he noticed the small forget-me-not that you earlier stuck into his hair, now falling out due to a brief gust of wind. he didn’t need it to remember you forever. even though he knew you for only a year, the image of your face was already buried deep within his brain, the unmistakable whimsy and slyness appearing engraved into his eyelids.

you finally plopped down beside him, sighing as you drained the water out of your attire. with you next to him, he felt as if everything he carried within his heart meant something more. more sacred, more precious. even the simplest "hello" sounded like "come here, [name]. it’s late and i missed you."

your back met with the lush grass, and you looked into the honeyed irises. you wished you could merge into one with the soil, the dirt and vegetation swallowing you whole, and he’d still be there, equally entangled within the vines and stems. but that wasn’t possible.

by the second year of your new life in Okhema, you were sure it’d be a place where you’d stay until the sorrowful moment. there was no other way.

"and here is my living room!" you announced with unconfined pride, stretching your arms in the rather small space, still lacking in any furniture or ornaments. "do you like it?"

Mydei sent you a wide smile, infected by your contagious happiness. you were showing the man your new house, a thing you worked for harder than any other. it took some sweat, and unbelievable amounts of effort (at some point you genuinely thought your mind would give up on you, and sizzle away, leaving your skull empty), but here it was — a place you could call your own. it was still devoid of anything other than a bed, basic kitchen equipment, and the most humble bathroom, but you were satisfied. properly decorating the space can wait.

"it’s nice, [name]." Mydei replied, his eyes scanning the 'living room', dimly lit by two oil lamps sitting in the corner. in the middle of the room stood a singular, low table, a deck of cards along with few tumbled stones he let you take from his house spread across its surface. there was nothing else.

you kneeled by the table, tapping its wooden plane. "i see you’re intrigued by my divination area, dear guest. want me to tell your fortune?" you giggled playfully as you picked up the cards, their corners battered from the flow of time.

Mydei cocked one eyebrow at you, amused expression starting to tug at his face. "no, thank you. i have no need of vixens trying to deceive me.”

"oh, come on, Mydei, just this one time!" you pleaded, patting the place beside you. "i promise it’s free of charge, since you’re my best friend!" he sighed at the sight of your pitiful face, sitting in front of you as your feigned hurt immediately shifted into a self-satisfactory smirk.

"fine then. let’s see what you come up with."

you shuffled the cards vigorously, the movement so fast, even his eyes had problem focusing on the way your nimble fingers shifted the cards between each other, changing their placement. "now, dear guest, please cut." you placed the perfect stack down, and Mydei begrudgingly separated the top half of the cards.

you kept an artful smile on your lips as you spread the cards along the table’s surface. he thought that if he were an unknowing client of yours, he’d definitely believe in your fraud too.

"alright, because i am only telling your fortune, we’ll skip over the rest of the steps.” you announced, your words slow and calculated as you already thought of whatever dramatic prevarication you’ll hit Mydei with. "please, choose one card. don’t show me yet.”

without further ado, he quickly picked out the third one to your left. his eyes studied the illustration on the card, lips itching upwards as the whole charade was starting to genuinely intrigue him.

"what now? you’ll guess what card am i holding, oh great clairvoyant?" he mocked, though it lacked in any real bite.

you chuckled lowly, batting your eyelashes at him. "why, of course. how could i not? my eyes are all seeing." you boasted, having one final glance at the card before you were absolutely sure. "it’s the chariot."

Mydei blinked at you, his eyebrows tugging together as he put down the card on the table — indeed, it was exactly as you said. by the look on his face, it was obvious he was pulling your leg earlier, not actually expecting you to guess. you grinned at him, happy with yourself.

"the chariot, huh… well, dear guest, it seems you need some encouragement. my instincts tell me you have been struggling with maintaining your direction. but worry not! you’re full of fierceness, and strength, aren’t you?” you got met with silence, pushing you to continue. "you need to hold onto your convictions, and your goal. i see bright future for you, though… shall we draw another card?" you mused, the absolute confidence radiating off your body. you were in your element, all the words slipping so effortlessly from your tongue as your fingers steadily tapped against your cheek in feigned contemplation.

Mydei shook his head. “i think that’s enough. now tell me how you did that."

"did what?" you teased, barely containing your amusement.

"don’t play a fool, [name], you know exactly what i mean." he urged, finally making you groan with resignation as all the mysterious atmosphere from the room dissipated.

"you see my cards are a little messed up in some places, right?" you offered, pointing out the bents and imperfections along the thick paper. "i just memorized their backs. people think i’m really all that, meanwhile i’m simply perceptive. well — i can’t say it works all the time, so i also count the cards, just to be sure."

the man nodded, having to admit it took him by surprise. to think you’d go such long ways — on the other hand, people wouldn’t fall for something too simple either, so what you were doing was probably necessary. "color me impressed, [name]."

you thanked for the compliment, quickly shoving the mess on the table to the side. "okay, you have seen the entirety of my house, i already told your fortune — what else would you like to do?"

Mydei shrugged in response, his gaze falling to the window. "i’m not sure. it’s pretty late, and you must be tired."

you huffed, an unsatisfied noise slipping from your mouth as you rested your forehead on the table. you didn’t want him to go yet, so you had to find a way to entertain him. he won’t play any card games with you, since you’ll cheat the hell out of them, and baking was out of question too, your house lacking in any ingredients. you could converse about something of not much importance, but the energy was still filling every fiber of your being, and your brain demanded more stimulating activities.

suddenly, through the dull darkness of your thoughts, an idea sparkled, bright as a day, and yet to stupid. still — you couldn’t help yourself as you rapidly got to your feet, starting to bolt towards the kitchen.

"[name]?" Mydei called after you, watching you sprint out of the room.

you ignored him, crouching by the cabinet under your sink, opening its doors to grab a big bottle of champagne, a red ribbon tied around its neck. it was supposed to be a gift for your friend’s birthday party — you honestly had no clue what to buy her, and alcohol seemed like the only available option. you were never big on drinking, however that’s… probably what people get each other as presents, no? you paused for a second, wondering whether your idea was really so brilliant, but you ultimately cast your concerns to the side, thinking you’ll buy another one tomorrow. even if it’ll hurt your wallet.

you paraded into the room with the champagne in your hand, dangling it proudly in the air. Mydei rolled his eyes in disappointment, but the corners of his lips itched upwards as he took in your form, relishing in yourself. "don’t you think we’re due to some celebration?" you hummed, setting the bottle down with a 'thud!'.

"what’s the red ribbon for?" he inquired, turning the thing around as his eyes searched for the percentages. Mydei didn’t particularly like drinking, especially when the alcohol was strong, and so he felt slightly unsure to see it wasn’t necessarily light. usually he’d refuse altogether, but since it was your big day, he couldn’t say no. you have gone such a lengthy way, prevailing through all the hardships, and finally reaching your dream — of course, it was only logical you’d want to honor your achievement.

you stepped by the window, opening it widely as you leaned forward, looking at the street. from this side of the road there wasn’t anything attention-worthy, your neighborhood stretching into the further horizon. no one was out, and the silence of the night got interrupted solely by the night birds, chirping away to their hearts contents.

"ah, don’t mind it. i bought it like that." you lied quickly, though it was hardly believable. if you told the truth, the man would surely deny drinking, chastising you for being so thoughtless. you grabbed the bottle, beckoning Mydei to stand by your side. he lifted himself off the ground, dragging his feet over to the window.

"want me to help you open it? it won’t spill out." he offered, but you shook your head, retracting the alcohol away from him.

"no, i’ll do it my way.” you announced, a mischievous smirk stretching your lips as you took the safeguard off the bottle, and he barely stopped himself from taking a cautious step back. you gave it a light shake, prying the stopper off with your thumb.

before Mydei could even open his mouth to warn you, the cork practically flew off, a loud 'pop!' piercing through the stillness of the air. the champagne’s contents exploded, rapidly spilling down your arm along with the road, and you bursted out into untamed laughter as you watched the pure-white foam gather everywhere.

"damn, it’s—" you wheezed, wondering what made it so funny, "it’s spilling everywhere! Mydei, please," you paused, feeling the salves of joy fold you in half, the muscles in your stomach and cheeks burning, "do something! do something!”

he swiftly grabbed the bottle, covering its opening with his own hand. you let go, shaking off the liquid from your fingers as you continued laughing, tears starting to gather in your eyes as you observed his half-panicked, half-amused expression. "[name], for gods’ sake, i told you i’d open it!" he exclaimed, your contagious emotions quickly spreading to his face.

you breathed, your laughter now easing into giggles as you tried to calm yourself down. when was the last time you let yourself feel this way? it must have been a long ago. "yeah, yeah, i admit it would’ve been better if you took care of it." you cackled, gently taking the bottle from his hands. "next time, i’ll listen to you."

with that, you cleaned your hands, and wiped the champagne dry, sitting back by your small table, surrounded by nothing in the empty living room. the alcohol’s contents were already reduced to a half, even though none of you tasted it yet. unfortunately, you didn’t have any cups, so you had to drink straight from the bottle. with the first swing, you grimaced at the bitter sensation spreading on your tongue, but you didn’t dare complain. Mydei seemed equally unsatisfied, however the both of you kept chugging, feeling more lenient than usual.

you never had much to drink, so you probably wouldn’t know, but as it turns out — you were a lightweight. an hour passed, and you were already lying on the floor, your gaze swiveling and doubling as you looked at the ceiling with a dumb smile. Mydei was completely unaffected, still sitting upright, forced to listen to your blabbering.

"so, you know," you slurred, gesticulating with your hand as you tried to gather your disarrayed thoughts, "he comes to me — crying, you know, snot running from his nose, and all that — and he tells me: '[name], please, steal that ring for me!'. i tell him to get lost, and he starts crying some more. you catching up?"

"uh-huh."

"uhh, well, i told him to get lost, but i went to steal that ring anyway. i felt bad for the guy." you explained, as if it was the most interesting story in the whole world. "i couldn’t— you know, pick the lock, so i—" you paused, trying to remember what you did, "so i broke the window with a brick. i come inside — guess what, that damn shopkeeper is still there, sleeping behind the counter. well, uh, not sleeping, cause i woke him up."

"and what did you do?" Mydei asked, his tone bordering on interest.

"i panicked, obviously." you chuckled, recalling how absolutely terrified you were at that moment. “he pulls a gun out on me — don’t know how he did it so fast, but he did. good thing the poor bastard was drunk out of his mind, and he kept missing, else i’d be turned into a strainer."

the man remained silent, his brows knitting together in quiet contemplation. though you recounted the story with laughter, the weight of your experience settled heavily on him. he couldn’t summon even the faintest chuckle, no matter how much he wished to. the thought of you enduring such a reality dulled any trace of amusement he might have mustered.

you yawned, starting to feel sleepy. "somehow, i survived that… frenzy, and i ended up snatching the ring. it wasn’t even the one he wanted, nor was it the right size — but oh well. he proposed anyway, and uh, they’re either dead or still married to this day. pretty funny, no?" you rubbed your eyes, stretching on the floor.

"was it worth it?"

"what?"

"risking your life for that man. you didn’t even like him, right? you could have died."

"Mydei, you don’t understand it, do you?" you giggled, trying to pull up your body into a sitting position, though you failed miserably, your head spinning as if you were sitting atop a carousel. "if i weighted— ugh, if i weighted my every single decision through the prism of a possible death — then i wouldn’t have moved a single inch throughout my whole life."

he sighed, drumming his fingers against the cold ground before finally deciding to get up, and check up on your well-being. you smiled as you saw him kneel next to you, carefully pulling the troublesome hair away from your face. "and anyway, i think that — you know, love is important. he wanted to propose, and isn’t that, i don’t know. something to die for, maybe?"

"perhaps, but you were still foolish to do what he asked you for." Mydei nagged, his looming silhouette obscuring your view of the ceiling. his eyebrows were tugged together, and you felt bad, because you didn’t want him to be somber. you both were supposed to be happy tonight.

you reached your hands upwards, catching his cheeks in your palms. even though your vision was still woozy, you didn’t fail to notice the glimpse of embarrassment flashing through the man’s face. that evoked a hum out of you as you pulled his head closer to your face, amused by how easily he got abashed (or perhaps what you were doing was already too much, but you were too drunk to realize).

"Mydei, would you go and steal a ring for me, if i asked you to?"

he huffed, starting to feel the heat crawling up his neck due to the close proximity. "don’t ask me weird things."

"answer me." you demanded, trying to form your features into something more threatening.

he scoffed as his golden irises focused on yours, and you swear there was four of them now. "let’s say i would."

"wrong." you warned, the clarity returning to your eyes for a split second. "don’t ever do anything for me. you’ll only waste away."

the tension seemed almost palpable, filling the room as the smell of champagne on your breath mixed with lilacs growing outside. Mydei’s gaze kept flickering over your whole face as he tried to decipher your words, and you smirked to yourself, sending him a challenging look.

"i don’t think i care." he finally retaliated, returning your expression.

"no?"

"no."

a beat of silence passed as you studied him, the satisfactory answer making your lips stretch into a wide smile. you finally took note of his deeply narrowed eyebrows, and laughed, flicking his nose. he flicked your forehead back.

"don’t grimace at me, i’m starting to get scared." you snickered, simultaneously letting your arms down.

Mydei only scoffed, straightening his back out, and mouthed something that didn’t quite reach your ears. your head lolled to the side as a certain realization slowly cut through your mind — you liked him. it didn’t wash over you like a sudden plummet of the rain — if you had to describe the feeling, it was akin to the lake’s gentle flow of the water, the cool feeling encompassing one’s body as they stand by the bank, ankles dipped. it was peaceful. you swore to yourself that you wouldn’t grow too attached, but it was midnight, and you were laughing way too hard, lying on the cold floor inside an empty room. something foreign gripped your gut, and at that moment, you knew you were absolutely doomed.

life was treating you well. you had friends, you had a stable job, all of your old habits safely repressed into the back of your mind, as you long forgo the ways of a criminal. everything seemed to fall into place, and you rarely thought of the past. you simply forgot. those four years of comfort coated your mind in a blissful veil, obscuring the dark memories from your eyes. one might say you lost a part of yourself in the process, but you didn’t like the sound of that — it wasn’t true. you just no longer needed her. the cracked claws, and bloody canines lied abandoned, already covered in cobwebs and dust.

each morning, you would wake up not with dread, but with a deep appreciation for the life you once despised. the same existence that felt like a curse now appeared as an eerie sort of beauty. you worked as always — your hands submerging themselves in deception, your mind sharpened by years of perfecting the art of illusion. guilt never crept in, because why would it? you had long convinced yourself that no one could see through your facade.

then, you would open the windows of your cluttered home, letting in the crisp morning air. the scent of lilacs, blooming wild along the roadside mixed with the warm smell of sun rays. everything felt almost disturbingly perfect.

alas, all misery and pain in the human life usually starts with evident happiness.

———

"what do you mean?!" you practically screamed, feeling your knees start to buckle under the weight of your own body. your hands convulsed around nothing, and you felt the need to grab the woman, serving one of your daggers to her throat, even though you stopped carrying them with you a long time ago.

Aglaea sighed deeply, obviously fed up with all your shouting as she massaged her temples. "i said what i said, [name]. i was lenient enough."

just this morning, Aglaea requested a visit from you, and you suspected she might have a problem with your business of a questionable nature. what you didn’t expect is her demand you close it for good. when the announcement first hit you, you began laughing, your brain coming up with a lag. then, when the woman’s expression darkened, you felt a mixture of terror and anger rapidly building up in the pit of your stomach. it was all you had. if she takes that away from you, you’d be left with nothing. the life you built for yourself over the years was now crumbling, bricks falling down from the sky and ruthlessly hitting your head as you stood in the middle of it, your hands tied behind your back.

as you started to furiously question what led to the decision, she slowly explained it was for the bigger good, and it was the high time you stopped scamming the poor citizens of Okhema. you retaliated, saying they were always visiting you out of their own volition, and nobody was forcing them to spend money on your services. in exchange, she started listing all the times your faulty prophecies and divinations turned people to ruin — gambling, physical fights, broken bones and hearts over something that could’ve easily been avoided. you wanted to burst out how it was their fault for being so gullibly stupid, yet you held your tongue back.

"and what if i don’t listen to you, huh?" you seethed, narrowing your eyes at her.

"well," Aglaea began, the look on her face cold, "i’ll be forced to banish you from the city."

you gritted your teeth, knowing there was no way of convincing her — to only add to your dismay, you actually had to control your emotions, else she’d throw you in the jail, which would be way worse than actually suppressing the anger. still, the fact remained — you were officially stripped away from the only source of money.

"anything else?" you murmured grimly, gripping your attire as you tried to stop your fingers from clenching into fists.

"i expect you to close your business immediately. and don’t go to Mydei with that, because i assure you, he won’t be able of convincing me either."

you huffed out a dry, humorless laugh. "i wouldn’t dream of doing so."

Aglaea nodded, turning away from you the second she deemed the conversation over. you turned on your heel, feeling the resentment burst through every fiber of your being, bile gathering in your throat as you tried to calm down your trembling joints. your vision narrowed as you stormed off, practically running outside, thinking that any second longer spent there will make you puke over yourself — from the way your stomach squeezed, and amount of saliva pooling in your mouth, it was likely. you felt sick, stopping outside when the fresh air hit you. it was sunny as always. sweat formed on your forehead, and you had to lean on one of the pillars, else you’d collapse.

everything. everything you worked so hard for. four years of relentless dedication.

perhaps you had it coming, the moment you started to snicker under your breath when people came crying to you, begging for advice. the guillotine was already hanging dangerously close to your neck, and it was only matter of time before someone above you would cut the rope.

you tugged at your hair helplessly as your brain seemed indecisive whether to make you wail in the middle of the street, or yell in frustration as you knocked the trash cans over, kicking their metal surface in until you’d create a cavity, and someone would have to drag you away.

a groan escaped you as you considered your options — you had to do something, otherwise you’d fall to your knees and never get up. you could go home, or you could take another road, leading to Mydei’s place. the answer rang clear, and soon you were quickly rendering the distance, tears welling up in your eyes, however none fell. you blinked them away, gently knocking at the door, fighting the urge to bang at them with all your might — no, actually, you’d much rather just break the window, and invite yourself inside. you nursed your lower lip between your teeth, patiently waiting for the man to open the door, wondering what would you do if he wasn’t there. yeah, you’d definitely break in.

finally, the sound of the lock clicking caught your attention, and you almost breathed in relief when you finally saw the tall silhouette. "[name]?"

"hi." you responded, shoving past him to get inside, immediately reaching the stove as you frantically began to make you both tea. you didn’t know why, you just did it, your shaking hands pouring the mild water over the dried herbs as you tried gathering your thoughts. it wasn’t working.

Mydei stood silently, watching the whole charade with a concerned expression. after a while, he opened his mouth to say something, but you interrupted him by taking the cup and drinking the half-made concoction in one go, your face devoid of any grimace, as if it was the best "tea" you’ve ever made, and not disgusting water with leaves. you wiped your mouth, ultimately sitting down, and sending him a slightly unhinged smile.

"are you—"

"Aglaea made me close my business."

Mydei gaped at you, dumbfounded. "what?"

you shrugged. "you heard me right. funny, isn’t it?" you practically forced the words out, feeling your throat clenching. it wasn’t funny. none of it was.

the man sat beside you, his brows furrowing together as he contemplated your erratic behavior, the words dying on his tongue. perhaps if you were crying, or shouting with anger — then, he’d know what to say. but all you did was shrug, your wide eyes fixated on something above his shoulder. "why?" he inquired, tone unsure.

you glanced at your nails, the corners of your lips dragging downwards. "she told me i had a bad effect on people. i was doing them harm, or something… well, it doesn’t matter now. case closed."

tension in the air made the room suffocating, even though all the windows were open. "i told you to be more careful, didn’t i?" Mydei slowly weighted his words, afraid you might explode any moment. looking at the twitch of your eye, it was possible.

you shrugged, picking up the second cup and taking a big swing.

"what will you do now?"

another shrug.

"you really don’t know?”

you shrugged once more, placing down the tea back on the table with your trembling fingers.

"[name], for gods’ sake," he grimaced, gripping the bridge of his nose, "talk to me. i’m trying to help you." he hissed, the slightest of agitation laced through his voice.

"help me how?" you started after a short moment of silence. "Aglaea told me not to bother you about it, because she’s not willing to hear you out either." you scoffed, your eyes flickering over to the tiled floor.

"i guessed that much." Mydei sighed, his hands itching to reach out for your shaky hands, and hold them in place. "do you have any money left?”

"yes.” you nodded, even though the amount was rather meek. after you bought your house, you irresponsibly cast away the concept of saving, rather living from paycheck to paycheck. now you were starting to see how fatal of a move that was.

"what about work?" he urged, searching for any solutions, "do you have something in mind?"

you slowly shook your head, remembering how eagerly you kept searching for any kind of employment the moment your sentence ended. all of them turned you down, either saying you lacked in experience, or you didn’t meet the basic criteria. even the simplest labor seemed too high for your qualifications. "not really, no."

Mydei’s leg started to bounce. "i’m going to help you out until you get back on your feet."

no, please, anything but that. please, don’t make me your burden. please.

"i’ll manage by myself." you chuckled dryly, finally looking at his face. he was already staring at you.

"how?" he instantly retaliated, evoking a wince out of you. you didn’t know.

you leaned back into the chair, crossing your arms over your chest. "maybe i’ll just leave the Okhema, and start somewhere else, or…" you trailed off, the vision of throwing everything away just because of an inconvenience starting to sound absurd, but not out of question.

the man scorned at you, a certain sense of deep-rooted anxiety seeping through his expression. "no, you won’t.”

you’d smile at him, but the rage and hopelessness in your chest made you unable to. "alright, alright. i didn’t come here to ask for your help, i just— well, i thought i should tell you."

(no one else would be so understanding).

"why, though? you know i can give you money, or food. it’s what i’ve been doing those four years ago, and—"

yes, he was supporting you when you were absolutely lost, but the situation was different back then. right now, you’d rather rip out all of your teeth than accept any kind of help. you liked Mydei so much, and he would surely start to perceive you as an unnecessary load on his shoulders. more trouble than you’re worth. a cumbersome deadweight. you suddenly remembered your Pa — you haven’t thought of him in a while. he always instilled the independence in you, saying how relying on people would lead you astray. was Mydei the type of a man to leave you on thin ice? no, he was your best friend, he’d surely…

"please — just stop." you cut off his sentence, getting up from your seat. "i told you i’ll be okay."

he measured you from head to toe, feeling ire starting to bubble up in his chest at your refusal. prolonged silence filled the space of his house, and you wondered whether you should add anything, but no meaningful words found their way onto your tongue. you slowly began to drag your feet to the door, all the intense emotions starting to simmer down, and melt into an engulfing emptiness.

before you could reach for the door handle, Mydei suddenly got up from his place, reducing the distance between you two. you looked up into his eyes, unexpectedly starting to feel the need to curl up on yourself, and fall into the pits of nether.

"[name], i—" he paused, his fingers timidly reaching towards yours, "i’m sorry if you don’t think you can rely on me. i should have been more clear."

a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips. you grabbed his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze, even though you were in the need of consolation, not him. "don’t worry. if things get really dire, i’ll tell you." you cringed internally, ashamed by how easily lying straight to his face came to you.

Mydei nodded, and you let go of his palm, quickly walking out the door, not knowing that day would mark the begging of an end.

———

four weeks passed since then. a full month, then.

you swore to yourself you wouldn’t do it, but you relapsed into your old habits. the realization of no other choice crept over your senses progressively throughout the prolonged days of hunger, and absolute despair. your life was still seemingly the same — you kept visiting Mydei, and your other friends, telling them how poorly your search for a new job was going, laughing a bit too hard whenever your stomach rumbled. it was driving you crazy. could a normal person function like that? surely not, you thought to yourself as you finally made your decision, tugging the bag onto your arm, and dropping one pocket knife into your right shoe. it wasn’t supposed to end like that, but your mind bent under the feeling of starvation. your ran out of money three days ago, and your food storage was now reduced to one canned peaches. there was no other way.

you gripped some woman’s pouch in your hand as you swiftly traversed the streets, finally stopping in a shaded alleyway, your fingers rapidly prying it open. you’ve been trying your luck for the past twenty-four hours, and the amount of people who fell a victim to your theft was growing steadily. one watch, three wallets, overall five apples and a piece of cold cut. nothing satisfactory yet, but a good start. you glanced into the contents of the pouch, quickly counting the coins. still too little to even pay the upcoming bills. you scoffed under your breath as you tossed the few dimes into your bag, discarding the pouch behind your back.

the sky was overcast, for a change. you watched the small birds hug into each other, thinking your life would be so much easier if you were one of them. you’d spread your wings and fly into the endless horizon, uncaring of such trivial human-matters like money or proper housing. the wind would billow through your feathers, and once you got tired, you’d stop on some branch, hiding in the comfort of leafy twigs — but you were no bird, and you needed to think.

you pushed yourself forwards, your keen gaze narrowing on some unsuspecting men, now standing around and chattering idly about stuff that held little importance for you — one of them looked somewhat wealthy. you rendered the distance between them, feigning a cordial smile on your lips.

"good day, gentlemen." you chirped, your eyes quickly scanning their clothes for potential belongings. "i don’t want to trouble you, but there’s a thief roaming around somewhere… he stole my wallet just a few minutes ago. you wouldn’t happen to see someone fishy around here, would you?" you asked, forcing the innocent hurt to lace your tone.

they looked at each other with confusion, shaking their heads. "we’re sorry, but unfortunately no. perhaps you should ask the guards for help?"

you sighed with resignation, your keen gaze observing them as they patted their pockets, checking if everything was in its place. got you.

"i will. thanks for your help." you replied, turning on your heel and starting to walk away. you stopped behind some platform, away from the reach of their eyes. now you just needed to wait until they’ll separate, and go after the richest looking one. that’s exactly what was so burdensome about stealing — the constant wait. of course, you could blindly go after some other people, but it was much riskier.

you leaned on the stacked crates, picking out an apple you managed to snatch earlier from your bag. the hunger was starting to get to you again, so you wiped the fruit’s skin on your attire, sinking your teeth into its flesh.

