butterbananabread

[butterbananabread]

Boys will be boys. {Y.Jeongin}

Pairing : Jeongin x fem!reader WC : 5k SS : 23 Genre : angst, fluff, smau Warning : car accident, fluff, angst

The sky darkens as you stand on the porch of the restaurant, phone in hand. The hour passes quickly, and you check your messages from time to time to see if you've gotten any response from your boyfriend, but nothing. You have nothing. So you wait, occasionally looking at the street in front of you as it empties because of the rain. People run for cover under bus stops, some decide to wait out the rain in shops or go in and buy an umbrella. You bite your lower lip, ignoring the sounds of cars rattling away from reckless pedestrians, and grip your phone a little tighter.

"Miss?"

The doorman's voice is oddly soft, reassuring. You turn to him and your eyes meet his. Pity is the first thing you see in him. And you can't even get angry. All you feel is humiliation. Your eyes water and you shake your head before he can speak.

"Can I sit at the table already? And order some food, please?" you whimper, almost crying.

"I'm sorry, your table was given a few hours ago, Miss…" His voice is so low that you can barely hear him. He's as embarrassed as you are by everything that's going on. So you nod, realizing it's too late, and make your way home. The rain doesn't bother you. The doorman's words make you forget about your phone, which you put in your jacket pocket.

Your boyfriend Jeongin didn't show up. This is the third date you've arranged with him. You've booked a nice restaurant and picked your best clothes, but all you get is silence and excuses from your boyfriend. You find it hard to believe him, to listen to his words without feeling like a bomb is building in your head, ready to explode at any moment. Feelings that merge between the passion and love you feel for him and the anger of his actions. The raindrops that fall on your eyes help to soothe your feelings, slowly washing away your frustration.

Back home, after your hot shower, dressed in the nightgown you bought especially for this evening, you sit down on the sofa. Your hand reaches into the pocket of the wet jacket you left on the living room floor, letting it soak the hardwood floors as you reach for your phone to send him a message.

9:43 pm Y/n - Hey, are you okay? Innie, are you ever going to write me back?

You turn the conversation up and wait for a reply from him. You've been sending him messages for three hours. He hasn't replied, but he's read them all. Your nose wrinkles in disbelief at his actions. Is he trying to dump you? That wouldn't be his style, and more importantly, you don't really understand why he wouldn't just be upfront about it. Jeongin has never been the kind of guy to make others suffer on purpose. At least you've never seen him like that. You sniffle, tuck a strand of wet hair behind your ear, and decide to write to someone else.

Two years ago...

Everyone pushes to the front of the store while you wait by the door, your drink in hand. You sip the liquid through the straw, lowering your sunglasses a little to watch the world rush by the new Louis Vuitton collection. The store is getting crowded because, apparently, a celebrity is planning to drop by to promote the new bags, and many fans are jostling to be there during the promotion. The chance to get up close and personal with their idol. Yet you turn on your heels and walk away to another store, bringing your phone to your lips after dropping the straw.

“The new bag will be promoted through a celebrity, Louis Vuitton's surge in popularity towards a female and less affluent audience seems to be accentuated through the same ambassador.��� You ramble on in your recording, trying to keep in mind sales figures before today in the hope of being able to compare before and after. As a fashion enthusiast, you like to do your little research in your corner, playing fashion journalist in your spare time alongside your accounting studies.

Your footsteps take you to another store and you smile softly, throwing away the drink you've just finished so as not to risk soiling the clothes inside. You're not rich, at least not rich enough to afford the clothes in there. You owe most of your wardrobe to friends who have much more money than you, to thrift shops and to your sewing skills, which you like to use to imitate luxury clothes. As long as it's an imitation, and you don't sell it or lie and say it's haute couture, you're in the clear. Right?

You hum as you walk through the premises, letting your eyes explore the sections in search of a rare, beautiful item, a garment that would make you want to copy, to recreate just for you. And finally, you find a pearl: shoes with a unique design that make you laugh softly. It's not something you see yourself wearing or even buying or copying, but you want to take a photo, send it to your friends just to show them your find and laugh along with them. However, as your hand rests on the shoes, another rests on yours. Apparently, the pair has attracted someone else.

You turn your head towards the person, quickly withdrawing your hand ready to apologize for your action and tell the person they can take the shoes when your eyes meet and you widen in surprise. The man has the same reaction as you as he scrutinizes you for a few seconds.

Matching.

You both matched.

Your imitation Alexander McQueen houndstooth dress that came to mid-thigh, your semi-opaque black polka-dot tights, your frilly black long socks, your black Mary-Janes and your black tweed jacket with silver buttons were a perfect match for his outfit. Wide black pants that half hide his black shoes with silver laces, his black top pressed against his body, his houndstooth jacket delicately draped over his shoulders, his silver belt adding a little color to the whole. A smile devours your lips as you hesitate a little before taking a step towards him. This kind of coincidence only happens in romantic movies. But you know that your life isn't a romantic movie. It never will be and you don't care that much about romance.

"We match, it's fun. You can take the shoes, I just wanted to take a picture, sorry. Can I take a picture of our outfits? I want to show my friends that I ran into someone who dresses like me?" He seems hesitant, has a mask over his face and tilts his head limply. Does he not speak your language? Or does he just not like the idea of having his photo taken by a stranger? You bite your lip softly, trying to calm your glee. "I won't take your face in, just your outfit. Promise."

As if he realizes you're not planning to let go until you get your picture, he nods and agrees to take the photo with you and as promised, you don't put his face in the picture. Just his body, so that he remains anonymous. Without waiting too long, you rush to send the photo to your best friend, all smiles.

“It's not every day I come across people who are this well-matched to me.”

“Can I have the picture too?” He speaks hesitantly and you look up at him for a few seconds, surprised. His voice is soft and his accent is easily perceptible. Perhaps the reason for his hesitation was mainly that he doesn't speak the same language as you? In any case, you can't help but find him cute, you smile a little more, soft blushes kissing your cheeks as you nod, giving him your approval for the photo.

After the photo, you took the time to chat. You began to speak more slowly, as if to give him time to understand you better and follow your rhythm.

He often lets out onomatopoeia to validate your words, as if he's a little embarrassed to speak. From time to time, you see him tapping on his phone before answering. It's as if he's looking for the translation of a word or is unsure of everything you're saying, but he's always invested in your words about fashio.

The two of you discover a lot of common ground as you lead him in the direction of a small French café. Without even realizing it, you've been spending two hours together, talking about everything and anything.

“Oh, in all this I realize I haven't even introduced myself, I'm Y/L/N Y/N, delighted to meet you. And you are?”

He seems to take a little time, hesitating a little as he looks left and right and you realize he still hasn't removed his mask from his face.

“Are you sick?”

He shakes his head and clears his throat before settling a little more comfortably into the chair on the terrace of the little café. The place is pretty empty, as everyone is focused on the Louis Vuitton store at the moment.

“Yang Bob. Nice to meet you.” You purse your lips and squint. He feels a shiver run down his back under your gaze.

“Korean?” He nods and you puff out your chest with pride at having managed to guess while you order a pastry and a drink, he does the same, a little more hesitant even as his gaze on you grows longer, more interested.

Yet, even if the mood isn't heavy, something seems to be bothering him and you can't guess what it is. You tilt your head for a few seconds, playing with the bouquet of flowers in front of you on the table. Your fingers caress the petals as you hum along to the Edith Piaf song playing in the background. You know it by heart from all the times you've come to this little café with your friends, and you've had fun looking up the lyrics on the Internet to understand the depth of the music and, above all, what she was singing. Around you, most of the tables are empty, it's not time for a coffee and everyone is busy elsewhere. You like this idea of having a moment of solitude and peace and….

You straighten up, looking up at him, and he flinches at your reaction. All along, he's been concentrating on you. Watching the way you blink as you admire the flowers, the way you press your lips together to hum the music, trying not to start singing for fear of mispronouncing the words, the delicacy of your fingers on the flower petals, so seeing you straighten up like this has surprised him and he clenches his fists, terrified of the words that are about to come out of your mouth.

“Is it because it's a date? Is that why you're uncomfortable? Maybe you want me to leave? I just wanted to show you the café, it's a nice place and from talking I got thirsty and- my purpose is in no way to force you to have a date with me.”

He laughs a little, his shoulders slackening and he shakes his head, his bangs hiding part of his eyes as he looks at you, amused by your words while you're in full inner panic at the idea of having said something stupid or done something stupid with him. His eyes shine with a mocking, mischievous gleam as he leans forward, his elbow against the table and his cheek against the palm of his hand. Suddenly, he seems to have gained all the confidence in the world while you feel lost, uncomfortable staring straight at him, searching for a logic to his reaction and not knowing what to do.

“What if I want it to be a date?”

You open your mouth before closing it again. His curly, light-brown hair delicately encircles his face, his brown eyes are bewitching and you feel like you'd lose your words if you looked at him too long. Clearly, you wouldn't mind a date with a man like him. You play with the menu on the table and look down a little, searching for your words.

“I guess the fact that our clothes match is a sign of fate, then.”

The apartment door opens on Jeongin, and he carefully pokes his head through to the other side. The place looks quiet except for the noises in the kitchen and the smell of coffee wafting through the air. He smiles softly as he enters and removes his shoes, the bouquet of flowers in his hands he clutches to his chest, nervous as he rehearses his text in his head, trying his best to remember what he needs to say to you to apologize for not being there for you the night before. He drops a plastic bag on the living room table, the bag containing food for the two of you, he thought he'd come before you were up, but he seems to have been late even for that.

“Babe, I brought break-” His voice rises in the treble and he drops the bouquet of flowers as he sees Henry, your best friend, in the kitchen, making coffee. His hair is still wet from his shower, he's wearing a black tank top and black jogging pants. The guest brings the glass of coffee to his lips as he turns to the voice, a little tired from his trip. But before Henry can say a word, Jeongin starts running in his direction, grabs him by the collar of his top and Henry drops his coffee cup: the cup shatters, the coffee spills onto the floor and Henry opens his eyes wide in shock, his leg slightly burnt by the hot coffee. Jeongin pins him against the wall, anger shining in his eyes along with frustration.

“Who are you? What are you doing here? What are you doing at my girlfriend's house?” His voice is cold, full of rage, he sounds like he's about to rip Henry's head off as you're awakened by the noise, coming out of your room still wrapped in the blanket. “Innie?! What are you doing? Let go of him! You'll hurt him!” You cough, your throat burning from your panic. The door opens once more, this time on Anny who arrives and looks at everyone, forgetting to take off her shoes as she rushes to the room. She's short of breath at the sight and before anyone can speak, Anny raises her hand, coming to slap you.

“How dare you cheat on Jeongjeong!”

“Oh the old hag, she'd better never touch my best friend like that again, if she doesn't want to end up six feet under.” Henry's voice drops into the depths as he pushes Jeongin free of his grip on him and runs to you to get a look at your cheek. “Best friend?” Jeongin blinks, trying to get things straight in his head as he tries to take in everything that's going on.

Finally, Henry, Anny and you go and sit on the sofa while Jeongin cleans the kitchen floor. His face is red with shame and his eyes wet with guilt.

You rub your cheek and avoid looking at Anny, who's frustrated enough as it is. Things are piling up about her and you're still trying to see one positive thing about her.

When Jeongin has finished cleaning up, he washes his hands and approaches you, gently caressing your cheek as he looks straight into your eyes. You can read the fear in his eyes, his hands tremble and his lower lip trembles under his desire to cry, to snuggle in your arms and beg you to excuse him. But he doesn't. Because he doesn't feel like showing off like this in front of everyone.

“Go away.”

“Babe-”

“No. Don't 'babe' me. Go away, Jeongin. You and Anny. Get out of my house. I don't want to see you. Just leave. All of you!” Your voice vibrates, anger burning inside you as you point to the door. Jeongin tries to approach, to take you against him, but Henry gets up and pushes him away from you, heading for the door with Jeongin.

“She told us to leave, so we'll listen to her wisely, hm?” Henry's tone left no room for refusal as he walked out with Anny and Jeongin, leaving you alone. And all you can do is cry.

Two years ago...

What an idea on Henry's part, to start fitness without doing the slightest bit of research first, all so he could go with his fiancé. You sigh, wrapping your index finger around a lock of hair. You enter your town's sporting goods store, your gaze on your phone as you read the list of products your friend needs for his workouts and the proteins he needs to start taking. A long sigh leaves your pink lips as you walk through the premises, smiling politely at the employees as you search for what you need.

Finding the protein he needs, you smile as you pick up the jar and look at it for a few seconds, tilting your head gently. You don't understand any of this stuff, but if it's what he wants, you can't see yourself not buying it for him. You feel a strange tingling at your side, as if someone is watching you. So slowly, a little nervously, you raise your head to smile at the person beside you, no doubt a salesman trying to inform you. But then you open your mouth, recognizing one of the boys who was with Bob during your date with him. You smile, eyes twinkling as he backs away a little as soon as he notices you recognize him and bows his head, hiding by pulling his cap down over his eyes.

“You're a friend of Bob's, aren't you? I'm the girl from the café.” You speak, trying to understand his reaction, why he's fleeing your gaze. You purse your lips, hoping your Korean isn't too terrible and being careful to use the polite form, given that you don't know his age. The man blinks when he hears you speak and lets out an “oooh” before looking at you, raising his eyes to yours.

“Hi, I didn't recognize you right away. I was just- I wanted to know if these proteins are good or not.” He points to the jar in your hands and you lower your head to it with a shrug. It's a local brand. That's all you know. The rest is a blur, the explanations at the back too complex for you.

“I couldn't say, it's for my friend, not for me. Ah, can I ask you a favor?”

He raises an eyebrow as you put the jar down again to grab a piece of paper from your bag and you quickly write your phone number on it before handing him the paper, all smiles. “My meeting with Bob went well, but I never got around to giving him my number. Finding you here is a bit of a sign of fate, isn't it? I'd be a fool not to take advantage of it. Could you give him my number, please? I'd really like to get to know him better and spend some time with him.”

After giving him the number, you pick up the jar of protein and let your gaze rest on the muscular arms of the man beside you. Clearly, he must love sports, given his physique. You smile a little more, your eyes shining. Just looking at him, you can already imagine him in different outfits that might show off his musculature. “If you ever have time, could you go to the gym with my best friend and his fiancé? They love it, maybe they can advise you on the protein of the place. Oh, take my number too and send me a message, I'll put you in touch!”

And already, with a smile on your face, you go to pay for your pot and walk away, waving to Changbin who just stands there in disbelief at your actions.

In the late afternoon, as he meets the boys back at the hotel, Chan is hugging Jeongin, a pouty look on his face as the younger tries his best to push him away. “It's our last day here before we head off to the next town and Innie hasn't managed to find his girlfriend! My baby is heartbroken.”

“Nonsense, first of all she's not my girlfriend and I'm not heartbroken” He grunts managing to flee from Chan's arms, leaving to hide behind Minho who looks at him with an amused expression. He missed it all, but Hyunjin hasn't failed to tell everyone how cute he was during his little one-on-one date. Changbin arrives, settling down on the sofa next to Felix and Seungmin while he watches Jeongin trying to escape his friends' nonsense. “It's our last night here, so let's give our fans a great experience.”

“Yeah, who knows, maybe his girlfriend will be in the stands.” Felix teases Jeongin in turn, turning to Hyunjin to mime the scene where the two lovers would meet. The red rises to Jeongin's face as he continues to complain about his elders' behavior. Changbin reaches into his pocket to pull out the little piece of paper with the phone number on it.

“I don't think his girlfriend knows who we are.”

"She's not my girlfriend! And no, I don't think she's coming either, not once has she spoken to me about my music or made any reflection on my identity."

“Ah, she's not your girlfriend?” Changbin smirks, showing the small folded paper in his hand. "Then can I throw away her phone number? She asked me to give it to you today, when I ran into her. But if she's not your girlfriend, I can just throw it away, right?“

”What? Give me that!" Jeongin runs to Changbin as everyone giggles at his reaction. His eldest asks for a hug against the phone number and, against all odds, Jeongin agrees to hug him, only long enough to steal the number and quickly walk away so he can read it in peace. Quickly, he pulls out his phone to record the number and tears up the paper so the others can't try to contact you. “I've got a call to make, don't come bothering me.” He walks away from everyone as they laugh, amused by his actions. They'd never imagined Jeongin acting so desperately.

"Maybe we should invite her, tonight?" Jisung smiled, looking at the door.

"Yeah, she makes him happy, so maybe we should, yeah."

The journey is silent. Edith Piaf plays on the radio while you stare out of the window, staring into space. In the front seat, Henry is chatting with your friend, they both seem to get on well, but you're not even surprised. Henry is a very social person, just like you, easily able to make friends and very free-spirited. You close your eyes for a few seconds, to rest while they chat, but the car stops at a gas station and the door opens.

"I'm going to get us something to drink, the rest of the journey's going to be quite long. Would you like something to drink, Y/N?" You answer your friend with a tired wave and she drives off with Henry, leaving you alone in the car. You sigh, your forehead against the window as you can hear Henry's laughter in the distance.

The back door of the car opens and you frown, turning your head towards the door. “I really didn't need anything-” You fall silent, mouth ajar as Jeongin sits down beside you.

His eyes are red, his clothes askew. He looks you straight in the eye for a few seconds, then glances at the suitcases in the back of the car, then turns to you again. Slowly, he understands. And slowly, you understand that he already knows everything. "Are you leaving? Why? Why are you leaving? Because of me? Please, please, don't go, Y/n..."

He reaches out to take you against him, but when he sees you recoil, he pulls his arms back so as not to touch you, tears streaming down his cheeks, his voice stuck in his throat as he searches for words, unable to know what to say to make you stay close to him. His gaze never leaves you, analyzing your every move in pursuit of an answer, a solution to the problem. You sigh, shaking your head.

"It's not because of you. Not entirely!" You run a hand through your hair, tears threatening to fall. "The internship at the company, the fact that I don't speak Korean very well, the fact that I have to work on top of the internship in order to pay for my apartment, the fact that I'm far from my family, my friends and the fact that suddenly, because I've confessed my feelings, my boyfriend decides to walk away from me? It's just too much. I've cracked, Jeongin. I've- I've resigned. My work visa is coming to an end with my resignation. I have no choice but to leave."

His face deteriorates. You've always told him the internship was complicated. Life in Korea isn't the easiest, but you jumped on the internship and flew to Korea to be close to him. You often told him how hard it was. But he always asked Anny to be gentle with you, ever since he learned she was your boss.

"I'm sorry. I should have been there for you. I should have..."

"Yes. Past tense. You should have. You didn't. It's too late now. Please, just go. Don't make it harder. And you've got a flight to catch, your world tour is starting soon, just go."

He frowns, shaking his head as he approaches you, pulling you to him for a hug. He places a kiss on your forehead, holding you against him as you break down. You start to cry.

"Dispatch will be waiting for me on the next flight. You can't wait. I refuse to make you wait any longer. I want to stay with you, find a solution with you."

Gently, you shake your head, staying against him. You didn't even question how he knew where you were. You know your friend wasn't the one to tell him about your departure. But the fact that she gets out of the car with Henry just as Jeongin enters isn't a coincidence, and you know it. “Maybe it's for the best that way.”

“Please don't say that...” His voice breaks and he puts his hands on your cheeks to lift your face to him, resting his lips against yours in the hope of awakening the flame in you, the passion in you. But the passion never left. Your love for him never left you. "Stay with me, babe. I love you. I... I love you so much, I-"

You smile, wrinkling your nose at his words and putting your hands on his cheeks in return. "I told you you don't have to force yourself to tell me, silly. But I love you too. With all my being, I love you, Innie." You pause for a second, noticing his eyes. He's waiting for the ‘but’. He's waiting for the reason why you're going to leave him for good. And you don't make him wait too long. "But life in Korea is harder than I ever imagined. And starting with an internship isn't necessarily the easiest thing. I love you, but I need to think about my life and my future. For that, I have to go back home. I'll be back. If you're still waiting for me, I'll come back when my Korean is more stable and I'm able to earn enough to pay taxes without depending on the state or a second job."

He slides his hands over your waist, pulling you back against him and gently kissing your forehead. The mood is more tender. You gently caress his hand and he feels his shoulders relax a little more. He nods.

"Until you get back, I'm going to clean up my friendships. I'll keep in touch with Henry and you. I'm going to learn to be a better boyfriend."

"You're already the best. You just have to stop keeping things to yourself and agree to open up a little more to me."

He holds you a little tighter, cradling his head against your shoulder and stays that way for a little while, enjoying your scent. "Don't forget me, please. Come back to me." You nod without moving more than that, your hand caressing his back slowly.

After a moment, the door opens and your friends return to the car. Henry turns to you and looks at you with a huge smile on his lips before glowering at Jeongin. “You hurt her again and I'll hit you!”

"Innie, are you coming with us to the airport? Won't you be late for your flight?" Your eunnie looked at Jeongin from the rearview mirror and he smiled, shaking his head, saying he planned to catch the next flight. But even so, they were going to have to hurry: you were going to Gimpo airport and he to Incheon airport, it was about a two-hour drive between the two. Your eunnie winced a little, resting a hand on her chest as she stared at the road. “We'll drop y/n off first and I'll drop you off there.”

During the drive, you enjoy your last moments with Jeongin, you discuss what you're going to do, he orders you to write to him every five seconds and, as if telling you his feelings has changed him, he keeps kissing you, whispering ‘I love you’ at every turn, as if trying to make up for all the opportunities he'd missed.

Once at the airport, he pulls you back against his chest and strokes your hair. "Are you leaving for good? Really?" Sadness shows in his voice, he still hasn't come to terms with it.

“It's not like we're going to see each other often, you're going on a world tour, I'll remind you.” You laugh against his chest, squeezing him a little tighter. He kisses the top of your head, smiling against your hair, you can feel him relax. "I'm going to send you some concert tickets. You'd better come and listen to me. And invite your family, I'm going to meet them."

You put on a pouty face at the thought of introducing him to your family, and he kisses your lips gently before letting go. "We need some space, Innie. Use this time to get your priorities straight. When I get back, we'll see if our relationship is still worth it or not."

"You'll see! I'm going to be the best boyfriend in the world! I'll be waiting for you, my love. I love you!" You burst out laughing as you hear him and, holding Henry's hand, you walk away, your heart a little lighter, Edith Piaf's voice in your ears.

There was a time when you were the one who cleaned glasses in cafés. Now you're the lover bidding farewell to your beloved.

On the way home, Jeongin hops up and down in the passenger seat, constantly looking at his phone waiting to hear back from you, groaning every time he gets nothing. “Noona, she hasn't answered me for two minutes!” His noona lets out a little ‘hm’ from her lips, staying focused on the road. But when he turns his head to look at her, her cheeks are flushed and she seems to be sweating profusely. He frowns and gasps as she closes her eyes. Jeongin reaches for the steering wheel and lets out a panicked cry, trying to manage things. All he hears after that is the squeal of car tires on wet pavement and then, total darkness.

[butterbananabread]

Boys will be boys {L. Minho}

Pairing : Bangchan x fem!reader WC : 6,5k SS : 13 Genre : angst, suggestive, smau Warning : angst, cheating, voyeurism, one sided love A/N : Part 3 of Boys will be boys, this one is centered around Minho and his girl friend. It begins right when the part 2 ends, Chan's girlfriend just left him after finding out that she is pregnant and not wanting to destroy Chan's career.

You fiddle with your bunny keychain while your manager explains what you have to do. It's your first day working as a sound engineer at a Stray Kids concert. You have experience in the business, having worked for Hybe in the past. But you've changed companies since your accident with Hybe and one of the singers. However, JYPE isn't the safest place in the world for you: Minho is there, too, and you're hoping to go unnoticed. Especially since you know who you're hiding in your room.

When your manager stops talking, giving you the schedules and assigning you an assistant. You've arrived two days earlier than the others so you can test the equipment, but today you have to do the test directly with the group members. Looking at the preparations left by your manager, you sit down in front of the controls and raise your glass of hot chocolate to your lips, headphones on. The sound is different, through your ears. You watch the scene from a distance and wait for the members to arrive.

Seungmin arrives first, greeting everyone and approaching you to say hello. He has a slight smile on his face and looks shy and uncomfortable as he searches for your name, a badge. As if he's not sure if he recognizes you. You put your glass on the floor, away from the electronic wires, and stand up to greet him.

“Good morning, I wasn't expecting you to come and greet me- my name is Y/l/n Y/n. Nice to meet you."

You look up at him and he nods, his mouth forming a small "o" as he bends down to introduce himself before walking away. His action forces you to purse your lips, uncomfortable in your turn. "Do you always do this?" He pauses and turns to face you. You feel your skin burn as you play with the laces of your sweatshirt. "I mean - do you often go around greeting all the staff?"

