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insertcurrentinterest · 6 months ago

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against the world

PAIRING ▸ park sunghoon x fem!reader x sim jaeyun (ft. park jongseong)

GENRES ▸ fluff, angst, psychological, horror, thriller

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, murder, descriptions of gore, unrequited love, found family, friends to lovers, enemies to lovers, mc is an unreliable narrator

SUMMARY ▸ if you could change anything about your life, it would be meeting park sunghoon.

WORD COUNT ▸ 14,064 words

PLAYLIST ▸ back to black by amy winehouse • the french library by franz gordon • perfectly splendid by the newton brothers

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ hello !! this fic is a rewrite of one of my first horror fics that i’ve written :') it badly needed reworking and i completely changed the ending. i hope you guys enjoy my spooky szn contribution ♡

THE TRUTH WAS, YOUR LIFE BEGAN TO FALL APART EVEN BEFORE YOU MET SIM JAEYUN.

You realized this as you woke up, face pressed against the ice-cold, concrete floor of a holding cell; when the guards dragged your uncooperative, limp body into an interrogation room; when you were face-to-face with Detective Lee Heeseung and handcuffed to a cold, metal table as he read your Miranda Rights. The handcuffs dug into the flesh of your wrists, but you only fought against them once and gave up as soon as you realized they wouldn’t give in. You just wanted to thumb away the crusted blood staining your hands and pick out the flakes under your nails.

The room was foreign to you. It was something you’d seen in movies and read in books, but you never fathomed the idea of being in an interrogation room yourself. There was a two-way glass that you aimlessly stared at, wondering who was listening in on the other end.

You couldn’t figure out just how you ended up in this situation. Everything was smooth in your memory up until your supposed arrest—a tear in the fabric of your recollection. You hardly remembered what happened on the way to the police station or when you were getting booked in. You dug your palms into your temples and then pressed against the soft flesh under your eyes, frustrated by the stunted gears in your head. As much as you begged than to click and start spinning, they remained stuck and rusted in place.

But you couldn’t ask the brooding man standing over you. You couldn’t look up into his cold, unforgiving eyes. After all, he knew you were a murderer.

“There’s no use in lying to me, Y/N,” Detective Lee said gruffly with a gaze like steel, “the prints match.”

You drummed your fingers against the table—a habit that was rooted in your anxiety. Your fingers were stained and pruned like roses, and as hard as you tried to paint the table red, it only flaked off. You were sure your heartbeat was faster than the tapping of your fingers, your mind perhaps speeding off twice as fast.

Your stomach twisted. If Jaeyun was going to prison, too, then you could no longer protect him.

There was a limit to how much he could take; you knew that being thrown in the slammer would be intolerable for him. You knew you needed to get to him immediately because Jaeyun was the guy who felt too little and too much at the same time—the guy who looked for the part of him that ran away, who self-destructed when he felt the world closing in on him.

After all, Jaeyun was a stick of trinitrotoluene lit at both ends.

You worked up the courage to look Detective Lee in the eye, which made him stiffen up, biceps flexing under his white button-up.

“Where’s Jaeyun?” you asked.

Detective Lee’s lips pressed into a thin, grim line. Cutting into his pale cheeks. You decided that couldn’t be a good reaction.

You continued, “He didn’t do anything, I swear. He was just there. He didn’t do anything.”

“If you cooperate with us, then you can see Jaeyun again,” the detective answered in a clipped tone. “I can sit here all day and wait.”

Cooperate. You hated that word.

You knew Detective Lee was just trying to sugarcoat your betrayal. You knew he was looking down on you, ready to push you to your limit.

But there was nothing you could do in this room. There was no way for you to escape or talk your way out of it to see Jaeyun. You knew quite well that staying silent would only prevent you from making sure your boyfriend was okay.

You had no other choice but to work with Detective Lee.

“Will you at least make sure he’s not hurt?” you inquired, to which Detective Lee agreed with a nod.

“I’ll ask again: Will you cooperate?”

You stayed silent. You despised your old habit of shutting down like this, but you couldn’t help it.

Detective Lee sighed and sat in the chair across from you so that you both were eye-level with each other. “Listen, Y/N, you’re young. This murder investigation—this is serious stuff, okay? We just need to know the full story before we jump to any conclusions and make a false arrest. Can we start from last night?”

Deep down, you understood. But it’s all too fresh—too soon. The grief had yet to settle. The recollections of blood and lifeless eyes poisoned your head; it was all you could see when you closed your eyes.

You sounded hollow when you said, “It didn’t… start from last night.”

Detective Lee acknowledged this and leaned forward, hands clasped in front of him. “Then let’s hear it from the beginning.”

If you could change anything about your life, it would be meeting Park Sunghoon.

Your first meeting was at the age of fourteen. Moving schools was an unexpected shift in your life, and you didn't expect to find many friends at your new school. Starting new in the beginning of the year was one thing, but entering unknown territory with people already acclimated in their respective groups was another.

People flocked to comfort, and you were sure that no one would want to step out of their comfort zone to bring a stranger into their friend group.

And then Sunghoon swooped in, like an angel sent from the heavens.

Initially, he was awkward. You were both fourteen-years-old and going through the initial stages of puberty—all voice cracks and awkward intervals of growth stunts. Sunghoon was soft-spoken and didn’t have many friends when he approached and befriended you.

It started when you both found out you shared a love for novels. You spent hours talking about your favorite books, and Sunghoon shared his dream of wanting to craft the perfect story. Oftentimes, Sunghoon would share some of his writing with you, and then his eyes would sparkle upon hearing your feedback.

You two were classmates, sitting right next to each other in the back of the classroom, conveniently right next to the door. You got to know Sunghoon slowly—the same gradual feeling of starting to care for someone. You knew his boundaries, though, because you were aware that you could never be the closest to Sunghoon. He and Park Jongseong were attached at the hip, and you couldn’t lie to yourself; you felt like a third wheel in the beginning.

But there was some comfort in the security of your friendship.

“It’s you and me,” Sunghoon would tell you, “the two of us against the world.”

You knew you should have been grateful to have made friends in the first place, but you didn’t exactly know if you belonged with them. As comfortable as you felt, there was always a whisper in the back of your head, telling you that you would never be their number one.

You would never be anyone’s number one.

“I don’t understand girls,” Jongseong said one day, hands tucked behind his head as the three of you were hanging out in Sunghoon’s room. You were flipping through some comic book that Sunghoon had laying around, and you shifted uncomfortably upon hearing the question.

“You don’t have to.” Sunghoon’s eyes flitted from you, and then back to his phone. He swiped through some apps, but you could tell he wasn’t really paying attention judging by the glazed-over look in his eyes. “Girls make no sense at this age.”

Jongseong nudged you. “You have anything to say about that, Y/N?”

To be honest, you didn’t understand yourself much either. You were just starting to go through puberty, and it wasn’t ideal for a teenager as young as you to only have guy friends. You couldn’t relate to any of the girls your age, nor could you ask them if they were going through the same changes you were.

You were acquainted with several girls, of course, but you never got close enough to ask what feelings and experiences they had. You wanted to know if they were becoming as conscious of themselves and others like you were, but you kept those questions bottled up since you only had Sunghoon and Jongseong.

“Nope,” you replied. “I couldn’t tell you.”

You supposed Jongseong was having girl problems again, and it all clicked because lately, he had been hanging around a pretty girl in their class. They were cute together and clearly into each other, but you could pick up on the issue: Jongseong was on the down-low about their relationship. More importantly, he had been on the down-low about it around Sunghoon, which had to have been breaking some sort of best friend code.

Jongseong asked, “You like anyone, Hoon?”

Hoon, your brain echoed, and you imagined yourself using the name as casually as Jongseong did. It sounded awkward coming from you, though. Friends gave each other nicknames, right? What if you gave Sunghoon a nickname? How would he react?

Sunghoon flushed behind his phone screen. You could tell he wanted it to go undetected, but you caught a glimpse of his flustered expression before he was able to compose himself.

“Oh, not really,” he replied with an air of indifference. “I dunno. I guess I haven’t really been looking.”