"i think that doesn’t belong to you, [name]."

you practically jolted at the sound of the voice, accidentally biting your own tongue. you dropped the apple, it’s small form rolling away from your feet as you turned to look at Phainon, that ever-present friendly expression painted across his face. you grimaced at him, instinctively gripping the handle of your bag, as if you were certain he wanted to take it away from you too.

"how can you be so sure?"

"[name], you need to stop." he said, his tone calm in contrast to yours.

"i asked — how can you be so sure?" you barked out, taking a step back.

he huffed, shaking his head. "don’t act like a wounded animal. i’m not here to harm you, or anything like that."

"answer my question, damnit!"

(how can you be so unkind to your own friend? why is the spite seeping from your mouth?)

Phainon’s eyebrows tugged together at your defiance. "Aglaea sent me. don’t take offense, but you must be really slow if you thought she wouldn’t notice your wrongdoings."

you scoffed, barely stopping yourself from spitting on the ground. "why did she send you instead of just throwing me in the prison like she did the last time?"

"oh, don’t think she wasn’t planning to." he chuckled humorlessly, "but since you’re close to us, she decided to ask about your well-being first. Mydei and i vouched for you, and so she sent me to knock some reason into your head."

you felt your nerves calm once you understood you weren’t in a critical situation, and you slowly nodded your head in reluctant understanding. perhaps Aglaea wasn’t as ruthless as you deemed her to be, after all. "okay. i— i’ll stop."

with a heavy heart, you took off your bag, handing it to Phainon. his smile returned, but you didn’t have the strength to reciprocate the gesture. "i’ll give it back to you the second we’re done fixing your mess, alright?"

you nodded again, your eyes falling to the ground. the man patted your back with compassion, even though you probably didn’t deserve it. then, he walked away, and you slumped down the wall, reaching for that apple you dropped earlier — it tasted almost rotten.

all hopes for a better tomorrow were staring to simmer away from your body, just like the fog dissipates from above the ground. you tugged your knees close to your chest, resting your weary head, and you shut your eyes tightly, praying — praying for a vision. you felt as if you regressed back in time, the younger version of yourself hiding by some gutter with her eyelids closed, waiting for her mind to grace her with a flash of a future. it didn’t have to be anything great — you just needed the assurance of survival.

the sounds of the environment around you turned into one, disharmonious cacophony, and you felt as if you were separate from every other thing. no visions came. they were rarely useful, never working much in your advantage. however, there was one that made your breath stop — you don’t remember how old you were when you saw it. maybe ten, or eleven. it was clearer, and more vivid than any rest of them — your own premature death.

you remember panicking, and screaming in horror as your Pa held you, wiping the tears away from your eyes, even though he didn’t understand what happened. you never told him.

all you can recall is a view of your own, blurry hands — they were bigger, yet still devoid of any wrinkles, only a rash scar stretching across your thumb. you must have been way older than only eleven, at that time of your passing. perhaps much closer to your current age. you lifted your head, looking at your palms — exactly the same size as from that nightmarish flash, except for the scar. they were covered in absurd quantities of blood; in that vision, you looked down, briefly catching the sight of your own slashed stomach before everything suddenly vanished.

for the past four years of your life, you’ve been searching for any kind of solace, deeply aware of your impending end. Okhema seemed just like the perfect place to spend one’s last few beats of existence, and so you cherished it. the relentless sun, and the flowers, constantly in full bloom. streams, soft grass under your bare feet, friends, money, tasty pastries and the liberation from fear. right now your own sky darkened, and perhaps your current situation was the first harbinger of the inescapable fate.

there was nothing you could do but weep.

———

you sat amidst your empty living room, the space devoid of any kind of ornaments or furniture, except for the small, low table in the middle, a row of tumbled stones you got from Mydei settled on its surface. you dragged your mattress over to there, thinking you’d much rather sleep in this room, for whatever reason. it almost felt like that day when you invited Mydei to see your brand-new place, excitedly showing him every single corner of your house — however, he wasn’t there now. he hasn’t in a long time.

you began selling your belongings three months ago, practically for pennies, as you were in a desperate need for money. you didn’t want to wait until someone would buy your stuff for a reasonable price, even though it was the better route of action. instead, you demanded small amounts of money or food in exchange for your things, happily giving them away, simply satisfied with the knowledge you’d be able to pay the bills on time. your home quickly turned into a soulless building, and so you didn’t invite anyone over.

life was still the same, except for the fact you currently lacked in any things to sell. once it gets really bad, you’ll cash in your mattress along with the table — you didn’t have the heart to get rid of the stones. you have long forgotten about searching for a job, so at least you had enough free time to spend it with Mydei, or any of your friends. however, sometimes you felt as if their gazes turned more… careworn. cautious. not Mydei’s though — he didn’t treat you with any sort of judgement, nor forced pity. at least that’s something.

you have tried to fight through the negative thoughts, making yourself stay positive — it worked, rarely. you’d smile to yourself, forcing your mind to keep being hopeful as you sorted through your cabinet, counting how long you could survive on your food supplies. six days, or so. that was enough. then, you’d open the window, breathing in the sweet lilac as you tried to imagine it was yourself from the past.

truth is, you wanted everything back, the way it once was. you still yearned for that awful champagne, and pancakes coated in pomegranate seeds, but the taste wouldn’t satisfy you as much — you crave the scent of lilacs, and forget-me-nots, but you mean those from two years ago. you keep forgetting all of your needs are never going to be satiated.

you felt the urge to simultaneously curl up on yourself and run, sprint so fast as if you were being chased by a pack of bloodhounds. and as you sat in the dark room, night birds still singing so cheerily, you felt the silly need to cry. why can’t you accept help like a normal human being? why must you struggle, stumbling over the path of your own ruin?

you heaved, tears welling up in your eyes, but you blinked them away, not allowing yourself to shed any. you got up from the floor, quickly putting on your shoes, and you bolted out of your house, a familiar destination clear in your mind. you had to see him. you had to see him, else you’d do something unbelievably stupid. you traversed the streets at a high pace, quickly turning a few times until you finally stood in front of the door. you knocked without thinking, uncaring to explain why you were visiting him so late — perhaps he was already getting ready to bed, or sleeping. you fidgeted nervously, hoping you were wrong, as you couldn’t stomach the vision of dragging your feet back home.

finally, the sound of distinct footsteps made you breathe out in relief. there he was. you smiled genuinely at the sight of Mydei’s surprised face as he opened the door.

"[name]? did something happen?" he inquired, worried as always. you chuckled nervously in response, kicking a small pebble.

"no. i just wanted to see you." you answered, swiftly walking in once he stepped to the side.

Mydei closed the door, and you noticed he was already dressed in his sleeping-attire — maybe the hour of your visit was too late, after all. still, you didn’t want to leave now, so you anxiously shifted your weight from one foot to another, waiting for him to say anything.

he sighed, turning to look at you, his eyebrows knitted together. "are you sure you’re alright? it’s almost midnight. why aren’t you sleeping?"

you shrugged, nonchalantly stepping over to the couch. "i told you, i just got lonely. life’s pretty boring without a job, you know." you plopped down, stretching out your legs. "i hope you don’t mind, though?"

the man shook his head in response, grabbing you a glass of water before handing it over. your first instinct was to refuse, but you were thirsty, so you took it without complaining. you sipped at the liquid, soon placing it down on the table. "so, uh… i reckon you were going to sleep, no?"

"yeah, you could say that." he tapped his fingertips against his arm, as if awaiting some kind of explanation. what was there to explain? you simply felt the hinges of your brain start to loosen, so you did what everyone else would do.

(any second longer in that empty house of yours, and you’d go absolutely crazy).

"well," you began, finding a more comfortable position on the couch, "don't bother yourself with me. you must be tired, so i’ll just sleep there."

Mydei cocked one eyebrow at you, his expression turning bemused, as if what you just said was illogical. "you’re always welcome here, but you could’ve at least told me in advance. now i don’t even have a bed prepared for you."

you dismissed him with a wave of a hand, huffing out a breathy laugh. you didn’t need such accommodations — you’re not some kind of a spoiled girl who throws tantrums once she has to sleep on a couch. "Mydei, i’ll be fine. you go rest in your bedroom."

"no, you won’t. i’ll change my sheets, and you’ll sleep in my bed. i can stay on the couch."

your eyebrows rose at the sound of his decisive tone. why was he so hellbent on it? you were already causing him trouble just by coming in so late at night, and now he was burdening himself with your comfort. "gods, no!"

"gods, yes." he mocked with a straight face, starting to step in the direction of his bedroom.

you rolled your eyes at his attitude, shooting up from your seat as you caught the man’s wrist in your hand. "okay so — if you want to be so stubborn, why don’t we just share your bed?" you offered, thinking your idea was simply brilliant, even though it sounded a bit silly when you spoke it out loud. "it’s big enough to fit us both.”

Mydei blinked at you, his eyes widening. you blinked back, the corners of your lips curling upwards. "i mean…" he started, weighting his words, "if that’s alright with you, then i suppose i see no obstacles."

you clasped your hands in success, starting to skip towards the room, obviously happy with yourself. he followed in your track, wondering if this really was the right decision to make. when he looked at you, what did he feel? the desire to protect, most likely. what if he slips up, and says something he shouldn’t? what if his resolve cracks, and he offers to help you out once more, and you’ll give him that scornful look you’d always grace him with whenever he proposed it? he has tried before, he really did. he pretends not to see the strain in your smile, or how hollow your irises seemed as of late — he knows you don’t like when he points it out, but it’s not like he doesn’t notice. would you get mad, if he tried one last time? would it really be so bad if he ceased your suffering, even if a little bit? would—

"Mydei, i don’t have any clothes to change into." your voice suddenly pulled him out of the reveries, making him stop in the middle of the bedroom.

"i’ll give you my robe. i doubt it will fit, but…" he sighed, opening the wardrobe and pulling out the garment. you accepted it with a grateful smile, gesticulating at him to turn away.

you swiftly changed into your new attire, securing it around your waist before jumping into his bed, feeling at how plush the sheets were in contrast to the hard mattress. you stretched out your legs comfortably, breathing in contentment. the man followed suit, albeit with much less energy than you, slowly sitting down and turning off the lamp. the room instantly got swallowed up in darkness, and so you lied down on your back, sensing your body relax for the first time in forever.

silence fell between you, and you itched to say anything, but no meaningful words found their way onto your tongue. Mydei didn’t seem to be in a need of conversation, so you kept your mouth shut, turning to lie on your side.

minutes stretched into an hour, yet you still couldn’t sleep, tossing and turning, accidentally knocking your feet against the man’s legs a few times. you apologized in a quiet voice, and every time he’d respond, saying it was okay — meaning, he wasn’t asleep either. guilt gnawed at your bones, and you couldn’t help but feel bad for interrupting Mydei’s sleep. he didn’t even get mad at you, making your conscience ever so heavier.

your thoughts turned onto a darker rail, knowing that once the morning comes, the shaky veil of tranquility will be swept again, and you’ll leave the place with a heavy heart, having to face your grim reality — whether you wanted, or not.

a huff of frustration escaped your mouth as you kicked the sheets away, starting to feel overly hot for no reason at all. perhaps you weren’t the ideal partner for sharing a bed, because Mydei turned to face you, and you could decipher the slightest frown on his expression through the darkness.

"[name], why can’t you sleep?" he questioned, keeping his tone barely above a whisper, "if you’re uncomfortable, i can go lie down on a couch."

"no, no. i’m alright." you assured, though the waver of your voice definitely betrayed you.

Mydei’s grimace deepened. "are you?"

you nodded, your line of vision moving towards the window as you stared into the blackness of the night. the sky must have been overcast, because you couldn’t spot any of the starts that usually illuminated the inky firmament so brightly. honestly, the lifeless sight made you even more depressed.

another long stretch of silence passed between you before you gathered up the courage to speak.

"if i asked you to run away with me, would you do it?"

the man seemed taken aback by your question, taking a while to respond. "run away? to where?"

you hummed in quiet contemplation. "i don’t know. somewhere far away, maybe."

he turned on his back, and you wished you could fix him into place, gripping his jaw so intensely he wouldn’t dare move his eyes away from yours. "[name], i couldn’t do that, even if i wanted to. i have my people to take care of. they rely on me more than on anything."

you held back a sigh, instead offering a half-forced giggle. "stop being silly Mydei, i was just kidding. you don’t need to be so serious all the time, you know."

"then don’t speak in such a gravely tone when you’re jesting." he retaliated, and you wanted to wince, afraid he caught on to your true intentions. fortunately, he didn’t say anything else.

you tossed on your side, now staring into the wall, and you berated yourself for even suggesting something so utterly ridiculous out loud. of course he wouldn’t agree — throwing one’s life away on a whim could never bring anything good, especially if he were to stick with the likes of you. Mydei was the crown prince of Kremnos. his people needed him. he was important. he mattered.

but you needed him too, did you not?

———

the atmosphere felt unusually light that day. Mydei’s gaze lingered on you as you sat cross-legged atop one of the chairs in his kitchen, absentmindedly eating the sandwich you had prepared for yourself earlier. you had started with small, measured bites, but the relentless hunger gnawing at your stomach quickly dimmed all of your remaining restraint. soon, you were ravenously wolfing down the bread, its jam-smeared surface disappearing far too quickly.

when your meager supplies finally ran out, you had no choice but to swallow your pride and reach out for Mydei’s rescue. the act stung — however, as the discomfort in your guts gradually dissipated, you couldn’t help but quietly smile to yourself, eternally grateful for the man’s unrelenting kindness.

little did you know, if only you asked — he’d give you all of his possessions, all of the food and stupid little tumbled stones you loved collecting, and he wouldn’t bat an eye at the loss. seeing you happy meant way more than those physical objects — he’d bake you all of your favorite pastries, and snap the lilac’s twigs off, gracing you with new bouquets everyday. if only you allowed him. if only you would finally abandon your resolve.

the silence of the space, only interrupted by your meek shuffling, made him remember the conversation he had with Phainon not so long ago. after they were done with sparring, they fell to the ground with satisfied huffs, but as they kept catching their breaths, his face shifted into a grimace (or at least that’s what he thinks his expression looked like), and the man sitting beside him spotted the way his brows narrowed. Phainon asked about you out of the blue — for a second, Mydei wondered whether your spirit possessed him, suddenly making him so perceptive and all-seeing.

"why are you frowning so much? are you thinking about [name]?" he teased, a playful lilt tangible in his tone. it came off as a joke, but it was obvious Phainon genuinely wanted to know. they were worried about you — both to their own extent, of course, as in contrast to his friend, Mydei seemed pushed up the wall, his mind constantly nagging him for not being able to help you.

he scoffed. "wouldn’t you want to know."

Phainon laughed in response. "there’s no shame to it. although… i’m starting to wonder if she really is only your 'best friend'." Mydei glared at him, evoking another snicker. he definitely knew too much.

"she is, so mind your own business." he muttered, sensing the heat of frustration creep up into his chest.

the other man hummed, a short while of silence stretching between them before he came up with a verdict. "so, if there’s really nothing going on with her and you, you wouldn’t mind if i asked [name] out on a date, would you?"

Mydei’s head suddenly snapped in his direction, his scowl only deepening. of course he would mind, what type of question is that?! "[name] deserves someone of higher intellect than you, so don’t you even dare.”

Phainon’s laugh never seemed to cease, only picking up in its intensity as he patted his arm with an almost pitiful expression. "oh, you’re really in love with her!" he announced through salves of giggles, a bit too loudly for Mydei’s liking.

that was absurd. sure, he cherished you, sometimes he thought he wouldn’t be able to imagine a life without you — but love? that was definitely a stretch. there was no place for romance in his heart, and from the look of things, neither was in yours. he’d continue to look out for you, provide if you asked him to, and that’s how it was supposed to be from the start. confessions of any kind would never take place, no, absolutely no. after all, what would he do if you rejected him? how would your expression look? what would you say to him? but, oh, what if you accepted? no, no, what is he thinking about? that’s… ridiculous. yes, it is, he needed to abandon this track of thought before it’d get out of hand, else he’d spiral down into the depths of something he could never crawl out from.

"no, i’m not."

"you’re in denial."

"i am not in denial!"

Phainon sighed, shaking his head with resignation. "doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. Mydei, it’s so obvious it’s almost painful to watch. you better take care of your mess, before it’s too late."

he got up from the ground, sending Phainon a scornful glare, finally dragging his feet forwards. he huffed under his nose, mulling over the man’s words — 'before it’s too late'. what a dumb thing to say, he thought as he walked away.

however now, as he looked at you, already finished with your sandwich, he couldn’t help but feel as if there was a profound truth to his friend’s words. he really is in denial — there’s no doubt. the way his heart clenched at anything you did, at every grimace and look of that wicked self-satisfaction you sent in his direction, sly, yet fond smile stretching your lips. sometimes you genuinely drove him mad, and he wished he could bite at your throat to silence you — but what was the difference between the clench of his teeth, and a kiss? they were both touch, equally fatal in their nature.

"thank you for the meal." you breathed out, the tone of your voice content. Mydei’s mind focused back on reality, suddenly pulled out of his reveries. you had smeared your nose with jam.

he quickly pulled out a napkin, reaching forwards. "you got jam on your nose." he announced bluntly, wiping the thing off of your face. an abashed smile found its way onto your mouth as you giggled at his gesture.

"i can clean myself, you know!" you retaliated playfully, gently pushing the man’s hand away. right, you could do that on your own, so why did he…?

Mydei suddenly felt embarrassed by his action, but the blush on your face made it easier to swallow down. you straightened out your legs, getting up from the chair and putting the plate in the sink. "do you want me to make you something to eat too?" you asked before turning on the water, and starting to scrub the ceramic.

he blinked twice, taken aback by your question. "no, thanks. i’m not hungry." he said, leaning forwards on the table, his keen eyes watching your silhouette as you bustled by the countertop.

it was domestic, in a way. you have been residing at his place for the past week, and you never explained exactly why, but he had no problem with it. you were helping out with the chores, washing the dishes, and windows — he told you countless of times you didn’t have to do that, but you seemed hellbent on having your way. whenever he chastised you for doing the things that a guest shouldn’t, you’d only smirk at him, saying you were merely trying to be useful. why were you? you didn’t have to be useful. you didn’t have to do anything. you could as well be lounging on his couch with a magazine, lazily sipping at the lemonade, and he still wouldn’t mind.

you turned off the water, quickly swiveling on your heel. "i’ll go hang up the laundry."

"no, [name]—" he protested, but you were already out of the room, soon carrying the basket filled with clothes on your hip, opening the door outside. he sighed, pulling himself upwards and following after you.

Mydei stepped out, squinting at the relentlessly bright sun rays of the morning. you threw one of the sheets over the string, reaching upwards to clip it in place, then bending down to grab another. he huffed at your efforts, guilt creeping over his conscience as he observed the shadow of your silhouette, it’s blurry outline peeking through the thin material. "you don’t have to do that, you know."

"why not? i love helping you. it’s the least i could do." your head peeked from behind the white sheet, a wide beam stretching your lips as the slightest gust of wind disheveled your hair.

you loved it? Mydei’s eyebrows tugged together as he stood on the patch of soft grass, ever so still. he watched you work, thinking — yes, perhaps he really did love you. the realization washed over him, and he barely registered it, because it wasn’t sudden — it was there for all the years, pushed back into the further corners of his mind, barely obscured by seemingly innocent adjectives such as 'cherished' or 'treasured'.

if he didn’t love you, then certainly he wouldn’t allow you to practically live in his house, rarely coming back to your own. he wouldn’t let you sleep in his own bed, tucked just next to him as you conversed about insignificant things, only to wake up the next day and ask whether you could bake a pie today. and he most certainly wouldn’t feel so lost, yet so fulfilled at the same time, hoping you’d never dare to leave. he already got so used to seeing your sleepy face in the morning, and listening to your singing as you showered, and the way you cursed under your breath when you accidentally spilled the milk, and how vividly your laugh resonated whenever he told you something mildly funny — he can’t imagine you going away.

Mydei stepped forwards, bending down to grab a piece of your attire from the wicker basket. "i’ll help you." he said, securing it on the string oh-so carefully, as if he was afraid it’d turn into dust in his hands.

you send him a grateful nod, feeling the sweat gather on your nape as the sun shone straight onto your form. yes, it is the truth you enjoyed helping the man out — you wished it could stay like this forever, but you knew all the sweetness is always quick to disappear from your life, and you already overstayed your welcome.

there were three reasons why you decided to stay at Mydei’s place for so long — first, you ran out of food, and the hunger made your head swim with indescribable discomfort, crumbling your resolve. second, you hated being alone at your house, the emptiness rendering you mad. third — you simply yearned for the man’s company.

now, as you stood side by side, hanging up the laundry, playfully bickering over something silly, a silent realization settled in — you needed to leave. you were never meant to linger, never meant to grow so accustomed to his generosity, or presence. it wasn’t fair — to him or to yourself. you promised yourself independence, no matter how dreadful, no matter how cold the world might feel without Mydei’s kindness. and yet, even as you resolved to go, a part of you ached at the thought of leaving this ease, this comfort, this fleeting moment of something that almost felt like home.

———

you sat by the familiar stream’s bank, your fingertips gently caressing the small, blue flowers as you tried to distract your mind from all the complex emotions you were forced to go through everyday. lately, you distanced yourself from everyone — even Mydei.

maybe you were really going insane, but you convinced yourself it was for the better. two weeks passed since you had the time of your life, living at his place, and when you decided to return, you sold your mattress along with the small table from your living room. the food you bought with the newly-gained money lasted you up until now — you didn’t even think about the bills, their impending presence now appearing indifferent to you.

you will have to leave Okhema soon. it was as simple as that. you’d sell your house, bid goodbye to everyone, and disappear. you will travel to another city — but you doubted there was a place for you in this world, so you’ll continue traversing from one place to another, watching the life go by, waiting for the moment of your upcoming death. maybe it won’t be so bad, after all? you had fun in the holy city, at least for the majority of your stay — you don’t have to grieve what could’ve been. you were already satisfied with the brief taste of freedom, grateful to the gods who decided to look in your direction, and allow you to truly live instead of surviving. a short moment of blinding pain, and your body will fall onto the ground, earth reclaiming what belonged to her.

that’s why you decided to keep all of your friends at distance. you weren’t sure if you could imagine your disappearance as something worth crying over, but maybe some of them would be a little sad. if they take a certain disliking to you, marred by you ignoring their existence, then surely it will hurt a little less. perhaps it won’t hurt at all. they will eventually forget, because what were you if not a passing glimpse of their lives?

you smiled to yourself, finally plucking a few forget-me-nots from the dense patch, twirling them in your fingers as ease washed over you. the quiet humming of the water, and the melodies of birds lulled your distraught brain into a state of tranquility, as you thought — it’s finally coming to an end. everything will, no matter how hard you try to hold it in place. you glanced up at the setting sun, slowly hiding behind the horizon line. there is a day, and there is a night. that’s the ultimate truth of human life.

suddenly, your peace was interrupted by characteristic footsteps. you’d recognize the sound of them everywhere, and usually your heart jumped up in joy, however now it caused your stomach to squeeze with stress. he was the last person you wanted to see right now, and you weren’t sure whether you could look him in the eyes after fourteen days of ignoring.

"[name]." the slightly harsh tone of the man’s voice urged your head to turn, facing him. Mydei’s expression was of the same nature as his words — unpleasant. he must be mad, the scowl tugging his eyebrows together as he rendered the distance between you.

you forced your face to shift into something similar, although you felt as if you failed in obtaining the same look. "what?" you barked back, getting up on your feet.

he stopped just before you, and you had to crane up your neck to look into his eyes. "i knew i’d find you here." he scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "what do you think — pretending i don’t exist? acting as if you can’t hear me knocking at your door everyday?"

you balled your hands into fists, else you’d start to nervously fidget with them. "Mydei, i—"

"do you take some joy in making me wait at your doorstep like a dog?" he cut you off, and for the first time since forever, you felt the need to spit at him. you knew you were in the wrong for treating him like that, but you genuinely had no bad intentions, and it was his fault for acting like a fool!

"no, of course not!" you retaliated, stress merging into one with anger, "but— but who’s saying you have to visit me, or anything? nobody’s forcing you to—"

Mydei interrupted you once again, "do you even hear yourself? maybe all of the incense in your house finally fogged your mind?" he sneered, and you thought there’s no incense in your living room anymore. there’s nothing, except for the stones he let you take from him — tomorrow, you’ll throw them in this stream, watching their colorful forms sink to the bottom, yes, that’s what you’ll do!

"maybe i just don’t want to see you anymore, how’s that?" you snapped at him, but you instantly regretted it, watching his expression involuntarily fall, if only just a bit. you were so unbelievably cruel, you almost wanted to fall to your knees and apologize — but you wouldn’t.

"why?" he asked, "you were so eager to stay at my place not so long ago — and maybe i’m remembering things wrong, but you were happy back then, weren’t you?"

you winced, hearing his tone gradually become more livid. you wanted to take a step back, but you’d tumble into the water, only embarrassing yourself. "yes, yes i was, but times have changed, Mydei, and i don’t know what else to say to you." you seethed, gathering up more resolve.

"then at least tell me what made you change your mind about me!" he bit at you, and you wondered what kind of explanation you could muster up before your argument changes into a screaming match.

your mind worked faster than ever, but you failed to reply in any sort of way, remaining silent. it urged Mydei to continue. "really, who would have thought… you don’t want to see me again, you can’t even respond—" he paused, weighting his words as his eyebrows narrowed even further, "maybe you never were my friend to begin with. i should have seen this coming, looking at the way you—"

"no!" you interrupted, the hardened facade crumbling once you couldn’t bear to listen to him anymore, "i was— i am, still! but Mydei, i just— i just couldn’t handle it anymore, constantly relying on you, acting like some kind of a burden!" you said, trying to control your wavering voice, "i didn’t want to use you, i never could, i never will, so please, try to understand me!"

his scornful gaze finally seemed to ease, and a deep silence fell between the two of you, the only sounds being the chirps of the crickets, and the ever-quiet hum of water. the man closed his eyes, as if mulling over your words. "and is that really the only reason why you distanced yourself from me?" he finally asked, cracking his eyelids open.

no, it wasn’t the only reason, but you’d rather lie than confess to your upcoming plans of departure. “yes. i’m sorry."

he sighed, brushing his fingers through his blonde locks. "[name], sometimes i have a really hard time understanding you. you really don’t see it, so you?"