Seungmin looks at the others and tilts his head. It's early, most of the members are still sleeping or playing, they don't have to be there for the warm-up. He just likes to arrive a little earlier than the others. He blinks, straightens up a bit, and shakes his head, smiling at you when he sees your worried look. "No. Usually only Chan takes the time to greet everyone. But he's not feeling well, so I'll do it for him."

It's not his duty to do it in Chan's place. It's nobody's place to do that. Still, she's grateful to him for making the effort. "That's very kind - hm... Thank you for taking care of us." You thank him with a hand over your heart and a big smile on your face before returning to your seat, half-hiding under your sweatshirt as you try to concentrate on the quality of the sound as he continues the round of greetings.

After a while, the members arrive one by one. It's the first time you've really seen them. But you can't help smiling as you manage to put a name to each face. You look at Han Jisung and think of your friend who never stops writing in capital letters. You look at Seungmin and the image of another friend comes to mind. Each of the boys is related to a girl you know. With the exception of Hyunjin.

When everyone arrives, Chan is one of the last to arrive. He enters the stage with Minho by his side. He is perfectly groomed and his makeup is perfect. But his eyes are elsewhere, lost on the horizon. He picks up his microphone, looks down at his phone as if waiting for someone to answer, and you lean forward to discreetly take a picture of him.

"Y/n? Already playing stalker?" Your assistant leans over to look at the photo on your phone, an amused smile on his lips. You shake your head, hide your phone, and frown in surprise at his behavior and words. But you say nothing, unable to speak up and explain what you've just done. It's officially your first day, and you'd better keep a low profile. How do you explain that you did this to show your friend his condition so she knows how much Chan needs her and that their breakup was too brutal for him? He'll think you're some kind of psycho for that.

Lost in thought, you adjust the high-frequency sensing power on Changbin's mic. His mic starts to ring in the rapper's ears, Changbin lets out a shriek as he removes his headphones and looks at his mic, disturbed.

"Oi, Binnie, are you okay?" Hyunjin approaches him to see what the problem is. Jisung's eyes turn to him.

"No, my microphone is acting up, it's set wrong."

"You're not the only one, Chan's is lower than usual." Minho points out. Chris shrugs, runs his hand over his face to wake himself up and mumbles that it doesn't bother him any more. Chris sighs.

"Bear with it. If I remember correctly, we have a new sound engineer."

"Yeah, she's pretty young too." Seungmin adds to Chan's words. He brings the microphone to his lips, his eyes turned in your direction. "Y/n sshi, can you turn up the volume on the old man's microphone? He's deaf so he doesn't notice the problem with his microphone." He lets out a small laugh and looks at Chan, who gives him a small tap on the shoulder. But his tap is weak, without the slightest force.

Minho looks at Seungmin and raises an eyebrow at his words. As everyone goes back on stage and talks into their microphones to see if the volume is more appropriate, you grimace and hide your face. You can't calm your anger at yourself. So you concentrated on adjusting the microphones while Minho and Seungmin chatted, occasionally waving to the fans who were there to listen.

"Shall we take a break now?" Your assistant turns to you, eyes shining with fatigue. It's still an hour before the concert starts and the manager has to check the sound himself. So you get up to get something to eat, taking your empty glass with you. On the way, you play nervously with your phone, balancing it in your hands and wondering when you'll be able to talk to your friends, listening with one distracted ear to your assistant who can't stop talking to you.

When you reach the back, your assistant stops first, greeting a few people more formally, and that's enough to get your attention. You turn to the people as well, greeting them in turn without really looking at them. When you raise your head, your blood runs cold.

Minho. Lee Minho. Lee Know.

He looks at your assistant and then at you, not even seeming to notice you. He quickly waves you off and continues on his way without another word. And you feel tears building up in your eyes. You lower your eyes and start walking to the room where all the staff is meeting for lunch, picking up your phone and stepping away from everyone so you can chat with the girls.

Your hands shake as you type on your keyboard, you sniffle, hiding under your sweatshirt as you check the time on your phone. Soon you'll have to get back to work. You'll have to get behind your sound keyboard and listen to Minho's voice in your ears. And he will pretend that you don't really exist. As if you weren't really there.

Your assistant lands next to you, pats you on the shoulder, and you jump. You turn to him, your eyes red and tears rolling down your cheeks. He looks at you in panic and jumps to his feet, hands in the air, trying to look innocent.

"I didn't do anything!"

"I-I know-I..." You search for your words, your face turning to the other staff who look at you without really understanding, and you dry your tears as you get up and leave the room. "I'll go back to work first."

Seven years ago...

The rain pours down as Minho leaves the main JYPE building. He watches the rain fall, his heart heavy with the realization that he will not be able to continue the adventure. For a few seconds, he feels unable to speak, so he puts his hands in his pockets and stares at the rain without saying a word. He hesitates to call a taxi or even to take his umbrella, and finally decides to continue walking. The rain falls on his face, soaking his hair and forcing his eyelids to close. He takes a deep breath, trying not to cry, and moves away from the building to make sure the cameras don't catch him in a moment of weakness.

He doesn't know what to say to his parents. "I failed"? Such simple words, but so full of meaning. He doesn't want to be a disgrace to his family. For himself. A tiny mistake has earned him a place in the group and a much too quick elimination. Going home sounds like a way to punish him. He doesn't even have the strength to call a taxi. Minho politely refuses the help of the JYPE staff and continues on his way, preferring to enjoy the solitude of the night and reflect on what just happened.

A sneeze leaves his lips and he closes his eyes, lowers his head a little to compose himself and lets out a curse into the rain.

But the rain stops. He still hears it, but doesn't feel it. Heavy breathing can be heard next to him and further away he can see a taxi that seems to be waiting for someone. For him.

Minho looks up, blinking in surprise, and turns his head in your direction, frowning.

"Y/n?" He acts like you're a mirage. He reaches out his hand to touch your cheek, to prove that you're real. Then he steps back, trying to pull himself together as he frowns. "What are you doing here? Don't you have school tomorrow?"

"Idiot! What are you doing in the rain?" Your voice shakes. Even though Minho is the one who got eliminated, you're the one crying. Heart broken by the news. Your breathing is fast, your cheeks are red as he approaches you, trying to calm you down, making you speak lower so as not to draw attention to yourself. He's sweet, caring. Almost loving to you.

"When a cat does something stupid, do you spray water on them?"

"What? No! What are you talking about?" He begins to panic. Did you fall on your head? Why would you even ask him something like that when you know how much he loves cats?

"If a cat falls and gets hurt, if a cat limps and meows for help, do you spray water on them? Do you punish them for something they can't change? They tried their hardest but they failed because of the tiniest mistake ever, do you tell them to punish themselves?" Your voice gets louder with each example. You cough a little, not used to forcing so much down your throat. Tears fall down your cheeks, snot dripps from your nose. Your gaze look for his, but you can't find him.

"No, of course not." He calms down a bit, trying to understand what you're getting at. What's hurting you.

You move forward a little, slip your hand into his to squeeze a little tighter, and look him straight in the eyes. "So tell me, why is it that when it's you, you spray yourself with water? Why do you refuse to look for shelter? Why do you refuse a warm embrace from those who love you? Why are you standing in the rain and not in a taxi on your way home? Why do you treat other cats with tenderness, but forget to treat the cat you are with kindness?"

You lower your head. The pain you feel is great. Sympathy pierces your heart at the sight of Minho in the rain, punishing himself for something he didn't do wrong. Surprise appears on his face as he grimaces and tries to hold back his tears a little more.

You were always sweet to him. Shy. The kind of girl who never speaks, but always watch and learn. Your smile was like a gift tenderly wrapped in a cotton candy scented box. "Thank you." His voice is soft. His thumb caress the back of your hand. "Thank you for looking after the cat that I am."

He squeezes your hand a little tighter and nods, walking with you to the taxi. He looks at the rain, protected by your umbrella, close to your body, your love swathed him softly.

You sit in the back with him and grab a towel from your backpack to start drying his hair. He grunts as he takes the towel from your hands, mumbles that he's capable of drying himself, and watches you for a few seconds.

"Did Minzi send you?" Your body freezes. You let go of his hand and purse your lips. "I don't know how she knew so fast. She really is amazing." Your hand slides up your thigh and your eyes wander to the cab window. Silence fills the car as he taps his phone and wipes his hair, sending a message to Minzi.

Suddenly, everything felt heavy. suffocating. You almost miss the rain and the loud noise from the cars. Surrounded by loneliness and pain, you become deaf to his laughter as he texts her. Not you. Her.

Minzi could have come. She should have. Because the moment you heard he'd been eliminated, you ran out of your house to see him. Minzi? She didn't move from her bed, tired, preferring to wait for him to come home. You're the one who did it all. You're the one who begged Minzi to come. You're the one who finally came to him because she was too lazy.

But you weren't her. You werent as pretty as her. As clever. As full of life.

The taxi door opens and Minho gets out first, a big smile on his lips, while Minzi runs to throw herself into his arms, they kiss as you pay the driver, walking past them and into the house to get a towel to dry off a bit. A short time later, they both return. Minzi lifts her chocolate eyes to you and smiles.

"Sis, I'm going to Minho's, he wants me to be there to break the news to his parents." And without another word she closes the door. Minho doesn't even look at you as he leaves for his house. Forgeting who came for him.

Every step you take makes your heart ache a little more. Each step you climb brings tears to your eyes. Your hands, weak and shaking from the cold, cling to the banister as you climb up to the attic, your room.

You like it. It's big, spacious, and comfortable. But what you love most about your room is the view.

You go to your bedroom window and bend down to look out. From there you can see Minho's room. You smile a little, sit down on the floor and pull your knees up to your chest as he lies down on his bed, pulling Minzi against him for a kiss.

And you imagine yourself in your sister's place.

You imagine Minho's lips on yours. Your breath shakes, your cheeks burn and you feel your core quivers as the thought of him looking at you the way he looks at her.

But nobody knows how much you love him. Nobody ever care.

It's your first time at a Stray Kids concert. The crowd is going wild, everyone is talking and shouting, the fans are happy, the boys are jumping all over the stage. But your eyes never leave Minho. Your smile is sweet as your hand caresses your thigh in gentle circles, your attention is elsewhere.

Your assistant turns his head towards you, looking at you with an amused smile on his lips as he leans down to pock your cheek. You frown at him. He smiles a little wider. "I know someone who has a crush on Minho!" You smile softly at him, not responding to his comment, and continue to watch the show, making sure the sound is adjusted.

His eyes are always on you, as if he's watching your every move. You pull your jacket neatly over your shoulders and run your tongue over your lips, trying to ignore his gaze that burns your cheek.

Seungmin grabs Changbin's microphone to yell into it. You quickly adjust the volume of the microphones so that Changbin's ear doesn't hurt too much. As you do so, you feel your assistant's hand brush against yours. You try to ignore the contact, quickly understanding what he's trying to do, and pull your chair back a little further, giving him an uncomfortable smile, hoping he'll understand the message you're trying to convey. But his eyes sparkle. He seems pleased that you're smiling at him.

Suddenly, the concert is long. Too long. You fumble with your phone, sending an SOS to your friends, hoping that one of them will be able to get you out of this situation. Panic wells up in your throat as your eyes begin to moisten again, and you're ready to cry.

It's your biggest flaw.

Did you stub your little toe? Did you get a bad grade? Did they run out of your favorite ice cream flavor? You still remember all the times you cried because your friends were late in wishing you happy birthday. But despite all your tears, your friends never let you down.

And once again, they came to your rescue: Princess sends a message saying she'll take care of the problem, and a few minutes later, a woman arrives asking your assistant if he'll follow her for a check-up. You don't know how Princess always manages to have direct control over everything going on around you, but your shoulders relax as you settle back a little more comfortably in your seat.

“Princess has been using her strange fairy godmother powers again?” a delicate voice echoes as your friend settles down beside you. She watches the whole concert from the auditorium, taking your assistant's headphones and placing them on her ears as she looks at you. You smile back, placing a kiss on her cheek. “As always. Thanks for being here, Noona. I didn't want to be alone. You are like... My second fairy godmother.”

It's your first day at work and everything seems incredibly complicated. Between your assistant who seems a little too clingy for your liking, Minho who didn't seem happy to see you, and the breakup between your friend and Chan, you feel like everything is falling apart around you.

Your eyes burn and you close them. "Do you... do you think I should quit? Apparently he's already asked around if they can change the sound engineer for the next gig."

"What an asshole." Your friend mumbles under her breath as she watches the scene, then shakes her head after a few seconds of thought. Her eyes are full of determination and confidence. You admire her for it. Because you know you'll never have half her mental strength.

"I think you should prove yourself. Stay here, earn your money, show that you're good at your job and make him understand that his presence won't hurt you anymore. After what happened at Hybe's, JYPE is the best thing that could happen to you. This is your chance to show him that you've moved on. Everything's going to be okay, Bunny."

Your head rests on your friend's shoulder as she strokes your back. The rest of the evening is quiet. No one speaks. Soon you can hear your friend's soft breathing as she falls asleep next to you. But you don't blame her. How can you blame her when she's come all this way for you?

And when the concert is over, the lights go down, and everyone leaves, you sit there with your friend. You admire the stars, the silence, the beauty of the universe next to you. The beauty of the universe right in front of you.

Even though it all seems fleeting, you're glad you got a glimpse of it, if only for a few seconds.

"The sound was better than usual, I like the new sound engineer, she's talented and cute." Felix smiles and hums as he removes his makeup. His gaze rests on the mirror in front of him, trying to catch his friends' eyes through his reflection. Seungmin looks to his side and smiles slightly as he takes off his top.

"Is there a single person here that you don't think is talented and cute?" He laughs a little as he reaches for his hoodie to get dressed and warm up, fatigue starting to creep through his limbs. He expects nothing more than to be able to lie down in his bed and get some sleep. Tomorrow morning they have to catch a plane to their next destination: Australia.

Felix is excited to get home and see his family. Chan, on the other hand, seems lost. He keeps looking at his phone, and it doesn't take a genius to figure out what he's looking at. Seungmin falls onto the sofa in the room and pinches his nose as he tilts his head back and closes his eyes to catch his breath.

"But it's true she's good. And cute." He opens his left eye and looks in Minho's direction. He silently removes his makeup. "Minho Hyung, I heard you know her, is that true?"

Minho stops in mid-action. He frowns as the others turn around to hear him. He clears his throat. "Who told you that?"

"Does it really matter?"

"Did she tell you?" He turns to Seungmin and refuses to answer his question. Seungmin has a small smile on his lips, amused by his elder's fuzzy answers. He shakes his head and opens his mouth to answer. But Jeongin's phone starts to ring.

Everyone falls silent.

Jeongin walks over to his phone and looks at it. "It's an unknown number."

The silence lasts a few seconds as he hesitates to answer, unsure. Very often, in this kind of situation, it could be a sasaeng. He waits, hoping the person will hang up, but the phone continues to vibrate. Chan stands up, lets out a long sigh, and finally picks it up, turning on the speaker as he leans over to the phone.

"Hi? Who is this?" His voice is low, filled with fatigue and anger that he tries hard to hide. He stomps his feet, hands on his waist as he leans forward toward the phone.

"Hello...? Yang Jeongin-sshi?..." Your voice is hesitant. You don't remember Jeongin's voice being so deep. So cold. But you've never talked to him before, so that's probably why. You run your tongue over your lips. "It's Y/n, I-"

"What do you want with him?" Minho turns to the phone, gets up from his chair and approaches the phone, trying to find out why you're calling Jeongin. "How did you get his number? Leave him alone."

"Ah, Y/n, hello!" Seungmin adds, amused to hear you when they were just talking about you. If Jeongin's girlfriend was here, she would probably talk about faith.

At the other end of the phone, you startle. Surprised to hear Minho's voice. Automatically, his accusatory tone brings tears to your eyes and your hands shake a little more, already forgetting Seungmin's softer tone. "I-it's on speaker...? Can I talk to Yang Jeongin-sshi alone...? Please. It's kinda- personnal." Your voice trembles and becomes thinner, discreet.

"If you have something to say to him, say it in front of us."

You hesitate. Your gaze falls on your friend sleeping next to you. Slowly, you sniffle and shake your head.

"Excuse me for disturbing you." You hang up, frightened after hearing Minho's voice. He frightens you as much as you love him. He hurts you as much as he makes you feel good.

"What was that?" Changbin looks at Minho, surprised by his friend's behavior. But he says nothing more and sits down to continue removing his makeup. Everyone looks at him uncomprehendingly and Jeongin picks up his phone again.

"How did she get my number? And why didn't you let me talk to her? I wonder what she wanted with me."

"She probably got your number through the girls, apparently she's in the same group as the other girls and they're super close. She's even Princess' best friend." Seungmin added with a shrug, still looking at Minho. His behavior didn't go unnoticed after all.

"Princess' best friend? Innie, can you give me her number?" Felix's eyes sparkle and he stands up all at once to approach the maknae, phone in hand, ready to get your number. But Jeongin is busy looking at Minho.

"Why did you talk to her like that if she's a friend of the girls? Don't you like her?"

Minho finishes removing his makeup and gets up to change. He does it slowly, ignoring everyone's stares, as if none of it matters to him. Once he's changed, he puts his hands in his pockets and gets ready to leave, looking at his friend.

"You should block her number. And tell the girls to stay away from her. She's nothing but a Sasaeng." And with that, he closes the door and leaves, leaving them to their own devices.

You watch the stars from the engineering room, knees on your chest, tears in your eyes. Your friend is sleeping peacefully next to you and you don't have the strength to wake her up. So you let her sleep and stay with her to watch over her. You think back to Minho's tone, to his words, and the pain in your heart is stronger than ever.

Maybe you shouldn't have accepted this job. But it's too late to change. It's too late to do anything else.

Maybe it's even too late for you to think of a better future for you.

A few minutes later, you hear someone knocking on the door. You turn your head, drying your tears and biting your lower lip, not knowing what to say. The door opens and you see Jeongin's face. He looks at you for a few seconds, then turns to your friend, a broad smile on his lips. His eyes crinkle and you understand a little more why everyone compares him to a fox.

"Noona!"

"She's sleeping-"

"Oh."

He puts a hand over his mouth and walks over to his friend to watch her sleep peacefully. As he does so, you allow yourself to admire his gaze. Up close, he's even more handsome than he looks on the big screens, and he has a smile that would melt anyone's heart. You can see why everyone wants to hug him.

"I called to ask if you could help me carry her up to my room without us being noticed or waking her up. I'm sorry for bothering you."

He shakes his head, slips an arm under his friend's knees to carry her in his arms and watches her sleepy face. "When Seungmin told me you were friends with the girls, I thought it must be important. Neither my girlfriend nor my noona would give out my phone number if it wasn't for something they thought was important. Thank you for calling me. It means a lot to me."

You walk silently to your room. You play nervously with the sleeves of your sweatshirt as he follows, careful not to wake your friend. Once in your room, he gently places her on your bed and comes to take off her shoes and cover her up.

"Thank you for taking care of her for me. I'm glad to know she can count on someone during the tour. I can't always look after her and right now, she does need someone to be with her."

He looks at you and you lower your head, unable to hold his gaze. But strangely, even as you mumble a small "thank you" that seems to be stuck halfway in your throat, he stays there, letting his fingers rub against his thighs in an intense moment of reflection.

"Minho Hyung doesn't seem to like you."

"I know..." Your voice is cut off by a hiccup and you already feel tears welling up in your eyes. You're about to cry.

"Don't cry! Please" He leans towards you but doesn't touch you, looking towards the bed, hoping not to wake his friend under the panic he feels. "I didn't mean to make you cry. I just... wanted to ask why?"

Your gaze straightens at him, and despite the tears, you stare, confused.

"Didn't he tell you?"

"Yes, but I'd like to hear your side of the story."

"You don't believe him?"

For a few seconds he said nothing, just shrugged.

"Noona has always cared for me. My girlfriend loves me with all her heart. I don't see why the people I love would be friends with a Sasaeng or give my number to a sasaeng." He tilts his head slightly, the silence of the room having a soothing aura after all the noise of the concert. "And for the last few days I've been thinking that it's important to hear the two sides of every story. Misunderstandings happen too easily."

His words make you open your mouth. But no words come out. Your eyes become moist and you purse your lips, remembering the day Minho began to see you differently.

A year ago...

The moaning from the room below makes you frown. You take off your headphones, knowing full well that these sounds are not coming from your music, and look towards your window. From there you can see Minho's room.

The window is closed.

Minho is a creature of habit. He only closes his bedroom window when he's sleeping or when he's not in his room. And since he has become a K-pop idol, he rarely comes to his parents' house. You always know when he's there, the cats get your attention, and his parents are always static when he comes to visit.

Soonie rubs against your leg and meows. Normally, if Minho were here, Soonie would already be out looking for him.

You put your pen down on your desk and slowly get up to walk over to the door and open it, trying to hear what's going on. The moaning is intense and you recognize your sister's voice.

With light steps you go down to the lower floor and approach your sister's door, opening it slowly and silently. It's not right, you shouldn't do this. It's just not right. But your curiosity gets the better of you.

And as soon as you saw it, you closed the door and ran into your room to double lock the door, your heart pounding in your chest. As tears stung your eyes, you picked up your phone and dialed Minho's number, bringing the phone to your ear and covering your lips with your hand so as not to risk screaming and alerting your sister of your presence in the house.

"Hm? Y/n? Everything okay?" You rarely call him, especially when he's on tour. Which he is, judging by his tired voice, even though it's barely six in the afternoon. On the other side you hear the rustle of blankets and a long yawn.

"Sorry, did I wake you?"

"No, no. Don't cry, okay? I'm already awake, you're not disturbing me. You never disturb me." Even though he's not there, you can feel his smile through the phone and your heart feels a little lighter. Even though the tears are still rolling down your cheeks. "You're crying, aren't you?" His voice sounds almost amused, as if he knows you too well.

A small laugh leaves your lips, and for a few seconds you almost forget why you called him. "Guilty." You purse your lips, your hand caressing the top of Doongie's head as he meows softly. "How's your tour going?"

As much as you'd like to tell him what's going on downstairs, you don't feel up to it. Not while he's on tour.

"Yes, but I miss my children. Can I talk to them?" You turn on the speaker and the three cats automatically approach the phone and meow softly, happy to hear it. While the cats are on the phone with Minho, you put the headphones back on your ears, trying to block out the annoying sounds that are parasitizing your room.

After a moment, the silence seems to become present and you slowly remove the headphones.

"Y/n? Are you still there?"

"Yes, I'm here, Minho! Sorry, I was lost in thought."

"Are you sure everything is okay?" His voice becomes more present, as if he can sense that there's a concern, even through the phone. You don't know what to tell him, so you pick up your stuffed animal from your bed and hug it to your chest.

"Yeah, just a little tired. I really miss you. And the kids miss you a lot."

He laughs.

"They're with their mother and their favorite aunt, so I'm sure they're fine. Give Minzi a kiss for me. I tried to send her a message earlier, but she hasn't seen it yet, she must be studying."

A thousand words press against your lips, the desire to shout to him that no, Minzi isn't studying. No, Minzi is not a busy person. Minzi is a person who has found a completely different interest in the world. And that interest is not Minho. At least not this time.

"You heard us." She doesn't even try to hide it, her coffee mug in her hands, snuggled in her favorite blanket, she sits on the couch and look at you, her eyes seem sad. Filled with sorrow. But no regret. "I truly love him, you know?" You can't answer that. Do you know? How much your sister loves Minho? She cheated on him while his cats where there. In front of his freaking kids. But you can't say a word. Worries burn down your throat.

"Will you tell him?"

"I told you I love him. Isn't the answer obvious?" She straightens her back, still fixing you, judging your actions as if you are her biggest enemy right now. "If I say a word, he will leave me."

"He deserves to know."

"Does he? He is the first one to cheat on me. Always on tour, always doing aegyo for strangers. Forgetting his own girlfriend." Her voice rises as anger burns inside her small body. "I was there before his fame. Now, all I get is money and a few text messages. I want more. I need physical attention. And he can't give me that."

"Then shouldn't you... Leave him?" You mumble, lost in your thoughts while you get down to pat Doongie's fur. "If you're not happy, you should leave him. You are both suffering right now. And that not good, right?"

"He has money and fame. I can find love when he's not around." She sips a bit of her coffee, still looking at you. "If you tell him that I see other men, I will hurt you. So don't do anything dumb."

The choice is both difficult and easy. What can you do? Choose your personal happiness, knowing that your neighbor and your first love is suffering, or become your sister's brimstone, knowing that at least your first love can move on? You bowed your head and became your sister's shadow, fearing her even more than before, shutting yourself off from the world. But the truth was about to come out. You refused to be fooled.

The day Minho returned from his tour, he came straight to his parents and their cats. He cuddled them for hours and slept peacefully in their arms. You didn't have the courage to face him. So you broke the news to him through a message. Was there a better way? No doubt there was. But the fear of seeing him self-destruct in front of you was far greater than the rest.