“How about you, Y/N?”

You faltered for a moment before you realized you had been addressed. It was a normal question; you should have expected it, but it hit you like a tornado and your mind was swirling. Dating had crossed your mind a few times, sure, you had never prepared an answer because you thought it was going to be straightforward—a simple “yeah, there’s a few cute guys in class.” But that wasn’t the case this time, and you were wondering why there wasn’t any clarity in your head.

Come on, Y/N, you urged yourself, as if you were complaining to multiple, uncooperating attendants working in your brain. Just say something—anything.

Your mind was blanking, though, and you were scared. You couldn’t quite grasp why your stomach felt like a never-ending pit, but it only worsened when you couldn’t spit some guy’s name out. You wanted to open up your skull, thoroughly examine your head, poke at the areas refusing to work, and figure out who you couldn’t just list some attractive guy in class; on top of that, you wondered why you couldn’t just flat-out refuse the statement and claim that there was no one you were interested in.

You were struck with a painful realization that there was only one person you could think of.

Sunghoon.

No, no, no, your brain and your heart screamed at each other. Get ahold of yourself.

You quickly decided that it was just a passing feeling that you needed to suppress until it went away. It was just stupid teenage hormones and puberty making you feel this way and starving you of affection that you didn’t actually need in the first place. If you didn’t get a hold over yourself, you were going to crumble and ruin the good things you had going.

You internally convinced yourself that everything was fine. There were plenty of teenagers your age who had moments of weakness like this with their guy friends. You just needed to branch out more, that was all.

Sheepishly, you replied before the boys could chew you out, “There’s no one I’m interested in right now.”

You weren’t a very good liar, but as long as Sunghoon and Jongseong were sold, you were content with how things were.

Your group expanded when you turned fifteen, and you and Sunghoon grew closer—maybe even closer than Sunghoon and Jongseong were.

You were laying down in your bed one night, breaking into sobs when you realized that you needed more than one hand to count the number of friends you had now. Your shell was broken and your world was bigger. You normally lived like your uphills were mountains and your downhills were cliffs, but, lately, the mountains were getting easier to climb and the downhills weren’t that big of a drop. You didn’t need to stop and catch your breath or worry about hurting yourself on the way down.

You never felt lonely anymore. If Sunghoon or Jongseong weren’t free, you would call Nishimura Riki to catch grasshoppers in the creek with you, or you’d go play video games with Yang Jungwon. Kim Sunoo called you nearly every night to bother you, but you didn’t mind. You liked them; they made you feel important, like you were wanted.

“Come on,” Sunghoon teased Jungwon one day as he was blushing over some girl. “What are you being so shy about?”

“It’s embarrassing!” Jungwon complained, and you giggled over how a flush of red started creeping from his ears to his cheeks. “I’m not a smooth-talker like you are, Hoon.”

Sunghoon snorted. “I’m not a smooth-talker.”

“He’s practically, like, bulletproof,” Jongseong chimed in. “We can’t tease him about anyone. He just brushes it off.”

“I’m not bulletproof,” Sunghoon argued, but anyone could see the pride behind his expression. “I’m just not interested in anyone right now.”

You thought you had finally squashed the weird, gooey feeling that arose in your chest every now and then whenever Sunghoon came close. It was primarily due to the fact that Sunghoon was a respectful individual who didn’t try to weasel his way into your personal bubble as he pleased. That was probably for the best because you were sure your brain would go haywire if Sunghoon was too close for comfort.

And then there was Sim Jaeyun.

Jaeyun entered your circle pretty easily. With his radiant personality and warm presence, it was no shocker that he was accepted by the group instantly. He possessed some odd charm that drew people to him, and you couldn’t seem to figure just how that worked. You were almost jealous of him, honestly, with how much of a social butterfly he was.

Out of all of them, Jaeyun seemed to take a particular interest in you. It drove you crazy, though, and you couldn’t figure out how to get the guy to stop teasing and messing around with you. The others couldn’t figure it out either; you just weren’t as bright and bubbly as Jaeyun was, so it was odd that he kept nagging the one person whose wavelength wasn’t on par with his.

Sometimes it was cute—endearing even—but sometimes it was just flat-out irritating.

“Hey, Y/N.” Jake grinned, and his voice was all light and airy as he approached you. “What’re you doing for the summer break?”

“Probably sleeping in, hanging out with the others, and some more sleeping,” you replied, hardly sparing him a single glance.

You were too focused on clearing out your locker of all the books and papers you had tossed in during the year. Gotta keep this, gotta throw this away, gotta return this one, you rattled off in your head, mentally preserving a reminder of your various items. But Jaeyun knew how to push your buttons and grab your attention. He never took your deflection without retaliating back. That was one of the many reasons why you found it so difficult to be around him.

“And hanging out with Sunghoon, huh? Have you realized it yet, or are you still pretending it’s not there?”

You closed your locker with a swift swipe of your hand, revealing Jaeyun’s smug expression. Your eyes were practically bugging out of your sockets as you stared him down. Somehow, you knew exactly what he was hinting at, but you refused to spell it out for him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you questioned, but Jaeyun was already walking away from you. He was turned away, but you could visualize that stupid smirk of his like it was carved into your memory.

Jaeyun was smart. Too smart.

Your summer was filled with laughter, beach trips, and shy glances at Sunghoon. He drove you around places and you sat in the passenger’s seat next to him, toes curled in your shoes because you were so overjoyed. The car was always loud with music and laughter, and whenever it was silent, it was because everyone else was sleeping on each other after a long day of being outside.

You still masqueraded around, playing the role of Sunghoon’s best friend who definitely had zero romantic feelings toward him. It was quite hard when you had to pretend like your heart didn’t flutter whenever Sunghoon’s fingers brushed against yours.

“Sunghoon,” Jaeyun would complain, rousing laughter from everyone at how impatient he was, “are we there yet?”

“You’re so annoying,” Sunghoon retorted, clearly as a joke. You couldn’t help but laugh at his outburst, but it quickly died on your lips once you caught a glimpse of Jaeyun winking at you in the side mirror.

Jaeyun had a mischievous glint in his eyes when he said, “But you still love me, Hoon.”

Oh.

He was trying to make you jealous.

You fought down the urge to laugh at him. You might have been harboring a small crush, but you were never the jealous type, especially not over petty things like this. There was one little thing, however, that you couldn’t seem to shake.

For some reason, the anticipation to call Sunghoon by a nickname made you anxious. You never tested it on your tongue; it just floated around in your head. However, when you addressed him as Hoon one day, your heart skipped a beat when Sunghoon responded with a smile that rivaled the brightness of the sun.

You grew closer to Jongseong, too. You didn’t feel like the third wheel with him and Sunghoon anymore; you felt like you were all at the same level of closeness. You and Jongseong hung out sometimes without Sunghoon, and despite a few awkward pauses in your interactions, you two warmed up quickly and you learned how to joke around with him easily.

Jongseong wasn’t all stiff and dry like you were initially afraid of; rather, he was surprisingly fun, and every time you learned something new about him, like how he adored cats but was allergic to them, you were even more amazed.

It wasn’t just Jongseong, though. You and Sunghoon grew far closer than ever before, whether that was for the better or worse.

Sunghoon only lived a street away, so it was convenient to hang out, and when you didn’t hang out with him, you two called each other. You could see him unravel in front of your eyes; he became visibly more comfortable when it was just the two of you—smiling, laughing, and bursting into laughter with tears of unrestrained happiness.

It wasn’t just the jubilant memories that tugged you two closer, though. It was also the despair.

In the first place, it was an accident that you even happened to break down in front of Sunghoon.

You two were in his room when it happened, and things were as they always had been before you sensed the calm before the storm. You joked around as usual and passed the time by playing video games. Sunghoon was perched on his usual spot in the corner of the bed. You looked over at him and realized how close you two had become as friends.

Friends. Just friends.

It was right at that moment when you realized that this wasn’t what you wanted. You didn’t want to just be Sunghoon’s best friend. You wanted to be the reason why he smiled, the one to make him blush, and the one he could share his pain and happiness with.