"i— what?"

"how important you are to me." he confessed, his eyes flickering away from your face for a second. it must have taken a lot of courage to say these words. "i do cherish you. i want you in my life, no matter what you think. if— if you really want me gone, so be it, but i need you to know that you’re precious to me, and i genuinely cannot fathom… cannot fathom to imagine you leaving me over something like that."

your blood pressure arose instantly, and you swear you heard the ground under your feet crack, threatening to devour you whole. your hands trembled, and you blinked twice, feeling your heart pounding so rapidly at your ribs. the inside of your mouth suddenly got so dry, so unbelievably dry, and a fleeting thought passed your mind — perhaps, all of the suffering comes from craving, and attachment — there was no other explanation for the way your stomach squeezed around itself, as if it was silently threatening to kill you. your gaze rapidly flew around in search of anything that could come to your rescue — a rock, dragonflies, the setting’s sun reflection on the water, a lime tree, a bird, the grass — your eyes returned to Mydei’s, and you swallowed.

"are you saying that…?" you asked, your voice unsure.

he nodded. "yes, i’m saying exactly what you’re thinking, [name]. i love you. is it not obvious?"

"i— i mean, i’m not… i don’t know, all the time i thought…"

"it doesn’t matter. if you’ll have me, then i’ll make sure you—" Mydei paused, as if forcing such vulnerable words out loud took a toll on him, "i’ll make sure you won’t suffer alone anymore."

you finally offered him a small smile, reaching out for the man’s palm, and he immediately interwoven your fingers together, clenching them around your hand so tightly it made you think — i’ll stay. i’ll stay here with you, Mydei, and i won’t leave. i’ll fight tooth and nail to bend my fate, i’ll rip the gods beating hearts out if it means i can live by your side. i don’t want to die, no, not when you look at me like that, with so much adoration in your golden irises.

"but i’m tough." you responded, your vision flickering over to his lips, suddenly so inviting.

"i’m aware." he leaned in much closer, as if understanding what you were thinking about, his free hand gently moving to your cheek, securing your head in place. "you are tough. you are. but it doesn’t mean you have to face all the hardships by yourself."

your forehead knocked against Mydei’s, and you hooked your arm around his neck, thinking the tangle of your limbs resembled a rattlesnake’s nest. "if that’s what you think…" you whispered, pressing your body into his, deeper, deeper, praying every single fiber of your muscles would fade into his, and a few days from now on you’ll be waking by his side again, brushing the mischievous strands of hair away from his sleeping face. you’ll push your mouth to his brow, mumbling: 'i know it’s been so long, and i’ve been awful, but now we’re together.'”

finally, Mydei’s lips crashed into yours — it was obvious he was trying to hold back, but all the pent-up emotions and desperation seemed to implode over your senses, and you gripped his locks, causing your teeth to accidentally clash against each other. you’ve never kissed anyone. it was your first time, and you didn’t know what you were doing, but his hand seemed to lead the way, tilting your head at the right angle, serving as the last anchor of control.

you closed your eyes even though you didn’t want to, rather drinking in the sight of the man’s face from up close. as the warmth of his lips embraced you, a sharp shock suddenly ripped through your mind, and you saw the vision — your curse, your blessed gift — an unfamiliar path, your legs taking fast, wide steps forward, a line of trees in the distance — it disappeared, causing you to whine into the kiss, a mixture of dread and elation merging into one noise. you didn’t know what it meant, that flicker of future.

Mydei pulled away, his pupils dilated, and then you couldn’t bring yourself to care. "i’m sorry, did i hurt you?" he asked, and you almost laughed at the way his blushed face twisted with innocent anxiety. you shook your head, finally registering how out of breath you were — you gasped for oxygen, pulling the man back into your arms as you leaned your head on his collarbones. you stood like that for a longer while, taking in his scent, so terribly familiar. the loud rush of blood in your ears dissipated, and you could clearly hear the songs of cicadas, cutting through the overall silence of twilight.

you were the first to let go, finally stepping back. to think your earlier fight would lead to such events, unfolding things you had no knowledge of previously. you felt fulfilled, and happy, and determined anew — so you smiled brightly at Mydei, smoothing out your disheveled hair. "it got late, huh…" you muttered, looking up at the sky, navy and pink melting into one, stars splattered over its surface.

he nodded along to your words. "right. are you coming home?" he asked, and you cocked your head to the side.

"you mean my house?”

"no, mine." his short answer caused your breath to hitch, an encompassing sensation of finally belonging somewhere, being a piece of something bigger, swelling within your chest. his house. our home. how wonderfully did that sound?

you shook your head, sighing. "i’m— i’m okay for now, i guess if you want me to stay at your place, i’ll have to pack a few things."

"don’t you want me to help you with it tomorrow? knowing you, the suitcase will be on the heavier side." that made you snicker, playfully hitting him on the arm — however, you knew your belongings wouldn’t even need a suitcase — all you had to your name was a few necessities such as toothbrush, some clothes, and the tumbled stones you wanted to throw away in the stream earlier on.

"no, i’ll be fine, really."

Mydei hummed, acknowledging your words. his hand reached towards you for the last time, giving it a small squeeze. "everything is going to be alright from now on. understood?"

the corners of your lips curled upwards. "understood."

you affirmed with a tone full of confidence — so why did you feel as if you were still lying?

the man walked you back to your house, and you waved him goodbye, waiting for his silhouette to disappear in the darkness of the streets. you didn’t want to be there, and now that he was gone, the vision you received of your legs treading an unfamiliar road made you genuinely ponder over its nature. a feeling of unease settled deep in your stomach as you pushed yourself off the porch, starting to wander around. you passed through a few familiar points, thinking, thinking way too deeply for your liking. your thoughts swiveled around in your brain, creating scenarios and visages that caused your very marrow to shake with dread, but, for some reason, you couldn’t stop.

you don’t know how long you’ve been walking around. the sky was already black, and there wasn’t many people outside, only a few individuals stumbling back from their bar-hopping escapades, or fighting through the insomnia. you were neither of those, simply traversing through the Okhema like some kind of a ghost, slowly dragging your feet forwards.

your conscience hung heavy over your shoulders, making you sigh every so often. you were happy just a few hours ago. what happened? nothing.

you shoved your hand into the pocket of your attire, starting to become slightly cold — you sensed something inside, feeling at the delicate petals, and you pulled the flowers out. forget-me-nots. when did you put them here? most likely when you were playing with them, and Mydei decided to take you by surprise, sneaking up on you. you must have absentmindedly placed them in your pocket, because there was no other explanation. you kept walking, staring at the now barely-visible blue on your palm, and you suddenly thought — when did you forget?

you gripped the stems in your hands, crushing them under the pressure of your fingers as the now slightly blurred image of your old man’s face appeared before your eyes. it was so long since you really reminisced about him — not just a passing flash, but rather really thinking. allowing yourself to weep as you recalled the memories, something you were never supposed to push back, repressing the man you loved so much deeply in your mind. that’s exactly what you did — repress. you repressed him. through the chase for money, a better life, occupied by your friends, and seemingly endless food — you almost forgot.

did his voice always sound like this? were the wrinkles on your Pa’s face truly so deep? what was the color of the doll’s hair he gave you? what were his last words? what were his last, very last words? your heartbeat seemed to stop as you couldn’t recall them, causing you to hyperventilate. you can’t remember, you can’t, you can’t — what now? what should you do?! tears welled up in your eyes as you clutched the forget-me-nots in your hand harder, feeling their sticky juices seep onto your fingers, and now, you couldn’t stop the warm sensation rolling down your cheeks. you heaved, stumbling forwards as the blue petals fell from your hands, and you tugged at your own hair in frustration.

how dared you forget? you should have been more careful, embedding the words, and his face, and voice, and the rough feeling of his calloused palms on your face as he consoled you, saying how this world was cruel, but at least you had each other. what could have been if Pa didn’t die? would you still live in poverty, or maybe your resolve would harden over the time, and you’d make enough money to run away from that awful town together, finally paying him back for all the kindness he kept offering you throughout your whole life. maybe then, you’d move to Okhema, by some miracle — and you’d meet Mydei as a softer version of yourself, your old man could taste all the delicious pastries, and perhaps then — perhaps then you wouldn’t feel as if you were incomplete from the start.

you laughed through the tears, remembering your Pa’s words: "loss and pain make one stronger, so you have to embrace it." you didn’t understand it back then, and surely you don’t understand it now — how was it supposed to work? it didn’t make you stronger, it only made you more stupid, clinging to whatever comfort the holy city had to offer. it caused you to push back the memories of terror, stripping you away from what you once were. you betrayed yourself, didn’t you? and you betrayed your father, who kept instilling independence and fierce-temper in you for all the time. you threw away his legacy, rather focusing on your own well-being. and wasn’t that selfish? dear gods, wasn’t that so terribly, awfully selfish?

you loved Mydei, and he loved you, but how can you love with such a hell in your head? how can you possibly live? you sniffled, wiping your eyes, and suddenly your lament got interrupted by a hard shove to your arm. your head snapped towards some man, obviously drunk out of his mind, his face twisted in a disgusting grimace.

"hey, watch where you’re going, y-you damned strumpet!" he slurred, stopping in his track to spit on your shoes, a self-satisfied sneer stretching his lips.

you felt a surge of rage run through your body, instantly washing away all the sadness from earlier. "what the fuck did you just say to me?" you seethed, taking a wide step forward, and shoving the man into the wall of an alleyway you were currently in.

it was hard to tell through the way tears still clouded over your vision, but the man’s confident expression seemed to falter. "i— i said— damn you, you—"

he couldn’t finish his sentence, because you swung at him, gritting your teeth when your fist painfully collided with his jaw. you felt it rattle, and he stumbled to the side, still miraculously holding his balance. the man pulled himself up with a groan, obviously stunted, and tried to mimic your move, his staggering arm reaching out to meet with your face. you dodged the pathetic punch, feeling an enormous amount of fury gather up in your gut.

remember, [name], if someone attacks you, your best choice is to run. but… truth be told, i was never a 'runner', if you know what i mean! running, you see, is for cowards. and you aren’t a coward, my girl. you are smart. hmm… yes, wits are important, they definitely are. but, ah, you know how it is in life, even the most reliable things can sometimes fail you, no? once that happens, and you seem out of options, just swing at that fool who decided to fight you — it’ll hurt, you see, so fists aren’t always the best solution. do you know what’s harder, and sturdier than hands? knees and elbows. use them. use your head. use everything i’ve taught you.

you gripped the man’s hair with much more force than necessary, and he flailed his limbs, throwing blind punches at you. "try to say that again, i dare you!" you growled, and all he did in response was scream. you threw your leg up, your knee hitting him in the face, and you heard a crack, probably of his nose. you repeated the action, thudding his head against your bone before you threw him on the ground. it was enough. it was enough, and yet you still crouched next to his whining form, gripping the collar of his shirt.

"apologize." you demanded, but the man wailed in pain, touching his busted nose and lip. "apologize to me right now!"

all you were met with was another whine, so you swung your fist at him again, and again. you don’t know what possessed you. your vision narrowed, deafening out the sickening cracks and snaps, and you heard the bustling of your hometown street. you heard the excited yells and whistling, a multitude of voices cheering you on as you got into your first fight with a boy you particularly didn’t like. you heard the gunshots next to your ear as the drunk shopkeeper tried to stop you from stealing one of his rings. you heard the coughing of your old man as pneumonia drained the life out of him. you heard the screams of terror, and the unbelievably loud hurricane wind as it destroyed everything in its wake, rubble falling around you with thuds. then, you heard the soft sobbing, and realized it was your own voice.

you snapped back to reality, the image before you rendering you frozen. the man’s face was now reduced to a pulp, and his gurgling seemed to finally cease. you slowly got up from your position, the stench of blood making you want to puke all over yourself as you took a step back on your wobbly legs. what have you done?! you killed a man — no, you didn’t kill him, surely not! you practically fell back on your knees, searching for his pulse, neck, wrist, temples, wherever — nothing. there was nothing. you grasped your face in horror, before realizing your hands were all bloody.

you heaved, thinking — i’ve finally gone mad. yes, now you could say it with your whole chest — you were insane. a lunatic. you killed him, and for what? because he said something mean? because you were sad, and angry?

the promise you made to yourself earlier — to prevail your own death, and stay in Okhema, by Mydei’s side — it all seemed so distant now. there is no changing of fate. it’s just a stupid thing to believe in, to make the fear of impending doom a little more bearable. you have to flee. you have to run away from this damned city, but first you needed to see him, you had to, else you’d crawl back here at the most unexpected moment, and become a prisoner for the rest of your life.

you pulled yourself up, sprinting towards the oh-so familiar house. when you got there, you were completely out of breath, banging on the door as tears streamed down your face, washing away the dried blood. he wasn’t opening. you bent down to pull the pocket knife out of your shoe, extending the blade with your trembling hands, and you attempted to shove it into the lock, because you had to break in somehow, and you cherished Mydei too much to shatter one of his windows. you struggled to see what you were doing, tears and the darkness of the night obscuring your vision. your shaky palm accidentally slipped to the side, and you felt the knife rip through the skin on your thumb. you gritted your teeth, fighting back the howl of pain as you finally managed to force the blade into the lock, twisting it open.

you stumbled inside, shutting the door, and you instantly walked into the bathroom, turning on one of the lights. you let the water run in the sink as you looked at your reflection in the mirror, absolutely horrified to see your face. it was smeared with blood, your hair disheveled, and your eyes red from crying. you quickly began scrubbing yourself, tears still falling down as you frantically tried to clean everything away. the traces of your crime gradually dissolved along with water, pinkish stains swirling down in the drain. you finally ceased your efforts, giving up on your nails when the blood didn’t want to disappear.

you dried yourself with a towel, and you turned off the light, practically running to Mydei’s bedroom. you stopped before the door, trying to open them carefully, as you didn’t want to scare him, in case he was still asleep — and he probably was, looking at the way he didn’t come down to check out the commotion you made a few minutes earlier. you stepped inside, watching his resting form, his breaths so quiet it managed to calm you down, if only so slightly.

you leaned over the man, gently trying to lie down next to him. he didn’t have to wake up — maybe it would be better if he didn’t. you settled yourself, observing his face, and you thought it looked more innocent than ever. he’ll be better off without you in his life. someone of such golden heart shouldn’t associate themselves with a criminalist, let alone a murderer — neither should your other friends, but you doubted you’d be able to say goodbye to them too.

your breath trembled a bit too loudly, and Mydei opened his eyes, at first slowly, still dazed by his sleepy state — then, when he recognized you, his eyelids shoot wide, and he gasped in sudden surprise, instinctively jumping back. "[name]? what—"

"i’m sorry if i scared you, Mydei." you tried to smile at him, pretending to be happy as always, but the crack in your voice seemed to betray you. you sniffled, quickly reaching to wipe your eyes.

"[name], in the gods’ name, how—" he forced out, his mind still only half-awake, "how? how did you manage to get inside, and what’re you doing in my bed?" he questioned, lifting himself up on his elbows. "and why are you crying?"

you shook your head, reaching for his golden hair, and lacing your fingers through them. "i’m sorry. i just— i got lonely, you see, and…" you paused, taking a big breath, "i broke in. i swear i didn’t do anything, your lock is still intact, so don’t worry."

"that’s not what i’m worried about!" he retaliated, but your touch seemed to soothe his nerves, coaxing him into lying back down. "you break into my house, you’re crying, it’s the middle of the night — do you see what’s the issue here?”

"i’m sorry." you apologized once again, retracting your hand, afraid he was angry at you. he should be.

he finally sighted with resignation, pulling you closer, and gently wiping the tears away from your downcast eyes. he didn’t know what was going on with you — but from the look of things, i’d be better not to ask now. you held back a sob, wishing you could reverse the time, or everything that happened was just an extremely realistic, intricate nightmare, and soon you’d wake up — but this was your current reality, still.

"what happened to your hand?" he asked, his vision locking on your thumb, constantly bleeding onto the sheets. you shrugged, not wanting to explain how erratically you jabbed your pocket knife at his lock, accidentally stabbing yourself in the process of your struggles. "i’ll go fetch the bandages, you should wait—"

you grabbed his wrist, holding him in place. "no, Mydei. please, stay with me now. we’ll take care of it in the morning, alright?" you almost begged, thinking that if he went away now, he’d never go back. it was your last few moments together — before dawn, you’ll have to flee — and so, you couldn’t imagine being separated from him for even a second.

the man nodded unsurely, his lips pulled into a thin line as he was trying not to frown. there was something wrong, so obviously wrong, yet you refused to elaborate, so he kept silent. Mydei’s hand petted your head, and you kept on wiping your tears, alarm ringing loudly somewhere in the back of your mind, urging you to either hold onto him with your dear life, or bolt through the door and never look back.

after a longer while, he finally spoke. “can you tell me why are you crying, [name]?"

you shuddered, your breath hitching. you could never tell him. "i just got sad all of the sudden," you feigned a giggle, though it didn’t sound like one, "i don’t know what’s wrong with me, i’m sorry."

Mydei seemed to contemplate your words, as if he didn’t believe you at all, but he ultimately didn’t point your lie out. "alright. i just hope you didn’t do anything foolish." he murmured, his palm moving onto your back, resting between the shoulder blades.

you swallowed thickly, feeling the dread gnaw at every fiber of your being. "and… and what if i did? what if i did something so utterly wrong and awful— would you still love me, then?"

he smiled at you, and it reminded you of an unbearably hot and endless summer. his eyes crinkled in the corners, and he pushed you into himself, placing a chaste kiss on your temple. "i’m not sure if you’re aware," he began, a little hesitant, "but you’ve been doing wrong things ever since we met. well — i’m not saying you’re a bad person, but scamming people for four years straight is not the most righteous thing to do."

you huffed, your nerves eased by the amused lilt of his voice. "and?"

"and i’ve never deemed it as a reason to stop loving you. you’re much more than that, [name]."

but mere fraud could never compare to your biggest sin. you sighed, knowing he’ll hate you endlessly.

"that’s… good. thank you." you said, even though the words were barely consoling. "what do you want to do tomorrow?"

"tomorrow?" he mused, his fingers running up and down your spine, "we’ll have to move some of your things over to my house. did you pack already?"

"no, not yet." you replied truthfully.

"that’s fine, i’ll help you. what else shall we do?"

"i want to go buy ingredients, and then we’ll bake a strawberry cake." you decided, lies easily slipping off your tongue, as you imagined the conversation was completely honest, and nothing bad ever happened. in the morning, you’ll go shopping, holding onto the man’s palm, and you will make the best cake of your lives. after you’re done eating, Mydei will help you move your stuff, effortlessly tugging the two heavy suitcases behind, filled with all your trinkets and clothes that you sold so long ago.

"sounds good to me. i’ve been craving strawberries for some time."

"and after that, i want to lie down on the couch and do nothing."

that evoked a quiet chuckle out of him, and you felt the sound reverberate through his chest. "if that’s what you want, then so be it."

you smiled to yourself, your eyelids fluttering shut. yes, it was good to pretend for now. tomorrow, when Mydei wakes up, he will find out about everything, but you’ll be already gone — he won’t lament, nor grieve your loss. he’ll only think to himself that it’s a good thing you left, and eventually, he’ll forget.

but did you want him to?

you felt something terrible squeeze at your throat, and you had to steel your resolve, else you’d start to cry again. you didn’t want him to forget about you nor all the things you both did, ever. you didn’t want to die. you still had so much to see, and to experience, and taste — your relationship with him only began, and it was going so well — why did you have to ruin it? why do you always have to wreak devastation? why did you have to take that route, instead of just staying home? why did your fists met with that man’s face?

you could ask yourself — why do bad things happen to good people? why did Mydei have to meet you? why did he have to fall for someone of your nature? why are you allowing his hands to caress you, as if you were the most precious thing in the world? won’t his fingers become stained with blood, too?

why did your Pa have to die, while you survived?

your breath shuddered, and then you thought that your premature death is a fair punishment for all your deeds. the gods aren’t cruel — they’re simply all-seeing. it’s better to eradicate the problem before it spreads its disease to others.

still, you were alive, and you wanted to strive more. you didn’t want to throw your life away, and yet it happened. it seems that we, humans, truly hold no control over our existences. it’s inevitable.

your gaze flickered over to the clock, its face dimly illuminated by the moon outside. a little after two in the morning. you will have to get up in one hour. if Mydei wakes up, stirred conscious by your movements, what will you say to him? that you’re going to the bathroom — most likely — not to worry, you’ll be back soon.

you sighed morosely, starting to count down the very seconds. one, two, three, four, five. you’ll love him always. time was nothing.

when the clock struck three, a hollow weight settled in your chest, sinking deep into your stomach. you forced yourself upright, your fingers clutching the sheets with desperation, as if holding onto anything could make you stay. you thought you had already cried all of your tears, none falling from your eyes as hollow emptiness filled you.

you leaned over Mydei, letting your gaze trace the contours of his face, memorizing every delicate feature, etching his peaceful expression into the depths of your mind, so that you wouldn’t forget. how long did you linger there? a minute? an eternity? you wouldn’t know. if you could, you’d remain by his side forever, frozen in a picture, unmoving.

at last, you pressed a gentle kiss to his brow, a final act of goodbye. he would go on — the crown prince of Kremnos, destined for great future. you only wished fate had been more merciful, allowing you to be there for him, through every hardship, and every triumph. but time wasn’t working in your favor as it urged you to get up, treading over the floor with utmost care, afraid that if you made any kind of sound, he’d wake up. you looked around his house — the kitchen, living room, halls. you’ll never return here.

all before you would soon turn into a memory, engraved somewhere deep. you’ll leave, and then most likely slip back into crime — mugging, thieving, street fights, the loud gunshots, and the taste of blood residing on your teeth, dripping quickly from your busted lips and gums. you’ll have to soak in the rain, your coat barely obscuring you from the wet weather as your feral eyes of a hunted animal trailed over some unsuspecting people, wondering what their wallets have to offer. you’ll sit by the gutter, counting how much money you have left, praying it’ll last you until the next day. your calves will burn constantly, and you won’t taste pancakes, or eclairs ever again.

but gods, wasn’t that still more merciful than the guards shoving you to the ground, binding your wrists in cuffs, pushing you into the cell, and shutting the grates before you’d manage to get back on your feet? surely, because you’d rather have to suffer, and remain free, instead of looking up at the blue sky from behind the bars. maybe one day, you’ll grow wings and return to Okhema, observing the small silhouettes of people traversing the streets. you’ll see Mydei, and Phainon, and all of your other friends — talking about something trivial, their mouths smiling as they kept on laughing, and their voices wouldn’t reach you. you’ll cease to exist to them.

it was then, as you stepped towards the door, that you thought of writing a letter. you doubted it will be of any use, but perhaps it’ll give others some closure about your whereabouts, assuring them you won’t be returning. you quickly glanced out of the window, checking if anyone was there — nothing. you were safe, for now, so you quietly rummaged through Mydei’s belongings, searching for a piece of paper along with a pen. finally, you leaned over the table, squinting your eyes as you tried to start.

you rarely had anything meaningful on your tongue, and now that your life seemed to lose its point, it was especially tough to come up with anything. you glanced at your hand, holding the pen — the exact same size, wound across the thumb present. you huffed out a humorless laugh, coming to a conclusion that fate was really inescapable. oh, how could you ever think it was in the first place? humans are phenomenally, genuinely stupid creatures. nothing will change that — they are gullible, and cruel, and loving, and they think they can be the blacksmiths of their own destiny, bending the gods’ will to their liking, just like they do with scalding iron. perhaps that’s why they are so fascinating.

you threw the paper on the countertop’s surface as you finished writing, and walked out the door, shutting it loudly behind you.

my dear Mydeimos,

i regret that our parting must happen this way, and even more so that i must say goodbye to you through a letter. i suspect you’ll struggle to make sense of my handwriting, because the clock now indicates half past three, and i cannot see well, as it’s still dark outside. soon, i will leave home, and Okhema — for good.

my house is no longer mine nor should anyone expect my return. i sold my belongings long ago, so you needn’t worry about that.

by the time you read this, you may already know of my crime. if not, you will soon, and for that, too, i am sorry. i will not offer excuses, as there are none to be made, and that is also the reason why i decided to flee. a brief thought urged me to stay — my father always said running is for cowards. and i am a coward — yes, i am. but i would rather perish in some ditch than waste away in a cell for the rest of my days. you know me well enough to understand that, i believe.

still, despite the fact that those few past months were filled with hardships, i cannot say my life here was without joy. for that, i am grateful. it was an honor to live in this place, to know you, to witness the soul of the holy city with my own eyes. i would have stayed forever, if not for what happened.

but what have i left behind, if not disorder and chaos? i constantly deceived others for a living, selling false visions to those desperate enough to believe in them. ironically, i do, truly, possess clairvoyance. the only thing revealed to me, which stuck to my conscience throughout all the years of my life, was my own death. i’ve never told anyone about this. most likely, you’ll be the first and last to know. and so, if it puts your mind at ease, know this — i do not have long.

what a shame, that it had to end like this. if i could turn back time, i would. i would fix my mistakes, undo all the harm i have brought. alas, it simply doesn’t work like that. i pray that maybe, just maybe, there’s a place for us in another life, where you’d meet me, and my body would no longer reek of horror.

i have been a burden to many, but to you most of all. i am endlessly sorry. even so, i will cherish these four years we spent together until my last breath, no matter what you may think of me. but you, Mydei, must not. do not seek me. do not think of me. and if you would grant me one final kindness — forget me.

[name].