Still, the rest came crashing down on you.

The next day, everyone is ready to board the plane for the next destination: Australia. Jeongin is in the van with the boys, Seungmin looks at him from time to time with a small smile on his lips and leans over to whisper a few words in his ear. His friend frowns and puts a little more distance between them.

"Hyung, what is it?"

"I found it." Seungmin shows him his cell phone. A photo of you and Joshua having lunch in a small cafe. "She used to work at Hybe before she came to JYPE. But she was fired because of dating rumors between her and Joshua."

He opens his eyes wider and leans toward the photo. You have a big smile on your face as you chat happily in front of Joshua, "They look good together." The words escape him as he wrinkles his nose before raising his eyes to Seungmin. "Were they really together?"

"I asked Changbin Hyung for Lee Chan's number from Seventeen. Apparently it was them. They weren't officially a couple, but they often went on dates together, and when the rumor spread, she was fired from Hybe. But apparently she and Joshua still write to each other and see each other whenever they can. He even said he will visit us on tour just for her.

He sit back more comfortably in his seat and look at the photo for a few seconds before turning off his phone and putting it away. The airport is not far away, they have to get ready for the fans. Seungmin yawns a little. "Where were you last night? You came quite late to your room."

"I was with Bunny. We talked a lot."

"Bunny?"

"Y/n, that's her official nickname."

Immediately his friend starts to tease him, wondering when you two got so close in such a short time. In the back, Minho looks at them with crossed arms and furrowed brow. Minzi still hasn't answered his messages. And the fact that you have a relationship with Joshua from Seventeen doesn't please him at all.

Why Joshua? They look nothing alike. He has absolutely nothing in common. So why him? He shifts a little in his seat, struggling to find a comfortable position, and closes his eyes, suddenly annoyed for some reason that escapes him. He got used to ignoring you. But now that he has to see you everyday and that you seem to have moved on, it annoys him. He hates this feeling that creeps inside of his chest at the tought of you with another man.

[butterbananabread]

part eleven | litotes // serial killer!Kim Seungmin/afab reader

WC: 15k

RATING: mature/mdni—contains: family trauma (specifically mother/daughter), casual racism, self harm, suicide mention, miscarriage mention, blood play, cannibalism (just a little), things staring ominously from a distance (again), hallucinations

SYNOPSIS: Seungmin floats through life alone, haunted by his memories—keeping himself under control, and quieting his mind the only way he knows how…killing and watching the life leave his victims eyes. When you cross his path on a morning hunt, something new (something forgotten) starts to move inside of him, leading both of you on a path to confront the unspeakable past.

COMMENTS: The first chapter to be given a proper title at posting! And the meaning of this title is a hint for what’s to come in part twelve. Take your time reading...reread everything after this if you'd like (I know a few of you that like doing that, and it's amazing to think about—seriously). I will have part twelve up before I leave for my dominate concerts.

[ ML — DEITY MASTERLIST AND TAGLIST]

[ PLAYLIST PARTS 1—6 ]

The quiet in his head becomes unbearable, and he never imagined he would think that. Quiet. Beautiful, comfortable silence—that’s what he has with you when he gets into bed every night. This isn’t the same.

Seungmin didn’t always come home to his big empty bed at night, not before you came around. Sometimes he would close a bar, stumble to an empty park and will something to come out of the darkness for him in his drunken stupor. Some nights he would check into a hotel just to look at something different for a change. The monotonous torment of his existence became intolerable too often.

He came very close to telling you and Heecheol about his state of mind last spring—May 23rd, to be exact. Seungmin checked into a motel not unlike the Dalkkum in Hongcheon, and the only thing he brought along with him was every pill he could find. Before he went through with it, or almost did, he sat in a hot bath and watched the full moon move across the sky for an hour or so…however long it took the water to go cold—and instead of acting on his big plans, he drank the bottle of champagne he was going to wash everything down with, and a second bottle, and then he passed out on the balcony.

The next morning, he didn’t really want to die anymore. Not as much, at least. The anniversary of that day could have been bad. The anniversary of his mother’s death could have been worse. It wasn’t, because you were there with him.

“Stop…” he pushes until Heecheol releases him. “Please, I can’t.” Seungmin is far too gentle, but…he also kept going and kissed right back, so what right does he have to overreact now? The sting of his lips remains even after Heecheol turns away, but first he looks Seungmin up and down like he’s just realizing he’s in the room. “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”

It takes him a few beats before he can turn and force a smile. “It’s fine.”

The static hasn’t returned, at least. The room is still too quiet, too warm, too heavy. Seungmin isn’t quite sure what to do now aside from leave. “I should get back home. Tokki is all alone with the boys.”

“I was going to ask if I could take you two out for dinner, but I guess that wouldn’t work with two little ones.” It’s not the awkwardness of the kiss he’s concerned about, it’s the babies. “But ordering in is always an option. I’m sure getting a good dinner on the table is tough while taking care of them.”

No, Seungmin thinks. He isn’t sure how taxing things will become in the next few weeks and months, but he’s looking forward to finding out. “I’m not sure—“

“Look, I’m sorry I was kind of forward there. But you didn’t…forget it.”

“Today might not be the best for getting together.”

Heecheol turns away again and starts undressing. First his shirt, up and over his head and thrown to the floor. He pulls at his waistband, but the sweats remain on for now, to Seungmin’s relief. Now he remembers his phone going off, and he knows it’s you before he even looks at the screen.

my mother is here

He has to check the name again. Yeah, it’s you—maybe you mistyped, or spoke into your phone and it didn’t hear correctly. Maybe you were just talking to the boys. This day can’t get much more strange. “Huh?” A stupid response, but he feels stupid right now. Heecheol’s eyes are burning right through him as he waits for your reply.

are you almost home?

Thank god he is. The apartment is only a quick walk away. “Yeah, I’ll be there in ten”. “I have to go. I’ll text you.”

“Will you?”

Seungmin isn’t sure how to answer that, but he tries not to huff in frustration. “If I don’t…you text me.”

“Are you going to tell her?”

“I tell her everything.”

***

How does your mother know where you live? Well, because you told her. But you’ve never received so much as a letter from anyone. No gifts or care packages filled with comforts from home, hardly a phone call. Why travel so far when you can’t even text?

The elevator ride is excruciatingly slow, and he can’t even hold his hands still enough to slide the key in the deadbolt. Seungmin is nervous, but the day hasn’t been kind to him. He has reason to feel like he’s going to vomit at any moment.

“Seungmin…” You walk to him, arms folded over your chest, and he knows why. One of the babies is crying in his cot, the other is working his way to the same volume. “She’s in the nursery.”

“Why?”

“Checking it.”

“Checking…checking what?”

She pops out, and Seungmin is actually relieved. The image in his mind was much scarier than what just appeared in front of him, but still, her face is sour. She looks like you, but not so much that it’s an undeniable mother/daughter relationship. She could just as easily be your aunt, or an older sister.

“You must be…” she stops to think, and her accent is much more severe than yours. “Forgive me, I just learned it fifteen minutes ago.”

“Seungmin,” you repeat.

Her eyes move between the two of you. She’s saying it under her breath, as if she’s trying to get a feel for how to say it out loud. S-sungmin, is what comes out. “Well, it’s nice to finally meet the reason…reasons…my daughter never came home.”

She turns away and looks at them. They’re together in their cot, surrounded by the laundry you were folding. The tv is still playing, and Seungmin wants to laugh again when the Twilight Zone theme starts playing in the silent room. He holds it in, but he can’t hold in his smile when he sees them, slowly quieting and soothing each other. How does he respond to that, though? Seungmin looks to you, but your eyes are on the floor, arms still folded across your chest. “Uh, well, I take good care of her if that is a concern.”

The resemblance is a little stronger now. Her lips purse, and she folds her arms across herself just like you do. “Your English is very good.” She sucks her teeth like he tends to do.

“Thank you. Her Korean is getting very good.” Seungmin smiles in your direction, but you look like you’re going to vomit.

“Oh is that right?” Now her hands drop to her hips. “I’m surprised, you never were to good with your school work. And…”

You watch his face grow red, and the clench of his jaw is obvious, especially as she makes her way to the cot. He takes a step closer, and you do the same.

Seungmin jumps when she spins to face you. “And this. Twins! Didn’t think it was in the cards for you, considering…”

Considering what? Seungmin doesn’t say it, but you can tell he’s thinking it. Your mother is being purposely vague and her saccharine voice and smile are making you sick. If she thinks there’s some chance of pushing the two of you apart, she’ll go for it.

Considering what? You know what she’s thinking of course, and you’re surprised she didn’t come out and say the word. Seungmin doesn’t know, and it’s not because you purposely kept it from him—there is nothing to gain by keeping secrets in this house. Maybe it was your fear keeping you from saying the word and dwelling on the possibility even more, or perhaps putting the thought in Seungmin’s head scared you. He was already so worried.

Another smile for you, sweet, but with a question mark behind it. “Excuse us for a moment.” He says, eyes fixed on you, and his fingers gently grip your wrist. Reading him his easier now, but at the moment, your racing heart and swirling stomach aren’t quite sure what to think. Seungmin closes the door, leaving just enough space for him to peek out, and pulls you into his arms. “Don’t worry.”

“I’m not.”

“Liar.” He laughs. “I can handle her attitude. I can handle it for both of us.”

“I’m sorry…there are things I should have told you—“

“We can talk about it later, if you want. First we handle this.” Seungmin looks through the crack in the door. Your mother hasn’t approached the boys, and they’re still quiet. “Fresh shirt?” He starts pulling it over your head before you answer. “She won’t get under my skin.”

***

The whole apartment feels off with someone new in it. It wasn’t quite like this with Heecheol…oh, Seungmin almost forgot. How could he forget? It wasn’t just the kiss that made things weird—everything, including Heecheol himself, was strange. This is more manageable, regardless of how uncomfortable everyone is going to be. She looks at the two of you briefly, then walks toward the cot again. The moment she reaches in, Seungmin reacts. “Have you washed up?”

“Excuse me?”

The moment of awkward silence is excruciating.

You chime in first. “We always wash up and change if we’ve been out…before we touch them. They’re, um, we can’t risk them getting sick.”

“How early were they?” She backs up and eyes the kitchen sink, and you can tell she wants to touch them, hold them. She can’t help it. It doesn’t matter how much she might not actually like Seungmin and your sons, she won’t pass up the opportunity to hold a baby.

“They were due September 4th, and born on June 1st.”

The urge to hold them is too strong, because she heads for the kitchen to wash her hands. But not before looking Seungmin in the eyes. “Lucky.”

They were lucky. Lucky that you kept them alive long enough, and lucky they were healthy when they arrived. Bad luck used followed you everywhere, but not anymore. Now Seungmin follows you everywhere.

“What are my grandson’s names?” Haneul is wrapped tight and scooped up first, and she looks him over with a weird curiosity. “My only grandbabies. Never thought I’d see the day, and that it would be you. Definitely never thought—“

“That is Haneul,” Seungmin interrupts. “Ha…neul.” He repeats it slowly and clearly, but you know she won’t appreciate his patience with this, or with her. “And Haesung. Haesung is his little brother.”

“Do they have middle names…nicknames?”

You jump in before Seungmin gets a chance. “No. Haneul and Haesung.” Letting her call them something else is out of the question.

“No cute nicknames yet.” Seungmin lies, but he sounds convincing. Haneul was Sky before he was born, and Haesung eventually became the new Puppy.

“Shame they look nothing like you.”

“Why are you here? Did you fly all this way just to…just to torment me?”

“You’ll never learn to respect your mother, will you, girl?” Haneul is placed back in his cot, and she takes a moment to touch Haesung’s cheek before turning her full attention to you. “Well, now that you are one, maybe you’ll appreciate how much work it takes. Hopefully your boyfriend…husband…doesn’t go dying on you like your father did.”

The air feels too heavy to breathe, and you’re not sure if it’s the mention of your father’s death, something she never talks about, or the intrusive thought of losing Seungmin. The sleep walk into the woods started it, and it’s been off and on since then. He seems unfazed by the comment, but he has to be—all of it has to be trying to dig in.

His mouth twitches. “Husband.” A week after leaving the hospital, you made your marriage official. “I don’t plan on it.” Seungmin moves between her and the cot so they can see him again. Both have quickly given in to their exhaustion.

“We never do.”

It didn’t take much convincing to get her to leave after the awkward first meeting. Seungmin booked her the only room he could find—the same hotel where Heecheol is currently staying—and sent her on her way. This won’t be the end of her, though. Your mother has never stepped foot in an airport before getting on a plane to Seoul, and she’s never wanted anything to do with you unless it was for her own benefit. She didn’t fly all this way for one brief encounter.

“When she asked for my address, I assumed she wanted to send something. This is not what I imagined. And no warning.”

As irritating as it was, Seungmin can’t help but find it amusing. “The no warning part doesn’t surprise me, for some reason.” He turns on his side and puts a hand on Haesung’s full stomach, and when he closes his eyes, the rest of his day comes rushing back to him. “Oh,” they pop open, but you don’t react. You’re sitting up, focused, drawing pad in your lap—the sound of the pencil moving back and forth on the paper seems to be as soothing to the boys as it is to Seungmin. “Today...earlier today, before I got home.”

“Oh, the guy? You said it was a bust.”

He glances up at you, and you’re staring hard. The pencil goes straight to your mouth as you wait, and he can see your teeth start to work on it. It’s only been a few weeks since you painted the mural in the nursery, and since then you’ve started reclaiming a small part of the former you he never knew. Seungmin can feel you becoming lighter and happier as you adjust to the new life with him and the babies…not just you and him. Neither of you had much time to find each other anywhere but on the surface, or at your very cores. Now you get to explore everything inbetween.

And now he has to tell you he kissed someone else.

The graphite hits the paper again, and the next move you make is ripping it from the pad and crushing it in your fist. “I had a miscarriage a few years ago. I almost died.”

“What?”

“I didn’t know I was pregnant, and it…well, it didn’t grow where it was supposed to. And I almost bled to death.”

“You…almost died?”

"I was relieved when I got that first ultrasound and saw that they were in the right place.” You take a long, hard look at him, and then your pencil is on the paper again. “Hold still for a second.”

Seungmin listens. He doesn’t blink, or let his mouth twitch into the frown he’s holding back. All he wants is to move closer, pull all three of you into his arms and hold on tight. Months ago, he truly thought he wouldn’t have enough of himself for all of you, and he was wrong.

Haesung isn’t happy about being moved from his warm spot on the bed, but you tuck him comfortably into his cot. Seungmin does the same with Haneul, and you remain back to back until they begin dozing off again. And then the bed moves, and you feel him getting close. A hand wraps gently around the back of your neck, but his fingertips only graze and fall away from you. Seungmin reaches for the crumpled piece of paper and smooths it out the best he can. A rough sketch stares back at him—his eyes, the slope of his nose, and the soft curves of his jaw. It’s a good depiction of him…like looking at a faded photograph, but seeing it through the eyes of whoever took it. It’s how you see him. He crumples it up again, and wonders why you were unsatisfied with it.

“Sometimes when I’m in bed with you, when I can’t sleep, I think about that night.” It comes from nowhere. You’re not sure why you mention it at all.

The memory is now tucked away where he has to reach for it to truly remember. He counts in his head, seven months…three weeks? Here the two of you are, two babies, and it’s barely been eight months since you’ve crossed paths. Seungmin prefers remembering that very first encounter on the street…walking you home. He likes thinking back to how it felt to fall for someone so quickly and (for him) recklessly; how it felt to want to touch you, to draw pain and pleasure from you. Break your neck, kiss you, find the fear that was already rising to the surface, and then protect you from it.

He looks at you now like he looked at you then, the strange, mysterious thing that you still are. “Why do you think about it?”

Seungmin seems surprised when you turn to your sketch pad again. “I try to remember everything, exactly how I felt and what was going through my head. It’s hard. Maybe I blocked some of it out.”

“What do you remember?”

“I still remember where I went when everything went dark. The pain of giving birth brought back memories from that first time. It went dark then, too. A different dark, but…”

He’s hypnotized by the measured movements of your hand, but he hears every word you say. You’ve died before, came back, died again.

Your attention turns to the walls around you, the half open curtain being moved by the warm breeze. “I remember being so afraid of dying in this room when you tucked me back into bed. The locked door, the knife. The pain I was in...”

“I was worried. I was afraid you’d get hurt if you tried running home in the dark. And that I’d never see you again. I actually thought I’d be able to explain myself and change your mind by morning.”

“The thoughts running through my head that night might surprise you.”

“Like?”

For no reason, you feel embarrassed to admit it. “I wanted you closer when you got back into bed, but I guess that could have been the tea taking hold.”

“I wanted you to feel safe. That’s all that mattered, but it was impossible.”

“Waking up the next morning was nice, until I remembered. Everything after that was adrenaline.”

Seungmin moves closer, “even the kiss?”

“We talked about the kiss.”

“We did," he whispers. “The way I saw that night in my mind was perfect. I was going to be different, finally…I don’t think I knew it then. I didn’t know how much I just wanted to fall asleep and wake up with you still there.” Even after all this time, saying every word that comes to him, no filter, feels like jumping. Fight or flight tries to kick in. Looking back and forth between the babies grounds him again. “I’m glad you kissed me, even if it was mostly to distract me.”

The nerves in his voice are more obvious than he thinks. “Mostly because I couldn’t resist your mouth.”

He laughs, and his entire body relaxes into his fluffed up pillows.

The sketchpad is back on your side table, and a quick peak into the cot lets you know Haesung is sound asleep. “I still can’t.” You wait for him to look at you, and eventually, he does.

Seungmin’s smile creeps slowly across his lips as he examines your face. He peeks into Haneul’s cot—sound asleep—and then back at you.

“She’ll try to pull us apart. I know she will.” That’s why you brought it up, but it didn’t occur to you until just this moment. “I’ve never been allowed to be happy or satisfied, not in peace. I thought I finally won by being seven thousand miles away.”

The smile fades quickly, and he struggles for a moment to find the right words. What is it you need to hear? Seungmin can tell you a million times how much he loves you… “nothing can pull us apart, just—“ He stops himself. The word still hanging on the tip of his tongue, he doesn’t know why he thinks it. Death. “She can try if she wants to, but she’s going up against me.”

You’ve missed his cocky attitude. He’s become so good and soft, and sometimes you forget who still lives deep down inside. Seungmin can still drive his knife into someone’s neck if he feels like it, or slam their face into a wall. He’ll break his knuckles sending a message. “C’mere.”

“Hm?”

“Get over here,” you purr, and pull your shirt over your head.

Seungmin’s eyes drop to your chest, and his tongue pokes out as they jump back to your eyes. His crawl to you is slow, and he cages you in with his arms as he comes down for a kiss. The heat is already radiating from him when his shirt comes off, but he pulls back.

The lamplight from your side of the bed illuminates the deep cuts across his chest. They look fresh, ready to bleed again. “What’s this?” You latch onto his arm and hold him there. “Minnie?” He flinches when your thumb grazes the length of the biggest, deepest one, but relaxes almost immediately. “Did you just do this?”

“Yes…”

“Why?” The look on his face as you touch it makes you think he just needed to feel something under his skin, and he still needs that. Or maybe it’s more penance. You push again, glide your finger across it, and his stomach tightens as he quietly moans. Fresh blood trickles out when your nail digs in, and Seungmin grips the pillow beneath your head to steady himself. Another release. The satisfaction in his face sends a pulse up your thighs, and he can feel it—your legs are forced open, and he’s easing his fingers into you before your mouth can close around the newly opened wound. His gentle touch, the sharp taste of his blood…your head swims and you ache for more of him. Your teeth sink into skin, and the warm metallic taste fills your mouth as his fingers are replaced with the impatient push of his cock.

“More,” he whines. Blood continues to trickle, but it slows. The pressure from your tongue seems to hit the right spot, but not for long. “More…please.” He’s careful, and you know he’s using all of his restraint to fuck you slowly. Seungmin pushes into you and against your mouth for more.

You close your lips around him and suck at the hot, salty skin; bite until you taste more blood. Every moan makes you bite down a little harder, and as his pace picks up and you feel an orgasm rising, your teeth sink in and break new skin. The sound he makes is beyond any climax you’ve given him—pain and relief mixed with ecstasy. He struggles to hold himself steady, but you pull him down against you, kiss up his chest and neck, and make even more of a mess. “Minnie…are you okay?”

Seungmin kisses you deeply and cleans the blood from your lips. “No, you’re being too gentle on me.”

“Gentle?” You look down at the open cuts and bite marks on his chest. He smiles when you touch him again. “Too gentle?” And he laughs when you lock your legs around his hips.

“Let me feel how much you love me.”

He doesn’t have to ask again. You grab his shoulders and sink your teeth in, and this time you don’t think about the pain you cause him, the mess you’ll make…the mark that’ll be left behind. Seungmin groans as you break the skin again, and he licks his lips as you pull away with a piece of him between your teeth. You keep your eyes on him—you can’t look at what you did yet, but…

His soft cry hits your ears. Haesung, little brother, who sometimes feels like Haneul’s big brother. What time is it? That cry forces you out of whatever trance you’re in, no matter how deep it is. You wipe at your mouth in your half-sleep, and then your eyes open to the pitch black of the bedroom. The smell of blood is still in your nose, and you jump up when you remember… “Min?” You reach and set your hand on his stomach, warm and damp with sweat, and you don’t move until you feel him take a breath.

Haesung cries again, just for a moment. He’s coming out of the same deep sleep you are.

“Seungmin?” Your eyes start to wake up, and your vision clears. The marks on his chest are red and angry and fresh, but not much worse than they were before you got your hands on them.

Seungmin stirs when you run a finger across them again. He mumbles and closes his hand around yours, and sighs when you kiss his chest. “Hey, you alright?”

“Had a weird dream.” You wipe at your mouth and bring blood back on the heel of your palm. “You should probably work on pulling out until I get back on birth control.”

“Oh, you think you’ll get pregnant again?”

“It’s possible. I’m not sure I’m ready for that yet.”

“Yet?” He sits up and kisses your cheek. “Tell me about your dream.”

“I bit some…flesh off of you, and I think I ate it.”

“Oh?”

You weren’t sure what kind of reaction to expect, but the little grin on his face isn’t very surprising. “Yeah, while we were having sex.”

He notices you examining his chest, and looks down at it himself. “You ate a piece of me…” he whispers, and the grin doesn’t fade. “Would you consider this a dream…or a nightmare?” Seungmin wipes at your mouth and stares you down as he waits for an answer.

“Somewhere in between. Do you have a fetish you haven’t told me about?”

“No, but the thought of you doing it and enjoying yourself is a little hot. So…maybe, yes.” He looks around nervously, fidgets with the blanket. “It feels romantic.”

“Consuming your lover to have him be a part of you forever…romantic? Yes, but having you here with me is so much nicer.”

“Okay, I won’t ask you to...eat me. But thank you for confirming what I already knew.”

You slide your hand across his thigh and onto his growing cock. “What’s that?”

“Dangsineun isanghaeyo.”

***

Seungmin doesn’t resist when you clean and bandage the newly open cuts on his chest. He tossed and turned and scratched in his sleep, and the sheets were smeared with bright, fresh blood before you changed them. He looks up at you with tired eyes as you work—maybe something else. He looks sleepy and sad, like he’s still waiting on more forgiveness from you, but there’s nothing more to forgive right now. You bend down and kiss him, and he returns it with a smile.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?”

He shakes his head and sits up, “thank you.”

“They have to go outside today, I almost forgot. They have their first check-up in a few hours.”

“That’s right.” Seungmin crawls to the cot and scoops up a mostly awake Haneul. “We get to see how well you two are doing, and how much weight you’ve put on with us.” He holds him against his bandaged chest, and you can hear the soft noises coming from Haneul. “You feel a little heavier, buddy. Dongsaengeul hwaginhae bopssida.”

Haesung is asleep, and he’s still. The moment you lay your eyes on him, your body goes cold. “Haesung?” Something feels off about him.

Seungmin is up and on your side of the bed a moment later, Haneul still in his arms. Maybe you’re overreacting and he’s in a deeper sleep than usual, but he’s pale, and the only movement is the tiny flutter of his lashes. You grab his foot and rub the skin, and he gives a half-hearted kick, “something is wrong,” and a feeble cry. You take Haneul from him, but Seungmin is surprisingly calm as he sits at the edge of the bed.

“Mwo-ga jalmotdwaesneoyo? What is it, puppy? Jo wassoyo.” He sets his palm on Haesung’s forehead, tilts his chin up, and his eyes flutter open.

You’re too scared to say anything.

Seungmin looks back at you and forces a smile, but his attention returns to Haesung. He rolls him onto his side and rubs his back, and you start to wonder if he prepared himself for something like this. Why didn’t you? You got comfortable and felt safe too quickly—how could you be so careless?