But your feelings were the scariest thing you’ve ever had to face, and you felt ashamed for even wanting to cross the line drawn between you and Sunghoon.

You couldn’t dare bring yourself to confess. You were almost positive that Sunghoon didn’t feel the same way, and you would be risking a fall-out in your current relationship if you admitted anything. What if Sunghoon ended up hating you? What if you lost him and all of your other friends? What if you weren’t the closest person to him anymore?

That was why you felt like Sunghoon was in another dimension, always a layer away. Always.

This was your own fault. You were the one who fell for your best friend. You were the one who did this to yourself. You broke your own heart.

You couldn’t help it when you started falling apart in front of him. It started with a broken cough that was supposed to cover up a sniffle. You were thankful for the loud battle sounds in the game that drowned out your quiet sobbing. But the video game didn’t stop Sunghoon from noticing your shaking hands gripping the controller.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m okay.”

Your voice is so shaky, so broken. Sunghoon knew you were crying before he could see or hear it.

He paused the game and put the controller down, but your eyes were still trained on the screen, hands shaking as you clutched the controller until you were white-knuckled. Sunghoon was on edge—panicked. Although, it was a different kind of panic from all the times you would be stressing over an assignment and Sunghoon would offer some lame piece of advice in return.

“What happened? What’s wrong?” His tone was frantic now as he searched your face for an answer.

You smiled, although faint melancholy was tucked away in the curl of your lip. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Now, I know that’s not true.”

Your smile broke. It was so unfortunate that Park Sunghoon had to have a heart so big.

You could almost hear Jaeyun in the back of your head: Have you realized it yet, or are you still pretending it isn’t there?

You started crying, and it wasn’t something soft with a gradual crescendo. It was loud and all at once, like a wounded animal. Your hands shook more, and you finally dropped your controller, burying your fingers into your roots, as if tugging your hair hard enough would make it all stop, as if it would hurt more than the ache in your chest.

Sunghoon was quick to get off his bed and slide to the ground, right next to you. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and it only made you feel ashamed. You stiffened up and shrunk back, hoping he wouldn’t notice how you tensed up at his touch. You could hear your own heartbeat, but you were pretty sure you were hyperventilating at a faster pace than the pounding in your chest. The world under you moved, bounced, so you decided to lean into Sunghoon.

The logical half of your brain informed you in a calm, clipped manner that you were having a panic attack. The other half meanwhile was screaming and shutting itself down.

Five things you can see, four things you can touch, three things you can hear, two things you can smell, and one thing you can taste, you tried telling yourself, but your senses overwhelmed you completely. Your tears were blurring your vision, you couldn’t hear anything but your sobs, and your lungs felt as if they were on fire.

“Y/N, talk to me,” came the softest voice that eased the painful ringing in your ears.

“I can’t,” you stuttered out. “Not right now.”

You wish you hadn’t let it get to this point. You were completely humiliating yourself in front of Sunghoon right now. This was the one thing you couldn’t let him find out about.

Your heavy gasps grew more labored. You then curled into yourself, sweaty hands tugging and knotting at your hair. And, shit, you couldn’t breathe.

“I can’t, I can’t,” you repeated again and again, like a broken record. The desperation in your voice was so ugly.

There was something fierce in Sunghoon’s eyes, like he was ready to protect you from anything or anyone that tried to hurt you, but there was also softness in his voice. “You know, you can tell me anything. Whatever it is, I’ll hear you out. I don’t want you to suffer alone, Y/N.”

With a small smile, he added, “It’s just you and me, right? The two of us against the world.”

That only made you cry even more. You just replayed Sunghoon’s words in your head, like it was your favorite song.

“Alright.” You breathed in real deep, through the aching chest and everything. “It’s really stupid.”

“If it makes you cry this hard, it can’t be stupid.”

You bit your lip, embarrassed. “I think I like someone—someone I can’t have.”

Sunghoon didn’t respond for a moment, and it rattled your brain. He probably was wondering this underwhelming confession warranted a breakdown from you, and you couldn’t blame him. However, it was the only way you could avoid lying to your best friend without giving him the whole truth.

For a split second, you wondered if Sunghoon simply just didn’t hear you. But you didn’t want to repeat yourself; you didn’t like repeating yourself.

To your surprise, Sunghoon just smiled. “Do I know them?”

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words were stringing together in your head to form a coherent sentence.

“Uh, well, you don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready,” Sunghoon continued. He flushed and flicked his thumb under his nose—an awkward mannerism of his that you grew to love over the years. “Actually, I think we’re in the same boat. There’s someone I like, too. Someone I can’t have.”

His words bounced in your skull. Settled. Bounced again.

“Really?” you spluttered out, and it took you a moment to recuperate from the heavy sadness that was filling your chest. You brought yourself to ask, “I mean, you’re so popular, so why don’t you just ask them out?”

“Can’t.”

“Why not? Are they dating someone else?”

There was a sad smile on Sunghoon’s lips when he answered, “No, Jongseong likes her, too.”

At the age of sixteen, you realized that you couldn’t get over Sunghoon, but you could suppress your heartbreak and lingering feelings.

It physically hurt to think about how deeply ingrained your concept of friendship was with him, and the possibility that Park Sunghoon would never think of you as more than a friend. You two had shared too many experiences—worn each other’s shoes and walked miles—to ever become more than what you were.

Nothing would ever change.

You were hanging out by a creek near Jongseong’s house. It was just the two of you—no Jaeyun to poke fun at you, and no Sunghoon to distract you. It was just the two of you, and it was somehow so easy to be with Jongseong like this. You could laugh with your stomach and smile with your eyes without feeling the need to close up or shut down.

“It’s getting annoying, isn’t it?” Jongseong asked under his breath at one point. When you shot him a puzzled look, he clarified, “Sunghoon.”

You picked up on Jongseong’s annoyance toward Sunghoon over the past few weeks, but his words confirmed your suspicions now. You wondered if it was geared toward the girl they both liked—whoever she was.

You never thought to ask, mainly because you didn’t want to know. Either way, if Sunghoon wanted to share, he would’ve done so already.

You swallowed down the lump in your throat, trying to grab at words and shove them together, but you genuinely didn’t know what to say.

It had always been you, Sunghoon, and Jongseong. You never thought about them turning on each other. The very idea made you feel sick to your stomach.

Over the past week, you had seen Sunghoon’s indifference toward Jongseong, but you were too afraid to ask about it. Your friend group was slow to pick up on it, but you noticed the way Sunghoon would purposely avoid conversing with Jongseong, or the way Jongseong would walk quickly past him if they crossed paths. It was odd, though, because everyone knew that Sunghoon and Jongseong were the best of friends—inseparable. How could you hold onto someone for so long and just let go of them like that?

You recalled that Jongseong and Jungwon went over to talk to Sunghoon about his moody behavior, but Jongseong never told you whether the talk went well or not. You figured it just never happened because Jungwon called in sick the very next day.

You prayed that he would hurry up and get over his cold. He had been out sick all week, which checked out since everyone was getting sick around this time of the year. Jungwon would know how to get Sunghoon and Jongseong to reconcile. He was always the friend that helped everyone patch things up.

“You guys are best friends,” was all you could say. “You’ll make up in a few days, right?”

Jongseong clicked his tongue loud enough to make your skin crawl.

But you didn’t want to drop it this time, you asked, “Seriously, what happened between you guys?”

For a moment, you wondered if you should’ve brought up what Sunghoon confessed to you—about him and Jongseong liking the same girl. But this couldn’t have been about that; Sunghoon would never let a girl get between his friendships.

“Sunghoon’s hiding something dark,” Jongseong blurted out. “I don’t think I can get him out of this one.”

“Something dark? What is it?”

“I don’t really know—”

“Jongseong,” you cut in. “If you know something, then just say it. He’s my best friend, too.”

Jongseong shifted uncomfortably, restless. He was silent for a long period of time, so you just waited for him to collect his thoughts. Uneasiness bursted from the tips of your fingers and crawled under your skin. You felt the heat of the sun against your face, so you looked up and covered your eyes with a hand, blinking back red.