[pshbites]

COWBOY LIKE ME - park sunghoon (teaser)

pairing → sunghoon x reader

synopsis → fresh college graduate, park sunghoon decides to take a 5 month long vacation with some of his closest friends to northern italy. his expectations? bike rides, gelatos, his best friend and designated chef trying a multitude of recipes, and late night swims. the reality? falling deeply in love with the girl who lives with her grandparents next door.

genre & warnings → coming of age, summer au, mentions of the UK school system, based in europe (duh), strangers to friends to a secret third thing, heavy feelings, use of alcohol and drugs, mental health problems, running away, yn has an avoider attachment, loverboy sunghoon, more tbd.

cast → all of enha, kazuha and yunjin from lesserafim, mentions of txt, much more side characters.

est wc → 20 - 25k (?) currently at 15k so we'll see

authors note → hai guys, sooo this is smth i wrote this summer as u can see it is HEAVILY based off of cmbyn ermm so i guess just enjoy! reply here if you wanna be added to the taglist and pls like n reblog <3

SOMEWHERE IN NORTHERN ITALY, 2022.

you and sunghoon laid on the grass next to one another, bodies just inches apart. the moon was high in the sky and it was another one of those quiet nights with him, you adored these nights. you could hear your friends laughing in the house, but it still just felt like it was just you two and the rest of the world and your respective worries just faded away. 

sunghoon turned his body to face you, his elbow propping him up slightly. you turned your body, now face to face with him. his hand reached over, brushing hair out of your face. his eyes were looking into yours like they usually did, but now they were holding something back. “what?” you mumbled, voice barely above a whisper. it wasn’t the fear of being too loud, it was the content of your conversations being strictly between the two of you, no one else’s. 

that was the beauty in these moments you had with sunghoon, they were sacred. as if it were a child hiding candy. the two of you weren’t secretive in the fear of being caught or teased, it was to keep whatever you had, yours. the content that no one else besides sunghoon could know your in and outs, and same with him. it was like your relationship was a question mark to everyone else around you and the two of you intended to keep it that way. 

sunghoon didn’t say anything for a couple seconds, his hand still in your hair, now moving down to cup your cheek in his hand. his thumb grazing the apples of your cheeks. during all this his eyes never left yours. he finally sighed out. “call me by your name and i’ll call you by mine” he breathed out, his voice soft but words as hard as bricks. 

“what?” you repeated, smiling softly at his words. something about this moment between the two of you was so intimate that nothing could tear you from one another. his hand now rested on your waist, rubbing it up and down. somehow you were closer to him than you were before. “you heard me.” sunghoon whispered back, lost in your eyes. 

he shifted a little closer to you, leaning forward so his lips were against your ear. “sunghoon, sunghoon, sunghoon” he whispered, lips kissing the shell of your ear afterwards. each time he said his name there was a pause in between it. he moved back a little, now smiling. you could hear your heart beating in your ears as you smiled back. 

you moved closer, leaning forward so your lips were against his ear. “yn, yn, yn” you whispered back, following the same rhythm he did. you leaned back, eyes never leaving his. his hand reached down to yours and he intertwined your fingers together with his, holding you tightly as if you were going to disappear in a matter of seconds. 

you laid on your back, your cheeks starting to hurt because of how hard you were smiling. you felt closer to sunghoon now than you had this entire summer. he moved closer, head resting on your shoulder as he laid on his back as well. your hands still intertwined because of the fear eating both you alive. 

the fear that this won’t be forever.

[merthurglompfest]

Title: Dear Future Husband By: Salamandair Gift for: twisted_apple Rating: Teen and Up Word Count:  12,837 words Warning(s): N/A Creator Notes: Hi, twisted_apple! When I first saw your prompt, I immediately wanted it because the idea of having Arthur and Merlin communicate strictly over letters just excited me. I wanted to do some cool coding with this, but ran out of brain power to do so (thanks, medical issues), so sorry about that! I hope I did your prompt justice and that you like what I wrote! Special Shout-out to my amazing betas, Starlight_Shaped_Hope and Malus_sieversii, for all their helpful comments and suggestions and cheerleading! I honestly couldn’t have made this fic what it was without you both. Disclaimer: I don’t own any part of BBC and Shine’s Merlin. Richer people do.] Summary: Prince Merlin Emeryson of Essetir spends the summer at Camelot and spends the whole time arguing with Prince Arthur Pendragon, while spending time with Morgana Pendragon and has everyone convinced that they’ll be wed. Instead, Arthur’s servant finds Arthur and Merlin together in bed one morning, shocking everyone, but the two are quickly engaged and are set to be married in a year. While Merlin is back in Essetir, they are encouraged to send letters to each other to stay in touch. For better or worse, Merlin and Arthur start sending letters to each other AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64422601/chapters/165407140

[ninsficrecs]

take me out on a joyride (series) by Japery

Fandom: Hockey RPF Relationship: Will Smith/Macklin Celebrini Rating: Explicit Works: 2 Fic 1 Title: steal the keys to my heart Published: 1/20/2025 Words: 16,774 Summary: “We basically met at the club, too,” Will says.

And then, he says something low, nonchalant, like he's not just lobbing it at Mack from across an empty parking lot.

“You wanted to fuck me so bad.”

Fic 2 Title: we'll both keep on pretending Published: 1/25/2025 Words: 16,018 Summary: "You're gay,” Will remembers.

“Uh-huh,” Macklin agrees. “We went over that this morning.”

“So if they think we're together, no one will think I hate gay people,” Will reasons, and he raises his head to look at Mack. “Will you do it?”

“You want me to pretend we're together?” Macklin asks, slowly trying to catch up. “So the team doesn't think you're homophobic?” he repeats.

Will nods. “Good plan?”

Nin's Notes: This is a silly little series that I enjoyed. Will's characterization in the second fic reminded me a lot of Joel Farabee in in the stillness, boys, clear water till the bottom

[kaesficrecarchive]

[mark x donghyuck]

rejoice! by sunffleur (4/4 | 39,059 | E)

“You again?” Dr. Lee stood in front of him, eyebrows raised. “Hi.” "It’s been 6 hours.” “I was working. It’s not like I want to be here again, okay?” Donghyuck whined, looking at the doctor with embarrassment. “But it seems like my stomach has other plans.” (or, Donghyuck is dumb enough to get food poisoned twice in less than 24 hours and, now, he has a crush on the doctor).

[luxurychristmaspudding]

watch

summary: after showing frankie what he was missing, something seems to have been awoken in you all. with joel away on a contract and santi called out of town, you're left in frankie's care. except one rule still stands - you can't touch.

read part 1, listen, here BONUS: al's handy guide to reading watch

grouping: f!reader x joel miller x frankie morales x santiago garcia

rating/warnings: 18+. MDNI. no outbreak (tlou) - but based after the tf mission. alright, buckle in. softdom!joel, softdom!santi, sub!frankie, sub!reader, lil bit of softdom!reader and bratty!reader as well hehe. drinking, pet names (inc. little/baby girl, baby boy). rules get broken (surprise!), praise kink, dirty talk, daddy kink, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it!), exhibitionism, voyeurism, public fingering, blowjobs (m receiving and giving), rimming, mutual masturbation, phone sex, use of toys (f&m), consensual somnophilia, cumplay, edging, facesitting, anal fingering (m), mfm, anal sex (m receiving), tiny bit of breath play (not reader), light bondage, brief gagging, very high sex drives but who can blame them, once again so many orgasms i lost count, and in the immortal words of @thatredheadwriter, 'so much fluid exchange I think a hasmat team should probably go in to clean it up' reader wears dresses and has hair, but has no other descriptions. no use of y/n.

wc: 25k (i know, i'm so sorry)

an: many many many thanks to the peeps who waited an age for this. you've all been so patient and kind and i hope you enjoy! for @schnarfer, @swiftispunk, @5oh5 and @janaispunk who, without their constant encouragement and recommendation, this may not have happened at all <3 dividers as always from the wonderful @saradika-graphics

In the weeks that follow, you wait for the ball to drop. 

You wait to feel weird about what the four of you did, for the kick of it, for Joel to reveal that he actually wasn’t that sold on it. You wait for a text or call from Frankie or Santi to say it was nice knowing you, but it was a little much, a little weird to see you around now. 

It doesn’t happen. 

You stay slotted into Joel’s life like you were always meant to be there. You stay over at his, he stays over at yours. You spend lazy Sunday mornings making waffles or pancakes and getting fucked dumb. He brings you flowers when work is hard, you rub his shoulders when he’s had a rough day on site. Your body is marked beneath your clothes with his bruises, the shape of his teeth, and his is marked by yours, the scratch of your nails traced delicately down his back. 

You spend your time orbiting around each other, close and safe in the bubble you’ve built, warm and soft in the afternoon sunlight that streams through the curtains on your days off, eating in and eating out. He becomes more familiar than anyone else has ever been with the inner workings of your mind, the inner workings of your body. He introduces you to his brother, Tommy, and his wife, Maria. He talks about you to Sarah, and she says she’d love to meet you next time she’s home from college. He makes space for your books on his shelves, and your clothes find a way into his wardrobe; his squeeze into your drawers, a spare toothbrush for him in your bathroom. He kisses you, hot and open mouthed when he drops you off at work, does the same when you find his truck waiting outside for you when you’re done. He asks how the boys are when you come home from drinks with them, listens with sparkling eyes when you tell him Benny’s latest hookup is from the bar you used to work at, the place where they first met you. He chuckles and tells you he's glad Santi introduced the two of you when he did, before any of the others swooped in and took you for themselves. 

Sometimes, you think he forgets about the night that Frankie asked you out, the conversations that followed. How close it could have been. 

But that's naive of you. Naive of you to think that he doesn’t see, doesn’t seek out the claim that Frankie and Santi have also made on you. Because he knows. In some infuriating, impossible way, he always knows. 

He shows you he knows one morning, when you have already been awake for what feels like hours, watching his broad chest rise and fall with deep, sleeping breaths.

You trace the curve of his nose with your eyes, the scruff of his beard, the way his curls have grown out. Luscious and thick, spattered with grey, curling down into the nape of his neck. His lips look so warm, so soft, that you’ve been challenging yourself, seeing how long you can go without kissing him awake. Seeing how long you can go with just remembering how they felt between your legs last night, wet with spit and your release as he soothed you through orgasm after orgasm, kissing your thighs, sucking marks into your soft flesh as he held you down with one thick palm braced against your belly, the other with its fingers gently pumping in and out of you. The deep timbre of his voice when you made yourself look at him, his praise, good girl, there she is, doin’ so good for me, sweet girl through your tears, as you begged him, begged him for something else, something more. More, daddy, you’d pleaded. You'd needed something thicker, something deeper. You always do.

You squirm beneath the sheets, pressing your thighs together. Try to think of anything else. The green of his bedroom walls, the boots you know will be at the end of the bed. His trinkets on the dresser - the watch Sarah bought (and fixed, many times) for him, the picture of him and his family at Tommy and Maria’s wedding, your clothes scattered about the floor, the chair in the corner of the room, the chair where he sat that night, as he watched, as he watched you -

You roll over onto your side to look away from it, squeezing your eyes shut, barely able to control your whimper. You’re slick between your thighs, too warm as your wetness mixes with the cum still drooling out of your cunt. You try and count his freckles instead, starting from his forehead to his cheekbones, down to his neck - his neck - his shoulder, the bite mark you left there as he spilled himself into you, the hand resting on his chest, his thick fingers, his fingers -

It’s no good. It’s no fucking good. He needs to rest, so you take a deep breath and steel yourself. Coffee. You’ll head downstairs, you’ll make coffee, and when he’s slept enough you’ll talk him through everything you’ve been thinking about, and he’ll make it better. Starting with his tongue.

You press your hands to the mattress as you start to raise your torso from the bed, and almost immediately at the shifting of your weight, Joel’s hand shoots out to grab you.

‘Where you goin’, pretty girl?’

You smile, smug. So he's awake. And you know, with his grip like this, you’ll get anything you want from him.

‘Coffee,’ you say, leaning over to press a lingering kiss to his soft lips. He returns it, eyes still shut, hand shifting from your forearm to your bicep, to your shoulder, to the back of your neck. He holds you there as he draws his tongue across the seam of your lips, and with a groan you let him in. The bristle of his moustache tickles as he licks into your mouth, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth as his free hand skates between the sheets to skim over your bare thigh. You shift against him, bringing your calf over both of his legs. The movement brings his hand forwards, dipping between your legs to trace two fingers up through your drenched cunt. You moan loudly against him, and Joel chuckles.

‘Last night not enough for you, little girl?’

You hum against him, shaking your head. He retracts his fingers.

‘Words, baby.’ He reminds you.

‘No, da-’ you start, but as soon as your lips part he has his fingers on your tongue. On instinct, your eyes flutter shut and you suck them, swirling your tongue over the thick digits, savouring the taste of you both.

‘Rude to talk with your mouthful, sweet pea,’ he murmurs, ‘Somebody oughta fuck some manners into ya.’

With his fingers still in your mouth, Joel turns you onto your back, bracing himself away from you to watch you continue to suckle on his fingers. He pushes them further back, further, further, only to watch you begin to gag around him.

‘Good girl,’ he says, withdrawing them, spit-slick, before bringing them back to your pussy. He watches your face as he pushes them easily inside, the crease between your brows, the way your jaw slackens, the way your eyes widen as he curls them into your sweet spot. He nods, pleased. ‘Think you’re wet enough to take me already, baby,’ he says, swiping them over your clit. You jolt, moaning again at the feeling. ‘What do you think?’

‘Yeah, daddy,’ you sigh, ‘Ready for you.’

Joel chuckles.

‘Always so ready f'me, isn’t she, princess?’ He says, lining himself up at your entrance, gripping your jaw to keep your eyes on him. He doesn’t expect an answer this time. ‘Yeah, always dripping for me, aren’t you? Poor baby girl. Poor baby girl and her messy little pussy.’ 

He feeds his cock to you slowly, so slowly. You whine and arch against him as he does, brain trickling away from you, already so given in to the sensation; mind deliciously blank, nails scratching at his forearms as he cages you in, thrusting deep, bottoming out. When he sees your eyes roll back, he picks up his pace smoothly, thrusting faster and harder, deeper. You moan out a long daddy, and he huffs in amusement.

‘Does daddy feel good, sweet girl?’

You gasp out a yes, fuck, daddy, and he hums in response.

'There she is,’ he says, ‘Didn’t need coffee, did ya, baby? Just wanted daddy. Just needed your daddy, hm?’ You nod furiously, tongue loosened by the heavy weight of him inside you, babbling away about how good he feels, how deep, how big he is. You lock your ankles around the bottom of his spine to pull him closer, and he groans, head dipping to yours. ‘Yeah,’ he breathes, ‘You take what you need, baby. Just wanna get fucked, huh? Woke up dreamin’ a me? Dreamin’ a me fuckin’ you full of my cum again, babygirl?’

You moan again, neck pulling taught as you arch further, pull him in deeper. The coil deep in your belly tightens, jaw clenching as you scratch at him, as you tug the hair at the nape of his neck.

‘Poor baby, can’t even get her words out,’ he coos, and like he wants to prove his point, he pushes even deeper, tip kissing your cervix, the bruising feeling making you gasp, making you plead, making you beg as you try and move your hips away from him. He brings his hand away from your face to your waist, keeping you in place.

‘Relax, sweetheart,’ he smiles, rocking in and out of you again, ‘I know you can take it, just relax f'me. That’s a good girl. I know it’s big but you can take it.’ 

You clench around him, painfully, try to mumble out how close you are, but you can’t even summon the words. In this room, he is all you can see, all you can hear, all you can feel. The slickness of it, the heat, the burning pleasure rising inside you as you writhe beneath him.

‘I know, baby, I know,’ he murmurs, ‘You’re close already, huh?’ You hum, body tight, so close, so close, head so empty. ‘Yeah, you are. Fuck, love when you get all stupid on me like this. You like getting fucked dumb on daddy’s cock, baby? Can you feel me all the way in here, sweetheart?’ he asks, moving the hand on your waist to press against your lower stomach. You clench harder as he presses down, the coil tightening, spiralling, and you’re right there - ‘Wish you could fuckin’ see yourself right now, baby. Wish you could see how pretty ya look getting fucked. You like being watched, don’t ya, darlin’? Yeah. Want Santi and Francisco to watch again, baby?’ You gasp at his words, surprised, vision blurring, hurtling towards your climax, the build up scorching, impossibly long. ‘Sure you do. Or d'you want Santi to fuck you again, make you scream his name while he’s inside you, huh?’

Fuck, okay. Okay -

‘Yes, daddy -’ you breathe, pussy fluttering around him, the beginnings of your orgasm.

‘Santi? Or is it Frankie, baby? You want his mouth on you, want to feel him stretch you open? He’s big, isn’t he? Wanna see how he feels, if he fits like me?’

He is, you remember, he is, and you could try. If you can take Joel, you can take Frankie, and oh, what a thought -

Your body pulls tighter, aching, painful, and you cry out.

‘Shit -’ you moan, ‘Shit, Joel, I’m -’ 

‘Come, babygirl,’ he tells you. ‘Come all over my cock, princess. Get it nice and wet, just how daddy likes it.’

You burst aflame beneath him with a shout, body jerking as you hiss and gasp, gripping him to you as he fucks you through it. You whimper with every thrust as he keeps talking through gritted teeth, thrusting harder.

‘Yeah, that’s it. So sweet, baby. Good fuckin’ girl. You want them again, darlin’? Want to play with 'em? Want to watch 'em play with your daddy?’

A needy whine slips past your lips as you picture it; Frankie on his knees, Santi on all fours, and you grow even wetter at the thought, the slick of your orgasm and Joel’s words making the prettiest noises.

‘She likes that,’ Joel says, almost to himself, ‘Yeah, she likes that. Dirty girl. Dirty girl, wanting all three of us, wanting to watch, hm? Wanna touch, baby? Wanna see how it feels?’ He looks so fucked out on top of you that even you’re not sure if he knows what he’s saying, what he’s asking you. But you gasp out a yes anyway, something warm and quick trickling up your spine, tightening your cunt again.

‘Another one,’ he grunts, ‘Another one, darlin’, and I’ll give you what you want.’ 

You don’t need to be told twice. Your second orgasm rips through you lightning fast and white-hot, so good that you hear ringing in your ears, so tight that Joel stutters inside of you, groaning, breathing your name as he pumps and spills and twitches. You’re both breathing so heavily that it’s all you can do to lie there, licking your lips as Joel pulls out with a moan and flops beside you. A breathless little giggle escapes your parted lips.

Joel reaches across your body and tugs you by the arm until you’re nestled into his side. Too hot, too breathless, but you breathe him in all the same, tracing patterns on his chest.

The room is quiet as you both come down from your highs, your eyes falling closed as Joel presses a kiss to your hairline. Your brain tries its best not to think, not to read into it, but even through the exhaustion, his words come back to you.

Watch, touch. 

You have to know. You have to ask, now, want to know, want it, want it, want it -

‘Do you - do you want to do it again?’ You stutter.

Joel puffs out a laugh to the ceiling.

‘You’re gonna have to give me at least ten minutes, baby.’

You laugh and nudge his side with your fist.

‘No,’ you smile, ‘No. The - the thing you said, about that night -’

He raises an eyebrow, and you bare your teeth awkwardly. 

'You know - that night.'

‘Mm?’ Tease.

You lean further onto his chest and take his skin gently between your teeth. You nip, and he relents. You lean back slightly to look at him.

Joel smiles at you, crooks his head so he can nibble at your ear lobe.

‘Baby, I’d love to.’

The sound that leaves your lips is obscene, and you don’t care. Fuck, the thought of it. The three of them together, the four of you together.

‘All we gotta do is send the text,’ he says, ‘Could send it now and they’d be here in the hour.’ He chuckles. One of his hands moves down to your thigh, hooking it over his hip before moving to your ass to rock you against him. You groan into his shoulder. Your next question leaves your lips before you can even stop it.

‘Did you - did you mean what you said, about you and Santi and Frankie?’ You ask. It sounds clumsy, almost like you shouldn’t be asking. Fuck, maybe you should have waited for him to bring it up. You tense, waiting for his reaction.

Joel opens his eyes again with a small smirk, peeking down at you down his aquiline nose. His movements still.

‘Wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.’

You draw a quick breath and hold him closer. You won’t ask anymore questions. Try to push away thoughts of what Joel could do with his hands, his mouth, his cock, of what the two other men could do with theirs, what it would be like to watch, what it would be like to feel -

‘I’ve never… I’ve never done it before.’ Joel says, quietly. 

You pull back from his chest and watch him watch you. His dark eyes are honest, wary, and a question forms on your lips. He said he had been with multiple people in the past, it was something he’d done, something he was clear he had enjoyed -

‘With a man. I’ve never… done anything with a guy.’

Your stomach swoops at his nervousness. You feel your brow crease, a hand reaching up to touch his cheek.

‘That’s okay,’ you whisper, ‘That’s… I didn’t realise, that’s all. ‘M sorry if I pushed you.’

Joel shakes his head. He hums beneath you, a deep rumble in his chest. 

‘Y’didn’t. You ain’t.’ 

You stroke your thumb along the patches of his beard.

‘Do you… want to talk about it?’

Joel closes his eyes again, takes a deep breath. 

‘I’ve thought about it. For a while. Watching people, watching you. I’m… curious.’

You nod, even though he can’t see you.

‘That’s normal, baby,’ you whisper, ‘So normal.’

Your mind flashes back, back to how tender he was with you, with Frankie. His warmth towards Pope as the four of you cleaned up afterwards, as you dressed in the comfiest clothes you could find. The way his eyes lingered on your body, Santi’s body, Frankie’s, the curiosity you glimpsed as you snacked and rehydrated, the goodbyes as they slipped out the door.

It makes sense.

And it’s even better to know that all this time you’ve been imagining it, he has, too.

‘I’d like to try it,’ he says, blinking at you. ‘With them. With you. If that’s okay?’

You clutch his face tighter, tender, warmth blooming in your chest at his trust. You smile wide at him, and he visibly relaxes. Tears threaten in your eyes.

‘Yes,’ you breathe, ‘Yes. Of course it is. I… it’d be more than okay.’

He swallows.

‘You sure?’

You untangle yourself from him as much as possible, but he keeps an iron grip on your waist. You settle on your elbow.

‘Of course I’m sure, baby,’ you soothe, ‘Of course I am. I’m glad you told me. It’d be - it’d be an honour - it’s very brave of you to -’

Joel cuts you off with a snort, pulling you roughly back against him. He holds you tight within his grasp.

‘Very brave -’ he chuckles.

‘It is,’ you insist, muffled against his chest, ‘It is, and if there’s anything you want to try -’

He pulls you up so your face is level with his, and shuts you up with a firm kiss. And when you lick him a little while later, tongue pressed up, pressing in to his tight ring of muscle, you find that there is plenty he wants to try.

And plenty you want to help him with.

———

Will greets you first at the bar that evening, and you quickly lose yourself to the rhythm of the night.

The five of you are tucked back into your usual booth, bottles and glasses crowding the table, the noise of other patrons bringing you closer together, knees knocking, hands over forearms to claw yourself further into the conversation. You talk for hours, work tales being swapped, gossip about old friends, former lovers. Will and Benny seem particularly interested in your romance with Joel, and you happily fill them in, telling them about the barbeque you had round Tommy and Maria’s, how you’re meeting Sarah next time she’s home from college, and how Joel will be away on a contract next week. Frankie and Santi listen in with gleaming eyes, half-smiles of their own, sharing secrets across the table that only you are privy to. It makes your stomach tighten, your panties damp.

And the way Frankie watches you, it’s like he knows.

Seats are switched throughout the night after bathroom breaks and drinks collections, but Pope always finds a way to be close to you - a hand on your thigh, a squeeze of your palm, the press of his shoulder against yours. He stacks a small pile of peanuts on the table between the two of you, hidden behind a glass, and at any opportune moment you can, you take turns flicking them at Will or Benny. With every small, yellow projectile that smacks against their chests, arms, sometimes even faces, Frankie racks up a tally on a napkin. The game is all but lost when Benny looks at up the ceiling and asks in disbelief whether it’s raining fucking peanuts, and you and Santi collapse into fits of giggles. Benny stares at you in blank confusion, furthered by Will’s growing rumble of laughter - until he finally fixes stoic Frankie with a betrayed look, noticing the tally half-hidden by his palm, and cries out an accusatory -

‘Is that you?’ Which sends Frankie over the edge, too. 

When places switch again, Will makes sure to gather you in a headlock in his strong arms and grind his knuckles roughly into your scalp. You yelp with laughter, giggling against each other, sinking into the dirty leather as Will muses on how much of a bastard you are, wondering out loud how your skills as a former bartender allowed you to outsmart ex-Delta Force operators.

Frankie watches with his usual boyish charm, his eyes crinkling at the edges, warm and molten and wanting when they meet yours. Your tongue burns with the things you want to tell him, with what you and Joel had discussed, eventually in great detail, in bed at home. But you bite the words back, knowing what is and what isn't yours to share. Instead, you lean into Santi’s touch, scraping your nails along his jeans until he shifts uncomfortably in his seat, biting his lip in a wicked grin. He excuses himself soon after, and with his departure, Benny calls for a round of pool.

He’s already slipping out of the booth before you can protest, Will following closely behind. Frankie steps out, too, rounding your side and holding out a hand for you. You accept it, stepping out in front of him so you’re pressed chest to chest. He lifts his palm to your cheek, leaning in to press a kiss to your hairline. You press his bicep in thanks before turning back to the table, hinging at your hips to grab both his drink and yours, taking extra care to subtly grind your ass into his crotch. His palm comes to rest at the top of your thigh, holding you there for just a moment, before moving to your waist. You turn back to him.  He leans in close.

‘I don’t know what you’re trying to do to us tonight, hermosa,’ he breathes into the conch of your ear, ‘But it’s working.’

You grin at him as he moves his hand from your waist to the plush flesh of your ass, squeezing gently before letting go. You take a sip from your beer, reaching up to take the cap from his curls and nestling it backwards on your own head. 

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

His answering smile is dirty, thrilling, and he follows you as if on a leash to the pool table the brothers have secured.