After another two seconds of slow, excruciating silence, Haesung sucks in a lungful of air and starts to cry. It feels like the delivery room all over again; the horrible silence, holding your breath for the smallest cry. This one grows louder and louder, and you’ve never heard anything so wonderful. Haneul squirms a little in your arms, and he decides to match his brother’s screams.

“I’m sorry.” Your throat tightens up, and the tears that roll down your cheek fall onto Haneul’s messy hair. You watch as another follows, and from the corner of your eye, you see Seungmin reach for you.

“Sorry, why?” He wipes at your cheek, but it doesn’t make stopping any easier.

“I panicked. You didn’t.”

He shakes his head and smiles again, much easier this time. “Last month my therapist told me…reminded me…I have gangbak jangae, very strong intrusive thoughts. I think we talked about this before.”

You nod at him and wipe at the tears burning your eyes. “We have.”

His mind jumps back to the static in Heecheol’s hotel room. “Not just the voices, or the noises. Or the urges. I haven’t told you how scared I’ve been of something happening once we got them home.”

“No, you haven’t. You’ve been so confident, and perfect.”

“I’ve been staying up all night…watching them, talking to them, learning everything I can.“

“Learning?”

“How to care for them. What to do if something happens. I’m sure you’ve realized I shut off your alarm once or twice to let you sleep. I fed and changed them. Because I was already awake.”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m sore, and you’re so tired.”

Seungmin is careful picking up Haesung, but he seems fine now. His cheeks are pink, and his cries don’t quiet until he’s safe against Seungmin’s chest. “Sore?”

“I have to feed them, or pump every time I get up or they get a little painful…but—" his face falls, “but it’s not that bad.”

“I’m sorry, I thought I was helping.”

The look in his eyes hurts. Seungmin hasn’t done much in the past few months except prepare, but he’ll beat himself up for this, you know that. “Five or six solid hours of sleep is a good exchange for some soreness. But promise me you’ll sleep.”

“Promise. I’ll sleep when we get back. We’re going to the hospital now so Haesung can get looked at.”

***

It looks like a smile, but it can’t be yet. It’s too early, but Seungmin is going to pretend that’s what he saw anyway. Haneul just yawns back at his dad’s excited laugh, and luckily, Haesung follows with a cry for attention. “I’m right here, pup.”

Haesung was sent home after a few hours with a clean bill of health, so you’re convinced you overreacted this morning, but still, both of you will be on high alert for the next few days—sleeping in shifts, mostly. One of you has to be awake with them 24/7, and you know Seungmin will insist on taking the brunt of it. He’s already doing it, sending you away for a nap when he told you he’d rest after their appointment.

“Minnie, you promised, just for a few hours…get into bed and close your eyes.” He’s still quietly singing when you walk up behind him and rub his back—for a minute there, I lost myself…I lost myself. Even as he sits hunched over on the living room floor, his hushed singing voice is pretty, but he’s still so shy about it. “Please, puppy.”

That grabs his attention, and he turns his head toward you. “Can we talk first?”

“Sure, what about?”

“About yesterday, when I was following that guy. Heecheol texted me, and I ended up losing track of him.” That doesn’t feel right. “Actually, I thought I heard him…his voice, I heard him calling out, but he wasn’t there. That distracted me.”

“That’s understandable. But he texted you, too?”

Seungmin is relieved he doesn’t have to explain the intricacies of his mind to you. “Yeah, he’s here in Seoul. I sent your mother to the same hotel he’s staying at. But I also visited him, and that’s where I was when you told me she was here.”

“Oh, how is he?”

“Uh, he kissed me.” His chest hurts from how erratic his breathing has become. He wasn’t expecting to just come out with it.

You keep quiet for a moment while you think. You admit this isn’t the biggest shock, but Seungmin’s uneasiness means there’s more to it.

“He asked me to visit, so I figured I’d stop before heading home, since it was on the way…”

“And you kissed him back?”

All he can manage is a nod while he nuzzles his face against Haesung. Tiny fingers clench around a lock of hair and tug, and Seungmin smiles despite the sick feeling in his stomach.

“Did you,” you stop and give yourself another moment. “H-how do you feel about it now?”

“Strange. I don’t know why I did it.”

He stares at you, waiting for something…anything. Are you angry? Maybe you should be, but you don’t feel anything boiling to the surface, or ripping at the seams right now. There’s a knot in your stomach bouncing around, giving you that weird homesick feeling you get when you think too much about the past, or the uncertain future.

His eyes move from Haesung to you. Seungmin usually has no problem with eye contact, but tonight that’s not the case. Every time the intensity gets to be too much for him, they find something else.

“What was going through your mind when it happened, before it happened?”

Most of it is just coming back to him. “I felt off when I got there, but I was already feeling that when I heard his voice in my head.”

“Off how?”

“Uhm, dizzy. Everything was loud, like how I feel when it gets really bad.”

You set a hand on him, move your fingers through his hair. “But you didn’t want to kill him, I assume.”

Seungmin still can’t wrap his head around how intense and uncomfortable everything was until the moment they made contact. “No. Everything calmed down when he kissed me.” Maybe he didn't have to mention that part. Seungmin looks at you when you don’t respond, and one Xanax later he finally goes to sleep.

*

A good first check-up has done wonders for some of your anxieties (now you have new ones), but you still find yourself glancing at both of them much more frequently as you get comfortable on the floor. It doesn’t last long. Your phone vibrates and you know who it is before checking.

So, are you two going to take me out for dinner?

She can’t be serious. Two preemies, barely settled at home, and she expects to be taken out to dinner. But you’re not surprised, because selfish comes naturally to your mother. Why didn’t your sister come along and entertain her? It may have been slightly more stressful, but it’s better than her being alone.

“We aren’t taking the babies out anywhere crowded yet, but I can order in and we can have dinner here in a few hours.”

hours?

“Seungmin just went to try and sleep. He’s been up all night.”

aren’t you supposed to be the one up all night?

Oh my god. "Don’t worry, mom, I was still up every 2.5 hours. I’ll send you a ride at 7. In the meantime, go outside and try some street food. It’s nice out today.”

You decide to ignore the next message, but nothing comes. They both stare up at you with sleepy eyes, and you watch as they get closer and closer to it. Now you sneak to the bedroom, quietly click the door open, and walk softly (and quickly) to the sketchpad in your drawer. Seungmin already seems to be out. He has to be, because there’s no hint of a scowl, no pinched eyebrows. But he definitely fell asleep anxious about his confession…as he should.

The second sketch you started last night feels better than the first, but not having him next to you for reference makes it difficult. You pull up your camera roll and open the album you made just for this—every angle of him you managed to capture in the last week; awake, sleeping, candid, and a few where he actually smiled sweetly for you. Looking at him like this makes him feel distant somehow, like you should be aching for him even though he in the next room. It almost makes you want to push away the bad creeping up inside of you and get into bed with him. Could that make things better? Would giving in and forgiving be easier?

After a solid two hours, your hand starts to cramp. Haesung starts to stir again, and this time he’s up fast and hungry. Seungmin will hear him, and you can’t have that yet. “Are you hungry, pup?” He doesn’t settle right away when you set him against your chest, but as soon as you get him into the right position, he knows he’s getting what he wants. “Maybe we can get you fed before your brother wakes up." But that’s unlikely, and you know it. Haneul will know his brother is up, so you might as well make a bottle now. Seungmin is awake, though, so your plans of working on the music box after they eat will have to wait. It will get fixed someday.

“Minnie?” The noise coming from the bedroom gets louder, and it’s odd. Haesung is back on his pillow while you check on him, and being put back down gets him crying again. “I’ll be ten seconds, sweetheart. I promise.” The look he gives you feels like understanding, but he only quiets for a moment. “Hana…” You keep your eyes on him as he looks around for you. “…dul…set…”

The doorknob clicks loudly despite your best efforts. “Net…daaasut…" The room is dark, as if it were already well passed sunset, but your eyes start to adjust and pick up the scene in front of you. “Yeo— Seungmin?”

The movement at the edge of the bed isn’t right. It feels off, and it’s not even because of the popping in your ears or the spots in your eyes. It’s the dark shape, much darker than the room around it; the shape of Seungmin still under the covers; both things existing in the same space. The shape isn’t him. Of course it isn’t him, you know that, because the thing at the edge of the bed is wrong. It doesn’t belong here. You can smell it. The feeling of dread you felt in the woods is here, in the house…in the bedroom, looming over him. The charm around your neck feels heavy as you sneak toward the light, but when your fingers touch it, the thing moves. “J-jeoli gayo.” Under your breath, because nothing else will come out.

Finally, the lamp is within reach, and when light fills the corner of the bedroom, it’s gone. There’s nothing except him—the steady breaths of Seungmin beneath the covers, and Daengmo peeking up from your side of the bed. You’re just tired. Even after your nap, you’re sleep deprived and anxious about the babies…

“Oh…boys.”

Both cry in unison right as you think it, and the shape is almost forgotten as you run back to them. The first thing you see is them tucked safely in their spots, both red in the face. The second thing you see is it…again. No, it’s them. Yours, white and soft with painfully blue eyes, and his, the inverted version—as black as the shape, but this isn’t what you saw a moment ago.

You kneel in front of the boys, set your hands on them, but your attention doesn’t leave the dogs. “What do you want?” It comes out like a whisper caught in your chest. As soon as one baby begins to settle, the white one stands on all fours and stretches like a cat before disappearing into the nursery. The other one doesn’t move yet. He’s staring you down with eyes like the ones you wake up to every morning, and as Haneul finally quiets, the dog looks to its left, then its right, and he bounces away. “It’s okay, boys, umma is here, and daddy will be up soon. Everything is okay.”

“Daddy is awake.”

When you look back, he’s mid-yawn and mid-stretch, and a tired smile is plastered across his face. “You barely slept.” And whatever was in there with him couldn’t have helped. He had to have felt something.

“I feel good, though. It was a good sleep.”

“Was it?” You have to tell him what you saw. “No bad dreams?”

He shakes his head and joins you on the floor. “No bad dreams, not that I remember.”

Maybe later would be better. It’s not the most ideal thing to be dwelling on over dinner, so for now you focus on remembering every detail for when the time does come. “Are you hungry?”

***

Even when he dresses up, it’s still casual—his closet is full of the most basic pieces, yet somehow, whatever he throws together looks like it was styled by a professional. He’s always effortlessly cool, and it’s not surprising how easily he seems to pick up the men and women he goes for. Tonight is no different, except that he looks…cute. When he walks out of the bedroom, he laughs at the look on your face.

The black denim shorts hit just above his knee, just tight enough around his slender thighs; socks pulled up tight; an overpriced white t-shirt under a short sleeve button-up. There’s a little embroidered bear on the chest pocket, and Seungmin runs his hand over it and makes sure you see. He has his black rim glasses on tonight to pull it all together.

You jump up and flatten the front of your outfit. “It’s just dinner, you didn’t have to go crazy.” The green linen dress you bought in December, the one that looked like the dress you lost along with the rest of your belongings, is just as casual. The most important part is that it still fits you the same way it did when you tried it on, so you’re back to your old self, physically. “That bear looks familiar.”

“I put the same one on the overalls they don’t fit into yet.”

“Oh, no bear for me?”

Seungmin doesn’t always catch your sarcasm. “There were only three, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, as long as you guys match.”

“What’s for dinner? And are we prepared for her?”

You tidied up and set the table, yes, but mentally preparing yourself is pointless. The amount of effort you put into yourself, the apartment, and the babies will not matter, but you try anyway. “I put rice on, and there’s plenty of banchan left. I was going to order bulgogi since she didn’t give us much time. That might be tame enough for her.”

“Order it now, and we can pretend we cooked everything. I’ll go pick her up, and I’ll take my time.”

Seungmin doesn’t have to take his time, because the traffic does all the work for him. The food will be delivered and ready to serve while he sits at this red light, he thinks. This is why he only drives when it’s truly necessary, and he guesses this is one of those times—whatever keeps your mother happy and off your back is worth the extra annoyance to him.

“You can tell her I’m here.” He's not keen on the idea of her having his phone number. And now is the perfect opportunity to close his eyes...

“Seungmin?”

It doesn’t get through to him the first time. He’s reclined in his seat, music playing softly.

“Mo!”

“Fuck, what? Oh…”

“Sorry buddy, didn’t realize you actually fell asleep. I don’t think you can park here long, though.” Heecheol leans in a little, hands gripping the car door. “I can show you where the parking lot is.”

He’s still not completely with it until he sits up and grabs the steering wheel. “No, no I’m not staying. I’m just picking Tokki’s mother up. She’s staying here, since we don’t have the extra room anymore.”

“Oh. Gotcha. I thought maybe I was getting a visitor. I wasn’t sure if you got my message yesterday.”

Blood rushes to his face, through his ears. Heecheol says something else, but he misses it completely. He wasn’t sure if he got the text? “Cheoli, I was here yesterday. In your room. Don’t you remember?” Another night of drinking too much, perhaps. Maybe Heecheol was drunk yesterday, but Seungmin would have tasted it on him. He looks at the brace on his wrist, and wonders if he’s on a particularly strong pain medication, or maybe he was just high from swiping pills from work. No, what the fuck am I thinking?

“Mo, I think I would remember you visiting me.”

So he doesn’t remember the kiss. Heecheol doesn’t remember him almost fainting on his room, pushing him away after they shoved their tongues down each other’s throats like they’ve been waiting years to do it. Meanwhile, Seungmin can’t get the feeling out of his mind. Now what. “I must have had a very strange, vivid dream them.” He opens the glove compartment and pulls out the pack of cigarettes stashed there, and he goes as far as striking a match before realizing what he’s doing. He shakes the flame away and throws the pack back where he got it. A cigarette is what he needs right now, and what he can’t have.

“Yeah, I guess so. And her mom is here?”

“She surprised us with a visit yesterday. And I see her coming right now.”

“Oh yeah, I can see the resemblance. I’ll leave you to it, and maybe I’ll see you soon. Cute shirt.”

Heecheol tugs at Seungmin’s collar before he walks off, and now he’s left alone while your mother approaches. Her scowl actually makes him nervous, but you told him she looks like that all the time…and he can’t remember what you called it. You said you do it, too, but Seungmin doesn’t think he’s seen a look like this on your face, not since the first time he told you to leave his apartment and never come back.

The door unlocks, and she jumps in without a word. He thinks that’s less remembering what he looks like, and more you telling her what kind of car to look for. Mom isn’t nearly as charmed by his looks as you are.

“Hello.” Seungmin adjusts his glasses and smiles as sweetly as he can. She may not find him irresistible, but he’ll be damned if she doesn’t think he’s cute. “I hope the hotel was comfortable.”

“It was alright. Better than the one by the airport. Who was the boy at your car a moment ago?” She looks around, expecting to find some clue as to why he was leaning in through the window.

“Oh, he’s a good friend of mine. He is also staying at this hotel while he’s in Seoul.”

“Is he coming to dinner?”

You might not appreciate a surprise guest. You definitely won’t appreciate a surprise guest if it’s Heecheol. Seungmin stifles a laugh as he thinks about it; your unbearable mother, and the guy he stupidly kissed behind your back. “No, not tonight. Just the three of us. Five of us.”

“It smells good in here.” He kicks off his shoes and waits for her to follow, which she eventually catches onto and does. “Do you want some tea, or coffee? Maybe something cold.” He decides to remain helpful, overly sweet, and charming no matter what she throws at him, if she does start throwing.

“Coffee is good.”

The three of you are not here to greet them, surprisingly. Even after pouring a mug and fixing it how your mother requests, you don’t emerge from the bedroom, and you don’t make a sound. He excuses himself. “She might be in the middle of feeding them. I’ll check.”

You are—cross legged in bed with one single lamp illuminating the dark room. Haesung is in your arms, and a mostly empty bottle sits next to Haneul.

“Hey, need some help?”

You shake your head. If your hair wasn’t pulled back, the ends would tickle Haesung’s pink cheeks. Seungmin can make out his shiny eyes staring up at you as he eats, and it’s a relief to see him so content after this morning. He can’t see you, though. You’re hunched over, head down and face hidden.

“Everything okay?” He barely hears your mhm as he approaches. Seungmin is stupidly mesmerized by your exposed skin—the curve of your shoulder and neck…your chest. When you finally look to him, he sees your wet cheeks, and your red eyes. “Oh, what’s wrong? Are you…are you alright?”

All you give him is a shaky nod, and his stomach turns when he kneels to grab your free hand. He can see how puffy your face is, and that you’ve been crying for a while. There’s a wet spot on Haesung’s blanket where you let your tears fall. “Did your mom say something?”

“No, it’s not her.”

It hits him, and for a moment, he wonders why you didn’t feel this way a few hours ago. Why didn’t you give him the response he deserved? You seemed almost dismissive of it, but the feeling has had time to sit—in your head, in your stomach, your heart. “Oh. I fucked up. I’m so sorry.” Your silence, a single sniffle and a wipe of your cheek confirms it. “I really fucked up.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“If we hadn’t met, and you found him, would he be as special to you?” Haesung unlatches when he senses his father, and he does his best to turn toward him. You adjust and cover yourself, and Seungmin notices how quickly you hide from him. “Like us?”

“Heecheol doesn’t know me the way you do. He likes what he sees on the surface, and the memories we have.” Lying to you isn’t going to help, so he just says exactly what comes to him. “I guess it’s possible. If we didn’t meet, I don’t know where I would be right now…but if you had left, I think I would have killed myself.”

You believe him, but being a reason for him to keep going while his mind wages war against him is a strange feeling. One of the reasons. He has two more, and one is comfortable in his arms right now. “Seungmin, please don’t fall in love with someone else.”

***

Your mother stares, tries to figure you out. She thinks she can, but you’re not the person you were before you left home a year ago. You’re not even the person you were the day after that night in December. Nothing has changed you quite like your babies have, but Seungmin comes very close.

Haesung is in her arms, calm for the moment, but his eventual fussing finally moves her attention away from you. “When you were a baby, you screamed constantly until you were three or four months old.” She brings him closer and runs a thumb across his brow. “Colic.”

“So did—“ you stop yourself. You refuse to help her start an argument. As far as your mother is concerned, you were the difficult child. “They’ve both been okay so far. They sleep well.”

Seungmin interjects. He senses your uncomfortable shift all the way in the kitchen. “Haemuljeon?”

“Yes, please.” It’s the first you’ve eaten since this morning, and shoving several pieces in your mouth is temping, but you wait.

“What is it?” She pokes at one with her fork before scooping it up and inspecting. “Oh, shrimp?”

“Seafood pancake, shrimp and green onions. I left the squid out.”

To your surprise, three little pancakes quickly disappear, and Seungmin is obviously pleased with himself. He spent a whole twenty minutes throwing them together.

The fourth one is held up and examined again, “These are very good.”

“Thank you.”

“You made these?”

He nods and puts on his cutest smile again. “I did. They don’t take much time.” But it falls when he sees the look she gives you—a mix of annoyance and impatience, he thinks. Seungmin still remembers that look very well, and he knows how it feels to be on the receiving end. “Uhm…”

“Your husband cooks for you?”

This may be the most uncomfortable silence the apartment has ever experienced, and that includes the murder. Both of them. Sometimes Seungmin forgets about the first one you witnessed—it feels like so long ago now. He knew you were the one after that night.

He remains silent a few moments longer. Your mother needs to hear you stand up for yourself.

“We don’t think much about who does what. And he was raised well…he knows how to take care of himself, and us. And I know how to care for them. So, yes.”

The look on her face is satisfying, but visions of her bloodshot eyes and blue lips take over his mind and he can’t push them away. Her throat crumpling under his grip. Begging for mercy, gasping for air, pleading forgiveness for how she treated you. No, he has to push it away. Seungmin can’t kill your mother—can he? No, not a very smart idea. For now, it lives in his head. “Tokki made everything else.”

Not a complete lie. You made the rice, and you made three different banchan…just not today.

“Tokki?”

He turns away to laugh at her harsh pronunciation, grabs the rice and sides, and nods as he sets everything down. “Tokki…” he repeats, soft and slow. “It means rabbit.”

“Cute.” She doesn’t seem amused, though. “Rabbit.”

Seungmin wants to take the baby from her, but doing it gracefully, and like he isn’t irritated by everything about her right now, is difficult. Luckily, Haesung starts to get upset and pulls away, as if he can sense his father’s need for him. It works perfectly. Your mother hands him off without a second thought, and Seungmin gets the cuddle that he wants.

“Does…Tokki…know your friend from the hotel?”

“Huh? Oh…yes.”

Heecheol? You can’t lift your eyes to look at him, but you can feel his on you. He was visiting Heecheol again. Seungmin left for thirty minutes and found time to visit him, and in front of your mother, no less.

You stand and keep your cheek pressed against Haneul as you head for the bedroom, and nobody says a word as you do.

“Sore spot?” She took a chance mentioning Heecheol. It could have gone either way, and it paid off in her favor. You were right. Even though the meeting was brief and accidental, you don’t know that, and Seungmin has to hope that you’ll trust and believe him when he goes in there to talk to you again. But he doesn’t go right away. “No, no we’re all friends.”

No more comments, she just gives him a nod.

“But maybe,” he holds Haesung up and looks him over, “you’re due for a change. We should check before we have dinner.” It’s a valid reason to disappear for a moment. “I’ll be right back.”

***

The room is still dark, but the curtain is pulled back enough to let the light from the setting sun spill across the floor. He’s nervous. In all of your time together, the only tense moment between the two of you was the morning you cut his hair, the nightmare you had about him…the day he found out about the pregnancy test. That was a silly thing to fight over, if you could even call it that. Seungmin knows this is different. He understands you’re feeling left out right now—betrayed, maybe. It seems like a strong word, but if you knew how deeply he kissed him, you’d be even angrier.

Haneul is cuddled up next to you. There’s enough light to see his tiny hands reach toward your face and successfully grab at strands of your hair. “Can I come in?”

“It’s your bedroom.”

He doesn’t correct you. It hasn’t been his bedroom in a long time, and he doesn’t want to be pushed back to a time when it was his…alone. “I know you don’t want to be out there with her, and maybe not with me either. I can entertain her if you’d rather have your dinner in here.”

“No. I’m not going to make you sit out there with her by yourself. That’s not fair.”

He’s relieved when you sit and look at him, and even more relieved to see your face dry. No tears this time. “He saw me sitting in the car waiting. I didn’t go looking for him. We talked for two minutes.” No, maybe this time it’s anger.

“She’s probably listening to us right now. I’m just making this easier for her.”

“Then she can hear me tell you how much I love you, and nothing she can do or say is going to change that.”

His phone buzzing in his pocket is deafening—one text, and then another. And a third. Heecheol has impeccable timing.

“What did he say?”

Seungmin pulls out his phone and reads. “Hope your dinner is going well. In-laws can be pretty scary…I’ve heard, at least. No personal experience. I hope her umma is as kind as yours was.”

You scoff.

“I was trying to remember everything I did yesterday, and I definitely didn’t see you. I hope your head is in a good place. Are you keeping up with your meds?” And the last one; “sorry, I’m already a few drinks in, and I hate drinking alone. I hope I can see you all sometime soon. Especially the twins.”

“He doesn’t remember yesterday?”

“No. I mentioned it when I saw him, and he didn’t know what I was talking about.”

Heecheol not remembering means nothing to you. “But you remember. It happened, right?”

Did it? Would it be unusual if the memory was entirely false? It’s not a thought he’s going humor. The last thing he should be doing right now is trivializing what ultimately comes down to cheating. However small it seems in the grand scheme of things, it’s as big as anything in your mind. “Yes. Even if I dreamed it, what I feel is very real, and I feel awful. I’ll do anything I can to fix things.”

You decide to leave it at that, mostly because you have no idea what to say. Forgiving and forgetting the whole thing would be easy, because you do believe his remorse is real, but you still think some part of him enjoyed the kiss. If he falls into that trap again, how could you forgive him? It might make him the charming, heartless killer you assumed he was before he convinced you otherwise. “Let’s try to get through dinner.”

***

It could have been worse. Your mother ate with almost no complaints, though she made sure to question whether you actually made dinner.

“You were always clumsy in the kitchen.”

You never let me cook with you, you thought. Seungmin lets me cook with him. He speaks to me like his mother probably spoke to him—patiently, sweetly. Defeat was working its way in all day, and you’re not surprised that it won. You took everything quietly. No disagreement, no back-talk, no arguing.

"You quit your job? One income household must be nice. I assume you have a job?" Seungmin wasn’t prepared for it. He was not prepared for her to question you as a house wife, but also question not supplying an income in the same breath...he’s settling uncomfortably into the realization of what you had to fight back against growing up. Nothing you did was good enough. Everything you did was (and still is) wrong. Watching you hunched over at the table made him think of his mother, who did her best raising him, and as far as he’s concerned, did a great job despite the obstacles she faced. Maybe she too sat at the kitchen table just like this after Seungmin went to bed; scared, heartbroken, helpless. Putting that smile on for you the next morning was only possible after a long night of sorrow.