“If Sunghoon did something unforgivable,” he started in a murmur, “would you forgive him?”

“I don’t know,” was all you could say.

“Yeah,” Jongseong replied, his terse words nearly making you flinch. “I don’t know, either.”

The sun grew hotter against your face, and all you could see was blood red behind your eyes.

You didn’t know how exactly it started, but you slowly started to find solace in Jaeyun.

You didn’t want to admit it, but you were starting to care for him a little more than the people around you. You were starting to get swayed by him—the things he said, the way he looked at you—and it scared you a little.

But Jaeyun felt safe. He felt like home.

You two called at night, sometimes. You weren’t normally one to be vulnerable in front of others, but you shed some tears in front of Jaeyun a couple of times.

The only other person you had cried in front of was Sunghoon.

“It’s kinda sad,” Jaeyun told you one day. You two were spending the afternoon studying together at his place, and you were feeling self-conscious because you were starting to regret not dressing a little cuter. “I’ve known you for a year, but we’ve only gotten close now.”

“I don’t think either of us cared about deepening our friendship back then.”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “You think I didn’t want to be closer? How do you think I picked up on you liking Sunghoon?”

“Because I was obvious about it?”

“No, idiot, because I like you.”

You blinked a few times until you fully processed his words. I like you, your brain repeated, and then you reprocessed the information.

No, there was an ‘idiot’ before that. Not only were you liked, but he thought you were stupid, as well.

You became painfully aware of your knees touching Jaeyun’s, but you still couldn’t wrap your head around the idea of him liking you romantically. You had never been in this position. Since your crush on Sunghoon had been one-sided for the past few years, you never expected to be on the receiving end.

“You…” you trailed off, floundering to find something to say—something that wouldn’t make you sound stupid or mean. You settled with, “You, too?”

His eyes beamed with hope. “For a year now.”

Your world was so small before. It was just you, Sunghoon, and Jongseong.

Before you could even wonder if there was space in your heart for Jaeyun, you realized that you had already let him burrow his way in there.

“Can I kiss you?” Jaeyun asked.

You couldn’t help but breathe out a laugh, and every once of nervousness slipped away. You always thought you could attain this level of closeness with Sunghoon, but maybe your relationship with him was just that fragile—where you could just grab the string binding you two together and snip it completely.

But it was different with Jaeyun.

“Yeah,” you answered, smiling, “you can.”

And then, with Jaeyun’s breath fanning your lips, you felt Sunghoon completely dissolve from the impounding thoughts racking your brain. Right now, it was Jaeyun and only Jaeyun.

You leaned in first, cupping his cheek and pressing your lips against Jaeyun’s soft ones. It was weird, kissing for the first time, but he leaned into it instantly so that your movements were less awkward and more guided.

A fire blazed inside of you, burning hotter than imaginable. You didn’t expect Jaeyun to drive you this crazy—to crave more, to want more. You drew back before you slid your hand into his hair, although you were tempted to go further when his pillowy lips peppered soft kisses along your jawline.

But you didn’t want to go overboard or ruin anything by going too fast. You settled for leaving another chaste kiss against his lips before pulling back, and you were delighted when you saw how pleased Jaeyun was. He was practically glowing.

From then on, you and Jaeyun had a relationship that extended past something platonic, but it wasn’t like you two were official. Naturally, you ended up confiding in him over everything.

While Sunghoon still held a place in your heart as your first love, you grew to care for Jaeyun, who kindled a gentler fire in you. Sunghoon, on the other hand, left you burned and scarred.

You didn’t want to rush into a relationship, mainly because you didn’t want Jaeyun to think he was a rebound, and he respected that. So he waited for you to figure out your feelings and let your heart choose who was right for you.

You weren’t stupid, though; you knew that chasing after Sunghoon was a hopeless cause.

You and Jaeyun drifted about in a limbo-state of your relationship. You two went on a couple of dates, got to know each other at a deeper level, and spent a lot of time together. He became the person you thought about when you were falling asleep and when you woke up in the morning.

You two got along surprisingly well, and you wondered why you ever had doubts about him in the beginning. Sure, Jaeyun still got on your nerves at times, but you just found it funny after the wave of annoyance passed.

Your friends started to talk about how close you two were and frequently brought up the idea of you two dating. Of course, you always denied it, enjoying the privacy you and Jaeyun had.

But as your relationship blossomed into something more serious, you decided that you didn’t want things to stay casual any longer. So, you asked him out, and Jaeyun, being the lovesick puppy he was, accepted without a second thought.

You thought about how much had changed in your life. Sunghoon stopped hanging out with you completely, resorting to being alone most of the time. Everyone was concerned about his behavior, but after several attempts of failed confrontation, they all collectively gave up. You and Jongseong still kept an eye on him, using roundabout ways to find out how he was doing; it was the most you two could do given how little opportunity you had to talk to him.

You didn’t share many classes with Jongseong anymore, but you two were still close, even after your “two of us against the world” friendship with Sunghoon had gone to shit.

Jongseong was kind, though, and despite how he was rough around the edges, he was gentle enough.

But he knew that Sunghoon was hiding something dark, and that alone made you somewhat nervous around him.

You felt unsettled the entire day, but when your group chat started flooding with texts about Jungwon in the middle of the night, you felt an icy chill travel down your spine.

It was all over the news. The whole story about him being down with the flu was just a cover-up while authorities were looking for him.

You felt nauseous.

HIGH SCHOOL STUDENT FOUND DEAD NEAR WOODS. FOUL PLAY SUSPECTED.

The 16-year-old boy was found dead at the scene. The parents of the deceased student have identified him as Yang Jungwon. As of now, there are no leads, but authorities have ruled the case as a homicide.

Police have asked anyone with information to contact their local police department.

You read the headline again. Over and over again until your vision was blurry and the words were convoluted. Your fingers were raw and bitten down to the nail bed by the time you were able to put your phone down so that you could just cry into your hands.

By the time you got around to reading the details, grimacing at the descriptions of mutilation done to Jungwon’s body and how his body had been decomposing for weeks now, you had to run to your toilet and dry heave everything out.

You weren’t the closest to Jungwon or anything, but imagining such a bright person meet such a horrific end wasn’t easy to process. For hours, you ignored all of the calls and texts and attempts to comfort from your parents. You stared straight at your wall—so terrified that your chest hurt and your breathing was ragged.

Later that night, when the world was quiet and dreaming, you received a text from Sunghoon.

sunghoon: Hey sunghoon: I’ve been thinking about you. Are you doing okay? sunghoon: I haven’t been a good friend lately, I’m sorry sunghoon: It’s still the two of us against the world

There was a time when those words made you feel like you were on top of the world, soaring high over the clouds.

Now, though, all you could feel was a horrible sensation of dread.

It had been months since Sunghoon and Jongseong’s falling out.

You were seventeen now, but you felt hollower as you aged. Sunghoon showed up to school and lingered within your group silently, only contributing when spoken to directly. He didn’t approach you anymore or ask to hang out after school. Actually, no one knew what he did after school. He would head straight home and then go completely off the radar.

Gone off the rails, as Sunoo called it.

You cried several nights over it. You felt like not only was your best friend slipping away from you, but Sunghoon’s disconnect from the group would soon make you pull away, too. You had Jaeyun, of course, but nothing felt the same anymore. With Jungwon dead, the group felt tense and gloomy. You all started hanging out with other people and slowly stopped responding in the group chat.

Part of you realized that Sunghoon’s detachment was because you didn’t reply to him the night Jungwon’s murder was publicized. Back then, you suspected that Sunghoon could have been behind it, judging by your conversation with Jongseong earlier. It all added up in your head, but the only thing that was stopping you from believing it fully was that you couldn’t fathom Sunghoon ever doing something so evil.

“I don’t know what’s going on with him,” you whispered into the phone, even though there wasn’t anyone around that you were worried about listening in. “He’s shutting me out now. Something must’ve happened to him.”