Santi joins you soon afterwards, his cheeks a little flushed, a fresh drink in his hand. You’re split off into the most unfair teams possible; Will, Benny, and Frankie taking one cue, and you and Pope with the other. Frankie racks up the balls with swift, deft movements, taking the cue easily in his massive hands, the wood resting between his thick fingers. You feel your body warm as you watch him, still wearing his cap, trying to squeeze your thighs together inconspicuously. You bring your cool bottle to your neck as Pope winds an arm around you, letting his hand settle at your hip, stroking and pinching the flesh there. You don’t look at him, but you sigh deeply, and he lets his head knock against yours, pleased. With Frankie shooting first, there’s no great rush to grab your cue and be prepared. 

You watch as he pots ball after ball, mouth curving in a playful scowl as he shoots you a grin after each one, moving around the table with so much grace and ease that it starts to make you a little dizzy. Benny and Will cheer him on with loud hoots and shouts, and Pope makes sure the two of you boo him like a pantomime villain with every flick of his wrist. When he finally fails to sink a shot, Pope passes you the cue, and you take your time lowering yourself to press your chest to the green felt, inhaling deeply. You’re warm, relaxed, a little buzzed, more than a little horny. You wiggle your ass a little, and Will laughs, shouting something about how your distraction technique won’t work, and he’s right. It quickly backfires when Frankie sweeps around the table, pressing one half of his body over yours as he directs you on how to hold the cue, how to position it, how to cradle it in your fingers like he does. When he’s sure you’ve got it, he breathes into your ear for you to pull your elbow back with just the right amount of leverage, and you try to ignore the goosebumps that break out along your neck and shoulder.

‘You’re ready,’ he whispers, and just as you begin to snap your wrist forwards, he presses his firm cock into your thigh.

Your quick inhale stutters your movement, and you watch as the tip of the cue just catches the edge of the ball, sending it spinning off into a barren corner of the table. You stand and spin to Frankie.

‘You asshole!’ you cry, indignant and hot, pointing a finger at him as he snatches his cap back from your head and retreats. ‘You - jogged me!’ Frankie spreads his hands in front of him, pouting, his bulge only just covered by the front of his button up.

‘I tried my best.’ He grins.

‘Don’t worry about it, kid,’ Will calls from the other side of the table, ‘Fish is known for being good with his hands. Even when he uses them for evil.’ 

The men laugh as Frankie flushes, knocking his fist into Will’s belly. Despite yourself, you laugh with them, enjoying watching him flustered as Will gasps out his laughter. Pope leans in close to whisper in your ear.

‘Good with his mouth, too.’ And all the air is sucked from your lungs as you feel your own face heat. Santi laughs louder next to you, taking the cue from your hands so you can grasp your bottle instead. You watch as Benny misfires, then Pope, still giggling at his own joke, before Frankie takes over again, sinking each one until only the white remains. Not that you notice, finding yourself now caught up in the way he bites and wets his lips, how plush they look, how they’d feel pressed to your thighs, your tits, your clit -

Benny snaps his fingers in front of your eyes, waving you back to reality.

‘Ground control to Major Loser,’ he grins, ‘Frankie whooped your ass, in case you weren't paying attention. It’s your round.’ 

You scoff playfully at him, whirling on your heel back towards the bar, but not before catching Pope’s eye again as he smirks at you, leaning against the table next to Frankie.

You flip them off as you work your way through the crowd.

When Frankie parks his truck outside Joel’s, all the lights in the house are off. 

You unbuckle your seatbelt, and Frankie eyes the front door a little warily, eyes narrowing at the distance between. You giggle at him.

‘Frankie, baby, the boogeyman is not going to get me in the space between your truck and the door.’

He frowns at you all the same before unbuckling his own seatbelt and jumping out the driver’s side. You roll your eyes at him as he bounds round the front of the truck, swinging your door open and helping you out. He grins at you.

‘I know,’ he says, ‘I know, just - let me do it. Humour me.’

He swings your hands between you as you walk up the front yard, and you try to stifle your giggles as you slot the spare key into the lock. It’s unlike Joel to not wait up for you, but you’d made sure to tucker him out before you’d left. You’re glad he’s finally getting the rest he needed. 

The door swings open in front of you into yawning darkness, and Frankie gives your hip a squeeze. 

‘You’re sure Joel’s home?’ he asks. 

‘Yeah,’ you nod, flicking the hallway light on. ‘He’s probably just asleep. It’s late, and -’

‘You probably spent the first half of the day making him see God, I suppose.’ He finishes for you. You smack his chest when you see his shit-eating grin, but aren’t able to wipe your own from your lips. 

‘Obviously.’ You smirk.

Frankie laughs quietly as you shut the front door behind him, letting his hands wander from your hip to your waist, up and down the span of your back, pulling you towards him. You can still feel him, warm and half hard against you, and a soft moan slips from your mouth in response to his small grind. He smiles again, one hand coming up to cradle the back of your skull to his chest as he rocks you back and forth, letting you feel everything while having nothing. Your own hands clutch at his shirt, shifting it higher so you can splay your palms over his bare abdomen. He looks down at you with soft, lazy eyes, and for a moment, you’re sure you’re going to kiss him. And when he leans in to whisper in your ear, you’re sure you’re going to wake Joel up and beg for him to take the two of you now. But instead, Frankie asks in a whisper -

‘Do you think Joel’d mind if I used his bathroom?’

You snort a laugh, pushing yourself away from him, and he giggles back at you.

‘Of course not,’ you say, pointing off down the hallway. ‘Just up there. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.’

He salutes as he backs away, almost knocking into the bannister of the stairs, and you have to clap your hands over your mouth to keep from laughing too loud. You step quietly into the kitchen to pour two glasses of water, but only get as far as reaching up into the cupboard when there are soft footsteps behind you. You grin, about to tease Frankie for not being able to find the bathroom on his own before warm, calloused hands are on you. Shameless, needy, groping up your top, tugging your bra down, cupping your breasts, tweaking your nipples.

Your body goes quickly liquid at the familiar touch, all smart quips dying in your throat as Joel ruts against you from behind, the weight of his hard cock hot and firm against your ass, barely disguised by his grey sweatpants. Your hands come to grip at the countertop, and you try to get the words out to tell him not now, Frankie’s here, but all that escapes is a moan. 

‘’M glad you’re home, baby,’ he growls in your ear, fingers making quick work of your button and zipper. ‘Missed you. Dreamed of you. Did ya miss me, too?’ as he tugs your jeans down to the tops of your thighs.

‘Joel -’ you breathe, but you’re too slow, unable to process anything beyond the fingers he dips into your panties. Usually you love him like this, swaddled in sleep, desperate to bury himself inside you, and you’d let him take you anywhere, but not right here, not right now. Your body continues to betray you, pulsing out more of the slick that has kept your underwear damp all night - the touches beneath the table, the pressure of Frankie’s cock against your thigh during pool, him pressed up against you in the doorway. Everything you’d done with Joel earlier in the day, the way he’d come apart with your tongue and your fingers, the way he’d eaten you to the point of tears, all coming together to show him how you glisten in the low light of the kitchen. The two of you are insatiable, and he groans against you, offering you his fingers to suckle as he pulls the waistband of your panties down to join your jeans. You try to mumble out around him again - Joel, wait - but he’s too fast as he sinks himself inside of you, and every thought, every word, is wiped from your brain. 

He sets a punishing pace from the off, and you take it easily, cheek pressed into the marble, head turned away from the door as you drool and whimper around him. The thick, heavy slide of his cock, covered in your slick, the wet sounds, the soft moans and pants that ricochet around the kitchen, and when he swirls a finger around your clit, your own sharp gasp heaves you to life.

‘Joel, wait - Frankie - Frankie’s here -’

But it’s too late, far too late, you realise, when you turn your head to the other side to find Frankie already stood in the entryway, leant against the frame like he’s been silently engaging you in casual conversation. Except he looks ravenous.

Joel groans from above you, tip kissing your cervix as he pumps in and out, fingers twitching over your clit to feel you tighten around him.

‘I know, baby,’ he groans, ‘He’s watchin’. See how he’s watchin’ you?’

It’s almost impossible to look, to watch Frankie take you in. The throb of Joel’s cock inside you, his fingers, the tightening knot that threatens to burst already, it’s making it hard to keep your eyes open.

‘That what you want, hermosa?’ Frankie asks.

You nod furiously against the marble, biting back a sob as your knees begin to give way, as you tighten, tighten, tighten, as your core locks down, your pussy growing hotter and wetter. Fuck, all that thinking, all that teasing means the build up has happened so impossibly fast, and you stumble towards the edge of the cliff already, aching for the fall.

‘Just like we said, huh?’ Joel hums. ‘You wanna be watched, don’t ya, baby girl?’ 

‘Yes - daddy -’ you choke out, and he hums again, this time speaking to Frankie.

‘Hear that? Want you to watch. Be a good boy, and watch.’ 

Frankie nods quickly, every bit the soldier; his jaw set, eyes black, curls peeking out from under his cap. In this moment, he doesn’t look like your Frankie. He looks cool, almost detached if not for the burning of his eyes. And he watches every movement, every part of your skin Joel touches, everything that is revealed to him, like he’s trying to commit it to absolute memory. The sounds, the way Joel’s cock glistens as it stretches out of you, the breath that is punched from your lungs as he pushes back in. It’s like it’s the first time he’s seen this happen.

But then, you realise, it is. 

This is the quiet, obedient Frankie who kneeled behind the door. The Frankie who didn’t move an inch, the Frankie who could do nothing but listen as the three of you fucked each other. The Frankie who curled himself over your hand as he came, hot shocks of arousal and humiliation rocking his body. And now, he gets to watch. 

But oh, how you wish he could touch. How you wish he’d come closer, away from the doorframe, how you wish he’d run his hands over your body, undress you, hold you, lick and suck and kiss you, how he could fuck your mouth as Joel fucked your tight cunt until your throat was raw, how you’d take him so deep, as deep as you could, until there would be nothing left, nothing more for you to feel or think about than what went on beyond the two men and you. You watch as his eyes rake over Joel, over you. How they track every movement, the curl of Joel’s fingers against your clit, how you gasp and choke, how Joel grits his teeth as he pounds into you, getting close now, feeling you tighten and leak and flutter around him, bunching your shirt up your back so he can press a hot kiss to your spine.

‘Give it to me,’ he groans, ‘Give it to me, baby, come on. You’ve got it, you can do it. Come for me.’

You heave a broken, high pitched whine at his words, and Frankie’s eyes snap to yours. His lips part in a breath, his only visible reaction, but it’s enough. Like the command has slipped from his lips too, your vision whitens and your back arches, fingers scrabbling against the smooth surface beneath you as you constrict so tightly around Joel you can feel the way you have to stretch again to take him in.

‘Good girl,’ he groans, ‘Such a good girl. So pretty, baby, so good. Now, tell me - tell me where you want it -’

You moan again, eyes flicking back to Frankie when they roll from the back of your skull. The thought crosses your mind, but you can’t find the words, can’t feel your legs, only the grip of Joel's fingers as he changes tack - ‘Tell me, or I’ll decide.’

You gasp out a fuck, forehead pressed against the counter, trying to decide whether you’re brave enough to say it, brave enough to ask -

‘Please -’

But it doesn’t come from you. You roll your head on the marble to find Frankie stepping slowly into the kitchen, cheeks pink, chest rising and falling quickly. 

‘I can - let me help -’ Fuck. Fuck. You try to twist to gauge Joel's reaction, but his mind is made up so quickly you only get the chance to feel desperately empty before he tells Frankie to kneel.

The younger man drops to his knees beside you m, in front of Joel, chest heaving now, tongue darting out to lick his lips nervously - and you want to kiss him. You want to kiss him so bad, but the thought is quickly whisked away as Joel steps closer, fisting his thick cock in his hand.

‘You want this?’ He grits. Frankie nods eagerly, transfixed by the man above him, eyes flicking between Joel’s and the swollen head of his cock, soaked with your slick and cum, dribbling the precursor of Joel’s own release. ‘Show me.’

Frankie’s mouth falls open instantly, his tongue sliding past his lips to welcome the tip of Joel’s cock. You moan, knees finally giving out, landing next to Frankie. He doesn’t take his eyes off Joel.

The older man gasps out a curse at the sight, before ropes of thick, milky cum spurt from his tip onto Frankie’s tongue, filling his mouth, weaker pulses landing on his chin as Joel squeezes the last of his release out. You tear your eyes from Frankie to the man above you, the way he pants, eyes aflame, jaw slack.

‘Swallow.’

You whip back round to Frankie to see his throat bob as he follows the instruction, and he opens his mouth again to show Joel that he’s done exactly as he asked.

‘Good boy,’ he drawls, swiping a thumb against his chin to collect the remnants of his spend before offering it to you. You open your mouth just as eagerly, but Joel seems to think twice. He spreads it across one cheek, and then the other, painting you, before placing the digit firmly on your tongue, allowing your tongue to lathe the taste of him from the pad. Frankie leans towards you, and then you feel his tongue, warm and wet against your cheek, licking away at the cum that Joel spread there. Joel chuckles at him.

‘Desperate for more.’ 

Frankie hums against you, tongue now flicking at the corner of your lips. Joel raises an eyebrow at you.

‘What are you waiting for, sweetheart?’ he purrs, ‘Show Frankie how well he did.’

You twist your head to Frankie’s, one hand going to the back of his head, fisting his curls, the other tracing the waistband of his jeans, eager fingers feeling the warm skin there, trying to touch further, trying to reach him. You lick into his mouth, tongue grazing his teeth as you palm him over the denim, and he moans against you. You retract your hand from his curls and start at his fly before a sharp, trilling noise makes you flinch back. His phone rings in his back pocket.

‘Ignore it, don’t worry about it,’ he says, pulling you back towards him, his mouth soft and urgent against yours, your fingers clumsy at the front of his jeans, twisting in the material, against metal, and fuck -

‘Why do you have so many fucking buttons?’

He laughs, breathy, exasperated into your hair.

‘It’s the - it’s the fucking style - there’s no zipper, it’s just buttons -’

You giggle as well, the ringing of his phone chiming off as you hear Joel say ‘just buttons?’ from behind you.

You manage to get two undone before his phone begins to ring again, and this time he breaks the kiss to drag it out off his pocket and silence it. He glances at the screen, hisses a fuck, and bites his bottom lip. You stall your movements, frowning at him.

‘You okay?’

‘One sec -’

He declines the call, but you see he’s missed messages as well. His brow pulls tighter as he reads them, and he scrubs an irritated hand over his face before looking back at you, his eyes dark, apologetic, pissed off.

‘I gotta go,’ he says, forehead knocking against yours before he’s wobbling to his feet, breathless, ‘I gotta - it’s Benny, I don’t know - I don’t know what it is, but -’ His phone pings with another text, and he breathes out a fuck’s sake. ‘I’m sorry -’

‘Hey,’ Joel says softly, and you look back up at him. He still looks as wrecked as before, but he’s straightened himself out and his gaze is softened by concern. Without looking, he holds a hand out to pull you up off the floor, and you gratefully accept, pulling up your jeans. ‘It’s okay, really, it’s okay. Don’t be sorry - what’s happened?’

Frankie relaxes, exhales.

‘Bar fight. Benny and Will were still there when we left. Looks like Benny’s managed to piss the wrong people off.’ he pauses. ‘Again.’ 

Joel chuckles, lands a hand on his shoulder.

‘Got a little brother just like it. You want us to come with?’

Frankie looks from you to Joel, and shakes his head.

‘No,’ he smiles, ‘Thanks, that’s alright. Can’t be getting distracted on my way there. Won’t be much help in jail.’

You grin at him, straightening his shirt, his curls, and he lets you fuss. You swipe your thumb at the corner of his mouth, and he flushes. 

‘Are you sure?’ You ask.

He huffs a laugh, adjusting himself through his jeans, and you pout a little at his discomfort.

‘No,’ he admits, ‘But I’ll be alright. Honestly.’

‘Okay,’ you say, ‘Okay.’

He smiles again, dipping to kiss your cheek before shyly, hesitantly doing the same to Joel. You watch the smile that blooms across the older man’s lips before you find yourself mirroring it. 

‘I’ll walk you to your truck.’ Joel says. Frankie nods gratefully, and you hum as Joel squeezes your waist before heading towards the front door. 

‘See you next time, baby.’ You murmur to Frankie.

‘Next time.’ He whispers back, grinning and turning to follow Joel. He makes it to the open doorway before you remember.

‘Frankie -’ you call, and he turns, framed by the night behind him. You make a motion at your crotch, and he cocks his head at you. ‘Buttons.’ You stage-whisper, and he laughs as he adjusts himself, refastening the two you managed to get undone.

‘See you soon, hermosa,’ he says softly, and you smile as he follows Joel out to his truck.

You can’t sleep.

You’d bored quickly of tossing and turning, Joel dead to the world beside you, and had slunk downstairs for a glass of water. There’s a niggling feeling in your chest, something left unsatisfied. Guilty that, yet again, Frankie had not been given what he deserved, guilty that you hadn’t had time to see it through. And you just want to know if he’s okay, if he’s safe. You shoot him a text, leant against the marble he had watched you get fucked over less than two hours ago. Just a quick hey, are you okay?

You bite at your thumb, tap out another one - did you get home safe? He replies almost instantly.

Hey. I did. All good. I’m great. Had a great time

Then -

Thank you

You chew your lip a while, frowning, trying to work out if you believe him or not. God, texting sucks. Maybe you should call. You should call, just to check, even though he stayed, even though he watched, even though he said yes, even with the text -

But Frankie takes the decision from you with the next message, a voicenote minutes long. You wind yourself up for whatever it could possibly be, but nothing prepares you for the breathy moan that emanates loudly from your phone, so surprised that you almost drop the device. It’s followed by another, and the slick sound of what you can only assume to be Frankie’s fist fucking his cock, filtered through his quick, hot breaths. You close your eyes in rapt attention, dropping a hand to cup your sex as you listen to him whimper, as you listen to him whisper how good it feels, how he wants you, how he can still taste Joel in his mouth, how he’s about to come, how he’s coming - 

It takes you an embarrassingly short amount of time to follow him, chest heaving against the cool marble of the counter top, legs shaky as you stand up right.

There’s not a peep from upstairs. You decide to let Joel sleep this one out.

You’ll send him the audio in the morning.

———

Work is slow, and is only sped up by being, in Joel’s words, an insufferable tease.

You’d bounded around the bedroom this morning, still secretly thrilled with the voicenote from last night, not heeding Joel’s pleas to come back to bed as he watched you don his favourite matching set, stockings, a tight little pencil skirt and blouse, before pressing a deep, lingering kiss to his mouth and floating out the door to work. You made sure to send him a pretty little picture of your dripping cunt on your lunch break, quickly followed by Frankie’s voicenote, and to your delight, receive a video of him coming hard in return.

You bite your lip, squirming at your desk, sure you’ll soak through your skirt when he sends you a follow up message soon after.

You got plans tonight?

No? You shoot back.

Good. Stay free, baby

And oh, you don’t plan on being anything but before he leaves tomorrow.

———

When you get home from work, Joel is waiting. 

Waiting conspicuously in a pressed white dress shirt and slacks, a couple buttons undone so you’re greeted with the warm sight of his chest as he opens the door. He looks… divine. And he smells just as good, too. You press your lips to his quickly.

‘You look gorgeous,’ you smile, palm against his chest, one hand on his cheek to smooth the hair of his moustache. ‘What’s the occasion?’

‘Come upstairs,’ he says, smiling. ‘I wanna show you something.’

You raise an eyebrow, all manner of possibilities flashing through your mind before you drop your bag in the hallway and take his outstretched hand.

With one hand on your hip and another over your eyes, Joel guides you towards the bed. His fingers are warm and clammy over your eyelids, and you giggle as you both stumble forwards, the shadow of a bitten laugh trickling into your ear from behind you. 

‘What are you doing?’ 

‘One more second, ‘n you’ll find out.’

Joel brings you to a gentle stop before positioning you at just the angle he wants before taking his hand away from your face. He chuckles to find your eyes still squeezed shut. 

‘Open your eyes, baby.’

You blink them open, taking a long moment to realise what it is he’s showing you.

Laid out on the bed is a beautiful short and silken black dress. 

A short breath bursts from your lips as you step forwards to take the hem delicately in your fingers. 

‘Joel…’ you whisper, accusatory. It feels like water, so luxurious beneath your fingertips that you want to scold him for buying it. But when you turn and find his eyes bright, excited, soft, the guilt dies easily in your chest. ‘It’s beautiful.’

He shrugs, trying to disguise how pleased he is with your reaction. 

You step back towards him, taking his face in your hands, pressing kisses anywhere you can. 

‘Thank you,’ you murmur, ‘Thank you, baby, thank you. You really didn’t have to, but thank you.’

He scoffs lightly against your lips, hands gripping your hips again. 

‘’Course I did,’ he grins. A dirty, secret little thing. ‘You needed something to wear for tonight.’

A worry tugs in your chest. Tonight? Have you forgotten something? Fuck - should you have bought him something, too? It can’t be the anniversary of anything, you haven’t even -

As though he’s read your thoughts, Joel pulls you closer, one hand drifting lower to palm your ass. 

‘We’re going on a date.’

‘A date?’

Mhm, he hums against your mouth. 

‘Surprise date.’

‘You bought this for a date?’

You give him your most serious look, head tilted, movements stilled. Pink flushes up from beneath his shirt collar. 

‘Yeah, darlin’. Special dress for a special girl.’

You frown a little. 

‘Where are we going where I’ll need to dress like that?’

Joel bites his lip. 

‘Nice restaurant. We’re all getting dressed up.’

‘All?’

Joel extracts himself from your fingers, moving to fix his slicked back hair.

‘Joel. All?’

He shrugs again, looks at you over his shoulder in the mirror. 

‘I had some help choosing the dress.’

Fuck. Fuck. Heat flashes between your thighs so quickly that you sit down heavily on the edge of the mattress. Joel smirks at you through the glass as you try and regulate your breathing. Your heart thrums in your chest as the thoughts clash through your head - Frankie on his knees behind the door, his wide, hungry eyes, Frankie on his knees in front of Joel, the drip of your cunt onto the floor, the full, overwhelming feeling of Joel claiming you after Santi, Santi’s fingers on your jaw, you look at your daddy when you come for me -

Joel squats down in front of you, his knees popping, two fingers lifting your chin. 

‘Need to get ready, sugar,’ he drawls, ‘Rude to keep the boys waiting.’

You suck in a hot breath, eyes glazed, body warm and fluid already. 

‘Are - are they coming back here?’

‘Not tonight,’ he murmurs. ‘Want you to myself before I head out in the morning.’

He stands as you blink up at him, a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth

‘Soon, baby,’ he reassures, ‘You’ll have us soon.’

———

Joel holds your hand as you descend the marble steps into the sunken restaurant. It’s gorgeous - classy - maybe a little too much, but you can’t find the wherewithal to care when he leads you to your table. Frankie and Santi are already seated and looking equally as handsome. They stand as you approach, Frankie flushing as he takes you in, kissing your cheek, Pope letting out a low whistle as he does the same.

You talk over glasses of wine, nibbles of bread, and your starter course; conversation often interrupted by anecdotes and jokes and observations of other patrons that definitely could have waited til later. Joel fills the boys in on the contract he’ll be away on up in Tulsa until late next week, and Pope says he will be flying back to Colombia for a few days to straighten out a couple loose ends with his last contract. You frown at him, having not been aware of this most recent development, but he’s quick to assure you that it is just that. Paperwork and documents he needs to ensure can be sealed away, picking up a couple of things from the Embassy, catching up with a couple of old colleagues, and then heading home. The boys never really talk about exactly what went down those years ago when they lost Tom, and frankly you’re not sure if you want to know. From what they have said, it was rash, greedy, and all but fucked from the start. Not something you’re particularly keen on imagining. But you’re glad that, this time, he’ll be safe and keeping away from it.

Joel and Santi share a glance over your head, and you realise you should have known. Should have known they’d be plotting and scheming.

It doesn’t take as long as it did the first time to set out the rules.

With the older men away, you and Frankie are free to spend your time as you see fit. Neither of you need to be looked after, neither of you need to be kept an eye on, but Santi and Joel phrase the opportunity to spend time together as more of a challenge. To see how you can work each other up, how well you can behave without either of them there to tell you what to do and how to do it. You’re grinning into your wine as you imagine it, all of the things you can do without actually fucking, until Joel halts your train of thought.

‘There’s one rule,’ he says. You pause mid-sip. He spears a piece of asparagus with his fork, bringing it to his mouth. ‘You can’t touch each other.’

You swallow, confused, looking across to Frankie, who is suddenly unable to meet your eye, and then to Pope, who watches the two of you with a cruelly delighted smirk.

‘We - what?’ You ask, confused.

‘Can’t touch,’ Joel says again, ‘’s your only rule. Dinner, drinks, movies, hell, sleepin’ in the same bed is fine. You just can’t touch.’ 

You stare at him. This is it. He’s lost his damn mind. 

‘Little challenge for you, baby girl,’ he says, ‘I know Frankie can do it. This one’s for you.’

You open your mouth, about to protest how that can’t possibly be fair before snapping your jaw closed again. Joel watches, amused. This is not an argument you will win.

‘Fine.’ You say, even as Santi snickers at the fact that it’s evidently not. You decide on a change of tact. ‘And myself?’ Frankie finally looks up at you, eyes wide. Your lips curl in a pleased smile as Santi takes a steadying sip of his drink.

‘You can touch yourself, darlin’’ Joel says, unfazed, ‘Never said you couldn’t do that.’

You nod, gears turning. An idea forming, one you tamp down by resting your hand on Joel’s thigh.

‘Was Benny okay last night?’ You ask Frankie, changing the subject. Your fingers begin their slow and steady stroke up and down Joel’s thigh as you watch the younger man flush.

‘Yeah,’ he nods, ‘He was only arrested for starting a bar fight -’

Your hand pauses only briefly on Joel’s thigh.

‘He was arrested?’

Frankie grins.

‘Yep. Not the first time. One day he might learn his lesson.’

You chuckle along with Joel and Santi.

‘Was he okay?’

‘Always is,’ Frankie says, ‘Lucky motherfucker. You should see the other guy.’

You smile, scraping your nails along Joel’s pants now, pleased when he shifts in his seat. He leans in close to your ear.

‘Knock it off, princess. I know exactly what you’re tryna do.’