You don’t even have him to turn to for comfort right now, or you don’t want him. All you have right now are the boys, and you’re watching the clock tick down to feeding time.

“You could always move back home, bring your husband and kids…”

“What?” Seungmin sits up and looks to you, but you’re still staring at your half empty plate of food, completely checked out, and he doesn’t blame you. “Uhm, I don’t think so. But…my mother grew up in the US, well, she lived there for six years when she was a kid.”

That grabs her attention more than anything else has. “She did? Why didn’t she stay?”

“She missed home. But it was a good time in her life, I know that. She spoke English well enough to teach me when I was little.” He hates these moments where they seem to be getting on like good friends, but he’s just trying to get you through the night. “Which was very lucky when I met you.” Finally, you look up at him, but he can sense your mother look somewhere else. She turns away, takes a drink—anything to get through the moments where Seungmin lays out his affection. Your mother doesn’t even want him loving you.

You say nothing in return, and at last, the alarm goes off.

He hopes when he returns, you’ll be better. If not, he needs to fix what he did. Seungmin has never had to do this, so he’s in the dark, and who can he turn to for advice? It can’t be Heecheol, not this time. He needs his mother…he needs— “Oh.”

It’s late, and his aunts will certainly be sleeping, but he pulls up her info and calls anyway. When he left five years ago, he told himself he wouldn’t burden his family anymore, but he’s been sending cards and checks to his aunts for four of those years. Phone calls are rare, and visits even moreso, mostly because he's still afraid his mask will come off without realizing, and they'll see the monster he turned into.

It rings a few times, and just when he expects the answering machine to chime in, he hears the sound of a landline receiver click.

“Yeoboseyo?” She sounds sleepy, and a little stern. Probably wondering who the hell would call her after 10pm.

“Gomo annyeonghaseyo!”

“Eh? Puppy?”

“Yes it’s me, I’m sorry for bothering you so late. I hope you weren’t asleep.”

Her laugh takes Seungmin back ten years. “No, I’m still a night owl unless I take something. Is everything alright? Haven’t heard from you in some time.”

“Everything is alright. I’m sorry I haven’t kept in touch.”

“Don’t apologize! You have your own life to live, and we have your cards to let us know you’re still out there. But…you sound like you need something. That's a nice change.”

It’s no surprise that Eun-ji can hear something in his voice, both of his aunts could read him like a book unless he worked hard to hide it. “Just some advice.”

“My favorite thing to give! Ask away.”

“How many times can I apologize before she gets tired of hearing it? Does it even help?”

“Oh no, a fight?”

“I’m not sure I would call it that, but…”

“And a girlfriend. You’ve never mentioned having a girlfriend in any of your letters. Is this new?”

Are you still new? Maybe this would still feel new to most people. “Uhm…eight months.” Maybe Eun-ji will give him more insight. Despite never marrying, both of his aunts have had plenty of experience with relationships, and they never shied away from talking to him about it. They didn’t shelter him—Seungmin sheltered himself, until he didn’t. “Sort of, but it doesn’t feel new.”

“Do you know what made her so upset, was it something you said, or did?”

“It was something I did, but there may be some other things out of my control adding to it.”

“You don’t have to explain what you may have done, but give her some space, at least for tonight. Oh, do you two live together?”

“We do. And we got married last month.”

“Married! Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Married? Who?”

Seungmin hears another voice in the background getting closer.

“Who are you talking to at this hour?”

“It’s Minnie, Woo…say hi.”

“Seungmin, you got married and didn’t tell us?"

He’s feeling awful all over again. The distance he put between him and his remaining family was for their own safety, of course, and what little sanity he could hold onto. Mentioning you and the babies didn’t cross his mind, because you and the babies fill his mind completely. “I did, I’m sorry I didn’t call, or write.”

"We have missed your letters. You’re such a lovely and thoughtful writer."

“I will write, and I’ll visit.”

Eun-ji returns to the phone, “give her space, but stay close. Make sure she knows you’re there for her if she needs you, but no hovering.”

“Thank you, both of you. I should get back to the apartment.”

“Jal jayo, puppy.”

***

Just as he suspects, the apartment is silent. The table is cleared, the dishes are clean, and the only light is the one he put near the still flourishing moonflowers. A sick, empty feeling starts to rise in him—you didn’t wait up. Was he gone too long? The drive to the hotel was quick, and he didn’t linger; the drive back was even faster, and the conversation in the car only lasted…he checks his phone…six minutes.

The bedroom is dark and silent, too, but he can make out the lines of your body curled up beneath the thin blanket. Both cots are next to each other, pulled close. You fed them, cleaned up, and went right to bed.

Instead of stripping and climbing in with you like he so desperately wants, he grabs an extra blanket and decides the couch might be better tonight. But first he kisses each boy on the forehead. It’s necessary, but it’s also a chance to peek at your sleeping face. “Jal ja.”

***

The bedroom door is cracked, and he plans on listening for any hint of a cry all night. He’ll take his aunts advice and Seungmin will give you space, but if you both happen to each have a baby to sooth in the same room, well…he’s going to take that opportunity.

Puppy?

Seungmin leans back and takes a long drink of the beer he knows he shouldn’t be drinking. He’s stressed, and he’s tired. Of course he’s hearing things.

What’s bothering you, sweetheart?

The voice is there, but his meds make him question whether it’s there and real, or there and not real. She wasn’t there when he called for her before…so why now?

You’re hurting, I can feel it. I can’t stand to see you so sad.

“I’m going to be sad for a while, I’m sorry.”

Everything will be okay soon

“How do you know that? You can’t. I don’t know that.”

Silence.

"Why are you back now? Where were you before?" He tries to whisper. “That’s it…you’re gone? Umma?” But it comes out in choked stutter, and louder than he expects. Seungmin doesn’t want you to hear him talking to himself. “Umma?”

She’s gone.

The couch is cold and uncomfortable, but his pillow and blanket still smell like you. Daengmo does, too, because he almost always ends up clutched to your chest in the morning. It makes him wonder if there’s a small comfort of yours that was left behind—something soft that you clung to every night when you needed to forget the day. He feels a pang of guilt knowing you might wake up at some point and reach for him. He doesn’t have much time to dwell on it, because he made himself tea and his brain is already starting to get fuzzy, and too tired to care about how much he doesn’t want to sleep here. The last thought that runs through him is a small hope for good dreams. Seungmin wants to dream, and he wants to dream about you.

*

he’s running. he hasn’t run like this since he was a kid running the bases. no…not since the incident with the bartender. the burn in his chest is unbearable and if he doesn’t stop to catch his breath, he’s going to collapse from the pain. a tiny bark in the distance is the only sound, and it’s not like he imagines his big black dog sounding. this is different. is this what daengmo sounds like? daengmo doesn’t bark, he thinks, daengmo is a telepath. and he can see his breath. why? it’s july…

“seungmo…”

he knows who that is. heecheol says it again in a teasy, sing-songy voice.

“mo, look at me…turn around”

“where are we, cheoli?”

“you don’t recognize this place?”

he doesn’t, and as he turns, what looks back at him is nothing…nobody. hecheol is not where his voice is.

“where did you go?”

“this is where we felt it for the first time" heecheol is laughing as he says it, as if he’s proud.

“yeah, I think I remember” how many memories of his are still shoved where he can't reach them? “where is that barking coming from?”

heecheol shrugs, “barking? you must be hearings things.

His eyes pop open to the dark living room. He hates it. Waking in the pitch dark alone can send him spiraling if he lets it, but this time he takes his deep breaths until his heartbeat begins to slow. Daengmo is clutched tight in the bend of his elbow, crushed under the weight of whatever he was dreaming about. Some of it sticks in his mind. “What a stupid fucking dream,” he sighs and fluffs his dog back to life. “Do you bark?”

It takes no time at all for him to drift back to sleep.

this time he’s home. not in uljin, but right here, in this apartment. it looks different, like maybe you finally redecorated (because you hate the couch, and the chopped up rug—you don’t like the minimalist style he went for and never changed)

“tokki?”

no answer. you have to be here, though. he heads for the bedroom, and it feels like he’ll never get to the door. every few steps, he resets, and he’s right back where he started.

“tokki!”

finally, he twists the doorknob. the bedroom is empty. the bed is neatly made, but a few of your drawers are partially open. no cots, no mess of nighttime feeding things on your bedside table. the only thing he sees is his silver medallion where your phone usually sits. he pulls open the drawer and finds it empty. the chest where you put all of your winter things is empty, too.

“what’s happening? where are you?” he says it to himself in a shaky voice. you wouldn’t leave and take his children without a word. would you?

This time, he can’t slow down his racing heart. Seungmin can barely catch his breath when he sits up, and as he does, Daengmo slips to the floor with a soft thud. A moment later he’s up on his trembling legs, headed for the bedroom. It was just a dream, you’ll be sound asleep when he opens the door, all three of you. You’re awake, and the sound of you humming to them makes it to his ears. Feeding them, talking to them, humming the same tune his music box used to play. The courage to open the door and go in is not in him, despite how relieved he feels after the dream. You didn’t pack up and leave him in the night—his brain did that, but Seungmin is just as afraid of losing you now as he was in December.

“Are you at least trying to keep the nightmares away?” Daengmo stares quietly until his soft neck gives out and his head falls to one side. “Can you try harder, please?” Seungmin’s eyes close, but open again immediately. “I didn’t mean that, I know you’re doing your best.”

The third attempt is dark and cold and wet.

he hasn’t dreamt about the shed in months, but he knew it would return eventually. the soil beneath his fingers is as real as it has ever been, and maybe it’s because he’s been away for so long—seungmin has been too comfortable and safe with you. the other hand clenches around something soft and damp. daengmo is clutched in his left hand, limp and dirty, two sad black eyes staring right at him.

"why are you here…you’re not supposed to be here"

the shk sound of the shovel hitting dirt makes his stomach turn. he’s next. as long as he’s finished off before being put in that hole.

"no…no, I don’t wanna die anymore” tears sting his eyes and roll down his cheeks “please don’t kill me”

he can’t move. the squeeze of his fingers and eyes, that’s it. he’s stuck, and every bit of energy he has left turns his head toward the sound

"tokki? help me, I can’t move." it’s only in his head. the only sound that leaves his mouth is a sigh

No, not again, he thinks, because he can’t move. There’s the smallest sensation of his finger twitching against the couch, but that might be his imagination. It definitely is. He thinks about moving his arm, but his brain can’t find where to send the signal, so he relaxes. Seungmin almost lets his eyes close, but the floor creaks. It’s not real. The sleep paralysis sounds are never real, and he knows that. It’s taken him years to train his mind to remember that.

what’s wrong…puppy?

Is that you? It sounds like you. No, it’s not real. But it’s never addressed him before.

I watched you yesterday. she saw me. she didn’t tell you, did she?

What did you see? Seungmin’s eyes are wide open and he sees nothing. Where is it? He can hear it, and now he can smell it—the smell of damp, rotten earth and a freshly lit cigarette burns his nose and throat. It’s not real.

I am very real

Something cold touches his bare shoulder and slowly moves toward his neck.

she hates you, do you feel it coming from her? how silly to think someone could ever love you

It’s right. Seungmin can feel it right now. The love you felt for him is slowly leaving you. Or maybe it was never truly there, because how could it be?

how silly to think you could love someone unconditionally, and that they could love you in return

Even if she hates me, I still love her. Seungmin thinks about you in there with his children, holding them close and singing, and he feels like he could cry. Unconditionally. He does. A tear slides across the bridge of his nose, and through blurry eyes, its bone white face comes into view.

The force of his body and mind waking simultaneously almost sends him to the floor, along with everything else. The blanket, Daengmo, his phone. The sun is starting to glow faintly in the window, and he hoped by morning he would feel better, but that’s not the case. Seungmin feels worse; empty, hopeless, stupid, broken, unlovable. He remembers everything It told him.

He stumbles into the bathroom and wonders if he should take his aunts advice and continue to give you space, because all he feels he can do is kneel in front of and beg for forgiveness again.

The reflection looking back at him, is that really what you love? Why? Seungmin runs his fingers through his hair and pulls. All the worst parts of him are showing, he can’t hide them and he never could, and you’re finally coming to your senses.

He drops to his knees and swings the cabinet door open, rifles through boxes of hair dye, extra toiletries and forgotten things thrown under here and out of the way. Finally, he finds what he’s looking for in the little black bag, and when he rips it out and plugs it in, he isn’t even sure it’s going to work. But it does, and the buzz of the clippers is louder than he expected. One more look at himself, and then he pulls at his bangs again, up and out of his face, and the clippers have little trouble going through. Again and again, over and over…erratically at first, but as he calms, the strokes become slow and careful. And he doesn’t know it, but the buzz wakes you from your deep sleep.

Seungmin doesn’t hear as you carefully make your way toward the sound, and if he would have closed the door, you might not have heard him at all.

The door creaks as you push it open, but he still hears nothing.

“Seungmin, what are you doing?”

He jumps and drops the clippers into the sink, sending the guard flying onto the floor, and finally quieting them.

“Seungmin…”

Why are you looking at him like that? Confused, disgusted, mad that he woke you… “I’m sorry.” The feeling rushing through him is familiar. It’s the itch, the one that makes him want to claw at his skin until there’s nothing left. The itch that It put into his brain, and in every nerve in his body. Seungmin looks at himself in the mirror, only for a moment, before bracing himself on the sink and sending his face straight into it.

The sound is unbelievable, and the crunch of glass is even worse the second time. All you see is red. It pours from the center of his forehead and onto every part of his pale face…it drips as he stumbles backward, and when he leans forward to keep from falling, you unstick yourself from your spot and put your arms around his neck. “Seungmin, look at me.” You reach for the hand towel and drape it over your shoulder, and he naturally falls into your embrace. Three small shards of glass stick to his wound, and he stares, bewildered as they’re carefully pulled away. “Why?”

He lets out of body shaking sob when your hands slide over his back. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

You sush him, run your fingers up his neck and into his much shorter hair. He feels as cold as the bathroom floor, and sitting here in nothing but shorts is not helping. “Why did you do that?”

Seungmin only groans and pushes his forehead against your shoulder. “I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't." It's a lie, but whatever gives him a small amount of comfort right now. "I'm gonna run you a bath, okay?"

There is no energy in him to tell you no. The throb in his head might be the worst physical pain he’s ever been in, but it’s somewhat soothed by the sight of you. Seungmin presses the towel against his wound and one sleepy eye watches as you kneel and turn the water on. Nothing would be better than crawling closer to touch the bare skin of your thighs, or the shoulder peeking out from the bed shirt you’ve worn down to almost nothing—the same shirt he gave you the night you came back with him. He won’t, though. Seungmin will keep his hands to himself until you invite him back in.

"Come over here."

His steps are still shaky and cautious, but your hand reaching back gives him more courage. You touch his leg, and goosebumps move all the way up to his neck…then your hands are on his hips, pulling gently at the waistband, sliding them down his thighs. Such a stupid moment to feel a jolt of pleasure in his dick. Not now. A drop of blood escapes and lands on your arm, and then another until you stand to face him.

“In.”

He listens and carefully steps into the water, and he’s relieved when you hold him steady on the way down. It’s not a good time to trust his coordination, considering the lightheadedness he’s keeping from you. But there’s an awful lot of blood on the sink, the floor, him…and now it’s in the water, bursting and spreading like rainclouds. He watches, transfixed, and he moves the towel in an attempt to make more. There’s a warm gush between his eyes, and then you’re back, pressing a clean white towel against it.

“Tilt your head back a little.”

“Are the boys okay?”

“They’re good…they’re asleep. I’m gonna clean this up and try to get a better look. It might sting.” The brand new first-aid kit came in handy. Ever since the garden shear incident, you decided to prepare in case something similar happened again. This wound doesn’t seem as deep, but there has to be pieces of glass still stuck in the two criss-cross gashes—one is at least two inches long, and the other isn’t much smaller. They’re jagged, very unlike the cut on his arm, and you know it needs stitched by a steady hand. “Close your eyes.”

The sting of the antiseptic brings a new pain. He lets himself cry out in release as the warmth of blood mixes with it, and a soft piece of gauze soaks it up. He thinks back to the shed, and the pounding, bleeding wound he woke up with on the back of his head. There must be a scar there, but he never looked for it. He might be able to see one now.

“I don’t see anymore glass. Nothing big enough to see, at least.”

“Feels like…” yours eyes meet, and he stops. He has no business complaining about the pain he caused himself. There may not be anymore glass, but it feels like there is. “Thank you.”

“That’s why I’m here.” Seungmin’s eyes close as you pour warm water over him, filling the tub with more blood, more clumps of his buzzed hair. “I’ll even this out in the morning.”

He wants to tell you cleaning up and taking care of his stupid, reckless behavior is not why you’re here, regardless of how you meant it. But he can’t get any words to come out. You could have left him feeling embarrassed and in pain on the floor…it would have been so easy just to go back to bed. But you’re here, another clean washcloth in hand, wiping away the blood on his lips and chin and down his neck. “Thank you,” he repeats, because he doesn’t think you want to hear another I’m sorry. “I love you.” It’s barely a whisper, and he knows you hear him, but you don’t say anything in return. He’s not very easy to love right now. “The first time we went to Uljin, I said...” Why is he even remembering this? “You asked about who took me in after umma died, and if they were good to me.”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“I was gonna say…I wasn’t easy to love. I don’t think I was a bad kid, I was just,“ Now you aren’t even looking at him, “I was sad all the time, always in a bad mood. I cried a lot, didn’t talk or leave my room for days at a time.”

“That didn’t make you hard to love, you were just hiding from it.”

He knows his aunts would agree, and he knows you’re probably right, but that’s not the case tonight. “I don’t wanna be hard for you to love.”

***

Morning comes while you finish cleaning and bandaging him, which you’re getting very good at, and he almost heads for the couch. Seungmin seems surprised when you stop him and take his hand in yours. He’s relieved, because all he can see by the couch is that white face staring down at him, the promise of more nightmares. None of that will mix well with the pain in his head.

“Go, I’ll get your things.”

The bedroom feels safe despite what his nightmare told him—I watched you sleep, and the sounds of the babies waking up distract him from everything going through his mind. It doesn’t matter right now. If the monster is here and watching him, there’s nothing he can do the fight back against it…is there? He never could before. Finding someone to kill…”it’s only been,” he picks up Haesung and holds him tight against his chest… “too long I guess. Not enough.” Killing has always been his only defense, and he hasn’t done it in weeks.

“Not enough what?” You return with Daengmo and a handful of painkillers.

The last attempt was a failure, at least so far, but the noises have yet to return. “Nothing, just…thinking. Maybe I’m overdue.”

“Overdue to…kill?”

Seungmin nods and switches babies. And as preoccupied as he is with them, he notices an unusual hesitancy in your reply. “No noise or voices, but it still feels close.”

“What feels close?”

“It does, the voice. Voices. But, something else, too.”

“Oh, right.”

“We don’t have to talk about it. I’m, uh…“ anything but sorry, stop saying that word. “I’m just tired.”

You crawl across the bed and adjust his pillows, add an extra one so his head stays elevated, but he doesn’t get in right away. Seungmin watches you return to your own spot first. “We should.”

“Talk?”

He’s relieved when you nod, and now it’s easier sliding in next to you, but his spot feels cold in more ways than one. You want to talk, though, and that’s good.

“Something is close.”

This isn’t how he expected things to start, but he’ll take it. The quiet of your voice sends a shiver over him, but it’s replaced by a more pleasant one when you run your palm over the mess he made of his hair. He felt like he was doing an okay job, but he quickly realized the state he was in did not allow for a steady hand. “What do you mean?” The monster’s words come back to him again. She saw me, she didn’t tell you.

“Yesterday, I thought I saw something at the foot of the bed while you were asleep. I heard something, thought you were awake, and I came in to check on you. But I think I was just seeing things because it was gone when I turned on the light.”

“What exactly did you see?”

“A shadow, a black figure…like a person covered in a cloak, I guess. Tall, hunched over. It felt weird.”

“Did you smell it.”

“Yeah.”

Seungmin can only assume it was the rot of the forest, and the decaying stench of the thing that haunts him. He doesn’t need to ask. That same sickening scent from his dream is still stuck in his nose.

“Did we bring it home with us, Min?”

***

Seungmin?

You already know you’re dreaming, but this is the most lucid you’ve been since you were pregnant.

Seungmin, you’re holding too tight

The grip on your waist is pushing the air from your lungs. A pinch doesn’t faze him, and neither does a squeeze of his forearm. You can feel the taut muscle move beneath his skin as he holds even tighter.

Minnie please

But you’re stuck in some half paralysis. Just like a dream, you’re moving through air twice as thick as it should be, and you feel like you’re drowning.

Seung—

Your eyes open, and the room is unbearably bright. The only thing squeezed around you is the sheet you tangled yourself into, but you are a little breathless from your dream. “Min? Are you…” He’s not here. It’s late, though, and you start to panic at the thought of sleeping through an alarm. But even if you did, sleeping through two crying babies would not be possible.

Both cots are back on your side, so Seungmin took the time to move them both close to you. And both are sleeping peacefully.

The kitchen and dining room are empty. The bathroom is empty, but you know he was in here, fixing his hair most likely, changing his bandage—the first-aid kit is still sitting on the sink.

“Where did you go, Seungmin?” A few more steps back toward the kitchen bring you some sort of answer—the folded note on the coffee bar would have gone unnoticed if you weren’t hoping to find something. Scribbled on the front is a cute attempt at a bunny, and on the inside is a single, messy line of Hangul..

이것도 고칠게요

TAGS: @kkamismom12/ @r0tt1n/ @heluvschibi / @feckinbecky / @missystay / @seungluvr / @babrieeee / @curiouscocoabean / @feelikecinderella / @carpioassists / @soulsbbg / @san-axa0 / @vixensss / @keiizzx / @xyliskz / @reignessance / @velvetmoonlght / @ghostedgameplays / @pochaccochacco / @lashaemorow / @eastjonowhere / @fackeraccount / @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna / @maddycline / @smilefordongil / @lolniall / @caughtinthemoment163

[butterbananabread]

BOYS WILL BE BOYS {Random texts from Innie the night after Chan's part}

Pairing : Jeongin x fem!reader SS : 5 Genre : fluff, smau Warning : pregnancy, fluff, talk about adoption, Jeongin is cute A/N: I had a really long week and weekend, therefore as I can't publish next part of boys will be boys right now, I'm giving you a really short smau about Jeongin! It happens a day after "Boys will be boys {B. Chan}" I love the idea of Innie being the best uncle ever and I want to play a bit more around the fact that he is the first one to know about the baby. And I think Innie needs more stories with him as one of the main characters or the main character's best friend 😤

[butterbananabread]

As a carat, you have no right to make my boy Mingyu the second love interest, I can't deal with him having a broken heart

But also, Minho is way too cute in this chapter, I love it 😤💖

Intern (Pt 3)- Lee Know

summary: you pull away to protect your heart, but minho is left feeling trapped in a storm of guilt and emotions he can’t name, a stage collab between Stray Kids and SEVENTEEN brings new chaos—especially when one of their members starts showing interest in you

pairing: lee know x fem!reader

genre: angst, fluff, humor

word count: 5979 words

a/n: any carats here? alsoo buckle up for some love triangle drama 👀

Intern Series: Part One Part Two

~°~

The air in the game room was still heavy when Hyunjin barged in.

Four pairs of eyes turned toward him—Chan’s brows furrowed instantly, as if he already knew. Changbin was mid-sip of beer. Seungmin was quiet, almost tense. And Minho… Minho stood there with the pool cue still in his hand, his mouth drawn into a thin line.

“What did you say to her?” Hyunjin asked, voice low and sharp.

Minho blinked. “What?”

“You said something,” Hyunjin pressed. “She looked like someone kicked her heart in. What the hell did you say to her?”

Minho’s jaw clenched.

“I didn’t say anything to her.”

Chan set his drink down with a soft clink, sensing where this was going. “Hyunjin,” he said carefully, “let’s not do this here—”

“No,” Hyunjin cut in, eyes never leaving Minho. “Not until he tells me what he said.”

Seungmin shifted uncomfortably, looking away. Changbin opened his mouth to speak but closed it again. Nobody wanted to be the one to say it out loud.

Minho’s lips parted like he was searching for the right words. “She overheard something that wasn’t meant for her.”

“So you’re saying it’s her fault?” Hyunjin snapped. “Tell me what she heard. Now.”

A beat passed. Then another.

Minho looked away.

“I wasn’t trying to hurt her,” he muttered. “She wasn’t supposed to hear that.”

Hyunjin’s laugh was short and humorless. “So you did say something.”

Chan stepped in fast. “Okay. Enough. Let’s calm down, we will talk about this later.”

But Hyunjin ignored him, stepping closer. “She adores you, you know that? She goes out of her way for you. Always.”

“I didn’t ask for her feelings,” Minho said defensively.