You heard Jaeyun hum and contemplate for a moment before he replied, “Maybe he just needs space.”

“I think something happened between him and Jongseong,” you admitted, “but I can’t imagine Jongseong saying anything that would make Sunghoon ignore him for this long.”

“It must’ve been serious, then.”

“But… but it’s Sunghoon; he’s”—you paused as you recalled what Jongseong once called him—“bulletproof.”

There was a pause.

“I guess that’s the problem with being bulletproof,” Jaeyun spoke gravely. “People think they can just keep shooting.”

What Jaeyun told you that night kept replaying in your head over the next week—over and over again. It hit you a little too hard, and you waited to confront Sunghoon about it. You wanted him to know that he could be vulnerable, too. But you couldn’t even speak to your best friend these days. He had been avoiding everyone like the plague.

You assumed it had something to do with Jongseong, but when you talked to him about it, he was hesitant to get into it.

“You’re the closest person to him,” you told him. Today was colder, and you rubbed your hands together for warmth as you and Jongseong stood by the gates after school. “I think if you guys sit down and talk things out, then he’ll start being himself again.”

“I was the closest person to him,” Jongseong corrected with a scoff. “Plus, there’s nothing to talk about.”

“Nothing to talk about? What about your friendship?”

You couldn’t stop the words from leaving your mouth. Anger roiled deep in your chest, and you were too furious to realize that Jongseong only looked dejected in response. If he wasn’t going to explain what happened, then you couldn’t understand what was eating away at their relationship.

“There is no friendship, Y/N,” he said slowly, in a voice so low that it sounded like the calm before the storm. His words made everything come to a halt, and you felt like time itself had frozen. “I suggest you let go of Sunghoon, too. You’re hanging onto someone who’s beyond help.”

“But I don’t know what you know!” you exclaimed. “I can’t let go of someone just like that, Jongseong. I need answers.”

He was quiet before he asked, “Do you remember when Sunghoon stayed over at your house once when we were fourteen?”

“When his house caught on fire?” you recalled, but the memory was sort of hazy for you. All you remembered was how you were in complete awe that Sunghoon was unscathed and unbothered by the incident.

“Yeah,” Jongseong’s voice was grim as he said, “and I bet he never told you that he was the one who started that fire on purpose.”

It was like a punch to the gut. You could only shake your head blankly, lips parted in disbelief.

He continued, “When we were fifteen, he thought it would be fun to plan out a murder without getting caught—”

No.

“—and, at sixteen, he actually did it.”

No. No.

“Jongseong,” you whispered, your voice smaller than you intended, “was it…”

“Jungwon?” He said the name so carefully, as if the world would explode into nothingness if he did. You had been gnawing at your lip so hard that you drew blood, yet that couldn’t distract you from the haunted look in Jongseong’s eyes. “Yeah, he killed Jungwon.”

You felt like you had just been doused with ice-cold water.

“I shouldn’t have brought Jungwon with me. I knew Sunghoon was gonna do it to someone, but I didn’t know…” He sucked in a deep, shuddering breath that racked his entire body. “I didn’t think it would be him. I brought Jungwon to talk him out of whatever was going on, not to…” Jongseong stopped himself again, covering his face with his hands to wipe away the tears that had started to fall.

It’s you and me, Sunghoon’s voice chimed in your head. The two of us against the world.

You thought your world had been shattered, but then you realized that it had actually been broken for a long time.

That night, you asked Jaeyun to come over, and he arrived at your door in record speed.

You two were sitting on your bed, controllers in hand, but the screen was off and neither of you were even in the mood to play. You must have trusted him more than anyone by now because the words started spilling with no preamble. You ended up explaining most of your conversation with Jongseong after you had Jaeyun swear on his life that he wouldn’t tell a soul.

Of course, you didn’t expect any normal person to compliantly come to terms with the fact that their friend murdered their other friend, but Jaeyun was a bit different when it came to you. Instead of accusing you of lying or denying the truth, he believed you wholeheartedly. You couldn’t tell if he was patient with you, or if he was just horrified by everything you had told him.

It had been an entire year since Jungwon had been found dead and the case closed as an unsolved murder, but your words sucker punched Jaeyun like it had just happened yesterday.

Jaeyun’s tone was urgent when he said, “We have to tell someone.” When he noticed your hesitation, he shook his head at you with a disapproving frown. “Y/N, this is serious. This is Jungwon, my best friend.”

Your mouth went dry. “I-I know, it’s just—”

Jaeyun didn’t have to cut you off. You froze right when you saw tears welling up in his eyes.

“Y/N.” He said your name gently, but you still flinched. You had never heard your name being called with so much despair. “If Sunghoon really murdered Jungwon, then I can’t keep this a secret.”

“Give me a few days,” you pleaded. “I just want to hear Sunghoon out. No matter what he says, I’ll come with you to testify.”

He shook his head immediately, eyes fierce. “You are not going anywhere near Sunghoon—not after what he did to Jungwon.”

“Then let me ask Jong—”

“Y/N,” Jaeyun interrupted, letting his hand slide over yours. His eyes were full of concern when he asked, “How do you know you can trust Jongseong?”

Your hands started to shake.

“Y/N,” he said again, “if Jongseong took Jungwon to see Sunghoon, what do you think he did after Sunghoon killed him?”

Your pulse raced.

“If Jongseong knew about Sunghoon’s behavior for this long, why hasn’t he ever done anything?”

All this time, you thought your world had grown a little bigger ever since you met Sunghoon and Jongseong.

But you were living in a fantasy by yourself.

Not so long after your talk with Jaeyun, your phone rang. You were in the middle of finishing up your history paper when you saw the caller ID flash across your screen.

It was Sunghoon.

You didn’t even give yourself time to think about it first. You just picked up the phone immediately. It was an old habit; you saw Sunghoon and accepted the call without a second thought. You never expected Sunghoon to ever call you again, so you didn’t exactly have any practice in rejecting his calls.

“Y/N?” came the familiar voice of Park Sunghoon—gentle, but almost like he was a caged animal.

“Sunghoon?” You swallowed hard. “Uh, how are you? It’s been a while since we’ve talked.”

“I’m so sorry,” he apologized, but you weren’t sure what he was apologizing for. “It was supposed to be the two of us against the world.”

You frowned. “Sunghoon, what’s going on?”

Instead of answering your question, Sunghoon hesitated before saying, “We should catch up sometime. You can read part of the story I’m writing.”

You paused, and before he could ask if you were still there, you replied, “Yeah, sure.”

“Right.” Sunghoon sounded like he had more to say. You almost didn’t catch it because he was so quiet, and the last thing you heard before he hung up was a quiet, “Bye, then.”

Your deepest regret was answering your phone later that night.

It was hours after Sunghoon called you. Jongseong was more of a texter, so you were surprised when his caller ID flashed across your screen. It was definitely not a reasonable hour for a high school student to be out and about, but nothing could have prepared you for what you heard on the other side of the line.

Jongseong was sobbing.

The sound chilled you to the bone. You never heard Jongseong cry, but this didn’t feel normal; this cry was frantic and mangled, like he was spiraling out of control.

“Y/N, you have to come over quickly,” Jongseong begged through broken sobs and heavy breaths. “Please, Y/N, I don’t want him to hurt anyone else.”

“Jongseong, calm down. Tell me what’s happening.”

“You have my location, right? Just hurry. Please.” And he hung up.

In a daze, you called Jaeyun and asked him to pick you up.

“I really think we should just call the cops,” Jaeyun offered, almost pleading. “I don’t know what’s going on with Jongseong, but this sounds sketchy, Y/N.”

Pitted fear festered in your throat. You knew something was off, but you weren’t sure if you could handle losing Jongseong, too. You had gotten so used to not being alone that you were paranoid of returning to having no one.

“Call them as soon as we get there,” you said. “I just need to make sure Jongseong’s okay.”

Jaeyun pressed his lips into a thin, grim line, but he kept driving.