You raise an eyebrow at him.

‘Never said I couldn’t touch you, daddy.’

You turn back to face Frankie, and he eyes you suspiciously. 

‘Don’t miss those days,’ Joel says, and Frankie’s eyes flick to him. ‘Tommy straightened out once he met Maria. Think the worst time I had to bail him out was the night’a my 36th birthday. He near caused a riot at some bar downtown. They still won't let him back in.’

‘Can imagine Tommy raining hell down on ‘em,’ Pope says, beside you. ‘He and Benny would make a hell of a team.’

Joel chuckles.

‘Sure would,’ he says, and you slide your palm over to cup him through his pants. He’s rock hard, cock twitching at your touch. But he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t falter. ‘She made him into a better man, my sister-in-law. Keeps him far outta trouble.’

His hand finds your own thigh beneath the table, squeezing as Santi begins to regale a story from his younger days with the boys. He starts the same ministrations as you, stroking, scraping, higher and higher, up to where you’re dripping, soaking yourself -

‘Joel.’ You whisper, something urgent in your voice. Why isn’t he stopping?

You’re suddenly nervous at the fact you’d decided to forego any underwear for the sake of the dress, before realising that is exactly what Joel had wanted. Like he knew you’d be running your hand up and down his thigh at the table, like he knew you’d be teasing him. Like he knew he could not only tease right back, but win the whole damn game. Smug bastard. He can read you like a book.

He leans in close to murmur into the conch of your ear.

‘Don’t start something you can’t finish, baby,’ as he pushes your dress higher to cup your sex. You clench your jaw as he chuckles underneath his breath, feeling how wet you are, how much more slick spills out at the pressure he applies. 

His fingers move up to circle your clit gently, and you let out a shaky breath. You watch him from the corner of your eye, his chin in his fist, eyes sparkling as he listens to and watches the two other men, as his movements against your cunt grow firmer, faster. You reach for your wine glass, eyes flicking to Frankie, only to find him looking at you, eyes bright with amusement. You narrow your eyes, and Joel leans in again.

‘Good girl, he says, ‘You’re gonna keep looking at Frankie, and I’m gonna make you come like this. And next time, you’re not gonna play any of your games in the middle of a restaurant.’

You grit your teeth against the whimper that fights to escape as quiet falls at the table, the conversation quickly forgotten as Frankie leans back in his chair, smirking, watching intensely. You don’t break eye contact as Santi’s hand drifts to the soft flesh of your thigh, drawing goosebumps as it nears Joel’s, as he traces the seam of your cunt, smearing the wetness around your skin. You don’t even look when Pope brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking the tips before releasing them with a lewd pop.

‘Good enough to eat.’

Your cunt throbs in response, breathing coming more laboured as Joel’s fingers work you tighter, tighter, slipping away to hook your thigh out wider, only to be replaced by Santi’s. Once he’s satisfied with your new position, he slips his hand beneath Pope’s, working the digits easily into your pussy, pumping in and out, curling to find that sweet spot within you. A small, desperate noise escapes you, and you set your glass down, your drink forgotten as you clutch at the napkin closest to you, body burning, buzzing, throbbing with pleasure. It’s too much, and it’s not enough.

You break eye contact with Frankie, holding your breath and biting your lip so hard you’re sure you’ll either pass out or draw blood.

‘No, baby,’ Joel rumbles into your hair, ‘Keep looking at Frankie. He’s gonna watch you come like this.’ You moan quietly again, meeting Frankie’s eyes, hot and close, so close.

Santi leans in so you can feel his hot breath against your cheek, goading, teasing -

‘Whenever you’re ready, sweetheart.’

Your orgasm clatters through you, the tightly bound knot bursting as you lean forward onto the table, trying to stop your body from twitching. You feel yourself tighten and clench around Joel’s fingers, feel your thighs grow wetter, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as Pope looses a quiet groan. The fire and heat of it make it almost impossible to keep quiet, a moan slipping past your lips as Joel retracts his fingers too quickly to pat you on the back in some kind of misleading gesture. Santi keeps his fingers pressed to your clit for as long as possible, letting you ride it out, before circling it again.

A gasped fuck passes your lips, and you slam your fist down onto the table, clattering the silverware and glasses. The action draws a chuckle from Santi and Joel, and sharp looks from the two tables closest to you.

You cough a little, trying to affect the pretence of choking, spluttering, anything that doesn’t look like you just came in the middle of a restaurant. 

When you haul your body back to sit upright, Joel moves his hand to your thigh, and Santi follows suit. Their fingers are wet against you, and you try not to look, try not to feel it, but it’s impossible. The slick feeling, the heat, the pressure. You could go again.

But, god, your throat is so dry.

As if on cue, the waitress appears at your shoulder to refill your water. You try to clear your throat to express your gratitude before noticing the deep red flush clawing up her neck, her gaze drawn to each hand still splayed on your thigh, dress rucked a little higher than it should be. You smile sheepishly at her, finally whisper a thank you.

When she leaves the table, you heave a deep breath, your head in your hands.

‘Almost.’ Joel whispers in your ear.

You resist the urge to flip him off, and instead decide the best way to get a hold of yourself is to head to the bathroom. Clean yourself up, splash a little cold water on your face. 

‘Excuse me,’ you murmur, voice hoarse and strained, and Frankie can’t help the smile that reaches his eyes. Looking to Joel and Santi, it appears they feel the same way. You grin despite yourself as you stand on unsteady legs, Joel’s hands shooting out to steady you as you giggle at the three of them, enjoying their favourite game.

‘Fuck you guys,’ you laugh as you turn on your heel, and they mirror your chuckles.

You’re almost to the door of the restroom when your waitress catches your eye. You try to smile at her and glide past without drawing any more attention to yourself, but fail.

‘Ma’am,’ she calls softly, stepping just in front of you. Your stomach twists. Fuck, she knows. She knows, and she’s gonna kick you all out, you’re gonna get arrested - ‘Are you alright?’

You blink at her, surprised. And then it clicks. One woman, surrounded by three men. The hands on your thighs, your dress. Three men who have been talking intently, possessively, obviously, even if they can’t be heard. You exhale.

‘Oh no, it’s - yes. Thank you for checking. That’s - really kind of you. I’m fine. We’re friends - I mean - it’s complicated - but it’s nothing to worry about.’

It’s complicated? Why the fuck did you say that? You twist your fingers as you try and work out how to extricate yourself from the hole you’ve dug, but your mind draws a blank. You pray she missed your phrasing, her eyes searching your face as you give her your warmest smile. It’s only a moment before she returns it, even brighter.

‘Oh, like a - what is it - a polyamorous thing? That’s neat. You get it, cowgirl,’ she grins, before clapping a hand over her mouth. ‘Oh my god,’ she gasps, ‘I’m so sorry, that was so unprofessional -’

You laugh, somewhat relieved, placing a gentle hand on her arm - it soothes her.

‘No, please,’ you giggle, ‘It’s fine, really.’

She peels her fingers back from her lips nervously and massages her temples.

‘I don’t know what came over me,’ she whispers, before meeting your eye again. ‘I’m sorry. But as long as you’re good. You know, taken care of.’ You watch as she cringes at herself. You reach out again to press her bicep.

‘Really, it’s fine,’ you say, glancing back to your table. You feel… warm as you look over at the three of them - relaxed, laughing. Warm at how easily you can all move back and forth in this dynamic. Warm at the feel of the slick around the tops of your legs. ‘I’m very well taken care of. And it’s really good of you to check.’

She smiles at you again as you step away towards the bathroom.

‘Oh, not at all,’ she says, bashful. ‘I’m glad. You guys have fun.’

The rest of the night passes easily, wrapped in conversation and good food. Jokes are whipped across the table so fast that the four of you cackle with laughter, the air sizzling with good humour and lightness. Joel has his hands on you whenever he can, and when you finally leave the restaurant just before closing time, Pope holds you tenderly, kisses both cheeks, and murmurs that he hopes you learned your lesson. You smack his arm and tell him to be safe in Colombia. Frankie does the same, but departs with a remark about how beautiful you looked instead - ‘especially when you come, hermosa’ he adds.

Joel makes sure you remember what he taught you at the table, taking the time to rock you through orgasm after orgasm in his bed until you’re in tears, until he’s sure the neighbours can hear you calling yes daddy, thank you daddy, I’m sorry daddy over the lawn.

He pulls you close afterwards, pressing kisses to any slither of skin he can, telling you how well you did, how proud you make him, how good you can be when you try. He only leaves to head through to the bathroom to turn on the shower, making you promise to join him when you can rouse yourself from the snuggly duvet. You don’t take much convincing.

Once you can hear him humming under the flow of water, you pad downstairs to the bag you’d left in the hallway yesterday. You root around in it before finding what you need, clutching it to your chest with a thrill before retreating back to Joel’s bedroom. You bury it in his suitcase, underneath at least a day’s worth of clothes, before stripping and joining him in the shower.

———

When you wake the next morning, Joel’s suitcase is already zipped shut, and the smell of coffee is drifting up the stairs.

You find him sat at the breakfast table, staring out into the weak morning sunshine, a steaming mug already set down for you across from him. You drift past him, a hand trailing from one shoulder, over his broad back, to the next, tracing the lines of your favourite plaid shirt, before pressing a kiss to his temple. 

You sit quietly in each other’s company, the silence slowly turning to low conversation. What route he’ll be taking, where he’ll be staying, what the job will involve, what the people are like. What your work week looks like, what the book you’re reading is about, what you’ll do with him gone. You settle your chin on your palm.

‘Any other rules I should know about?’

Joel looks back at you with amusement written all over his face.

‘No. Jus’ don’t try anything at dinner again. Or do. I’m always happy to remind you.’

You giggle, and he grins back, all white teeth and crinkly eyes.

‘You know, even the waitress asked if I was okay afterwards.’

He grunts, enough of a question in it for you to continue.

‘I mean, I don’t think she saw anything go down. But she saw me with you guys and asked if I was okay.’

Joel raises his eyebrows.

‘What do you mean?’ 

You falter.

‘I guess… you know. Me, with you guys. Just making sure nothing - weird was going on.’

‘Weird?’

‘Bad.’ You say. Joel’s eyes soften, but his brow furrows.

‘I said no, of course. That we’re all friends. I don’t know. I rambled. She asked - she asked whether it was a polyamorous thing,’ you shrug.

‘’N what did you say?’

Something about the way Joel asks the question catches you off guard. A little brusque, a little too quick off his tongue. Your eyes narrow slightly.

‘Nothing,’ you admit, ‘I didn’t want to get into the semantics of what we do with a stranger. And - I don’t know what to call it. I don’t know if that is what it is.’

‘It something you’re interested in?’

You blink at him. He’s not looking at you, his jaw set, body tense. You feel your own jaw clench.

‘Is it something you’re interested in?’

Joel chews the side of his cheek, brow knitted as he looks out to the garden into the morning sunlight.

‘I don’t know,’ he says, ‘Not really thought about it before.’

You soften at the way his body deflates. Remember this is just as fresh for him as it is for you. You nod, reach out to take his massive hand in yours. His eyes swing back to you, and you squeeze his fingers. 

‘You don’t have to think about it,’ you reassure him, ‘All of this is new. All of it. And if you want to talk about it, we’ll talk about it. But -’ you say, reaching to hold his other hand, too, ‘I want you to know none of it changes how I feel about you. You are enough for me. You will always be enough for me.’

Joel searches your face, quiet and serious. You lift his hands to your lips and press a tender kiss to his knuckles.

‘I love you.’ You say, softly.

There’s no sound through the quiet dawn of the world but a quiet intake of breath from Joel across the table. Your eyes flick up to him at the sound, to the brows slightly further up his tan forehead, his wide, surprised, brown eyes. And you realise that it’s slipped from you, aloud, for the first time. All that time spent thinking it, knowing it, feeling it, but those words in that order have been yet to pass either of your lips. In the conversations between sharing spaces, meeting families, spending time with friends, you’d forgotten to put into words what you’d assumed Joel already knew.

I love you.

You still, his hands unmoving before your lips, releasing a quiet exhale of your own.

‘I love you,’ you say again, even softer. And then, through heat rising in your chest - ‘You don’t have to say it back. If you’re not ready yet - you don’t have to ever say it back if you don’t want to -’

He grips your hands tight.

‘I love you.’ he says, gravelly and warm. And you believe him. See it in all its molten gold truth in his eyes. I love you.

You can’t help the delighted little laugh that falls from your lips. The same sound slips from Joel, and you sit, giggling and grinning at each other, in love, unaware of the minutes that tick by. You bite your lip.

‘Does that mean you’re my boyfriend now?’

Joel baulks at you, laughter frozen on his lips. Your heart squeezes, joy almost overtaken by nerves.

‘You mean - did I never ask you that?’

You shake your head slowly.

Joel sucks a breath in through his teeth. Something passes over his features; embarrassment, shame -

‘I’m sorry,’ he says lowly, a flush colouring his cheeks, ‘I’m sorry - I just - I assumed -’ he ducks his head away from you, ‘What an ass -’

You giggle at him, and he fixes you with his best puppy dog eyes.

‘Joel,’ you smile, ‘It’s okay, honestly -’

But he shakes his head.

‘No,’ he winces, ‘Sarah would be - so disappointed in me if she knew. She -’ he fixes you with an apologetic stare again, ‘She knew I loved you before you did. My God. And Tommy - Tommy would be wringing my neck, and my Momma - she raised me better than this -’

‘Joel,’ you laugh, standing from your chair to circle the table. Instinctively, he spreads his thighs for you to sit, and you settle down onto him, your legs perpendicular to his. You thread your arms around his neck, holding him close, and a warm palm comes to pet the small of your back. ‘Relax. Please don’t worry about it,’ you press a kiss to the patch in his beard, and he leans his head into you, eyes closed. ‘Besides. I kinda assumed it, too.’

His eyes open, so full of warmth, love.

‘Well,’ he says, ‘Do ya wanna be my girlfriend?’ 

You huff a laugh into his neck, resting on his shoulder.

‘Baby,’ you tease, ‘I thought you’d never ask.’

You spend a little while longer like that, curled up in his lap like a cat, sharing kisses and giggles, until Joel checks his watch and sighs. You clamber off him and follow him upstairs, leaning against the doorframe as he makes his final checks.

‘Joel,’ you call softly, hesitating. You cringe in the doorway. ‘Is it - seeing Frankie for dinner tonight, is that - is that still okay?’

He smiles and steps towards you, gathering you in his arms.

‘You know what the limits are,’ he says into your hair. ‘I trust you. ’F I didn’t want you to do something, you’d have known about it before dinner. ’Sides,’ he says, ‘You’ll look good together at that table. I’ll be thinkin’ bout it while I’m away.’

You snort and rest your forehead against his chest, breathing his scent in.

‘Just wanted to check.’ You mumble. Joel presses a kiss to your hair, rocking you side to side.

‘I love you.’ He says.

‘Love you too.’ You whisper.

Minutes later, you watch his truck peel away from the house, waving through the rays of sunlight now peeking out from the trees. He waves back, his arm out the driver’s side window, until the truck disappears from view. You swallow the lump in your throat, wash the coffee mugs, gather your clothes, and lock Joel’s front door behind you.

———

Joel calls you later in the afternoon to let you know he’s arrived safe. And Frankie texts to let you know he’s picking you up at seven.

When you get home from work, you busy yourself with a shower, with laundry you’ve held off, with tidying the house, and when you’re settled, ready, you call Joel again. Just to hear his voice, just to know he’s eaten. He chuckles a melody down the line at your fussing, but before he has to hang up, he lets slip that he misses you already, just as much. 

When seven rolls around, you feel warm, giddy, nerves fluttering in your stomach as you wait for the sound of tyres outside. 

Frankie greets you at your door, relaxed in a t-shirt that strains across his arms, his signature cap, and a beaming smile. You melt a little at the sight of him, so boyish, so bashful, so handsome, that you have to forcefully remind yourself of the rules. No touching, which must surely extend to no kissing. Still, as though he can’t help himself, he keeps a palm on the small of your back as he leads you into the small restaurant he’s chosen and plays with your fingers while you’re sat at your table.

You eat and talk, laughing and smiling like you always do. He asks about work, the projects you’re working on, and you fill him in on all the office gossip. How one of the line managers got fired last week, how Trisha from accounting is pregnant. He asks question after question until you laugh and remind him that you want to talk about him as well, and he flushes shyly. You ask about Lucia, about work, about flying again. He tells you about the places he’s been, the people he’s taken there, and one nightmare trip from last week where one woman refused to get in the helicopter, too scared to fly, until she had to be told that it was part of the proposal her boyfriend had planned. 

You order gelato for dessert and share it with two spoons, giggling as you feed it to each other. You both get a text from Santi, a selfie of him sipping a beer, looking warm and delicious. You get a text from Joel, too, a picture of him straight out of the shower which sets your cunt throbbing, hoping you’re having a good night.

Frankie insists on settling the check and walks you back to his truck with a warm palm still on your skin. He opens the door for you, waiting for you to settle in your seat before he shuts it and crosses to the driver’s side.

He drives you to a spot overlooking the city, and you stay in the cab, seatbelts unbuckled, turned towards each other, swapping stories like teenagers at a sleepover. You try not to think too hard as the night settles in around you. Try not to watch his hands, his thick fingers, the way his arms bunch and flex, how strong his thighs look, how good he smells. But it’s so hard, so hard when he’s right across from you, smiling, eyes trailing over your body, getting caught on your lips, watching the way your limbs are draped in his truck. The way he’s looking at you makes it hard to remember the rules, hard to resist leaning over the console and pressing your mouth to his, especially when he lowly confesses how badly he wants to kiss you.

You huff a breathless laugh, looking away from him out to the shimmering skyline outside the window screen. Try to distract yourself with how the distant lights of the city shimmer like moonlight on water, how the structures of the skyscrapers reach up to the night flights swooping over the horizon. Something as far away from your body as possible, so you don’t have to think about Frankie’s warm, broad chest, what he would sound like moaning against you. 

‘I wish you would,’ You whisper. When you turn back to look at Frankie, he is already watching you. Pressed against the driver’s side door, mouth slightly open, his eyes sparkling and dark. ‘You could kiss me.’

His mouth closes with a gentle snap of his teeth, and he shakes his head.

‘You know I can’t do that.’

You nod, eyes finding the skyline again.

‘I know. But I still wish you would.’

In the silence that follows, you can feel slick drooling and cooling from your cunt, soaking your panties. You shift in your seat, unsure whether you’re trying to ignore or resolve the discomfort. Frankie watches you still, and when you wriggle again, his own hips shift. You fix him with a stare, the air hot and thick between you. You curve your body towards him, one hand coming down gently to hold yourself over the console.

‘They wouldn’t know. If we kissed.’

Frankie continues to stare as you remain frozen, poised before him.

‘I know.’

‘Then let me kiss you.’

‘No, hermosa.’

You look back and forth between his eyes and his lips, watching his throat bob as he tries to keep his distance.

You slump backwards a little, trying not to feel any kind of acute rejection. You’re just hot, bothered, unbearably aroused in the cabin of his truck. His refusing to kiss you isn’t a mark on his desire, just his self control. Muscle memory of years of following instructions. Frankie turns his body, facing forward out the windscreen in his seat. He swipes his palms over the steering wheel, and your lips part, cunt burning when you imagine those hands on you again, huge palms sweeping down your curves, your thighs, up between your legs -

‘I’m not gonna kiss you, because then I’ll need to fuck you.’

Your gasp zips past your lips before you can stop it. Frankie keeps his eyes trained forwards as you stare at him. Your pussy clenches around nothing, needing something to sate it, a touch, a glance, anything -

‘Frankie -’

He shakes his head, grip tightening on the wheel.

‘Please, Frankie, I’ll be so good -’

‘Enough.’

You watch his nostrils flare, watch a muscle in his jaw tick. Watch a certain darkness sweep over his features, and you know, you know you’ve won.

He never stood a chance.

‘Tell me,’ you whisper, and he shakes his head, skull pressed into the headrest, hands white-knuckling the steering wheel. ‘I want you to tell me. Tell me how you’d fuck me.’

Frankie closes his eyes slowly, his shoulders tensing, breath faltering. 

‘No,’ he whispers, ‘No, baby, I can’t do that -’

You whine, hands scrubbing down your bare thighs, trying to find something to grip, to hold, something that’s not him -

‘God - it aches, Frankie,’ you whine, wriggling in the seat, and his eyes flick back and forth over you; your pathetic attempts to grind into something, the heaving of your chest, the wild, desperate look in your eyes.

‘What, baby? What aches?’ He breathes, and he’s tilting forwards towards the centre console like he could pounce on you, like he could hold your hands in a tight, binding grip behind your back, like he could eat you here, devour you here -

You whimper by way of an answer, hands finally resting on the hem of your skirt, pushing it up, up to rest at your hips. Frankie watches, eyes molten and black as you cup yourself, as you grind against your hand. He moans loudly at the sight.

‘There, hermosa?’

You shudder out a sigh, a hissed yes as you apply more pressure. His throat bobs as he considers, as he weighs his options.

‘Please, Frankie -’ you beg, though you’re not sure what for. Rules, rules, but none of them seem to make sense anymore, none of them seem to matter as you lick your own lips at his growing bulge in his jeans. He breathes in harshly, swiping a palm across his mouth before he fixes you with a look that makes you feel dizzy. He swallows thickly.

‘Show me.’

It's easy, so easy. You lift your hips from the seat and slide your thumbs under the waistband of your panties, pulling them down, down, watching him the whole time. He waits like he’s forgotten how to breathe, this starving, tortured look in his eyes like he’s dying of thirst and water is just out of reach. You spread your legs for him and dip your fingers to your slit, gathering the slickness there before trailing the digits further up, spreading yourself in a v shape so he can see everything, see how you throb, how your clit twitches, how you leak down into the cleft of your ass. 

‘Need you, Frankie,’ you whine, ‘Need you to -’

He lurches back like he’s been shocked.

‘Don’t,’ he grits, ‘Don’t, you know I can’t touch you -’

‘Then watch,’ you breathe, ‘He said don’t touch. But you can watch. I can watch.’

‘Watch?’ he repeats, breathless, body shifting, open, and you nod, rutting against your palm. 

‘Yeah,’ you murmur, ‘Frankie, baby, let me watch you. Need to see you.’

He stares at you, something working behind his eyes.

‘Watch,’ he says again, nodding, ‘Yeah, please baby, is that okay? Can I watch?’

You nod, relishing in the control that he shifts so easily to you. You trace the swollen lips of your pussy, spreading the glistening wetness so it catches every stream of moonlight bruising through the window. 

‘You, too. Wanna watch you, too.’

He nods quickly, mouth agape, unable to tear his eyes away from your core. He palms himself roughly over his jeans.

You trace your fingers back over your clit, swiping it in circles until your head falls back against the window, your brows pulling together as you loose a quiet cry. You bite your lip, looking down your nose at him.

‘Is it good?’ he gasps, ‘Please - tell me - how does it feel?’

‘Good,’ you moan, ‘So fucking good, Frankie.’

He groans, his hands finding his button and zipper, undoing them before shifting his hips to pull his jeans down. He reaches inside his boxers to pull himself free, swollen and leaking. 

He’s thick, and just as big as you knew he would be - but he’s so pretty as well. The same tan as his skin, pink flush at his tip, skin silken, blue veins just hidden beneath the surface.  You moan, wanton and crooning, sinking a finger into yourself as he grips his base, squeezing at the sight of your digit disappearing up to the knuckle. 

Your hips lift as he begins to fuck himself slowly with his fist, lips wet and eyes blown, his other hand coming away from scratching at the denim of his thigh to cup his balls. You go slow for him as he watches, working your bud in agonisingly steady circles, pumping your finger in and out gently until you remove it completely, Frankie’s eyes drawn to the strand of slick suspended from your finger. He moans, a sick, feral sound, his head falling back against the seat to expose the straining muscles in his neck, the sweat that glimmers in the hollows before his clavicles. He jerks himself faster, tighter - tip ruddy now, beading with precum that he swipes down the length of his shaft, slick enough for you to imagine that it’s your spit, your wetness. A surge of arousal floods your fingers again, and you whimper.

‘Look at you, Frankie. So pretty.’

Frankie answers with his own choked moan as he watches you sink your finger into your heat again, but this time he grits his teeth, inhaling sharply before endowing you with an instruction -

‘Give yourself more, hermosa. Another. Know you need it, baby.’

You comply, sinking in another finger easily, rocking your hips back and forth, the sound of it obscene, loud in the quiet around you, and Frankie squeezes himself, breathless.

‘Fuck, hermosa, you’re so wet - so wet. Does that feel good?’

You nod frantically, speeding up your movements until Frankie matches your rhythm, his body tense, his tip turning a beautiful shade of crimson. You whimper again. This soft, sweet man, reduced to this savage across from you, fisting himself, reeling himself back from the edge just to wait to come with you. 

You watch as his eyes drop to your cunt again, as a grunt wrenches itself from his chest, and he begs you - more, please, hermosa. You oblige, sliding another of your fingers into your dripping cunt just to catch a glimmer of what he’d feel like inside of you. Your orgasm flexes, tight and searing inside of you, and you whine.

‘Close, so close, Frankie -’ you pant, and his eyes widen, fist working so furiously you wonder whether it hurts, whether he likes it like that. He groans deep in his throat.

‘Make yourself come, baby, please make yourself come. I need to watch you come.’ And you obey, seizing, pussy gripping your fingers, body curling in on itself as you come, teeth clenched to bite back your scream. Frankie falls slack in his seat, eyes glazed as his cock jerks in his grip, and you meet his eyes, gasping out -

‘Frankie - want you to come, come for me, baby boy -’ and he erupts over his hands, over the tops of his thighs and his belly with a whine, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. You watch his spend trickle over his knuckles, saliva pooling in your mouth at the sight, and your fingers twitch as you pull them from inside you. You are so close to reaching out and taking it on your own fingertips to swipe against your lips, and it’s like Frankie reads your mind -

‘I want to taste you. So fucking bad.’ he gasps, gaze fixed on your shining fingers. You bring them to your mouth, tongue sweeping between the digits, beneath your nails, moaning at your own salty sweet taste. Frankie groans again, tugging his spent cock weakly if only to stop himself from reaching out to snatch your wrist to him.