“No, but you let them grow.” Hyunjin’s voice had dropped to a near-whisper now. “You let her believe there was something there. You let her get close just to push her away.”

Chan sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “This isn’t helping anyone right now.”

“She didn’t even cry in front of me,” Hyunjin said suddenly. His voice was softer now, haunted almost. “She just said she wanted to be alone. You know how rare that is for her?”

Minho swallowed hard.

“She always shows up,” Hyunjin continued. “Always. With a smile. Even when she’s exhausted. Even when she’s hurting. She’s the sunshine in every room, and tonight she left looking like it’d been drained out of her.”

Minho didn’t respond.

Chan rested a hand on Hyunjin’s shoulder. “Come on. Let it go for tonight.”

Hyunjin glanced at Chan, then at Changbin and Seungmin—both of whom looked like they wanted to disappear.

And finally, his eyes returned to Minho.

He didn’t say another word.

He just walked out.

*******************

Your apartment was too quiet.

You’d kicked your shoes off at the door and sunk into the couch still fully dressed. The light from the hallway crept in, soft and golden, but nothing about it felt warm.

You stared at the ceiling, trying to let the silence soothe you, but your brain wouldn’t stop.

“She’s always laughing too loud…”

“…hovering around me…”

“…I just want peace…”

You curled your fingers into the blanket draped across your lap.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t thought about it before. The possibility that maybe you were imagining it all. That maybe the lingering glances and the rare, softened smiles were just crumbs you’d blown into meaning more than they ever were.

Maybe you’d been reading too much into his quiet presence, mistaking silence for something intimate. 

How foolish you’d been to think someone like him—the rockstar who had the world in his palms, effortlessly charming and adored by so many—would ever fall for someone like you. A normal intern, just trying to make a name for herself, trying to set her career in motion while she scrambled for every opportunity. You weren’t special enough to be his.

You squeezed your eyes shut, fighting the tears that threatened to fall. Maybe you had made up a story in your head about the way he looked at you. Maybe the moments you thought were quiet confessionals were just him being kind. Maybe it was your heart that had been too eager, too hopeful. You should’ve known better than to read between the lines. You should’ve known better than to think there was more. 

It was stupid, really. To even consider that someone like Minho could see you the way you’d been hoping for. You sighed, a mix of frustration and resignation settling deep in your chest.

It was time to move on. To forget the version of him you had created in your mind. You were grateful that at least you had the next two days off.

You needed space.

From him. From the boys. From everything.

Your phone buzzed softly beside you, its screen lighting up in the dim room. You didn’t reach for it. It buzzed again and again. Without meaning to, your gaze flicked toward the phone.

The lock screen was cluttered now with text notifications from Chan and Hyunjin. You didn’t need to open them to know what they said. But you didn’t feel like replying.

Not tonight.

You turned your phone face-down on the table, the light vanishing like a curtain being drawn shut.

The silence settled in again.

*******************

You returned to work two days later, a little more composed on the outside, a little more cracked on the inside.

The building felt the same—same coffee smell lingering in the halls, same distant hum of voices echoing from practice rooms. But to you, everything felt different. Colder. Sharper.

You greeted staff with soft smiles and polite nods. When you walked into the practice room where the boys were gathered for schedule rundown, you could feel Minho’s eyes flick toward you immediately. But you didn’t meet them. You didn’t even pause.

Just a quiet, “Morning,” to the room, and then straight to your spot beside the manager.

Hyunjin narrowed his eyes from across the room. He didn’t say anything at first, just kept glancing between you and Minho, like he was trying to read something in the silence.

“Y/N!” Chan greeted first, his voice warm, eyes scanning your face a little too carefully.

You smiled politely. “Hey. Sorry I was just relaxing in the break, couldn’t text you.”

“No worries at all,” he said. “Glad you’re back.”

Felix offered you a hug almost immediately. “You okay?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Just needed some time.”

He didn’t push. Neither did Changbin, who shot you a reassuring look from the mirror as your mentor briefed everyone on today’s plan. Han, however, was silent — his eyes never left your face.

You stayed focused on your clipboard, scribbling notes, pretending your heart wasn’t thudding painfully in your chest when Minho laughed at something Chan said. You didn’t look at him. Not once. Not even when he cleared his throat like he wanted to say something—something directed at you.

You caught sight of him again later that day as you stepped into the main practice room.

He was sitting by the far wall, hoodie sleeves pushed up, fingers tapping absently on his thigh like he was waiting for time to pass. You expected him to ignore you completely.

But he looked up.

And for a split second, your eyes met and you saw something passed through his gaze. Guilt? Relief? You didn’t know. You didn’t care to find out.

You turned away before he could speak.

You stayed locked in your bubble. Quiet. Unbothered. Untouchable.

At least on the outside.

But you felt it, the way his eyes followed you across the room. The pause in his step when you were talking to Seungmin.

*******************

The tension built slowly, stretching over the hours like an invisible thread. You could feel Hyunjin watching you more than usual, hovering closer, lingering a beat longer than necessary whenever he passed by.

It all came to a head during a quick break in the hallway. You were jotting notes beside the vending machine when Hyunjin slipped beside you and muttered lowly, “Why are you avoiding him?”

You stiffened.

“Hyunjin…”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he cut in, voice firmer now, eyes flickering with restrained frustration. “I heard what happened. I heard what he said. And now you’re walking around like you’re the one who needs to apologize?”

You glanced around nervously. The hallway was empty, but walls here always had ears.

“Please,” you said quietly, tugging him by the sleeve into the empty prop room beside the hallway. “Just listen for a second.”

He crossed his arms, lips pressed into a line.

You swallowed hard. “I crossed a boundary. I did. I assumed things that weren’t there. I was too loud, too much. I read into glances and made up something in my head. That’s on me.”

Hyunjin started to shake his head, but you raised a hand, stopping him gently.

“I just…” You looked away, ashamed. “I don’t want my mistake—my stupidity—to mess up your friendship with him. Please don’t let it. He doesn’t deserve that.”

“Y/N—”

“No, really. It’s okay,” you whispered, eyes glossy now, but your voice steady. “I’ll be okay.”

He stared at you for a long moment, then exhaled slowly.

“You’re not stupid,” he said finally, softly. “You’re just someone who cared.”

You gave him a sad smile. “Still feels stupid.”

*******************

Meanwhile, Minho was going through a range of emotions.

At first, it felt like relief.

You weren’t laughing around him. You weren’t hovering in the corners of rooms he was in. You weren’t looking at him like he was the sun and the stars and the whole damn sky.

At first, it felt like peace.

But then… it didn’t.

It felt like quiet in all the wrong ways.

He started catching himself glancing up, expecting to find you already looking—only to find your gaze elsewhere. Or worse, nowhere near him at all.

He noticed how your usual energy—the way you brightened the room even when you weren’t trying—had dulled. How you laughed with the other staff, but never like before. How you moved around him like he wasn’t even there.

It didn’t feel like peace. It felt like absence.

He tried to remind himself this was what he wanted. No more hovering. No more warmth. Just peace. 

But somewhere around day three of your silence, Minho realized, that the thing he thought he wanted—the distance, the quiet, the “peace”—felt a hell of a lot like regret. It felt like missing someone who was sitting six feet away.

*******************

You were bent over a mannequin, hands steady as you carefully pinned lace detailing along the hem of Jeongin’s blazer. It was for an upcoming shoot—classic, structured, and clean with delicate pearl accents and subtle embroidery near the lapels.

The room was quiet except for the soft hum of the iron steamer behind you and the occasional buzz of messages from someone’s forgotten phone.

Han entered the room and sat down quietly on the low bench near you, elbows on his knees, fingers drumming lightly against his thigh.

At first, he didn’t speak.

He just watched.

Watched the way your fingers moved with careful precision as you sewed the last pearl into place. Watched the way you paused to make sure the symmetry was perfect before nodding to yourself, reaching for a steamer cloth like you were trying to keep your mind on anything but the tension that had followed you into every room lately.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

You glanced at him. “Yeah. Just tired.”

“You’ve been tired for four days.”

You looked down at the brush in your hand.

Han exhaled, voice lowering. “I heard what happened. At the party.”

You paused.

He continued. “I just… I wanted to say I’m sorry. Even though he’s my best friend—that was no way to talk about you. Or treat you.”

Your fingers trembled slightly as you capped the compact. You nodded once. “Thanks.”

“I’m not gonna defend him. I know he’s being stupid,” Han added. “I just wanted you to hear it from me, too. You didn’t deserve that.”

You smiled a little, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “I appreciate it, Jisung.”

He gave your arm a gentle squeeze before standing up. “I won’t push. Just… if you ever need someone to vent to, I’m around.”

And with that, he was gone.

But your heart was a little less heavy.

*******************

The days passed differently. You didn’t joke with Han while fixing his collar. You didn’t poke Hyunjin’s side when he yawned. You didn’t glance at Minho when you walked past him.

You were strictly professional. Straight-backed. Eyes on task.

And everyone noticed.

Hyunjin pulled you aside once, in the hallway near the breakroom.

“You’re not… yourself,” he said gently.

“I’m just working,” you replied. “Isn’t that what I’m here to do?”

He frowned but let you go.

Inside the practice room, Minho found himself fidgeting.

He kept stealing glances — wondering why the room suddenly felt too still, why his hoodie felt too warm, why he missed the sound of your laughter and the dumb jokes you used to throw his way.

“Dude,” Han muttered, nudging him. “You’ve been staring at her for the last ten minutes. You good?”

Minho blinked, realizing he had been staring — watching as you pinned a tag to a jacket and adjusted the neckline with those same gentle fingers that used to tug on his sleeve just to annoy him.

He looked away.

You stopped showing up to group dinners. Stopped responding to memes in the shared chat. When Hyunjin texted about game night, you replied two hours later with a soft “Sorry, not tonight.”

You were polite. Kind, even. But cold.

There was no more lingering in doorways. No more snacks you left behind for the staff after long nights. You clocked in, did your job perfectly, and disappeared before anyone could ask if you were okay.

Guilt was eating away Minho, it was all his fault. He hated how quiet you were now. How you moved around the room like a stranger wearing the same face. How you didn’t flinch when he brushed past you anymore. How your smile—once warm and open and full of light—was now a carefully measured line that never reached your eyes.

He noticed every single time you declined an invite.

And what he hated most… was that you meant it.

You weren’t pretending to be busy. You weren’t waiting for him to chase after you. You’d really let go. And it was driving him insane. But he didn’t understand why…

This is what he wanted, right?

Silence. Space. Distance.

This was exactly what he’d been hoping for, wasn’t it?

Then why did it feel like he couldn’t breathe?

*******************

The collaborative stage between Stray Kids and Seventeen was announced with massive buzz. Special unit stages. Joint dance breaks. Concept photos. Interviews. Fans were eating it up before rehearsals even began.

You were roped in to help with styling for the final shoot and early rehearsals. It wasn’t your usual team, but your mentor had vouched for you personally—said you had the right eye, the right attention to detail.

And that’s when you met Kim Mingyu.

Tall, charming, all radiant smiles and easy laughter. He’d walked into the fitting room in an oversized hoodie and black sweats, hair pushed back with a clip, and shot you a grin that nearly made you forget your own name.

“Hey,” he said, offering his hand. “You’re Y/N, right? I’ve heard about you.”

You blinked. “From…?”

“Scoups, my team leader,” he said casually. “Says you’re terrifying when you’re in focus mode. He saw you during the initial discussion with the manager and Bang Chan.”

You huffed a laugh despite yourself. “I’m not terrifying.”

“I dunno,” he teased, eyeing the tiny pin cushion on your wrist. “I’ve seen those weapons before.”

You smirked, setting your clipboard down. “You’re not scared of a few needles, are you?”

Mingyu leaned in slightly, grin widening. “I’m scared of a lot of things. You’re just not one of them.”

And Minho walked in right then. Minho paused at the doorway.

Your back was to him. Mingyu was leaning in close—too close. You were laughing, that soft, genuine kind of laugh Minho hadn’t heard from you in weeks.

It made something in his chest crack.

The air around him changed. He walked into the room with a little too much presence, like he was daring someone to look at him. Mingyu glanced over, eyebrows lifting in recognition.

“Oh, hey,” Mingyu greeted. “Lee Know, right?”

“Minho,” he corrected coolly.

You didn’t turn around. Didn’t acknowledge him. Your attention on Mingyu.

Minho clenched his jaw. “Y/N.”

You looked up briefly. Nodded. “Minho.”

No smile. No warmth. You treated him like a client. And it drove him insane.

*******************

It started with little things.

Minho would linger after everyone left the room, clearly waiting for you to say something—anything—but you'd just continue folding jackets or updating the fitting sheet without sparing him a glance.

“Did you steam this?” he asked one day, pointing at a dark gray blazer.

“Yes,” you replied flatly.

He waited and waited. You didn’t elaborate or smile. Didn’t compliment how it matched his earrings. Just kept working.

“…Okay,” he muttered and walked away.

The days started blending—shows, schedules, fittings—but Minho couldn’t stop noticing how different you were.

You gradually started laughing with the others like before. You high-fived Jisung when he nailed a dance move. You giggled when Felix made finger hearts at you. You leaned comfortably into Chan’s side when he asked for your opinion on the new teaser photos.

But with Minho?

Nothing.

No smile. No sass. No eye contact longer than two seconds.

He was upset and everyone saw it.

“Hyung, you good?” Seungmin asked one day while they were stretching before rehearsal.

“Fine.”

“You were staring at Y/N again.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Sure.”

Minho’s jaw clenched. “She’s acting weird.”

“No, she’s acting normal. You’re the one acting weird,” Seungmin said, chuckling. “You’re twitchier than Han after two Red Bulls.”

“I just… don’t like being ignored.”

“Ohhh, right. Because she used to flirt with you and now she doesn’t.”

Minho glared. “Shut up.”

“She liked you a lot, y’know? But she’s not gonna chase someone who called her annoying.”

Minho didn’t answer.

But it echoed in his head the rest of the night.

She liked you. You called her annoying.

God.

He was such a jerk.

The next few days, he tried. He really tried.

You were fixing Hyunjin’s cuff when Minho stepped into the room, in a clean white tee and perfectly ripped jeans.

“Morning,” he said, voice carefully casual.

You nodded once. “Good morning.”

That was it.

He cleared his throat. “Nice shirt,” he offered.

“It’s yours,” you deadpanned.

Hyunjin snorted. Minho flushed and sat down without another word.

Later that day, he tried again.

You were rearranging accessories when he walked over, holding a ring in his palm.

“This one or the black one?” he asked.

You glanced briefly. “Black.”

“That fast? Not even gonna try it on me?”

“No need.”

Minho frowned. “You used to be more fun, you know.”

You paused, finally looking at him. “You used to be nicer.”

Then you walked away. He blinked, stunned. Was that... a comeback? He smiled to himself. There she is.

*******************

The rehearsals were loud with energy when Seventeen arrived at JYP building again.

Mingyu approached you, “Hey Y/N, how are you doing?”

You blinked. "I’m—uh, I’m good. Thank you."

He tilted his head, voice lighter now. "You’ve been quiet. Not that I’ve known you long, but I remember you teasing Dino over his sleeve length last time. I figured you weren’t the shy type."

You gave him a small, polite smile. "Just focused on work today."

"Ahh," he said, not pushing further. But his gaze lingered for a moment longer than necessary. "Still... it’s good to see you again."

You nodded, eyes flicking briefly toward the mirror wall across the room.

Minho was watching with his jaws clenched. His gaze shifted away before you could fully catch his expression.

Later that day during dance practice, Minho caught you laughing from the sidelines. Mingyu had just tripped during a spin and recovered with a dramatic pose like it was part of the choreography.

Your laugh echoed across the room—bright and genuine. Minho’s stomach flipped. You looked happy. Just not with him. He caught Hyunjin’s eye from across the mirrors. The younger boy raised a brow and mouthed: “Regret it yet?”

Minho rolled his eyes. 

Yes.

Yes, he did.

More than anything.

By the time they wrapped practice, most of the members had filtered out. You stayed behind to pack some things, double-checking wardrobe pieces for tomorrow’s shoot.

Minho lingered again.

“So… are you avoiding me?” he asked suddenly.

You didn’t look up. “No.”

“You’re just… treating me like I’m invisible.”

“I’m treating you like a colleague,” you corrected. “That’s what I should’ve done from the beginning.”

Ouch.

“I didn’t mean what I said that night,” he muttered.

You finally turned to him, expression unreadable. “You said it. Whether you meant it or not doesn’t change the fact that I heard it.”

“I—”

“Look, Minho. I liked you, okay?” you said quietly, firm. “I thought we had… something. Even if it was silly. I flirted. You let me. So I assumed you didn’t hate it. But hearing you say you found it annoying?” Your voice cracked slightly. “That sucked.”

He opened his mouth. Closed it.

You didn’t wait for him to find words.

“I’m not mad anymore. It’s fine, let’s keep it professional.”

Then you turned and walked away again. Minho let out a frustrated sigh, what had he done?

*******************

You had only meant to be polite. A little distant, maybe. Careful. But apparently, Mingyu saw a challenge—and he accepted it with full confidence and charm.

From the next day on, it was like he had a radar for when you entered a room.

“Hey, Y/N.”

You barely stepped into the practice hall before his voice greeted you. “Want help carrying that?” He was already reaching for the clothing rack like it weighed more than your emotional baggage (it didn’t).

“Oh, it’s okay, I’ve got it—”

“Nah, I insist,” he said with a grin that made the staff nearby swoon. “Wouldn’t be very gentlemanly if I just stood here looking pretty, right?”

You blinked. “That… would depend on your definition of pretty.”

He laughed, a low, surprised chuckle. “Oof. Are you always this dangerous?”

“Only when I haven’t had coffee,” you said dryly.

And it was that simple.

He was hooked.

He started showing up earlier to rehearsals. Always near your station. Sometimes he brought extra drinks—“Thought you might like iced vanilla lattes?”—other times, just conversation. He’d rest his elbow on the rack while you adjusted stage outfits, asking about your favorite color palettes and whether you preferred oversized fits or structured jackets.

And the worst part?

He was easy to talk to.

Too easy.

The more he spoke to you, the more you forgot about how cold Minho had made you feel. Mingyu didn’t make you feel annoying. He didn’t make you second guess every word or glance or laugh. He listened. He noticed things—like how you always kept hair ties on your wrist and hated velvet textures.

But you didn’t flirt back. You’d smile. Laugh sometimes. Keep the conversation going. But your heart hadn’t caught up. Not yet. It was still tangled in a pair of grumpy eyes and cruel words you couldn’t forget.

Across the room, Minho saw it all.

He watched you laugh—really laugh—with someone else. Someone handsome and charismatic and clearly smitten with you. He hated how familiar that expression was on your face. He hated that it wasn’t directed at him.

He knew he had no right to feel this way.

He was the one who pushed you away. Said those things. Let you walk out of that party with tears in your eyes and didn’t even run after you.

And yet…

He found himself glancing up more often when you passed by. Making comments just to hear your voice. Standing a little closer when you weren’t looking.

You didn’t notice. Or maybe you did—and just didn’t care.

But when Mingyu asked if you wanted to grab a bite after rehearsal one night, and you actually paused—just for a second—Minho felt something snap.

He turned on his heel and left the room before he could hear your answer.

You looked up from your clipboard, caught off-guard for a second from Mingyu’s question.

Mingyu was smiling again—bright, hopeful, that usual confident glint in his eyes. He didn’t even try to be subtle anymore. He liked you. Everyone knew it.

You hesitated. Just for a second. And then shook your head, politely. “I’m heading home after this. Long day.”

A beat passed. Disappointment flickered across his features—quickly replaced by an easy grin. “Next time, then.”

You offered a smile. Soft. But firm. “Maybe.”

Mingyu nodded, but you knew he caught the undertone. You weren’t ready. Not yet. Not when Minho’s voice still echoed in your mind like a bruise that refused to fade: She flirts with everyone… it’s annoying.

Even if Mingyu was kind. Even if he made you laugh. You weren’t ready to hand your heart out again. Especially not when someone else had crushed it with a few carelessly thrown words.

*******************

The rooftop of the JYP building was always a strange kind of refuge. Noisy during the day with deliveries and the occasional staff meeting, but quiet at night—just high enough above the city that it felt like a pause button on reality.

Han had found himself up there more than once. When deadlines loomed. When promotions felt like too much. When the ache of exhaustion pressed too hard on his shoulders.

But tonight… he wasn’t alone.

He spotted Minho by the railing, his back turned to the door, head bowed. The wind tousled his hair gently, and the city lights lit up the side of his face in cold, distant hues.

“Hyung?” Han stepped closer.

Minho didn’t turn, didn’t even flinch. Han slowed as he realised something was off.

He caught the faint shake of Minho’s shoulders. The way his jaw was clenched too tightly. The way he blinked—once, twice, too fast—and then pressed the heel of his hand against his eyes like he could erase the tears before they fully formed.

“Hyung…”

Minho exhaled. Sharp. Fragile.

“I’m fine.”

Han frowned. “You always say that when you’re clearly not.”

Still no response.

Han moved beside him, not too close—just enough to share the quiet. He looked out at the skyline for a moment before saying softly, “She said no.”

Minho’s fingers curled around the railing.

“I heard,” Han added. “Mingyu asked her. You didn’t even wait to listen.”

Minho shut his eyes. The words felt heavy in his throat. “She paused.”

“Yeah. For one second. And you left like it killed you.”

Minho let out a bitter laugh. One that cracked halfway through. “Because it did.”

That startled Han into silence.

Minho finally turned, his eyes red-rimmed, lower lip trembling despite his usual calm exterior. “I don’t even know why I said all that stuff about her. I didn’t mean it. Not a single word.”

“Then why’d you say it?”

“Because…” Minho shook his head, fingers gripping the railing so tightly his knuckles went white. “Because she makes me feel things I’m not supposed to feel. Things I don’t know how to deal with. And the closer she got, the more I panicked. So I pushed her away. I had to. I was also growing jealous, I think? Of her bonding with Hyunjin.”

Han stared at him, then blinked—once, twice—before exhaling. “Hyung… with all due respect, you’re such a pabo. Hyunjin and her are completely platonic.”

Minho let out a soft, broken sigh. “I realize that now.”

Han raised a brow. “You were in love with her, hyung. I knew it from the heart eyes you used to give her every time she walked into the room.”

Minho looked away, almost embarrassed.

Han continued with a small scoff, “I even tried playing cupid, but you were so nonchalant I thought maybe I was wrong.”

Minho gave a humorless chuckle, still blinking back tears. “I was too stubborn to admit it before… but this distance, her ignoring me—God, it’s been killing me. And it made me realize I fell for her from the start. I just didn’t know it then. Or maybe I did, and I was too much of a coward to face it.”

“And now Kim Mingyu’s trying to pull her in,” Han sighed looking up at the sky.

Minho flinched.

Han didn’t smile. He didn’t joke like usual. His voice was calm, steady. “Do you want her to be happy?”

“Yes,” Minho whispered immediately.

“Then you need to fix this, hyung. Because right now, all she remembers is the version of you that called her annoying.”

Silence again.

Minho nodded once—slowly, like the decision cost him something.

Han gave him a small pat on the back before turning to leave. “I’ll cover for you downstairs. Take your time.”

Minho stayed rooted there for a while longer, letting the cold wind sting his face, hoping it would hide the warmth of his tears.

It didn’t.

And for the first time in a long time… he let himself cry.

He was ashamed for hurting you, who’d always been kind. For making you feel like you were too much, when really, you were the best thing he took for granted.

*******************

It was finally the end of the week, and all you could think about was the long, luxurious everything-shower waiting for you at home. You stepped into the elevator, letting out a quiet sigh as the doors began to slide shut.

Just then, a hand slipped between the narrowing gap, stopping them mid-close.

Your heart dipped the second you saw who it was.

Lee Minho stepped in quietly, not even glancing your way at first. The doors slid shut behind him with a soft ding, sealing the two of you in that small, silent space. You could hear the soft hum of the elevator mechanics, the faint buzz of a fluorescent light above.

He stood beside you—straightened, composed, but the silence was nothing like the ones before. This time, it wasn’t cold. It was unsure. Hesitant.

You shifted your weight, pretending to check your phone, anything to avoid the ache that formed in your chest just from being this close again.

One floor passed. Two.

The tension was suffocating.

Three—

CLUNK.

You jolted when the elevator lurched to a sudden stop. Your hand shot out to grab the railing, and you turned to him, wide-eyed. He’d hit the emergency button.

“Minho—” you began.

“Don’t leave yet,” he said quickly, voice tight. “Just—listen. Please.”

You were stunned into silence.

“Y/N,” he started, looking at you with softness. Not cold. Not harsh. Just... tired. And honest.

“I was wrong,” he said. “About everything.”

You blinked.