It was a port that Jongseong’s location directed you to, and discomfort crept into your limbs as soon as Jaeyun pulled into the area. Maybe you should’ve stayed back where it was safer and let the police handle everything, but you must have been a fool. It was just that Jongseong’s cries echoed in your head whenever you started having second thoughts.

You could hear him before you saw him.

Jongseong’s soft sobs could be heard from behind a metal storage unit, and you and Jaeyun inched closer carefully after getting out of the car. Your heart dropped to your stomach; you were dreading the worst, and when you turned the corner into the closed area Jongseong was in, you realized that the sight before you was the worst it could get.

Sunghoon’s body.

You waited for his chest to rise, but not even a shallow breath escaped his blue-tinged lips.

It took you a moment to reorient yourself and realize that Sunghoon wasn’t just passed out, he was dead.

You saw the blood pooling around him and the wounds piercing his torso, staining his white shirt, but you wanted to believe your mind was playing tricks on you. You convinced yourself that Sunghoon was going to get up any second now and start laughing, and then Jongseong would join in and tell you it was all a joke.

But that wasn’t the case.

It wasn’t fear that overtook you—not an overwhelm of emotion—it was numbness. You stared at Sunghoon’s body as he bled out onto the concrete, blood pooling into the cracks in the ground. You felt an odd sort of disconnect.

You tilted your head to see Sunghoon’s face turned to the side against the concrete. His blank eyes just stared into nothingness, and you realized that you would never get to see Sunghoon’s warm, sincere gaze ever again. You were never going to see his bright smile. You were never going to hear his contagious laugh. You were never going to read the wonderful stories he wrote.

You supposed your life was always meant to be a tragedy.

“H-Hoon?” Jaeyun choked up behind you. He was staring down at Sunghoon’s lifeless body in horror before his expression was slowly replaced with anger. “Jongseong, what the hell did you do?!”

“It was self-defense, man,” Jongseong whimpered out before his body was racked with sobs again. “He pulled a knife on me out of nowhere. I tried to stop him, but he was trying to kill me. I couldn’t do anything else. I couldn’t run, I couldn’t—” He exhaled shakily. “I couldn’t do anything else.”

You didn’t say anything. You just stared at Sunghoon.

“Come on, guys,” Jongseong pleaded. “I can’t go to fucking prison. I’m eighteen now; it’s not juvie, it’s a life sentence.” You didn’t know what he was getting at until he requested the unthinkable, “Help me get rid of the body.”

You wanted to puke. You eyed the shiny metal soaked in blood that Jongseong was clutching. You were never going to see Sunghoon again. You were never going to hang out with him over the weekend. You were never going to hear his voice again.

“Get rid of the body?” Jaeyun raised his voice, exasperated. “What the fuck are you gonna do when they realize he’s gone missing? You just killed someone! This is on you, Jongseong, not us!”

“Are you going to help me get rid of it or not?!” Jongseong tugged at his hair. “Just help me throw him off the dock, and we can all walk away from this.”

You watched helplessly, horror-stricken. “I… I can’t.”

“The body’s gonna float and show up somewhere,” Jaeyun countered with stony eyes. “They’re gonna catch you.”

Jongseong looked terrifyingly pale. You wondered if it was just the glow of the moon, or if he was also holding in his urge to puke. “I’ll just cut his stomach so he sinks.”

Disgusted, Jaeyun scowled. “You’re a monster.”

You watched as Jongseong tried hauling Sunghoon’s body before giving up and dragging him by the legs. You shot Jaeyun a warning look, mouthing for him to call the police before Jongseong noticed. He lingered back to do so while you followed Jongseong to plead him to stop. His arms gave out as soon as he stepped onto the planks, and he let Sunghoon’s lower half collapse onto the solid wood.

“Y/N, help me cut open his stomach,” he ordered, hardly sparing you a glance. If he did, he would have seen how horrified you were.

“Oh,” you said, voice wavering, “that’s… that—that’s his…”

“Y/N, help me.”

“Jongseong,” you begged, “please… please stop.”

He paid you no attention, though. You felt ghastly as Jongseong used a paring knife to make an incision on Sunghoon’s stomach. The smell was putrid. You screwed your eyes shut as the metallic smell of blood invaded your nostrils. Your nausea plunged into your gut, and you had to fight the pervasive urge to hurl.

A stream of Sunghoon’s blood made its way to your shoes, staining the soles.

Jongseong was cutting your old best friend open.

The dread had kept you numb for this long, but it was when reality settled in that you finally lost it. You couldn’t handle it anymore and pitched forward over the edge of the dock, throwing up until you were heaving up bile. You sobbed through it all, mournful and low, and your friend paid you no attention while he was cutting through flesh.

When Jongseong was done, he wiped at his cheek, leaving behind a smear of blood. Sunghoon’s blood. You stared at him, and you had never been more terrified of him in your life.

And then you really noticed Jongseong. You noticed how Sunghoon’s blood was coated all over his hands, how he hardly had any scratches or bruises on his body, how merciless his eyes were as he stared down at his old best friend.

The realization that washed over you was frightening.

“Sunghoon didn’t actually try to kill you, did he?” you managed to warble out. “You killed him yourself.”

A deep silence from him followed—heavy and wretched. Sunghoon’s blood was so dark that it nearly looked black under the dim light, and you could only stare helplessly until Jaeyun made his way to the dock, placing his hands firmly on your shoulders.

Jongseong turned to you and Jaeyun, clutching his knife tightly. You could hardly recognize the boy in front of you. You never truly understood the term “paralyzed by fear” until you saw the crazed look in Jongseong’s eyes—cold and haunting.

Jaeyun’s eyes glistened with tears and his throat was thick with emotion when he said, “Jongseong, please—just hang on and… and we can talk this out.”

The hand gripping his knife started shaking. “You won’t tell anyone, right? You guys won’t snitch on me, right?” When there was no response from you or Jaeyun, Jongseong’s desperation grew stronger. He turned to you with his eyes big and terrified. “Y/N, come on, we’ve known each other for years. You know I—”

“Shut up!” Jaeyun yelled. His protective grip on you tightened. “Cut the bullshit, Jongseong. The police are gonna be here soon, and they’re gonna take you straight to prison once they see what you did to Hoon.”

It was like a switch flipped in him. A distant part of your mind wondered if you could get everyone out of this—somehow bring Sunghoon back and go back to your normal life—but you immediately shut down that fantasy as soon as Jongseong’s eyes darkened.

In the darkness, you could make out an amused expression on his face. His smile took on a cold edge.

“Fine,” he bit out. “I’ll just have to get rid of you two before the police get here, then.”

You felt like your world slowed. Your eyes burned with the threat of tears. You could tell Jongseong was walking closer to you while Jaeyun was desperately trying to tug you and get you to run, but you were frozen in place. You wanted to believe that your old friend wouldn’t actually hurt you, but then you didn’t know what to think when he raised his knife.

It had all happened so fast. Too fast.

In your brief struggle as Jongseong tried to stab you, you heard a sharp gasp that tore you from your haze, like you had just been drenched in cold water. Brutally sober. You tried to push Jongseong off of you, but he was too heavy, too limp. Jaeyun shouldered his way between you two and shoved Jongseong back, grimacing when his skull hit the wood with a thud.

You heard one last, strangled gasp from Jongseong before he stopped breathing. The last star in his eyes twinkled until it dimmed for good.

Jongseong laid flat on the dock with his knife piercing his chest.

As you heard police sirens go off in the distance, Jaeyun wrapped his arms around you before you finally broke down into his chest.

Your best friends were dead and your world was broken beyond repair.

“So, it was self-defense?” Detective Lee asked, his piercing eyes boring right into yours. “Purely accidental? You had no intention of harming Park Jongseong?”

You shook your head. “I still couldn’t process the fact that he killed Sunghoon, so I didn’t think he’d actually try to hurt me.”

You wanted to cry. You bit your chapped lip, but all you could taste was blood that you doubted was even there. You couldn’t even say Sunghoon’s name without seeing that radiant smile of his stained with deep red.

You sucked in a shaky breath. “I’ve told you everything I know. Can I see Jaeyun now?”