‘I promise,’ you murmur between licks, ‘I promise - soon, baby - God, so soon -’

You suck your middle finger into your mouth, keeping your eyes locked with his, before releasing it with a lewd pop. Frankie looks physically pained.

‘Stop,’ he pants, ‘Just - stop. I need you to stop.’

You understand, whole body still at fever pitch despite your release. Your hands fall to your thighs. Frankie tucks himself back into his boxers and lifts his hips to fix his jeans before popping open the driver’s side door.

‘Just - give me a moment.’ He murmurs as he jumps out, leaving the door open behind him. You watch as he walks circles in the dirt beside the car, his hands on the back of his head, breathing like he’s run a marathon. It takes a minute for your own brain to catch up with you. You tug your panties back up and your skirt down, some kind of horrible anxiety, disappointment and desperation clawing up your throat. You swallow and pop your own door open, rounding the truck to find Frankie.

The air has done him good. His eyes are clearer, body more relaxed, and he watches you approach with an expression that softens at every step. He barely gets out a you oka- before you rush to him with open arms, crashing into his chest with a quiet mmph. Frankie wraps his arms around you just as quickly, rocking the two of you back and forth, swooping a palm down your back.

‘I’m sorry.’ You whisper. Frankie stops his swaying, gives your shoulder a little squeeze.

‘Why are you apologising, princesa?’ he asks, so sweet you have to swallow again before answering.

‘I don’t know,’ you murmur, ‘That was supposed to feel good, but I don’t - I don’t know how I feel -’

He holds you tighter as tears threaten in your eyes, and you will yourself not to blink, lest they fall.

‘S’okay,’ he whispers back, ‘Might be ‘cause you want it so bad,’ you feel the rumble of a chuckle ripple through his chest. ‘That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, and I still feel like I could rip my skin off.’

A sharp laugh bubbles out of your mouth, taking you by surprise. You blink and the tears begin to fall, and you laugh harder. The man might be right.

‘This is so weird,’ you chuckle against his chest, ‘I’ve never been so horny I’ve cried before.’

He laughs, pressing a sweet kiss to your head.

‘It’s okay,’ he says, ‘And it’s not weird. Feels like my brain will never work the same again.’

You laugh harder, sniffing as you pull away from him. He grins down at you, pinches your chin lightly between his thumb and forefinger.

‘Home?’ he asks.

‘Yeah, Frankie,’ you smile, ‘Take me home.’

Frankie holds your hand over the centre console the whole way home. You’re too tired to think about the semantics of rules, too overwhelmed to wonder what Joel or Santi would say. You grant yourself a small mercy in the passenger seat, reminding yourself that this is okay. This is aftercare. It’s necessary, Joel grumbles in your ear, it doesn’t come with rules.

When Frankie pulls up outside your place, he hops out to make sure he can the truck door for you and help you down. He walks you to your front door like he’d done so many moons ago, ever the gentleman, and waits until the door is unlocked and you’ve flicked the hallway light on. 

You turn to face him, wrapping yourself around him again. He returns the hug.

‘Will you call me if you need anything?’

‘Yeah,’ you breathe, ‘Will you?’

‘’course,’ he swipes the back of his hand over your cheek, and dips to press a soft, firm kiss to your forehead. ‘See you tomorrow, baby.’ He says. You pinch his cheek as he pulls away, chuckling as he bounds back down the path.

You watch his truck peel away like a teenager, standing in the doorway smiling to yourself until his tail lights disappear around the corner.

———

When Joel calls not fifteen minutes later, you’re wearing one of his shirts, grinding your bare pussy into your pillow, fingers working steadily against your clit.

You fumble with your phone, taking longer than usual to swipe to answer the call, and if that hadn’t have given you away, your pants and whimpers do. Joel chuckles warmly down the line at you.

At his ‘how you doing, baby girl?’, your mouth curves in a shy smile, and a heat blossoms in your chest. Your ‘good, daddy’ is true, a kind of peace settling over your frazzled body and mind. You let out a cooing moan before you can ask how his day’s been, and his breath catches down the line.

‘And what are you doing, baby girl?’ he asks softly, so soft, and you smile even wider.

‘Thinkin’ bout you, daddy.’ You breathe, and he hums at your words.

‘Just me?’

‘Mostly.’ You confess, and he chuckles, a honeyed sound.

‘Mostly,’ he echoes, ‘And what are you using while you’re thinking about me, baby?’

You give a strong roll of your hips, grinding down as you answer him.

‘A pillow, daddy.’

‘Mhm. Just a pillow?’

You whine.

‘Fingers, too.’

‘Greedy fuckin’ girl,’ he chuckles. You moan loudly, and are rewarded with a low grunt in return. He listens to you breathe for a moment before you hear the crackle of him shifting, moving.

‘Stop now,’ he says, gently. ‘Need to ask you somethin’.’

You pull your fingers out of your cunt, whining as you do. You can picture his smirk so clearly that you tell him to knock it off.

‘Sorry baby.’ He apologises, so disingenuous. 

‘What’s the question?’

‘I found something. In my case,’ he says. ‘Don’t suppose you’d know who put it there?’

You bite your lip.

‘Hmmm. Depends. What is it?’

You hear Joel fumble with something before he speaks again.

‘Let’s see. One of ‘em… pocket pussy things.’

‘Huh. No idea. Must have been your other girlfriend.’

He laughs.

‘Motherfucker. You damn well I can’t handle another one of you.’

You grin at your reflection. If you had a cord phone, you’d be twirling the plastic around your finger right now. Girlfriend.

‘My bad. Must have been me, then.’

‘Causing trouble even from all the way over there, huh, angel?’

You roll your eyes, knowing he’s drawing it out.

‘Sure, daddy,’ you coo. There’s a beat. ‘Have you… tried it?’

He huffs, and you can see the frown in your mind. How you’d smooth your fingers over it.

‘Ain’t need it when I’ve got you.’

‘Even when you’re far away?’

There’s a pause as Joel considers his reply.

‘You feelin’ sorry for me or somethin’?’

You sigh, letting your fingers dip to your clit. He won’t know, so long as you’re quiet.

‘Couldn’t just - leave you out, daddy,’ you huff against the phone. 

A low chuckle rumbles through from the other end, and you bite your lip.

‘So this is - what? My consolation prize?’ 

‘No,’ you frown, ‘It’s better than that. Better than your hand.’

‘Better ‘n my hand?’

‘Yeah, daddy.’

‘Is it better than you, babygirl?’

You roll your hips at his question, biting back a whine.

‘No, daddy.’

He hums down the line.

‘Sounds like a consolation prize to me, honey.’

You sigh again, louder this time.

‘’S not a consolation prize,’ you groan. ‘Frankie isn’t even allowed to touch me.’

Joel chuckles at you properly this time.

‘You sound disappointed, baby.’

‘I am.’

He waits. He waits, because he knows. Of course he knows.

‘We watched each other, daddy,’ you breathe. Confessional, dirty. A heat flushes up your cheeks as you tug at your t-shirt, suddenly nervous.

‘Watched?’ he asks, a smile curling the word.

Mmhm.

‘Well done, baby,’ he says, ‘I’m impressed. Though a little disappointed it didn’t take you longer to figure out.’

You giggle, and he puffs out a breath before continuing.

‘Santi told me it wouldn't be so fast. Thought it’d take you guys a little while to -’

‘He thought it’d take Frankie longer to work out,’ you interject. Joel falls silent. ‘He knows Frankie, but not me so well. You should’ve known better.’ 

Joel laughs again.

‘You’re goddamn right, angel.’ 

You smile, smug. Hum in agreement.

Joel sighs.

‘Too eager for your own goddamn good,’ he murmurs, ‘Bet you can’t wait to know what his cock feels like inside you, huh? Can’t wait to be droolin’ and comin’ over him like you do me, hm?’

God, his mouth. You moan openly, rocking your hips again, ready. Ready to hear him moaning, too, ready to hear the slick sound of the toy on his dick, ready to hear him groaning your name as he comes.

‘Yes, daddy.’

Joel hums, pleased. His breathing comes a little ragged this time, making your core hotter, tighter, wetter.

‘Use it,’ you moan, ‘Please, daddy. Wanna hear you use it.’

‘I’ll use it,’ he grunts, ‘But you ain’t gonna touch yourself. Just gonna have to listen, sweetheart.’

‘Please -’ you whine, but he cuts you off with a harsh tut.

‘No. You’re gonna be good, you’re gonna listen to me first.’

You begin to groan out again but he says your name in such a tone that you feel your body shift into submission, acquiescing to his demand.

‘You’re gonna stay still,’ he tells you, ‘And you’re gonna leave that pretty pussy alone until I’m done, y’hear?’ Your eyes half close, head dipping forward.

‘Yes, daddy.’ 

‘Good girl.’

You listen closely to the pop of the cap on the bottle of lube you’d packed for him, his heavy breathing as you imagine him soaking the toy, his sharp inhale as he spreads the cool gel over himself. The pop sounds again, and you wait with baited breath.

You’re rewarded almost immediately with a groan that resonates right through your body, vibrating straight down to your cunt as though he had voiced it against your lips.

‘Gonna start with my hand, baby,’ he says, voice low and breathy, ‘Start nice and slow, just like you would if you were here, huh?’

You hum low in your throat and lick your lips.

‘Wouldn’t start like that, daddy.’ Your voice is husky, drenched in lust at the thought of Joel spread on the hotel bed stroking his cock.

‘Oh?’

‘Start with my mouth,’ you breathe, ‘I’d lick you. Get you nice and wet so I can suck on it.’

‘Yeah?’ he whispers, ‘That what you’d do, you’d suck on it?’

You ache and throb between your legs, your free hand scratching at the skin of your thigh to distract yourself. Your mouth waters at the thought.

‘Mhm, daddy. Nice and deep, how you like it. You could fuck my throat if you wanted to.’

A low, guttural sound answers you, the slick sounds of his moving fist getting faster.

‘I’d want you to hold me still while I take you, daddy. I’d want to dribble and gag and cry.’

Joel huffs.

‘Would you, baby? You’d be such a good girl for me?’

You nod, lip between your teeth, even though he can’t see you.

‘Yeah, daddy.’

‘And what if daddy wants to fuck your tight little pussy, baby girl? What would you do then?’

You moan, eyes fluttering shut, hips shifting of their own accord. You grip the hem of your t-shirt.

‘I’d let you.’ you answer, helplessly.

Joel chuckles darkly. 

‘Want me to tell you what I’d do?’ He asks, and you loose a pained little sound, brows pulling together. You’re sure you’re soaking the pillow at this point, dripping through to the other side. Joel laughs again. ‘I think I’d tie you up, baby,’ he says, so low, so deep, that the world starts to drift away from you. You’re barely aware of the fact that the noise of his hand has stopped until he moans wantonly into the phone, and your eyes fly open. ‘Fuck,’ he grits, and then he huffs a cruel little laugh. ‘Was gonna tell you how I’d tie you up and fuck you, baby,’ he growls, ‘But this toy feels good ‘nough that I might just make you watch me instead.’

You whine, chin tipped up to the ceiling, hushed little cries of no, daddy, please - falling from your lips.

‘Oh, sweetheart. You don’t like the sound ‘a that?’ he asks. You shake your head, mewling, ‘No, ‘course not,’ he murmurs ‘Just wanna be stuffed full ‘a daddy’s cock, huh? Wanna be creamin’ around it way you love to, all stretched out and used, yeah?’

God, yes you do. You moan breathlessly, cunt twitching and throbbing, and you wonder whether this is enough to just come hands free. If you concentrate hard enough, if you bear down enough -

‘Maybe I’d film it,’ he muses, ‘Film it so Santiago and Francisco could watch. See how you really like to be used, how cock dumb I can make you. Would you like that, angel?’

‘Fuck, daddy, yes -’

‘Mmm. So they can see how good you look when you beg, when you’re dripping with my cum, huh, baby girl? See how good you look when you cry, when you just take it for me?’

You can tell he’s getting closer, his breathing heavier and more ragged, longer pauses between his thoughts. You wriggle on the pillow, feeling yourself flutter around nothing at the pathetic stimulation. He moans again, broken and loud, and you puff against the speaker, seeing your opportunity -

‘Come for me, daddy,’ you pant, ‘Please - come for me. Need to hear you daddy, please -’

Joel’s breath catches raggedly, once, twice, before it cuts off with a deep growl. With every resounding moan you hear, you can imagine the spurts of cum bursting from his tip. You wriggle even more, cunt burning. 

‘Atta girl,’ Joel gasps, ‘Atta girl, helping your daddy out.’

‘Please,’ you moan, breathless, ‘Please, daddy, my turn, is it -’

‘Your turn,’ he says, so warm, so sweet, ‘Go ahead, baby. Long as it’s only yourself you’re touchin’.’ 

Your fingers flutter to your clit, swiping it gently, so sensitive, and you grit your teeth.

‘Only me.’ You repeat, and you can picture Joel’s answering smile. All teeth.

‘Just you, baby girl. No touchin’ no one else. Not even Frankie.’

You stay silent, moving your hips now to drag your soaked folds against the pillow. Your head falls to your shoulder, and you moan long and loud, wondering whether you can convince Frankie, whether you’ve got enough time together to film the two of you - watching each other, then Frankie stretching you out, filling you with his cum. Something you could send to Joel and Santi, a little treat, a little teaser. 

You’ve been quiet for too long. And Joel knows. He always knows.

‘You gonna break the rules, baby girl?’ He coos. 

You smile, as though he’s read your mind.

‘How much trouble will I be in if I do?’ You ask through a moan, biting your lip.

He chuckles down the line at you. 

‘I don’t know, sugar,’ he drawls, ‘But you could always find out.’

The line clicks and beeps as he hangs up, and you stare down at your phone in disbelief. The signal must have dropped. 

Just as you fumble to press the call button again, a text flies through.

Night, babygirl x

And then another - 

Try to be good. I know it’s hard for you

You huff a laugh as you drop the phone into your lap, hips curling again over the pillow beneath you. Sonofabitch. 

You’ll behave as badly as you damn well please.

———

You and Frankie make quick work of dinner the next evening. Your hands are clammy at the dinner table, pulse fast in your neck, a flush passing high over Frankie’s collar the whole time.

He makes even faster work of the drive back to yours, scraping through red lights as you pull your skirt higher, as you skate your fingers over your thighs, over your panties, watching him the whole time. There’s a wonderful thrill when you catch him looking, when his eyes meet yours and then drift to your hands, how dark they are in the passing streetlights, the white-knuckle grip of his hands on the wheel.

You can feel the heat of him behind you as you unlock the front door, the hunger of wanting his hands on you, pushing you through the doorway, the press of his chest against your back. But you can wait. You can be good.

You move through to your kitchen with him trailing behind you, and you’re grabbing two beers from your fridge before the question of do you want a drink? is even out. When you turn to face him again, Frankie is dangerously, dangerously close. You can smell the musk of his skin, see every changing fleck of colour in his eyes, and it’s too much. You’re pressing the bottle into his chest at the same time as you’re tipping your head for a kiss, eyelids fluttering closed. He takes both bottles from your hands and places then somewhere behind you before caging you in with his thick arms, his mouth in a tight, serious line. You arch your back subconsciously, but he seems to anticipate every movement of your body; somehow still always millimetres away, like the ghost of a man pressed up against you, a layer of film between you.

He leans in so close that you can taste the hot breath he’s pouring into your mouth, so close you can feel the air moving when he tells you, so softly -

‘Take your clothes off. And sit on the couch.’

You strip yourself as you watch him do the same, eyes blown wide by every stretch of bare skin that’s revealed to you. And it is not fair. So unfair that Frankie is finally naked in front of you - so gorgeous - long-limbed and tan, beautiful cock hard and heavy between his thick thighs - and you are unable to touch him.

You clench your jaw, sat back and stretched out like a cat at one end of the sofa, petting yourself as you watch him come towards you and lower himself onto the cushion next to you. 

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to fall back into the rhythm you found last night. It’s hypnotic. The movements, the sounds, the words. Watching Frankie is heady, intoxicating. It feels like you’re watching something happen outside of your own body, and you find yourself surprised as you move to kneel beside him, as you swing a leg over his legs so you’re straddling him. You’re so wet, so warm that you’re sure the night could pass for a summer’s day. Your skin is glimmering with sweat, same as Frankie’s. You search his eyes to find him staring back at you, just as fucked out, just as woozy. You moan, hot little pants dripping past your lips. He echoes you.

You sit back on his thighs, your fingers diving in and out of you as you watch his fist work furiously around his cock. Something warm and hot, greedy and possessive swells inside of you. He looks delicious like this, spread out in front of you, wanting and needy. His cock thick, swollen, dribbling. It twitches as you watch him, and you moan somewhere beyond your consciousness. Need, your body whispers. Need. You inch forwards, lifting your hips higher, higher, Frankie watching you like he’s somewhere outside his body. You take his hand from his cock, fingers slippery with his precum, and place it at your hip. You grind into your hand at the slick feeling, pulling your fingers out with a wet sound and hovering above him, gripping his cock so you can brush the swollen head of it against your clit. Frankie shudders, his body going slack, and you almost come from the sensation alone. You lower your hips just a little, bracing the mushroom of his tip at the tight ring of your entrance. 

You gonna break the rules, babygirl?

‘Hermosa -’ he breathes, suddenly unsure.

You huff against him, everything too tight, too heady. Need.

‘Shhh, it’s okay,’ you whisper. ‘It’s okay, just a little bit. Just wanna feel you a little bit.’

‘But -’ he’s cut off by his own loud whine, unable to protest as you fit his head just inside your pussy. You throb around him, at the stimulation it brings. You clutch at his shoulder, head falling forwards at the stretch. Fuck, you could absolutely come like this. You need him deeper, need him to to fill you, but -

Oh, he is so good. 

His hands are like steel at your hips, keeping you in place. Frankie doesn’t want to disobey, doesn’t want to get in trouble. His grip speaks to that, his wide eyes, the sweat at his temple. But you can see on his face as you drip down him, the clutch of Joel’s control doesn’t hold nearly enough power when faced with what he truly wants.

You move back and forth a little, still with his tip just inside, moaning brokenly at the feel of it, and his eyelids flutter closed as something like a prayer brushes past his lips.

Frankie is good, but you are so, so bad. 

You drop your hips down further, and his fingers flex against your skin as he gasps, a high, keening noise reverberating from his chest.

‘Jesus Christ -’ he groans.

‘Fucking - hell, Frankie -’

He’s a lot. You can feel yourself adjusting as you slide down his length, your promise quickly forgotten. Greedy fuckin’ girl. But you can’t help yourself, brain short circuiting, body molten as you take him in inch by inch. It’s too much, all consuming. There’s no space for another thought, any more consideration as he fills you, as you take what you need. 

He whimpers as you bottom out, grinding against the curls at his base, breathing heavily.

‘So good,’ you whisper, ‘So good, you know that?’

Your head hangs forward against his shoulder as you gulp down air, as you feel yourself clench and leak around him, as he twitches inside you. After moments in almost silence, you lean back to look down at him.

His eyes are glassy, fucked out as he looks back at you.

You lift your hips, and the moan he lets out is pained. Your skin is on fire, and you want his hands everywhere.

‘Frankie, touch me.’

‘I can’t -’

‘You can,’ you grit, ‘You can, because I told you to.’

He moans again, and suddenly he’s everywhere. He knows where you need to be touched like you’ve done this before, his fingertips scorching and cooling as he strokes your thighs, your neck, as he grips your ass. Encouraged, you continue to move, slowly rocking up and down on his cock, breathing raggedly. Every noise that escapes the two of you seems to come without being registered, something primal, starved. Already, the coil is tightening, your body racing towards where it needs to be, and you know it will be intense, all-consuming to come around him, so thick inside of you. You lean further forwards, and he takes the opportunity to press his mouth to your sternum, licking the skin before turning his head to take a nipple in his mouth - hot and wet and sucking, lathing it with his tongue.

‘Fuck,’ you hiss, moving faster, chasing, chasing what is so close. You grip the hair at the back of his head, tugging and keeping him close to your breast, keening against him.

‘Like that,’ you gasp, ‘Yeah, like that baby, god, so good, you’re so good for me, feel so good baby boy, you have no idea -’

You can feel yourself tighten and tighten, and Frankie holds you harder, force that feels so delicious you don’t even care about the hurt, not until it turns to iron, not until he rips his mouth away from you -

‘I’m gonna come -’ he whimpers, gripping your hips so tight you couldn’t move if you wanted to. ‘Please, baby, please - stop - I can’t - I’ll come -’

Hot desperation claws up your chest. You are so close, so close, but he looks so wildly at you that you stop trying to move, try to force back tears of frustration as you lean forwards to kiss him as sweetly as you can. Spit-slick and swollen, you pull back and rest your forehead to his. Try to think straight, tell him what he needs to hear.

‘No you won’t,’ you coo, taking his face in your hands, thumbs stroking his cheekbones. You put everything into your gaze, all your warmth, all your care for him, try to make him see how good this is. He stares up at you, eyes wide, dark. Panicked. Panicked at the thought of disappointing you. ‘You won’t, Frankie. It’s okay, you’re not gonna come.’ You try to shift a little so you can settle on your thighs to soothe him, but he clenches his eyes shut at your movement and whimpers louder, his mouth screwing up. 

‘Please don’t move,’ he whispers, ‘Just wait, - just -’

You lean forward and press a kiss to his hairline, feeling his tip move slowly to a shallower part of you. Fuck.

‘Relax, baby boy,’ you murmur, and he sucks in a breath. ‘Concentrate. I’m gonna sit down, and you are not going to come, okay?’

You wait, but Frankie still has his eyes screwed shut, nostrils flaring, fingers bruising against your skin. The tense feeling in your chest swells again. 

‘Frankie.’ You say sharply, and he jumps out of himself, eyes flashing open to yours. ‘I’m gonna sit back down. Take a deep breath.’

Frankie watches you as he breathes in through his nose, and you move at the sound of his airflow. His hands slacken at your hips, and he moans, low and long. 

‘That’s it,’ you say, sinking all the way down, writhing helplessly at his base. You’re already both so close. ‘Good boy. How are you doing?’

Frankie breathes shallowly as you adjust around his cock. His cheeks are red, hair sweaty. His lips are bitten, bleeding through one crack of skin, eyes almost entirely black. You scratch at the curls at the nape of his neck, massaging the tendons there.

‘Okay,’ he croaks. You try not to think of how he feels inside you. How full you feel, how stretched out. He’s thick and nestled in deep - not as far as Joel - but the ache you feel around his girth is delicious. Fuck, this was a bad idea. You should have just hopped off him, let him slide out so you could both catch your breath. And now, instead, you’re managing to edge the two of you even further. 

You know you can’t last long, and you know, from the desperate look on Frankie’s face, that he won’t either, no matter what you do. It feels crueller to stop now than it does to keep going, to watch him deny himself like this, to feel you deny yourself, too. You can feel your pussy tightening and leaking around him at the thought, the ache, the need that’s just there -

‘I have to move, baby -’

‘No -’ he chokes, ‘Please, hermosa, just a minute -’

‘I have to, Frankie, I - you feel too good, baby, I need to move. Wanna come, wanna see you come, too -’

Frankie’s iron grip returns to your hips as they lift of their own accord, and he hisses, head bowed, at the movement. You moan hoarsely.

‘It’s okay,’ you pant, gripping his chin in one hand, lifting his face to yours. ‘Listen to me, it’s okay. Focus now.’ You begin to move up and down him again, the slow drag of his cock tightening your grip on his face but loosening the hold you have on your body. You whimper, pussy fluttering around him. Frankie groans, breathlessly whispers your name, a pleasepleaseplease -

‘I know you can last as long as I need you to, baby,’ you whisper. ‘You’ve done it before, haven’t you?’ Frankie whines, his eyes rolling back, mouth falling slightly open. You can’t stop the moan that bubbles up your throat - him edging himself as he watched you the night before, eyes stuck on your fingers, your pulses, your wetness. You feel him throb inside you as he nods drunkenly. ‘That’s it, good boy. I know it feels good, but you can last a little longer. I know you can, Frankie. You’re doing so well.’

His fingers clutch at the swell of your hips, weak, sweaty, and you clench so hard around him that it’s a challenge to drag his cock through your walls. You breathe shallowly, slowing the pace again, and Frankie watches you through heavy lidded eyes. He licks his bottom lip.

‘Come,’ he breathes, a hand leaving your hip so he can thumb your clit. You hiss, hips stuttering so hard you sink all the way down onto him, grinding his tip into your womb. Frankie grits his teeth. ‘Come, hermosa,’ he tells you again, and you can feel the savage heat, pussy winding tighter and tighter, your body about to burst. Quietly, with a command he’s not had in his voice until now, Frankie says your name. Come. Now.

Your orgasm is blinding. You cease to exist in the corporeal world for an indeterminate time, coming to only when Frankie pulls you to his chest, his hips pressing up into you as you milk him. You’re achingly aware of the way his cock jumps inside of you as he pumps you full of cum, of the way his fingers grip and bruise your body, of the way you sink your teeth into his shoulder as you continue to throb around him.

‘Fuck.’ you bite out, resting your forehead against his as you pant into each other’s mouths. Minutes tick by, Frankie’s harsh grip turning to soft caresses, and you press chaste kisses to his nose, his forehead, his lips, before you rest your head against his collar bone. He takes a deep breath.

‘Baby,’ he starts. You watch his throat bob as he swallows, searching for what he’s about to say. You squeeze his middle gently. ‘Joel -’

‘Is my problem,’ you breathe, ‘I did this. It’s on me. He knew I’d break the rules.’

He swallows, nods.

‘Okay.’

You press a kiss to his neck, and he visibly relaxes.

‘It’s okay,’ you murmur. ‘No one’s gonna be mad at you. No one’s gonna be mad, full stop.’ He makes a noise of appreciation somewhere in his throat. 

You bite your lip and lean back, fixing him with a wicked grin.

‘Besides, this is all part of the foreplay.’

‘The foreplay?’ He whispers, brow furrowing.