“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly. “I never meant to hurt you. I didn’t even—” he stopped, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t realize what I was saying until it was too late. I was… frustrated. With myself. With how I felt. And I projected that onto you.”

You turned to face him now, fully, slowly.

He looked tired. And not just from rehearsals or schedules. Tired from guilt.

Your voice came out low, careful, “There’s nothing to apologize for.”

His brows furrowed. “Y/N—”

“I crossed a line,” you said, swallowing. “I was the one who confused things. I made you uncomfortable and I kept hovering and—”

“No,” he cut in quietly. “You didn’t.”

“You said I did.”

“I was scared.”

That stilled you.

“I was scared because the way you made me feel didn’t make sense,” he continued. “And instead of dealing with it, I blamed you for making me feel it in the first place.”

You looked away. “You said you wanted peace.”

“I thought that’s what I needed. But the silence after you left? It didn’t feel peaceful. It felt empty.”

You let out a shaky breath, one that felt like it had been trapped in your chest for days.

You stepped forward, your fingers brushing the panel as you desperately tried to cancel it so the elevator would start moving again. But before you could press the button, his hand reached out, catching your wrist. Gently. Not to stop you, just to ask you to stay.

“Please don’t do that,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t leave. Please don’t punish me.”

You froze.

“You think I’m punishing you?” you asked, voice cracking slightly, “You wanted the distance!”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said again, eyes searching yours. “I didn’t mean it to come out like I didn’t care. I was overwhelmed. And I said the wrong thing to the wrong person.”

You blinked hard. “You still said it.”

He winced. “I know.”

You pulled your hand from his, slowly.

“I’m just protecting my own peace now,” you said gently. “That’s all.”

Minho looked at you like the words hurt more than silence ever could.

Neither of you moved for a while. Then Minho spoke—quieter this time, like he didn’t want to scare off whatever fragile truce you’d allowed between you.

“Can we start over?” he asked. “Just… as friends.”

You looked at him, eyes tired, wary. He was watching you like the answer might shatter him. Your heart thudded.

You wanted to ask why now. Why after all the space. Why after the silence. Your guard stayed up. You crossed your arms lightly, leaning back against the elevator wall.

“I don’t know if I can go back to how things were,” you said truthfully.

“I’m not asking for that,” he said quickly. “I just… I miss talking to you. I miss your laugh. I miss you. Even if it’s just as a friend.”

You studied him for a long moment—Minho, who once stood cold and distant, now looking hesitant and real in the dim fluorescent glow. There was no arrogance in him now. No bitterness. Just a quiet kind of sincerity you’d never seen before.

You bit the inside of your cheek, then slowly nodded once.

“Friends,” you said. Cautious. Careful.

Relief bloomed across his face so fast, so unguarded, that it nearly broke your heart again.

He reached out, hesitated—then offered a pinky. It was so Minho. A little awkward. A little sincere. A peace offering dressed in childish promise.

You stared at it, then looped your pinky with his, sealing whatever strange, bittersweet restart this was.

And just like that, he pressed the emergency button again. The elevator jolted back to life.

As the numbers ticked downward and the air shifted, so did something between you. Not quite healed. Not quite the same. But something closer to understanding.

Minho offered you a small smile.

But inside?

He was unraveling.

He’d asked to be your friend, even though every fiber in his body ached to pull you in, to push you gently against the elevator wall and kiss you like he should’ve the night you told him how you felt before. But he knew he didn’t deserve that right. Not after everything he said. Not after how he made you feel.

So he swallowed it down—the longing, the regret, the need. Because if friendship was the only way to keep you in his life, then he’d take it. Even if it meant pretending the quiet way his heart raced around you was platonic. Even if it meant watching you smile at someone else someday and telling himself it didn’t hurt. He’d take it. Because losing you completely? That was never an option.

--------------

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[butterbananabread]

Boys will be boys {B. Chan}

Pairing : Bangchan x fem!reader WC : 4,6k SS : 19 Genre : angst, fluff, smau Warning : car accident, pregnancy, fluff, angst, talk about adoption and abortion, morning sickness, miscommunication, bad ending A/N : Part 2 of Boys will be boys, this one is centered around Chan and his girlfriend. It begins right when the part 1 ends, Jeongin and Y/N were on a car accident because Y/N seemed sick and almost lost conscienceness while driving

“You're pregnant.”

The doctor's voice vibrates in your ear, muted. Hidden by the deafening noise of the machines at your side. Your head hurts and the noise seems to get louder. You can hear voices mingling, trying to reach you. But all you can hear are these words repeating themselves in a loop, trying to get into your brain as you dismiss them with a wave of your hand, refusing to let them in.

The accident wasn't serious; Jeongin had yelled at you to wake you up. If you were still stunned, you knew to step on the brake and he immediately left the car to take your place at the wheel, calling the emergency services because of your condition. However, he was stunned: his cheek had been scratched during the emergency braking and his mouth was slightly cut. Nothing serious.

Yet, as the doctor has just given you some disturbing news, you nod slowly before turning to Jeongin, instinctively placing a hand on your friend's cheek. "You're hurt. Chan is going to be very angry with me. We need to tell your manager and you need to leave urgently."

He looks at you with round eyes of surprise, shaking his head and gently withdrawing your hand. "Noona, you're pregnant. I don't think you quite understand what's going on here. My priority isn't the tour."

"it should be. I'm not pregnant. I got my period this month. Everything is fine. Everything's fine. Just. Fine. Perfect." Your voice trembles, though. And even though you don't show your panic, he squeezes your wrist a little tighter in an attempt to calm you, to help you keep one foot on the ground. He glances desperately at the doctor, and again your ears begin to ring.

Jeongin helps you to your feet, the doctor speaks beside you. An ultrasound, a denial of pregnancy, you're not listening. But Jeongin is listening. He's attentive, as if he were his own son. All you can remember is that Jeongin still hasn't left. You don't listen to anyone, you refuse to look at your friend's smiling face and you refuse even more to know the sex of the child, when you're told you're already at the beginning of the second trimester.

Pregnant. Four months pregnant. Pregnancy denial.

Your head is spinning, the sounds are getting a little more mixed up and you're ignoring everything that's going on. All you remember is that the next thing you know, you're on a plane, sitting in first class next to an ever-pampering Jeongin.

"I wouldn't say anything to him. Not until you're ready. But noona, it's okay. That's good news, isn't it? I can't wait. I won't be the maknae anymore." He laughs, trying to lighten the mood. But your gaze is elsewhere. Lost in the clouds.

The first venue of the world tour was in Singapore. On arrival, Jeongin was greeted by the JYPE team who came to pick him up, and he messages you the address of the hotel where they're staying and calls you an uber. Even if he wants you to come with him, you can't simply afford to walk alongside him for too long without attracting curious stares. You arrive at the hotel much later and look at your phone. Jeongin has sent you a message, telling you that he's already left for training to catch up. And you're left alone in the hotel room he's paid for.

Your work. You haven't called your work. Or your friends. Or anyone. You still haven't processed the information, as if something were preventing it from reaching your brain directly, as if it weren't real.

You look down at your bag and reach for the Fendi bag Chan gave you and gently open it, pulling out the envelope containing the sex of the child and the ultrasound. You look at the envelope without opening it and put it back in your bag, sniffling, unable to cry for all that. Even though you've seen the envelope, you still don't believe it. You'll never believe it.

One year ago...

She's crying, knees to her chest, sitting on the bar bench not far from where the event is taking place. You slowly approach and sit down opposite her, ordering a cocktail and watching her cry. Soon, you're joined by the other girls. Her face is flushed as she slowly lifts her head to look at everyone and smiles slightly as she dries her tears.

“Sorry- it's just… I wish I'd been invited to the party with you.” Han's girl bites the inside of her lip, looking away as everyone comes over to give her a hug. Everyone's been invited. Most of the girls were invited. Except Han's daughter, who was invited to stay in the bar not too far from the party. That way, if Jisung felt tired, he could come and see her.

“You've got a right to be pissed off about this, babe. You should have a chat with Jisung. Slap him on the wrist.”

“He treats you like you're just his friend with benefits and nothing more.” The cheerleader grunts as she squeezes the girl a little tighter, stroking her back. You tilt your head as you watch them and come to hold your friend's hand.

“No, go ahead. Go have fun. Just… Do you ever want to send me messages…? I just… don't necessarily want to stay here all alone without anyone to talk to…”

The girls look at each other and you nod, stroking your friend's hair before placing a kiss on her forehead and getting up to leave with the others, offering her the cocktail you ordered before leaving for the event.

The event is a big one that takes place once or twice a year. Everyone gathers there, mainly the idols of the kpop industry, and several collaborators go there. You're used to going, as you've been going there with Chan for three years now, ever since the two of you became a couple. But during the evening, you never speak to him: he doesn't even look at you. You go as an emotional support, but you never look at each other.

You're used to it and it doesn't bother you, having your own habits. Usually, you sit down with Yuqi and Minnie and chat together. Sometimes other people join in. The evening goes well, at times you're on your phone, texting the girls or Chan while Yuqi recounts her latest visit to China.

The evening goes well for a long time and finally, when it all comes to an end, you join Chan in the car that picks you up from the back of the event. Getting back into the car, you look up at him as he places his hands on your hips, coming to rest on your lap as he gently kisses your neck.

“Thank you for coming. Seeing you, even from a distance, made my day. Even if I was rather jealous when Vernon came to talk to you.” He mumbles as he strokes your thigh, and you have to put your hand on his to squeeze gently. You caress his cheek, forcing him to raise his head and allow yourself to kiss him, sticking your lips against his. His hand moves up your back as he presses your body against his.

“This is normal. I know it's important to you.”

He shakes his head, settling back a little more against his seat as he strokes your thigh. “You say that, but that's not the case for everyone. Ji left early because apparently his friend ended up drunk at the bar and left early without waiting for him. Jeongin's girlfriend apparently left with a Chanel representative to discuss the new clothing collection? Not to mention the firefighter who left early without telling Changbin; he was super uncomfortable when he noticed she was gone. All this makes me despair. At least I've got the best of girlfriends, that makes me feel better.” He passes a hand over his eyes, continuing to stroke your thigh to relax.

You look at him, then gently take his face between your hands. “Stop it. It's not done.” He looks at you, not understanding what you're saying. “Unlike the girls, I'm used to these parties and my needs are different. The way you treat me and the way we've built our relationship is different from the way they've built their relationships with them. I'm not better or worse than the others. I have different needs. And honestly, not being your priority doesn't bother me. Being second in your interests is fine with me.” You place a kiss on her cheek and then on the tip of her nose, smiling softly.

“I've known you for years. We grew up together. I've seen you work hard to become who you are today. So I want your top priority to be your music. I accept second place. You're not my first priority either, after all.”

“Hey!” He laughs as he comes over to tickle you, as if to punish you for your words, and you laugh into his arms, clinging to him as you beg him to stop torturing you. After a few seconds, he stops and comes to kiss you again. “I love you, y/n.”

“I love you too, Chan.”

“One day, you'll be my only priority, I promise.”

You smile at him and close your eyes, sticking your cheek against his shoulder as you walk home.

The silence is terrifying. Because in the silence of the hotel room, all you can hear is the heartbeat of this child growing inside you. Your hand reaches for your belly, but you pull it away so as not to touch it, still refusing to admit that it's real. You open your computer, the only item you've managed to take with you. You close your eyes, trying to think of what you want to type on the search bar. “How to take care of a child”? “How to have an abortion after four months”? “How to put a child up for adoption”?

Your father will kill you. Pregnant before marriage? You remember the case of Chen from Exo, all the criticism he'd gotten for getting a woman pregnant before marriage. If he's happy today, he had to go through a lot before he could rest on his laurels.

Your computer screen shuts down, going into sleep mode, and you stare into space, waiting for an illumination. The envelope gently awaits you on the bedside table. The truth refuses to cross your lips. You don't feel ready at all.

The bedroom door opens slowly and Hyunjin's angelic face appears. He looks at you for a few seconds as a smile grows on his lips and he runs towards you, jumping on top of you. His action causes you to fall backwards and you smile at him, stroking his hair as he hides his face against your neck.

“Noona, Innie told me you're not well? Is that true?” He raises his head for a few seconds to look at you with a pouty face. “I went to buy you some clothes, he told me he forced you to come without even giving you time to pack a suitcase. I've raised him really badly, I deny him all his rights as my child.”

As you laugh at his words, holding him against you, the door opens a little wider and the whole little group enters the room. Minho places a bowl of soup on the bedside table, glancing at the envelope without touching it. Jisung comes to rest beside Hyunjin, pushing him so he can hug you too, and Chan watches from a distance, arms crossed. He looks worried but refuses to come closer, letting the boys hug you first.

“Jeongin's hurt. Are you hurt too?” He details your face and you blink, caressing your cheek before shaking your head. Yet he frowns as he approaches. “You've got cuts all over you… He told me he took the brunt of the shock. What happened?”

You open your mouth, but no words come out. The fear is still there, deep in your belly. So you place your hand on his and pull him back to you. “Can I sleep with you tonight?”

He smiled, amused. “Because you thought I was going to let you sleep alone? Of course we're going to sleep together tonight. Tomorrow after the concert, I'll look into an early flight for you so you can go home and get some rest.” He pulls you back onto his lap, placing a kiss on your forehead and Hyunjin begins to smile while Seungmin takes on a disgusted look because of Chan's action. You laugh a little. Being with them relaxes you. You almost make people forget your condition. But Jeongin's glance towards your belly and the envelope beside you reminds you of your situation and you squeeze Chan's arm a little tighter.

“Can I stay a little longer? I've got a vacation to drop off at work, so I could stay here a bit longer, couldn't I? The next gig's in Australia, isn't it? I'd love to go and see our family.”

Chan tenses. You can feel his hand slowly detach from your waist. While Jeongin's eyes twinkle at the idea, Felix and Minho look a little more uncomfortable, as if they know something you don't. You frown as Chan runs a hand through his hair. “Not really. It's kind of annoying, if you come. Love, you know I love you, but I can't afford to spend time with you. We'll hardly see each other, anyway, and I'd like to spend time with my family. Just me. And my family.”

You can hear his emphasis on “my” and feel your heart stop beating. Replaced by another heartbeat. The child's. The doctor's words are still pounding in your head. A child. A family. “I'm not a member of your family?”

“That's not what I said, love.” He looks at you, surprised by your words. Normally, you never insist when he tells you no.

“Hannah doesn't want to see me? Why can't I come?”

“Why are you acting like this? Why are you so clingy all of a sudden?” His voice is slightly louder. Enough to startle Felix. Changbin and Seungmin wince, leaving first, quickly followed by Minho, Jisung and Hyunjin. Jeongin stays a little longer, wanting to intervene, but Hyunjin comes and grabs him by the arm, forcing him out of the room.

“Clingy?” Your voice is low. You realize that all of a sudden, compared to usual, you're expressing yourself a lot more. You're asking for a lot more. It's true that he's not used to you asking for so much.

“Yes. I'm willing to stay with you today. But do you realize that, because of you, Jeongin has been late and is not at all ready to go on stage tomorrow? That he's hurt his face and our make-up artists have more work to do because of it? And you want me to spend money to take you to Australia with me? Just because you don't want to be alone? You've got a group with the girls. Spend some time with them.”

You gasp, shocked at his words and get up from his lap, walking around the room, thinking about it. Four months. That's all you hear over and over again.

“What's wrong?”

“Excuse me?”

“What's the big deal about being clingy? I've never asked you for anything. I've never forced anything on you. From the beginning of our relationship, I've always understood your situation, I've always made every effort in the world to be the most perfect woman. So why is being clingy a problem now? How is that a negative term?” Your voice gets louder. He remains silent, surprised to see you in such a state.

But what about you? You begin to hear your child's heartbeat a little louder in your ears. With each beat in your ears, the tears get bigger, more visible on your cheeks. You feel like you're being destroyed on the inside.

You're not one to get angry. But it's the only way to run away from what's growing inside of you. It's the only emotion you are able to feel when you think of his words, of the way he acts around you.

“I'm clingy, because I need you. Because right now, I need emotional support. I'm clingy because I want to be your number one priority. Your main focus for once in your holy life. Because I need you by my side. Because I need help. And if it bothers you that I'm clingy, then that's okay! You're right, I've got friends. If you refuse to make me your priority, I'll make sure you're not mine anymore either. But never, ever say clingy as if it's something negative when it is just there to show how much I trusted you to take care of me when I feel weak and alone. My only mistake was to think you would care about your fucking girlfriend, for once in your life!”

You pick up the envelope from the bedside table and leave the room, closing the door behind you, not even giving him time to reply. Not even giving him time to digest your words.

With tears in your eyes, you sniffle as you go to reception to ask for a room just for you. You rub your cheeks, trying to calm yourself; it's rare that you cry so much. It's rare that you let yourself be so miserable. But now your body is reacting in a peculiar way and you're blaming it all on the doctor who gave you the worst news.

“Noona?” You turn your head towards the voice and look at Minho, he looks worried. He approaches you, handing you a handkerchief and looking at you for long seconds. “Are you all right?” his words are soft and his gaze full of concern. He's never seen you cry, and you wish he'd never seen you like this. It's humiliating.

“No, it's not okay. Chan's actiong like an asshole. Minho, when you see him, tell him it's over between us, please. I'm taking the last flight for Korea.” Keeping your mouth close was never your strong suit. But you're normally much more diplomatic than that. You sniffle again, drying your eyes with the handkerchief, and end up leaving the hotel. In the end, you don't even want to stay in the same hotel as him.

Two months ago...

He's sitting at his recording studio. Jisung is concentrating beside him, headphones on, arranging the sound for the third time in less than five minutes while Chan goes over the lyrics to their latest song. He bites the inside of his lip, searching for a better way to express his feelings through the lyrics. Changbin raises his head and looks at them for a few seconds. “Chan hyung, didn't you have a date tonight?”

Chan is startled and immediately picks up his phone to look at the time. It's after midnight. He grimaces, remembering that he'd promised to take you out for your birthday. It's not the first time he's had setbacks, but he promised to make an effort this time. An effort that disappeared as soon as he had the idea for a new music. Isolating himself in his studio with the boys, music became the only thing he could think about. He ran a hand through his hair and let out a long, plaintive whine as he looked up at the boys.

“I screwed up. I don't know what to do.”

“Call her! Talk to her, work things out.” Changbin insists, looking at him, wondering why he still hasn't done anything to fix the situation between them. Jisung raises his eyes for a few seconds to look at them, then turns towards the door when he hears someone knocking on it. He gets up to see what's going on there.

“Did you guys order food?” He takes the bag of food the deliveryman hands him and returns to his seat, setting everything on the small table so they can eat. Changbin approaches to taste the tteobokki, his eyes on Chan as he calls out.

“Hm… Channie? What's up?” Your voice is sleepy and he winces a little more, realizing he's probably just woken you up.

“Love. Did I wake you up? I'm sorry. I wanted to apologize for forgetting about the date today. I got lost in my recordings. I'll make it up to you tomorrow, I promise. Tomorrow you and I are going to spend the whole day together. We'll do whatever you want.” He stands up, pacing back and forth while the other two watch him as they continue to eat.

He can hear your laughter on the other side of the phone as you yawn, slowly waking up. For a second, he thinks he should add it to his recording so he never forgets that sound. “Don't worry about the restaurant. I went out with the girls as soon as Felix told me you'd left for the studio. I knew you'd forget. I used your card to pay for my clothes, as punishment.” You laugh softly and Chan melts when he hears your voice. He's never heard a sweeter melody in the world. “I ordered food for you and the boys before I went to bed. Did you eat? I imagine you must be hungry.”

Chan turns his head toward the boys and the food. His heart misses a beat. He places a hand on his chest, dropping onto the sofa and nods, unable to speak for a few seconds. His eyes sting, the urge to cry rising in his throat. Jisung and Changbin look at him as if something strange is happening and stop eating for a few seconds, wondering what's going on.

“Yes- Yes, the food arrived all right. The boys were starving. Thanks, love.” He bends down to pick up his chopsticks and looks at the spice-free dish you ordered especially for him. It doesn't take long for the boys to realize what happened.

“Thanks Noona! You're the best!”

“Noona, please become my eumma!” Jisung moans as he clings to Chan, ready to snatch the phone from him to talk to you and thank you for the food. Chan pushes him away with his hand, getting up again to walk away from them and out to chat with you in the hallway.

“Tomorrow, what do you want us to do? I need to be a better boyfriend.”

“Hmm… Whatever I decide, you'll have to accept, right? I decide everything tomorrow?” He can hear the coffee machine in the back. Normally you'd be asleep but he just woke you up. Now you make yourself a coffee, you're not likely to sleep for a while. He knows this, but it would be hypocritical to say something about it.

“Whatever you want, my love.”

“Then I want us to spend a day in bed. Sleeping, cuddling. Maybe watch a movie. But I don't want us to leave bed tomorrow. You'll need your rest after your all-nighter at the studio.” You pause for a moment and he can feel your smile curl on your lips. “I could use some rest too, I'm not just thinking about you, so I forbid you from trying to stop me from enjoying you, tomorrow.”

He stays on the phone with you for a little while, tears still threatening to fall as he feels his voice tremble. All your actions are full of tenderness and love. It's as if you've never blamed him for anything, despite all his nonsense. He closes his eyes, vowing to make you his sole priority one day. To return all the love you give him every day. And when you finally hang up the phone to get some work done, he goes back into the studio with the boys.

“Noona really is the best. I needed to eat.” Jisung lies back on the sofa, stroking his belly to rest from his meal, and Changbin looks up at Chan, frowning as he sees him about to cry.

Chan flops onto the sofa beside them, eyes staring at an invisible point in the distance, unable to blink for fear of starting to cry.

“I'm going to ask for her hand. I'm going to marry her. As soon as we get to Australia, I'm going to get my grandmother's wedding ring and I'm going to ask for her hand in marriage.” The conviction in his voice left no room for doubt. Changbin smiled a little wider, glancing towards the computer a little further away.

“So I guess we should write a song for your proposal.”

Your phone continues to vibrate at your side while your head is in the toilet throwing up first thing in the morning. Your friend left early for work; as a sound engineer, she's busy early for the boys' concerts. But she left you her hotel room without the slightest inconvenience. You clean your lips, brushing your teeth to remove the unpleasant taste left in your mouth, and glance at your phone.

Chan is calling you for the fifth time since this morning. He hasn't slept, you know it. But you can't give in. No matter how much you love him, you know that a child is not what he needs right now. If this gets out, the whole group will be in trouble because of you, and you refuse to be responsible for the group's downfall.

Still, your hand trembles, and you pick up the phone. “I told you to give me time.”

“I can't. Love, Y/n, my Y/n, between you and me, I'm the clingy one. Not you, never you. You're right, you have every right to be. I acted badly, I spoke badly because of stress. I'm far too used to you looking after me, listening to me and calming me down, I didn't expect you to explode like that and I blame myself. Please come back. Please, please, please come back…”

“I haven't even been gone two days, Christopher.”

“Don't.” His voice trembles, you can hear him crying the way you call his name. You close your eyes as you rest on the bathroom floor. You're cold, you're alone. Slowly, your hand moves closer to your belly again, but you still can't touch it.

“I needed you.”

“I'm here.” He talks so fast, so desperately. It's as if he's ready to reach across the phone to you. “Please don't give up four years of relationship for a mistake on my part.”

“It's a mistake on our part. But…” Your hand settles on your belly and you caress it gently. You're pregnant. “But I want to own my mistake. And to do that, I have to let you go. Because now our priorities aren't the same. I have needs you can't fulfill, Christopher.”

“Don't. Stop calling me like that. Stop putting distance between us.” His voice becomes a whisper and all you hear are his muffled cries, as if he doesn't want you to be able to realize his condition. But you can. You hear it. You feel him. He's just as much of a wreck as you are. “Please forgive me. I love you. Stay with me. You're my only priority, please.”

“I'm not. And that's alright, Chris. I'm glad you have the boys with you. Take care of them and take care of yourself. Thanks for these four years.” And you hang up before he can continue talking, letting his pleas for forgiveness disappear into nothingness as you start to cry, your hand against your stomach. Chan is meant to be on stage. To be with his fans, his family. You're not meant to be someone's priority. You like being the only one who puts everyone else first. Even if it means forgetting yourself in the process.

[butterbananabread]

Boys will be boys part 2 is coming soon, tomorrow if I don't get too lazy about it

[butterbananabread]

Boys will be boys. {Y.Jeongin}

Pairing : Jeongin x fem!reader WC : 5k SS : 23 Genre : angst, fluff, smau Warning : car accident, fluff, angst

The sky darkens as you stand on the porch of the restaurant, phone in hand. The hour passes quickly, and you check your messages from time to time to see if you've gotten any response from your boyfriend, but nothing. You have nothing. So you wait, occasionally looking at the street in front of you as it empties because of the rain. People run for cover under bus stops, some decide to wait out the rain in shops or go in and buy an umbrella. You bite your lower lip, ignoring the sounds of cars rattling away from reckless pedestrians, and grip your phone a little tighter.