Detective Lee eyed you for a moment. Finally, you saw some sort of sympathy in his gaze, although you felt sort of repulsed that you were being pitied in this state. The detective muttered something about him being back later, and he left the interrogation room, leaving you handcuffed to the table.

A minute passed by. Another. Several more.

You were pretty sure it had been at least an hour or two of staring at the wall, but the passage of time felt meaningless now. You could wait hours, even days, but you didn’t think you would ever be ready to confront what cruel reality awaited you.

You were so tired of everything, so exhausted that you didn’t even think about your parents until now. Were they here? Were they informed about your arrest? They must have been worried sick all night.

When the door opened, your head shot up.

“You’re free to go, Y/N,” Detective Lee said, pulling out a key to uncuff you from the table.

You were frozen. You just stared up at Detective Lee with your jaw hung open.

“I know this took awhile, but there was no security footage at the scene to confirm your story,” he elaborated. “But your stories matched up, and we found more evidence in the trunk of Jongseong’s car that he had been planning this murder.”

He helped you to your feet and escorted you out of the room. You were able to pick up everything they took from you before you were locked up in the holding cell—your keys, wallet, and your phone. Then, you were taken to the waiting room where your parents were seated at the far end.

At the sight of you, they all but leapt from their seats to rush over, hands cupping your face and arms embracing your weak, battered figure. There was so much love in their eyes, and their fear over possibly losing their daughter replaced any anger they had toward the situation. However, you wouldn’t have been surprised if you ended up getting an earful the next day.

“Mom, Dad,” you whimpered out, suddenly overcome with emotion. You were immediately aware of how weak and pathetic you felt. “I’m sorry, I—”

“Shh, it’s okay,” your father silenced you by rubbing your back in soothing circles. “Jaeyun’s family wanted us to let you know that he’s okay, too. They just took him home about ten minutes ago.”

You were slightly disappointed. Part of you was hoping that he would wait for you, but you figured Jaeyun’s family would have wanted to go home right away. You definitely would have felt better if you got to see your boyfriend in the flesh to make sure he was alive and well, but you weren’t going to complain now.

There was still a ghost of a smile on your lips as your parents walked you to their car. They gushed and gushed about how glad they were about you being safe and sound, and about how they never would’ve expected Jongseong of all people to end up being a murderer.

You were happy to be alive, of course, but you felt so empty.

You pulled out your phone to try and text Jaeyun, but, as you thought, it was dead.

“Mom, can I use your phone?” you asked, and you dialed Jaeyun’s number immediately as soon as she handed it to you. You had it memorized because it was a combination of numbers that was fairly easy to remember.

It rang four times, and by the fifth ring, you were scared that he wouldn’t pick up. But then, it beeped.

“Hello?” Jaeyun answered. “Who is this?”

It was like a huge weight was lifted off of your shoulders once you heard his voice. Despite Detective Lee informing you that Jaeyun was, indeed, alive, you felt more reassured hearing it from your boyfriend himself. You wanted to cry then and there, but you didn’t want to make your parents worry unnecessarily.

You forgot you were even supposed to respond when Jaeyun spoke again, “Is anyone there?”

“Jaeyun, it’s me,” you mumbled softly. “Y/N.”

You heard him suck in a sharp breath. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I’m perfectly fine.”

Jaeyun gave you the breakdown of how his experience went, which took a completely different turn than yours. After receiving medical attention, they brought him back to his holding cell to sleep for hardly a few hours. The detective interrogating Jaeyun tried to build trust with him, telling him they wanted to help and just needed his confession. They lied about already having evidence that he killed Jongseong, but Jaeyun denied it and told them the whole story. He was only free to leave after they cross-examined his story with yours.

“Jesus,” you whispered into the phone, breathing out a small laugh. By now, you were already parked at your house and walking to your front door. “This is so fucked up.”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, “but we’ll get through it.”

“Yeah, Jae. Us against the world.”

Sim Jaeyun spent nine hours being questioned by authorities.

He knew the nature of the crime that occurred was complex, and he was still reeling from the loss and betrayal that left a deep wound in his chest, but there was something that terrified him still.

It wasn’t the murderous look in Park Jongseong’s eyes, or the blood completely drained from Park Sunghoon’s face.

Rather, what scared Jaeyun the most was that he spent so long pining after you and getting to know you at a deeper level. He genuinely fell hard for you, even though you had monsters in the closet. He thought he knew almost everything about you, like how you were a terrible liar.

Yet, you had just lied about everything that went down last night for nine hours straight.

What scared Jaeyun the most was how clueless he had been about who you really were.

Truthfully, he was also in the wrong for going along with your lie. It was definitely going to bite him back one day. In the moment, though, he was far too much of a coward to go against you. Although he was able to get Jungwon the justice he deserved and allowed his family to finally be at peace with answers, Jaeyun still felt horrible. He just remembered the desperate look in your eyes as your face and hands were stained with blood, begging him to protect you.

Jaeyun’s downfall must have been that he liked you too much to say no.

It was true that Jongseong called you in a panic, begging you to show up at the port as quickly as possible, and it was true that you wanted Jaeyun to drive you there instead of calling the cops first.

Jaeyun knew deep down that you were making the wrong choice, but he had hope that you knew what you were doing. Truthfully, although he liked you a lot, he was still wary about how you felt toward Sunghoon. He just couldn’t understand how you were still unconsciously protecting him after hearing what happened to Jungwon. He knew that you wanted answers, but Jaeyun was worried about how you’d react once you got them.

The real story—the one neither of you told the detectives—never started with Park Jongseong killing Park Sunghoon.

It really started when you and Jaeyun arrived at the port to see that no one was around. It was eerily quiet, and Jaeyun was starting to regret not turning around and heading straight for the police station. When you two got out of the car, you walked several feet down the line of shipping containers before returning to Jaeyun with a confused look on your face.

“I don’t see either of them,” you said, but then your eyes grew unfocused as you stared at something—or, rather, someone—behind Jaeyun.

He turned around to see Jongseong walking over to the two of you in a calm fashion, as if he had no other care in the world. The port was relatively an open space, so he had no idea where Jongseong could have emerged from. Jaeyun rolled his neck, more frustrated than anything.

“Jongseong!” you called out.

When he neared you two, Jongseong shoved his hands into his pockets. “Oh, you brought your boyfriend.”

“What’s going on?” you urged. “Is it Sunghoon? Did something happen to him?”

“Wow, that hurts, Y/N.” Jongseong barked out a laugh, but nothing about his tone sounded sincere. “I call you in the middle of the night and all you can think about is Hoon? Wow. How do you feel about that, Jaeyun?”

Jaeyun didn’t respond. He just glowered.

Nothing about this felt right.

You stammered, “I-I just assumed—”

“Put yourself in my shoes,” Jongseong cut you off with little regard for your excuses. “Sorry to say this in front of your boyfriend, but imagine how I feel when the girl I’ve liked for years only cares about my best friend.”

The air went still.

Your voice was barely a whisper when you asked, “Excuse me?”

Jaeyun pursed his lips together, and, for a moment, he thought his tongue would start bleeding if he bit it any harder. Sunghoon liked the girl that Jongseong liked, and if that girl was you, then Jaeyun was worried that he already lost you. He knew for months that he would never truly have you the way he wanted. Your feelings for Sunghoon were stronger, and although Jaeyun was able to pack his insecurities into a tiny ball and shove it down his throat, it was all coming out now.

His uneasy heart shattered into a million pieces once he caught a glimpse of your expression—hopeful and longing. And it wasn’t for Jongseong; it was for Sunghoon.

“Now that’s a great expression,” came an overly-enthusiastic voice from Jaeyun’s right.

Park Sunghoon was leaning against one of the shipping containers, arms folded across his chest before he uncrossed them and made his way toward the three of you. He must have been hiding behind the containers this whole time because Jaeyun hadn’t seen him at all before.

The situation was getting increasingly uncomfortable. Jaeyun wanted to shrink back when Sunghoon suddenly took great interest in him, keeping his eyes fixed on him instead of you or Jongseong. He used to have such bright and happy smiles, but, this time, Jaeyun almost thought his grin had been sliced into his face with a blade.