You nod, humming at the feeling of his cum slipping from the warmth of your cunt.

‘You really thought he’d just come in your mouth?’

His eyes darken, a huff slipping from his kiss-bitten lips. He brings your hand from his neck to his mouth and bites down on the flesh of your palm. You giggle again.

‘Mm, you like that, baby boy? Like the idea of daddy playing with you, too?’

‘Stop.’ He groans, ‘You keep talking like that, and -’

‘There’ll be a round two?’ you tease. ‘Doesn’t sound like a bad thing to me,’ you smile, feeling him twitch inside you. ‘In fact,’ you continue, ‘That sounds like something a very good boy would do.’

‘Stop talking,’ he growls, ‘And take me upstairs. I remember something about you promising to let me taste you.’

The smile that grows across your lips is impossible to hide.

———

Pope wasn’t fucking around when he told you Frankie was good with his mouth.

He wakes you the next morning with more of what he gave you last night, his tongue warm and wet against your cunt, lapping and kissing and sucking until you’re sweating and writhing above him, hands fisted in his hair.

He likes that.

Likes biting marks into your thighs, making you moan and cry and come again and again. Likes when you’re a little mean, when you tell him what to do, when you hold him afterwards, when you let him fill you and fuck you until you’re both whimpering and covered in cum and slick.

The three days that follow pass in a blur of not touching and definitely touching. Frankie quickly becomes accustomed to waking wrapped up in your bed, your arm thrown over his side, and you quickly become accustomed to the sweet praises that drip from his lips as he slots himself inside you - how tight and sweet you are, how he can’t believe he fits in so well. How he can’t wait to share you, properly this time.

He bends you over the kitchen table after you’ve finished eating dinner, licking into you before splitting you open, and you take him in your mouth on your knees in the shower, making sure to remind him of how pretty he is, how good he feels in your mouth. You work him open with your fingers, your tongue, curling them inside him just to watch him struggle not to come so fast. It’s gorgeous. And when you’re too sore and swollen to have each other again, you find yourself cradled between his thighs, your back to his chest as he circles your clit gently with two fingers, kissing your neck and grinding himself against you as you moan, as you remind him how you need to get to work.

‘I know, baby,’ he murmurs, ‘Just wanna watch you come again.’

It’s feverish, it’s risky. You try to be a good liar, but you’re sure Joel knows. Knows you well enough, anyway, to guess that it would happen at some point. Which just means he must have been planning what he’d do to you after finding out for some time, too. You try to be careful as the week goes on - planning to wash your sheets, to not have Frankie in the house when Pope or Joel return. To just try and make it look like you succeeded, that you listened. That you were good.

You’re on your elbows and knees, body weak, pussy swollen and dripping as Frankie spears you from behind when the text comes. It’s Santi.

I’ll be home 2morrow. Look forward to seeing u 2.

One more time, Frankie gasps. Once more like this, and then you can wait. 

The two of you can wait until tomorrow.

———

You wait all day for Santi.

And you try to be good, you really do. But Frankie’s mouth is just so convincing.

He’s not allowed to bite, not allowed to leave any marks. He has permission to make you come, and then he has to clean you up again like nothing ever happened. You’re not going to touch him, and he’s not going to touch himself. He’ll have to save it for when Pope gets here. Which, as it’s turned out, is much later than he said. But not late enough to miss the show.

‘Am I interrupting?’

Frankie lurches away from between your thighs like he’s been scorched, backing up towards the end of the bed. He looks so surprised, so worried, that you snort at him, still so caught up in the throes of pleasure to not be too worried about Pope’s reappearance.

He looks good. A healthy glow to his skin, tight black top, his curls perfectly framing his face. His mouth is twisted into its most alluring smirk, and you watch it deepen at the flush of Frankie’s cheeks and the way you snake a hand between your legs.

‘Not at all, baby,’ you coo, and his eyes darken, following the path of your hand. It’s ingrained into you now, how Pope touched you last. The memory rushes through you, and you moan softly, the noises your hand is making against your wet folds so obscene. Still watching, he peels his belt from its loops, curling it in his fist.

He jerks his chin at Frankie.

‘You at least make her beg for it?’

You huff a small laugh, thinking back on how not thirty minutes ago Frankie had been on his knees in front of you, begging for a taste, begging to lick your cunt. 

Santi’s eyes shoot to you and the amusement on your face, and he steps forward with a smile.

‘Should have known,’ he says gently, through a smile. His palm cups your cheek, and you nestle into his touch, forgetting that whatever punishment Joel might have thought up, Santi might share. He traces your skin down your jaw, your neck, across your clavicles and down the arm closest to him. He holds your wrist, and pulls it up to his mouth where he can kiss your knuckles in greeting. ‘Hello, querida.’

You look back at him with wide, lust-blown eyes. ‘Hey, Santiago.’ 

He takes you in greedily, eyes scouring over your bare body, scrutinising so intensely that you almost feel self-conscious. 

‘What do we have here?’ he purrs, his spare hand reaching over you, thumbing your nipple. You whine and arch against his touch, fingers moving faster, and he tuts, shaking his head. ‘This will never do, cielo.’ He squeezes your breast firmly before running his fingers down the length of your arm, gripping your other wrist to bring your wet fingers to his mouth. He parts his lips and presses them in gently, and you mewl, hips bucking, as he works his tongue over the digits. His eyes are dark, boring into you, only distracted by the heavy breath Frankie takes from the other end of the mattress. He releases your fingers quickly.

‘No.’ he barks at the other man, and you swing your head to look at Frankie, a hand frozen mid-pull on his cock, face flushing an even deeper shade of red. ‘Did I tell you you could touch yourself?’

Frankie shakes his head frantically, hands moving to his sides.

‘Did I?’

‘No.’ he whispers, breathless, apologetic. Pope jerks his head again, over his shoulder. 

‘Off the bed.’

Frankie unfurls his limbs to stand at the bedside, cock heavy and bobbing against his stomach as Santi easily joins your wrists with one hand. It takes you too long to work out what he’s doing - his belt already curled around your hands before you make a noise of protest, silenced by a hard look from him. He twists the leather around your hands twice before tying them to the bedframe above you, giving a sharp pull to test the give. Your chest heaves, something sparking inside you as he cups your cheek gently.

‘Good?’

‘Yes, Santi.’ You murmur, taking your cue from how he admonished Frankie.

He steps back, admiring his handiwork, looking pleased.

‘Maybe that’ll help you keep your hands to yourself.’ He says, half-turning to Frankie.

‘Down.’

Frankie drops to his knees at the command, and you moan, thighs clenching, arms straining above your head, tight to your eyes. Santi says something to you, muffled, and you try to relax again to hear him, a quiet hm? the only sound you can make.

He cocks his head at you, lips curled.

‘Lube, querida,’ he says, ‘Where do you keep it?’

You inhale sharply, mind buzzing. 

‘U-under the bed.’

Pope drops to his knees beside you, rifling around until he finds and pulls out a green box, ripping off the lid. His face splits in a dangerous, thrilled grin.

‘Now, what have we got in here?’

You watch with bated breath as Pope rummages through the box, your chest heaving, arms straining against the belt again. He throws the bottle of lube onto the bed before turning his attention back to your toys. He brings your wand into your line of sight, and you squeeze your eyes closed as he presses the button, the room filling with its buzzing sound. 

You flinch when he brings the vibrator into contact with your skin, tracing your nipples. Your eyes fly open to find him and Frankie watching you intently. 

‘Had a lot of time to think about this while I was away,’ Santi says, almost to himself, ‘But I’ve got much better ideas now.’

Pope licks his lips as he dips the wand lower, teasing it around the soft flesh of your thighs before resting it against your clit.

You yelp at the contact, body juddering.

‘Please, Santi,’ you cry, ‘Please -’ but he shushes you gently, stroking your hair as he lays the wand between your thighs, nestled in to where the feeling is most intense, most overwhelming. 

‘It’s okay, baby,’ he coos, ‘Just need you to hold that there, be a good girl.’ 

You whimper brokenly up at him, and he pouts at you, teasingly.

‘Listen to me,’ he says, and you hold your breath, ‘That’s gonna stay right there, against your pretty little pussy, and you’re not gonna come, are you, querida?’

Your brain buffers, jaw clenching against the heat rising through you, and Santi frowns at you.

‘Are you?’

The air bursts from your lungs as you moan out a no, rewarded with a smile.

‘Good girl.’ he says, dipping to pick something up from the floor. Your panties from where Frankie had stripped you of them earlier.

He taps your chin.

‘Open,’ your mouth falls open of its own accord, and Santi stuffs the lace in. ‘Something for you to bite down on.’

You huff, brow furrowing in concentration, desire, as Pope steps away again and moves towards Frankie.

Frankie, still on his knees, watching open mouthed, cock jumping as he takes you in - stretched out, bound and desperate. His eyes leave yours to watch Santi begin to strip himself of his clothes, and you join him, groaning at the slow show he gives you both. His smooth, tan skin, the muscles that ripple beneath. He unbuttons his jeans before stilling, eyes falling on Frankie.

‘Come here,’ Santi says, and Frankie shuffles forward instantly. ‘Good boy. Now take me out, and show our girl what else you can do with that mouth.’

Your eyes roll back into your skull, and your wrists tug at Santi’s belt. From behind the fabric in your mouth, Pope can hear your muffled fuck. He smirks down at Frankie.

‘Before she comes, hermano.’

‘Pope,’ Frankie breathes, shocked through his haze of arousal, confused, warning.

‘What?’ Santi says, cupping his cheek gently. ‘You don’t think I checked with Joel? Didn’t ask what you got up to before he left? Don’t worry, baby, I did. He just wants to know she’s being taken care of. The sooner you put me in your mouth, the sooner we can do just that.’

Frankie swallows visibly, flustered, eyes flicking to you before he reaches out to tug Santi’s jeans and boxers down, taking the other man’s hard cock in his hand, squeezing and pumping gently. He takes care to thumb over the precum that gathers at his tip, using it to ease the movement. Pope breathes out slowly before touching Frankie’s bottom lip with his thumb, parting his mouth. He joins Frankie’s hand at his base and taps the head of his cock where his thumb had just been, and Frankie opens wider, allowing space for Pope to slide in. He takes lazy thrusts as you watch with wide eyes, hips canting against the toy, cunt pulsing, body on fire - acutely aware that Frankie has a gag reflex to rival your own. The thought makes you giggle, a kind of pride blooming in your chest. So easy. Frankie stares up at his best friend with glassy eyes, cock leaking and untouched between his legs, palms resting, unflexed, atop his thighs. 

‘He’s a good toy, isn’t he, cielo?’ Pope hums, slowing the rhythm of his thrusts. ‘So good at just - taking it. Barely any fight in you, is there, baby boy?’

With his mouth full of Santi’s cock, Frankie can barely shake his head. The corners of Pope’s lips curl.

‘No. I’ll bet she hardly even had to ask you. Just a little while longer watching her and you’d have begged to feel her milk you yourself. Isn’t that right, Fish?’

Frankie moans beneath him, his cock dribbling and straining. You want so badly to have it on your tongue, in your hand, inside your pussy, that you whine again, louder. Santi’s eyes slide to you, mouth wide in a smirk. 

‘Quit whining, querida. We’ll be with you in a moment.’

You groan again as Pope twists his fingers in Frankie’s hair, cooing at him. 

‘Yeah, seems that you both thought to tell us how’d you’d watched, hm? It’s a pity you couldn’t wait to touch, though. Could have made this so much easier for yourselves.’ You wriggle your hips a little more, finding just the right angle, the right pressure. Oh, it’s so good. Too good. Your noises come louder, faster, and though Frankie’s eyes don’t leave Santi, his body twitches, finely attuned now, to how you sound before you come. As though he’s read Frankie’s mind, Pope’s eyes snap back to you.

‘Not yet.’ He bites. 

You breathe jagged, harsh breaths through your nose, eyes scrunching shut against the coil that’s tightening in your core. You’re so wet you can feel it dripping through your folds, straight onto the sheets, and you try to think of anything but the sound of Santi’s cock moving in Frankie’s throat. What groceries you need to buy, the post you need to hand to your neighbour, what you’ll wear to meet Sarah. Joel. Joel. Fuck, no. That makes it even worse.

You moan again, dangerously close to the edge, cracking open your eyes to see Frankie bobbing up and down Santi’s length, drool escaping the corners of his mouth. How his cheeks hollow, how he sinks down to the wiry hairs at the bottom, eyes fixed on Santi’s face, unwavering, swallowing; moving back up to kiss the tip, the spit that trails from his lips to Pope’s head, how Pope rocks his hips forward, chasing the sensation. How Santi groans for him, tomalo, mírame, tu boca, tan bonito -

Your hips stutter, now trying to move away from the vibrator as Pope’s hand finally grips Frankie’s curls, pulling him in closer, holding him still as he fucks his throat, and you try to get out a please, please, trying to back yourself down, trying so hard even though it would be so easy -

Santi’s gaze finds you, lost to the feeling of the other man’s mouth, and he smiles kindly.

‘Casi ahí, bebita.’

You shake your head, eyes pleading, desperate, teary, and he seems to take pity on you. He uses his grip on Frankie’s curls to ease him off slowly, marvelling at the way his cock emerges, glistening; at the way Frankies mouth still hangs open for him to fill. 

‘Should we help her out, baby?’ He asks softy.

Frankie looks to you, eyes glassy, cheeks flushed. Please, you try to moan again.

‘Yes.’ He says, voice hoarse.

Pope holds a hand out to him to help him off the floor, and Frankie stands on shaky legs. You try to will them to move faster, teetering on the edge, breath leaving you in great puffs, your body straining away from the toy, arms aching with the effort of trying to pull yourself away.

‘You ready to come, princesa?’ Santi murmurs.

You gurgle an mhm, sniffling as his hand moves low, hovering over the vibrator. Frankie bends, his cock angry and red still, to press a kiss to your temple.

‘Did so well,’ he whispers, ‘It’s okay, hermosa.’

Pope takes that as his cue to take hold of the wand.

Your back arches as he presses it down, harder against you, roving it back and forth for extra friction. You start to beg through your panties, knowing you can’t hold back anymore as your pussy turns traitor, beginning to flutter. Tears spill from the corners of your eyes, and Santi smiles.

‘Now.’ he whispers.

Your body pulls impossibly tight, giving in to the rush of fire that has been simmering, your muscles clenching painfully as sound and sight evade you. You can feel your lungs working, feel the choked gasps leaving you, feel your arms pulling at Santi’s belt, but you are somewhere outside your body. A rush courses through your body, and you feel yourself gushing between your thighs.

When you come to, blinking, body slick with sweat and your cum seeping down your legs, Pope is untying your hands. You drop them above your head, and Frankie takes your wrists, massaging them soothingly with his thumbs. Santi presses a tender kiss to your stomach, moving the vibrator away as you shiver and jerk with overstimulation.

‘So good, bebita,’ he says, ‘Atta girl. Look how well you behaved there.’

He presses his fingers into your mouth to remove the lace, and your tongue works around your gums to alleviate the dryness the fabric left.

‘Can you move?’ He asks gently, and you nod weakly, cinching at the waist to haul yourself up. He brings his palms to your shoulder, rubbing your skin as Frankie sits behind you, pressing kisses to the nape of your neck. ‘Well done, princesa.’

He brings you further forward, cradling you to his chest as he tells Frankie to lay back behind you, then angles your shoulder to turn and face him. Frankie looks fucked. His bare skin untouched, his cock dribbling precum, pooling at his stomach as you watch. His jaw is clenched like he’s trying to stop himself from begging, and you reach out to touch his thigh, trying to offer comfort in any way you can. He whimpers at the warmth of your skin.

‘Should we help him, querida?’ Pope whispers in your ear, your back still to his chest.

‘Yes.’ You answer, throat dry. He kisses your cheek, and you feel his smile.

‘Use your mouth, bonita.’

You move from Pope to settle yourself between Frankie’s legs on all fours, breathing kisses into his inner thighs before touching him, trailing a finger down his soft shaft. He hisses at the sensation, and you pause, meeting his eye. He swallows, nods.

‘Keep going.’ He rasps.

You pull yourself further up, mouthing at his underside, pressing kisses to his leaking tip before laving your tongue up and down his length. When his hips buck at the sensation, you move a palm to cup his balls and take him fully into your mouth, sucking and hollowing your cheeks, humming with the salty taste of him. His hands quickly find the side of your head, and you move back up towards his tip, licking into his slit to drink down more, playing with his frenulum in a way you know drives him insane. He moans, deep and needy, puffing out a soft fuck as you take him down to the base again, nuzzling the hair there, breathing him in. His cock jumps in your throat, and he looses a needy whine, pulling on your hair, but you don’t budge.

‘Hermosa -’ he breathes, voice tight, and Santi speaks again from behind you.

‘Are you gonna last, hermano?’

Frankie looks up from watching you, unfocused, swaying his head. Pope makes an amused sound, and you feel his hands on you, positioning you, then the press of his tip against your slick hole.

‘Just a little longer, Fish. So much to do with you two.’

Santi glides inside of you easily, but it’s still enough to knock the breath from your lungs. You moan around Frankie’s sensitive dick, and he gasps, hands tightening in your hair.

‘Please -’ he warns, ‘Please -’ as Pope pulls out and thrusts back in again. You cry out, moving back up to Frankie’s tip, moving up and down the best you can as Pope dives in and out of your pussy, knocking you forward to take Frankie deeper with each thrust. ‘Santi -’ Frankie grits, and the other man chuckles behind you. 

‘Alright,’ he says, ‘Don’t want to spoil the fun.’ 

You whine and pout at the loss as he withdraws from you completely, turning your head to find that he’s stripped himself of his jeans and underwear. He winks at you before giving you a little push.

‘Ride it, querida.’

You push yourself up eagerly, coming to straddle Frankie’s hips before positioning him at your entrance. He looks up at you with blown, lust filled eyes, absolutely ruined. 

Despite the stretch, you sink down onto him without stopping. 

He feels so good. Just like the first time.

You writhe down at his base as his hands shoot out to grip your hips, his beautiful neck straining as his grits his teeth, his abs flexing as he attempts to hold you still. But it didn’t work the first time, and it won’t work now.

You take yourself slowly up, smiling at the wet sound of the movement before sinking down again, feeling him stretch you out, feeling him in your stomach. It’s a delicious ache. You wonder what Joel would say right now, watching you take him so easily, watching how he fills you. Bet you can’t wait to know what his cock feels like inside you, huh? Can’t wait to be droolin’ and comin’ over him like you do me, hm? You clench tight around Frankie at the thought, at the same time as a little ache settles in your chest. You miss him. You miss him, and you wonder what he’d be doing with his hands, his mouth, his cock -

‘Que cosita mas linda.'

Santi’s voice brings you back as you bounce on Frankie’s lap, and you lift your head to look at the younger man, his eyes heavy-lidded, lip nipped between his teeth.

‘She gonna make you come like this, Francisco?’

At the use of his full name, all of the sounds Frankie has been trying to hold back break free from him. All of his pretty little gasps and moans, his whimpers, the way he pants your name as he clings to you, eyes never leaving where you’re joined as he pleads -

‘Can I? Can I come?’ 

You clench around him again, the knot in your belly snapping at his words, your orgasm blinding as it comes at you sideways. Frankie moans loudly, repeating your name. You gasp, high little pants of uh- uh- as you jolt on him, pain mixing with pleasure as you call his name, Santi’s name, Joel’s name -

‘Up. Off.’

Santi presses a palm to your backside to move you off of Frankie’s length, even as you still clench around him. 

‘Fuck,’ Frankie heaves, ‘Fuck, please, no -’ 

‘Quiet.’ Santi bites at him, and Frankie whines, his cock jumping between your folds at his tone. You close your eyes. 

‘Let him,’ you plead, ‘Please, let him, Pope.’

You wanted him to come, he deserved to come. You move your lips up and down his length, and Frankie chokes a moan, his body moving higher up the bed as Santi moves behind you, but you can’t work out why behind the darkness of your eyelids. Your eyes are still closed, body still quaking as Santi leans forward to press a kiss to the centre of your spine. You arch your back against his mouth and he chases you, pressing another slightly higher, scraping his teeth against your skin.

‘Querida,’ he says. You can only moan in response. You know it’s not what he wants, but your brain is so fuzzy it can’t comprehend anything beyond it.

‘Turn around,’ he says, and you whimper, eyelids fluttering as you scratch gently at Frankie’s chest. The man beneath you writhes at the feeling, head rolling, eyes closing, fingers flexing bruisingly on your hips. ‘Turn. Around.’ Santi grits, this time taking Frankie’s hands so he can prise them off you, gripping your waist in an effort to turn your body. 

There’s no graceful way to do it, but Frankie handles your limbs with gentle hands as you swing your legs around him. 

When you face Pope, the sight that greets you is even better than you could have imagined. 

He eyes you hungrily, carnally, his brow dark and hair curled more than you've ever seen. But your eyes are taken to where his fingers are sunk knuckle-deep into Frankie, pumping them slowly. You moan as he digs them in deeper before curling them, repeating the beckoning motion until Frankie’s belly twitches. At the tells of his orgasm, Pope removes the digits slowly, deaf to Frankie’s desperate begging. You watch, mute, as Pope then takes the bottle of lube from beside him, pouring it onto his cock with a quiet moan, jacking himself before pressing his tip to Frankie’s hole. You feel the man below you tense slightly, and you stroke his thighs, fallen open on either side of Santi, with soothing fingers. When he relaxes, one of Pope’s hands meets yours on his flesh, the other helping to guide himself in. You watch as his length is swallowed, breathing shallow, listening to any noise the pair make. Frankie’s ragged groan, the way he chants Pope, Jesus, fuck, his bruising grip back on your hips, Pope’s answering growl as his eyes roll to the ceiling before fluttering shut. When he bottoms out, you watch as his stomach flexes, eyes then drifting lower, where you can only see the coarse hair at the base of his cock, the rest of it buried inside Frankie. You feel your face crease as your stomach turns molten.

Your hips drop to the swell of Frankie’s stomach, searching for any kind of friction. It should be impossible to be this constantly turned on. You move your hips as Pope drags his cock in and out of Frankie once, twice, murmuring how tight he is, how pretty, how good, before his eyes find yours.

‘You want her to sit on your face, pretty boy?’ Santiago purrs at the man over your shoulder.

‘Oh, fuck, please.’ Frankie moans.

Pope jerks his chin at you, sending you shuffling clumsily backwards, blinded by how badly you need to feel something, eyes fixed again to where he thrusts in and out of the younger man, angling your hips above Frankie’s face. You only see his mouth open, tongue already out to lick a fat stripe through your folds, before he pulls you roughly down, moaning against you.

‘Jesus - fuck -’ you hiss, trying to jerk away. It’s too much, too soon, but Frankie is too strong, too desperate to taste you. Your hand flies out Santi’s chest, scratching his skin before trying to find purchase higher up. You take his neck between your thumb and fingers as Frankie eats at you, his mouth harsh and hungry as it sucks and licks. Santi stutters out a groan as you tilt his head at you and squeeze.

‘Make him come,’ you murmur, ‘Make him come, baby, and then you can show me what else you wanna do with us.’

Santi grins and pants against you, his hips faltering for a moment as he leans his neck further into the cradle of your hand. He nods quickly, eyes glazing and soft. You smile back at him, squeezing again, pleased.

‘Frankie always said you were a good soldier, Santiago,’ you coo. ‘Should have known what you really needed was to be told what to do.’

‘Fuck you.’ He grins against your lips.

You answer it with a pathetic, needy little whine.

‘Mm, yes please, baby.’

Frankie takes the moment to suck particularly hard at your clit, and you feel your face crumple - one hand scrabbling at the younger man’s belly, the one at Santi’s neck now gripping the shoulder of the man fucking him. Frankie works diligently at your cunt, anchoring your hips to him as he devours you ravenously, letting the tip of his nose rest just inside your entrance as he flicks your bud with his tongue, swirling it in circles as you grind against him. 

This orgasm comes slow, like wading through treacle. It drips down your spine as you curve over Frankie, gasping and shuddering, so breathless that even Pope slows down. Frankie must feel you jolt and twitch above him, lapping up the last of your cum before he releases you from his grip. You lift your hips quickly, needing reprieve, aftershocks still knocking through you as you pant against Santi’s chest.

‘So good,’ you breathe, loud enough for Frankie to hear, ‘So good to me, baby boy, aren’t you?’

Pope presses a kiss to your hair as you work a fist around Frankie’s cock, squeezing his base. He jumps beneath you, a heady, keening noise wailing from his now unoccupied mouth, and you squeeze him tighter, pumping him once, twice, his shaft slick with your juices and his precum.

‘You’ll make him come.’ Pope warns, and you hum against him, forehead just above his sternum. You’re too lost in the way his cock looks as it disappears into Frankie.

The door opens so quietly you don’t hear it, but Santi does. How he keeps his wits about him despite what’s happening is beyond you. He stills his movements inside Frankie, and you feel his damp breath against your forehead, head dipping as he nudges your cheek with his jaw, turning your face towards it. 

‘Look who’s home.’ He murmurs into your ear. 

Your stomach swoops.

Joel stands in the doorway. His nose and brow rosy from working in the sun, your favourite flannel draped over his broad shoulders, a grin twisting his lips as he takes the scene in. His eyes dip from yours to your tits, to the way your body curls over Frankie’s. He takes in the man laying beneath you - his face shining with your cum, blissed and fucked out. The rise and fall of his tummy, the way his thighs are splayed to make room for Pope. The way Santi can’t help but flex inside him, earning a ragged groan from both of them, up the other man’s torso, his neck, to the dark eyes watching him back. It’s breathtaking. 

Joel cocks his head.

‘Don’t stop on my account,’ he drawls, ‘Y’all make such a pretty picture.’

You swallow loudly, letting your head fall back to Santi’s warm shoulder, panting before looking back at him. Something swirls in your gut, and you speak before even realising.

‘Come here,’ you whisper, voice cracking. ‘Come here and make it even prettier, daddy.’

The three of you watch as Joel steps towards you, letting the door fall shut behind him.

help with spanish translations from @/urmomsgnocchi's invaluable post here. if there are inaccuracies, please drop me a message <3