"Miss?"

The doorman's voice is oddly soft, reassuring. You turn to him and your eyes meet his. Pity is the first thing you see in him. And you can't even get angry. All you feel is humiliation. Your eyes water and you shake your head before he can speak.

"Can I sit at the table already? And order some food, please?" you whimper, almost crying.

"I'm sorry, your table was given a few hours ago, Miss…" His voice is so low that you can barely hear him. He's as embarrassed as you are by everything that's going on. So you nod, realizing it's too late, and make your way home. The rain doesn't bother you. The doorman's words make you forget about your phone, which you put in your jacket pocket.

Your boyfriend Jeongin didn't show up. This is the third date you've arranged with him. You've booked a nice restaurant and picked your best clothes, but all you get is silence and excuses from your boyfriend. You find it hard to believe him, to listen to his words without feeling like a bomb is building in your head, ready to explode at any moment. Feelings that merge between the passion and love you feel for him and the anger of his actions. The raindrops that fall on your eyes help to soothe your feelings, slowly washing away your frustration.

Back home, after your hot shower, dressed in the nightgown you bought especially for this evening, you sit down on the sofa. Your hand reaches into the pocket of the wet jacket you left on the living room floor, letting it soak the hardwood floors as you reach for your phone to send him a message.

9:43 pm Y/n - Hey, are you okay? Innie, are you ever going to write me back?

You turn the conversation up and wait for a reply from him. You've been sending him messages for three hours. He hasn't replied, but he's read them all. Your nose wrinkles in disbelief at his actions. Is he trying to dump you? That wouldn't be his style, and more importantly, you don't really understand why he wouldn't just be upfront about it. Jeongin has never been the kind of guy to make others suffer on purpose. At least you've never seen him like that. You sniffle, tuck a strand of wet hair behind your ear, and decide to write to someone else.

Two years ago...

Everyone pushes to the front of the store while you wait by the door, your drink in hand. You sip the liquid through the straw, lowering your sunglasses a little to watch the world rush by the new Louis Vuitton collection. The store is getting crowded because, apparently, a celebrity is planning to drop by to promote the new bags, and many fans are jostling to be there during the promotion. The chance to get up close and personal with their idol. Yet you turn on your heels and walk away to another store, bringing your phone to your lips after dropping the straw.

“The new bag will be promoted through a celebrity, Louis Vuitton's surge in popularity towards a female and less affluent audience seems to be accentuated through the same ambassador.” You ramble on in your recording, trying to keep in mind sales figures before today in the hope of being able to compare before and after. As a fashion enthusiast, you like to do your little research in your corner, playing fashion journalist in your spare time alongside your accounting studies.

Your footsteps take you to another store and you smile softly, throwing away the drink you've just finished so as not to risk soiling the clothes inside. You're not rich, at least not rich enough to afford the clothes in there. You owe most of your wardrobe to friends who have much more money than you, to thrift shops and to your sewing skills, which you like to use to imitate luxury clothes. As long as it's an imitation, and you don't sell it or lie and say it's haute couture, you're in the clear. Right?

You hum as you walk through the premises, letting your eyes explore the sections in search of a rare, beautiful item, a garment that would make you want to copy, to recreate just for you. And finally, you find a pearl: shoes with a unique design that make you laugh softly. It's not something you see yourself wearing or even buying or copying, but you want to take a photo, send it to your friends just to show them your find and laugh along with them. However, as your hand rests on the shoes, another rests on yours. Apparently, the pair has attracted someone else.

You turn your head towards the person, quickly withdrawing your hand ready to apologize for your action and tell the person they can take the shoes when your eyes meet and you widen in surprise. The man has the same reaction as you as he scrutinizes you for a few seconds.

Matching.

You both matched.

Your imitation Alexander McQueen houndstooth dress that came to mid-thigh, your semi-opaque black polka-dot tights, your frilly black long socks, your black Mary-Janes and your black tweed jacket with silver buttons were a perfect match for his outfit. Wide black pants that half hide his black shoes with silver laces, his black top pressed against his body, his houndstooth jacket delicately draped over his shoulders, his silver belt adding a little color to the whole. A smile devours your lips as you hesitate a little before taking a step towards him. This kind of coincidence only happens in romantic movies. But you know that your life isn't a romantic movie. It never will be and you don't care that much about romance.

"We match, it's fun. You can take the shoes, I just wanted to take a picture, sorry. Can I take a picture of our outfits? I want to show my friends that I ran into someone who dresses like me?" He seems hesitant, has a mask over his face and tilts his head limply. Does he not speak your language? Or does he just not like the idea of having his photo taken by a stranger? You bite your lip softly, trying to calm your glee. "I won't take your face in, just your outfit. Promise."

As if he realizes you're not planning to let go until you get your picture, he nods and agrees to take the photo with you and as promised, you don't put his face in the picture. Just his body, so that he remains anonymous. Without waiting too long, you rush to send the photo to your best friend, all smiles.

“It's not every day I come across people who are this well-matched to me.”

“Can I have the picture too?” He speaks hesitantly and you look up at him for a few seconds, surprised. His voice is soft and his accent is easily perceptible. Perhaps the reason for his hesitation was mainly that he doesn't speak the same language as you? In any case, you can't help but find him cute, you smile a little more, soft blushes kissing your cheeks as you nod, giving him your approval for the photo.

After the photo, you took the time to chat. You began to speak more slowly, as if to give him time to understand you better and follow your rhythm.

He often lets out onomatopoeia to validate your words, as if he's a little embarrassed to speak. From time to time, you see him tapping on his phone before answering. It's as if he's looking for the translation of a word or is unsure of everything you're saying, but he's always invested in your words about fashio.

The two of you discover a lot of common ground as you lead him in the direction of a small French café. Without even realizing it, you've been spending two hours together, talking about everything and anything.

“Oh, in all this I realize I haven't even introduced myself, I'm Y/L/N Y/N, delighted to meet you. And you are?”

He seems to take a little time, hesitating a little as he looks left and right and you realize he still hasn't removed his mask from his face.

“Are you sick?”

He shakes his head and clears his throat before settling a little more comfortably into the chair on the terrace of the little café. The place is pretty empty, as everyone is focused on the Louis Vuitton store at the moment.

“Yang Bob. Nice to meet you.” You purse your lips and squint. He feels a shiver run down his back under your gaze.

“Korean?” He nods and you puff out your chest with pride at having managed to guess while you order a pastry and a drink, he does the same, a little more hesitant even as his gaze on you grows longer, more interested.

Yet, even if the mood isn't heavy, something seems to be bothering him and you can't guess what it is. You tilt your head for a few seconds, playing with the bouquet of flowers in front of you on the table. Your fingers caress the petals as you hum along to the Edith Piaf song playing in the background. You know it by heart from all the times you've come to this little café with your friends, and you've had fun looking up the lyrics on the Internet to understand the depth of the music and, above all, what she was singing. Around you, most of the tables are empty, it's not time for a coffee and everyone is busy elsewhere. You like this idea of having a moment of solitude and peace and….

You straighten up, looking up at him, and he flinches at your reaction. All along, he's been concentrating on you. Watching the way you blink as you admire the flowers, the way you press your lips together to hum the music, trying not to start singing for fear of mispronouncing the words, the delicacy of your fingers on the flower petals, so seeing you straighten up like this has surprised him and he clenches his fists, terrified of the words that are about to come out of your mouth.

“Is it because it's a date? Is that why you're uncomfortable? Maybe you want me to leave? I just wanted to show you the café, it's a nice place and from talking I got thirsty and- my purpose is in no way to force you to have a date with me.”

He laughs a little, his shoulders slackening and he shakes his head, his bangs hiding part of his eyes as he looks at you, amused by your words while you're in full inner panic at the idea of having said something stupid or done something stupid with him. His eyes shine with a mocking, mischievous gleam as he leans forward, his elbow against the table and his cheek against the palm of his hand. Suddenly, he seems to have gained all the confidence in the world while you feel lost, uncomfortable staring straight at him, searching for a logic to his reaction and not knowing what to do.

“What if I want it to be a date?”

You open your mouth before closing it again. His curly, light-brown hair delicately encircles his face, his brown eyes are bewitching and you feel like you'd lose your words if you looked at him too long. Clearly, you wouldn't mind a date with a man like him. You play with the menu on the table and look down a little, searching for your words.

“I guess the fact that our clothes match is a sign of fate, then.”

The apartment door opens on Jeongin, and he carefully pokes his head through to the other side. The place looks quiet except for the noises in the kitchen and the smell of coffee wafting through the air. He smiles softly as he enters and removes his shoes, the bouquet of flowers in his hands he clutches to his chest, nervous as he rehearses his text in his head, trying his best to remember what he needs to say to you to apologize for not being there for you the night before. He drops a plastic bag on the living room table, the bag containing food for the two of you, he thought he'd come before you were up, but he seems to have been late even for that.

“Babe, I brought break-” His voice rises in the treble and he drops the bouquet of flowers as he sees Henry, your best friend, in the kitchen, making coffee. His hair is still wet from his shower, he's wearing a black tank top and black jogging pants. The guest brings the glass of coffee to his lips as he turns to the voice, a little tired from his trip. But before Henry can say a word, Jeongin starts running in his direction, grabs him by the collar of his top and Henry drops his coffee cup: the cup shatters, the coffee spills onto the floor and Henry opens his eyes wide in shock, his leg slightly burnt by the hot coffee. Jeongin pins him against the wall, anger shining in his eyes along with frustration.

“Who are you? What are you doing here? What are you doing at my girlfriend's house?” His voice is cold, full of rage, he sounds like he's about to rip Henry's head off as you're awakened by the noise, coming out of your room still wrapped in the blanket. “Innie?! What are you doing? Let go of him! You'll hurt him!” You cough, your throat burning from your panic. The door opens once more, this time on Anny who arrives and looks at everyone, forgetting to take off her shoes as she rushes to the room. She's short of breath at the sight and before anyone can speak, Anny raises her hand, coming to slap you.

“How dare you cheat on Jeongjeong!”

“Oh the old hag, she'd better never touch my best friend like that again, if she doesn't want to end up six feet under.” Henry's voice drops into the depths as he pushes Jeongin free of his grip on him and runs to you to get a look at your cheek. “Best friend?” Jeongin blinks, trying to get things straight in his head as he tries to take in everything that's going on.

Finally, Henry, Anny and you go and sit on the sofa while Jeongin cleans the kitchen floor. His face is red with shame and his eyes wet with guilt.

You rub your cheek and avoid looking at Anny, who's frustrated enough as it is. Things are piling up about her and you're still trying to see one positive thing about her.

When Jeongin has finished cleaning up, he washes his hands and approaches you, gently caressing your cheek as he looks straight into your eyes. You can read the fear in his eyes, his hands tremble and his lower lip trembles under his desire to cry, to snuggle in your arms and beg you to excuse him. But he doesn't. Because he doesn't feel like showing off like this in front of everyone.

“Go away.”

“Babe-”

“No. Don't 'babe' me. Go away, Jeongin. You and Anny. Get out of my house. I don't want to see you. Just leave. All of you!” Your voice vibrates, anger burning inside you as you point to the door. Jeongin tries to approach, to take you against him, but Henry gets up and pushes him away from you, heading for the door with Jeongin.

“She told us to leave, so we'll listen to her wisely, hm?” Henry's tone left no room for refusal as he walked out with Anny and Jeongin, leaving you alone. And all you can do is cry.

Two years ago...

What an idea on Henry's part, to start fitness without doing the slightest bit of research first, all so he could go with his fiancé. You sigh, wrapping your index finger around a lock of hair. You enter your town's sporting goods store, your gaze on your phone as you read the list of products your friend needs for his workouts and the proteins he needs to start taking. A long sigh leaves your pink lips as you walk through the premises, smiling politely at the employees as you search for what you need.

Finding the protein he needs, you smile as you pick up the jar and look at it for a few seconds, tilting your head gently. You don't understand any of this stuff, but if it's what he wants, you can't see yourself not buying it for him. You feel a strange tingling at your side, as if someone is watching you. So slowly, a little nervously, you raise your head to smile at the person beside you, no doubt a salesman trying to inform you. But then you open your mouth, recognizing one of the boys who was with Bob during your date with him. You smile, eyes twinkling as he backs away a little as soon as he notices you recognize him and bows his head, hiding by pulling his cap down over his eyes.

“You're a friend of Bob's, aren't you? I'm the girl from the café.” You speak, trying to understand his reaction, why he's fleeing your gaze. You purse your lips, hoping your Korean isn't too terrible and being careful to use the polite form, given that you don't know his age. The man blinks when he hears you speak and lets out an “oooh” before looking at you, raising his eyes to yours.

“Hi, I didn't recognize you right away. I was just- I wanted to know if these proteins are good or not.” He points to the jar in your hands and you lower your head to it with a shrug. It's a local brand. That's all you know. The rest is a blur, the explanations at the back too complex for you.

“I couldn't say, it's for my friend, not for me. Ah, can I ask you a favor?”

He raises an eyebrow as you put the jar down again to grab a piece of paper from your bag and you quickly write your phone number on it before handing him the paper, all smiles. “My meeting with Bob went well, but I never got around to giving him my number. Finding you here is a bit of a sign of fate, isn't it? I'd be a fool not to take advantage of it. Could you give him my number, please? I'd really like to get to know him better and spend some time with him.”

After giving him the number, you pick up the jar of protein and let your gaze rest on the muscular arms of the man beside you. Clearly, he must love sports, given his physique. You smile a little more, your eyes shining. Just looking at him, you can already imagine him in different outfits that might show off his musculature. “If you ever have time, could you go to the gym with my best friend and his fiancé? They love it, maybe they can advise you on the protein of the place. Oh, take my number too and send me a message, I'll put you in touch!”

And already, with a smile on your face, you go to pay for your pot and walk away, waving to Changbin who just stands there in disbelief at your actions.

In the late afternoon, as he meets the boys back at the hotel, Chan is hugging Jeongin, a pouty look on his face as the younger tries his best to push him away. “It's our last day here before we head off to the next town and Innie hasn't managed to find his girlfriend! My baby is heartbroken.”

“Nonsense, first of all she's not my girlfriend and I'm not heartbroken” He grunts managing to flee from Chan's arms, leaving to hide behind Minho who looks at him with an amused expression. He missed it all, but Hyunjin hasn't failed to tell everyone how cute he was during his little one-on-one date. Changbin arrives, settling down on the sofa next to Felix and Seungmin while he watches Jeongin trying to escape his friends' nonsense. “It's our last night here, so let's give our fans a great experience.”

“Yeah, who knows, maybe his girlfriend will be in the stands.” Felix teases Jeongin in turn, turning to Hyunjin to mime the scene where the two lovers would meet. The red rises to Jeongin's face as he continues to complain about his elders' behavior. Changbin reaches into his pocket to pull out the little piece of paper with the phone number on it.

“I don't think his girlfriend knows who we are.”

"She's not my girlfriend! And no, I don't think she's coming either, not once has she spoken to me about my music or made any reflection on my identity."

“Ah, she's not your girlfriend?” Changbin smirks, showing the small folded paper in his hand. "Then can I throw away her phone number? She asked me to give it to you today, when I ran into her. But if she's not your girlfriend, I can just throw it away, right?“

”What? Give me that!" Jeongin runs to Changbin as everyone giggles at his reaction. His eldest asks for a hug against the phone number and, against all odds, Jeongin agrees to hug him, only long enough to steal the number and quickly walk away so he can read it in peace. Quickly, he pulls out his phone to record the number and tears up the paper so the others can't try to contact you. “I've got a call to make, don't come bothering me.” He walks away from everyone as they laugh, amused by his actions. They'd never imagined Jeongin acting so desperately.

"Maybe we should invite her, tonight?" Jisung smiled, looking at the door.

"Yeah, she makes him happy, so maybe we should, yeah."

The journey is silent. Edith Piaf plays on the radio while you stare out of the window, staring into space. In the front seat, Henry is chatting with your friend, they both seem to get on well, but you're not even surprised. Henry is a very social person, just like you, easily able to make friends and very free-spirited. You close your eyes for a few seconds, to rest while they chat, but the car stops at a gas station and the door opens.

"I'm going to get us something to drink, the rest of the journey's going to be quite long. Would you like something to drink, Y/N?" You answer your friend with a tired wave and she drives off with Henry, leaving you alone in the car. You sigh, your forehead against the window as you can hear Henry's laughter in the distance.

The back door of the car opens and you frown, turning your head towards the door. “I really didn't need anything-” You fall silent, mouth ajar as Jeongin sits down beside you.

His eyes are red, his clothes askew. He looks you straight in the eye for a few seconds, then glances at the suitcases in the back of the car, then turns to you again. Slowly, he understands. And slowly, you understand that he already knows everything. "Are you leaving? Why? Why are you leaving? Because of me? Please, please, don't go, Y/n..."

He reaches out to take you against him, but when he sees you recoil, he pulls his arms back so as not to touch you, tears streaming down his cheeks, his voice stuck in his throat as he searches for words, unable to know what to say to make you stay close to him. His gaze never leaves you, analyzing your every move in pursuit of an answer, a solution to the problem. You sigh, shaking your head.

"It's not because of you. Not entirely!" You run a hand through your hair, tears threatening to fall. "The internship at the company, the fact that I don't speak Korean very well, the fact that I have to work on top of the internship in order to pay for my apartment, the fact that I'm far from my family, my friends and the fact that suddenly, because I've confessed my feelings, my boyfriend decides to walk away from me? It's just too much. I've cracked, Jeongin. I've- I've resigned. My work visa is coming to an end with my resignation. I have no choice but to leave."

His face deteriorates. You've always told him the internship was complicated. Life in Korea isn't the easiest, but you jumped on the internship and flew to Korea to be close to him. You often told him how hard it was. But he always asked Anny to be gentle with you, ever since he learned she was your boss.

"I'm sorry. I should have been there for you. I should have..."

"Yes. Past tense. You should have. You didn't. It's too late now. Please, just go. Don't make it harder. And you've got a flight to catch, your world tour is starting soon, just go."

He frowns, shaking his head as he approaches you, pulling you to him for a hug. He places a kiss on your forehead, holding you against him as you break down. You start to cry.

"Dispatch will be waiting for me on the next flight. You can't wait. I refuse to make you wait any longer. I want to stay with you, find a solution with you."

Gently, you shake your head, staying against him. You didn't even question how he knew where you were. You know your friend wasn't the one to tell him about your departure. But the fact that she gets out of the car with Henry just as Jeongin enters isn't a coincidence, and you know it. “Maybe it's for the best that way.”

“Please don't say that...” His voice breaks and he puts his hands on your cheeks to lift your face to him, resting his lips against yours in the hope of awakening the flame in you, the passion in you. But the passion never left. Your love for him never left you. "Stay with me, babe. I love you. I... I love you so much, I-"

You smile, wrinkling your nose at his words and putting your hands on his cheeks in return. "I told you you don't have to force yourself to tell me, silly. But I love you too. With all my being, I love you, Innie." You pause for a second, noticing his eyes. He's waiting for the ‘but’. He's waiting for the reason why you're going to leave him for good. And you don't make him wait too long. "But life in Korea is harder than I ever imagined. And starting with an internship isn't necessarily the easiest thing. I love you, but I need to think about my life and my future. For that, I have to go back home. I'll be back. If you're still waiting for me, I'll come back when my Korean is more stable and I'm able to earn enough to pay taxes without depending on the state or a second job."

He slides his hands over your waist, pulling you back against him and gently kissing your forehead. The mood is more tender. You gently caress his hand and he feels his shoulders relax a little more. He nods.

"Until you get back, I'm going to clean up my friendships. I'll keep in touch with Henry and you. I'm going to learn to be a better boyfriend."

"You're already the best. You just have to stop keeping things to yourself and agree to open up a little more to me."

He holds you a little tighter, cradling his head against your shoulder and stays that way for a little while, enjoying your scent. "Don't forget me, please. Come back to me." You nod without moving more than that, your hand caressing his back slowly.

After a moment, the door opens and your friends return to the car. Henry turns to you and looks at you with a huge smile on his lips before glowering at Jeongin. “You hurt her again and I'll hit you!”

"Innie, are you coming with us to the airport? Won't you be late for your flight?" Your eunnie looked at Jeongin from the rearview mirror and he smiled, shaking his head, saying he planned to catch the next flight. But even so, they were going to have to hurry: you were going to Gimpo airport and he to Incheon airport, it was about a two-hour drive between the two. Your eunnie winced a little, resting a hand on her chest as she stared at the road. “We'll drop y/n off first and I'll drop you off there.”

During the drive, you enjoy your last moments with Jeongin, you discuss what you're going to do, he orders you to write to him every five seconds and, as if telling you his feelings has changed him, he keeps kissing you, whispering ‘I love you’ at every turn, as if trying to make up for all the opportunities he'd missed.

Once at the airport, he pulls you back against his chest and strokes your hair. "Are you leaving for good? Really?" Sadness shows in his voice, he still hasn't come to terms with it.

“It's not like we're going to see each other often, you're going on a world tour, I'll remind you.” You laugh against his chest, squeezing him a little tighter. He kisses the top of your head, smiling against your hair, you can feel him relax. "I'm going to send you some concert tickets. You'd better come and listen to me. And invite your family, I'm going to meet them."

You put on a pouty face at the thought of introducing him to your family, and he kisses your lips gently before letting go. "We need some space, Innie. Use this time to get your priorities straight. When I get back, we'll see if our relationship is still worth it or not."

"You'll see! I'm going to be the best boyfriend in the world! I'll be waiting for you, my love. I love you!" You burst out laughing as you hear him and, holding Henry's hand, you walk away, your heart a little lighter, Edith Piaf's voice in your ears.

There was a time when you were the one who cleaned glasses in cafés. Now you're the lover bidding farewell to your beloved.

On the way home, Jeongin hops up and down in the passenger seat, constantly looking at his phone waiting to hear back from you, groaning every time he gets nothing. “Noona, she hasn't answered me for two minutes!” His noona lets out a little ‘hm’ from her lips, staying focused on the road. But when he turns his head to look at her, her cheeks are flushed and she seems to be sweating profusely. He frowns and gasps as she closes her eyes. Jeongin reaches for the steering wheel and lets out a panicked cry, trying to manage things. All he hears after that is the squeal of car tires on wet pavement and then, total darkness.

[butterbananabread]

Masterlist

Please, don't tell me, wait. - Dino

Smut (minors dni) 🍒 - Fluffly 🍓- Angst 🍅 - Smau 🍎

ƸӜƷ 방찬 - Bangchan

Boys will be boys 🍅🍎

⤿ Life couldn't be more perfect for you. Beautiful boyfriend, beautiful friends, nice and interesting job. Your life was picture perfect. But not everything is like it seems. When you needed Chan the most, his bad temper had reason of your relationship.

ƸӜƷ 리노 Lee Know

Boys will be boys 🍅🍎

⤿ You don't know Lee Know. But Lee Minho? Yes, you do. As neighborhood friends, you use to go to school together. Once he left for Seoul, you stayed with his parents and took care of them, eating with them quite often. But when you get the chance to work for JYPE as a sound engineer? He is pissed and he's not scared to show you that he wants you far away from him.

ƸӜƷ 창빈 Changbin

TDA

ƸӜƷ 현진 Hyunjin

Boys will be boys. 🍓🍅🍎 (TDA) ⤿ You weren't into him as much as he was into you. But he knew how to be attractive and make you look his way. He was the most romantic man ever, the one who could almost make you fall in love again. But nothing is ever perfect. Even more with someone who wants to be perfect for his band members. Sometime, you have to stand up for those you love. And sometime you need to stand against them, too. That's the hardest part for Hyunjin.

ƸӜƷ 지성 Jisung

TDA

ƸӜƷ 필릭스 Felix

TDA

ƸӜƷ 승민 Seungmin

TDA

ƸӜƷ 정인 Jeongin

Boys will be boys. 🍓🍅 🍎

⤿ You've been dating for quite sometimes but when you need him the most, you start to notice that you are not his priority. And you have no time nor desire to fight against his bestfriend for his attention. Will he notice on time that he lost you?

Boys will be boys. [shorts smau] 🍎

⤿ Just Jeongin being the maknae and letting everyone knows that he is, in fact, in charge of everything.

[butterbananabread]

Hi, I'm Butterfly but you can call me Butter, I love to write when I'm not busy reading. I'm new on tumblr, so I still have a lot to learn, please don't hate me too much if I'm slow and dumbdumb. I write skz smau, I hope you'll enjoy!

᪥ She/her.

᪥ Felix's wife.

᪥ Multi stan, but mostly a carat and a stay.

᪥ My banners and dividers are from @saradika-graphics.

᪥ The theme is from @xuethms.

Masterlist

[butterbananabread]

Thank you so much! I love your work <3

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