Sunghoon slung an arm over Jongseong’s shoulder. “Wow, Jae, now I really wanna see the look on your face when you’re in total despair,” he crooned, almost mocking. Jaeyun’s blood rushed in his ears when Sunghoon’s tongue swiped across one of his fangs. “You should’ve seen the look on Jungwon’s face.”

Jaeyun lunged before he could even think, but he stopped himself as soon as you held onto him, stopping him from hitting Sunghoon.

And that was when he knew he already lost you.

“Don’t,” you insisted.

“Are you serious?” he breathed out, brows knitting into a frown as he looked down at you.

Shame clung to your throat, keeping your mouth shut, but Jaeyun was more concerned now about the sharp blade pointed at his throat.

His Adam’s apple bobbed.

Jongseong had a paring knife pointed straight at him, and Sunghoon’s smile never faltered. They were clearly on the same side. There was a reason why Jeongseong never did anything about Sunghoon after killing Jungwon.

Jaeyun felt stupid for not putting it together earlier.

“I’d listen to your girlfriend,” Jongseong warned. His voice crawled all over him, freezing Jaeyun cold to the bone. “You might as well hear us out before you die here tonight.”

“Can’t exactly let you two run off now that you know what happened to Jungwon,” Sunghoon added.

“Jungwon was our friend,” Jaeyun hissed. “He was my best friend, you sick freak! What did you do to him? Why? He’s never… he never did anything wrong!”

“You’re right. He didn’t do anything wrong,” Sunghoon confirmed, surprisingly calm and collected. “In fact, he exceeded my expectations. It was a great performance, actually.” Jaeyun clenched his fist tight—so tight that his nails dug into his palms and drew blood—and Sunghoon took notice of this with a delighted hum. “You should’ve heard him scream, Jae. I had my doubts about him at first, but when he was begging me for his life, I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”

You were distraught. “Sunghoon, you—”

It all happened in seconds, like a rubber band finally snapping after being stretched too thin. Jaeyun used his elbow to knock Jongseong’s arm out of the way, and he shoved Sunghoon as soon as he found an opening, driving his hands into his ribs. He heard you cry out, but Jaeyun could only see red until he was dragged back up by Jongseong, the sharp blade of the knife being pressed to his throat.

“Stop!” you cried. “Leave Jaeyun out of this! You wanted me, right? Just let him go. Please.”

“I don’t think so.” Sunghoon wrapped an arm around you. “You two already know too much, and Jongseong and I have been waiting for this finale for years.”

Your eyes had a faraway look in them for a moment before you turned your attention back to Jongseong. “You told me…”

“I told you that when we were fifteen, Sunghoon thought it would be fun to plan out a murder without getting caught,” Jongseong filled in the blanks for you, a haunting smile playing on his lips, “and I was in on it.”

Sunghoon tutted. “But you got it all wrong, Y/N. It wasn’t Jungwon’s murder that we were planning; it was yours.”

You looked up at him in horror.

Jaeyun struggled against Jongseong for a moment, face taut with unbridled anger. He just wanted to get to you. Get Sunghoon’s filthy hands off of you.

“I’m a writer. I write stories,” Sunghoon continued. “Isn’t it a great twist? Convincing my childhood best friend that I loved her all this time, only to reveal that she’s gonna die at my hands.” He scoffed. “Jungwon was just at the wrong place at the wrong time, but he was good practice. I was too careless back then. I shouldn’t have left all those drawings and papers out like that when he came over, but now I’m gonna finish the job properly.”

Your breathing was shallow. Jaeyun could see the flood of despair racking your body with soft sobs and quick pants. Your gaze fell to the ground, and Sunghoon peered to catch a better look at you.

“Good,” he praised. “That’s what I wanna see. Wow, that’s great, Y/N. I can’t wait to see more when—”

“Get the fuck away from her!” Jaeyun yelled, grunting when Jongseong pressed the knife harder against his supple skin.

With an exaggerated flourish of his hands, Sunghoon raised both arms and backed up as if he was a deer caught in headlights. He wore an easygoing smile, yet something sinister was tucked behind the curve of his lips. Your inconsolable self stayed fixed in place, staring helplessly at your shoes.

“For the past two years, I’ve been isolating myself from the friend group for the sake of this story and its ending,” Sunghoon said. “I think I deserve a little fun right now, Jae.”

“Fuck you,” Jaeyun spat. “You deserve to go to Hell.”

Sunghoon took a step closer to Jaeyun, ducking his head so that they were at eye-level with each other. Jaeyun tried to struggle against Jongseong once more, but he froze when the knife pierced his skin. He felt something trickle down the column of his neck, and he soon realized it was his own blood.

“It’s hard, isn’t it?” Sunghoon mocked a pout. He lowered his voice by an octave, only for Jaeyun to hear. “Competing with a childhood friend is brave, I’ll tell you that.”

Jaeyun’s blood boiled. To his surprise, Sunghoon gestured for Jongseong to let go of him. He took the paring knife from his friend and handed it to Jaeyun.

“Take it,” Sunghoon said. “Why don’t you try killing me? You wanna get back at me, right? I killed your best friend, after all.”

Owlish, he blinked back at Sunghoon, almost absently. Jaeyun really considered it for a moment—like, really considered it. Some part of him wanted to senselessly beat Sunghoon up until he was unrecognizable, but the morally righteous side of him knew that he could never stoop to Jongseong or Sunghoon’s level.

Jaeyun took the knife by the handle, weighing it in his palm experimentally before chucking it away—far from both Sunghoon and Jongseong. Jaeyun was pretty sure he could overtake Jongseong if Sunghoon turned his back, but he wasn’t sure if Jongseong had another weapon up his sleeve. He heard the blade skid and scrape against the concrete, and he could only hope that Sunghoon and Jongseong being distracted by him would give you time to escape.

But Jeongseong immediately stopped you as soon as he saw you picking up the knife, and he let go of Jaeyun to grab ahold of you. Jaeyun tried to yank Jongseong back by the back of his shirt, but Sunghoon grabbed a fistful of his hair and slammed his head against the metal of one of the shipping containers.

Jaeyun’s world was thrown off-balance. The ground bounced, tilted, swayed. He was so dizzy and disoriented that he couldn’t tell if his head was spinning or if he was collapsing.

The corners of his vision grew hazy with white splotches dancing around. Jaeyun tried hard to focus, making out some of the yelling that was going back and forth, but he couldn’t think at all when a newly-formed cut on his forehead was getting blood all over his face and hands.

He doubled forward, falling onto his knees. Jaeyun had to stay there for a while and ride out the intense waves of vertigo until he was stable again. When the world finally returned to its normal axis and stopped bouncing under him, Jaeyun lifted his head to see you and Jongseong screaming at each other.

And Sunghoon was on the ground.

He stumbled over, and it was as if the white noise in Jaeyun’s ears had drowned out everything in the background. He couldn’t see or focus on anything except the pained look on Sunghoon’s face as the color drained from his neck. Blood was gushing from his jugular vein, and he was digging his palm into his neck to put pressure on the wound.

“—you stabbed him!” you screamed at Jongseong. Your voice was hysterical; Jaeyun had never heard you sound so desperate, not even when he was being held at knifepoint.

“Fuck, Y/N, I wouldn’t have hurt him if you didn’t pull on my arm!” Jongseong yelled back. He sank to the ground, simultaneously dropping the knife and dropping his head between his knees.

The sight was miserable to watch. Jongseong wailed loud and mournful until he couldn’t take it anymore, doubling over so that he could throw up until nothing but bile was coming out. When it seemed as though he had nothing else to heave out of his stomach, Jongseong sat up for a brief moment. You and Jaeyun watched as his eyes rolled back almost instantly, falling onto his back and hitting his skull against the concrete. The exhaustion must have finally caught up to him, and you two didn’t have long until he was conscious again.

Jaeyun turned his attention back to Sunghoon, watching his life bleed out of his body slowly. For some reason, an odd disconnect came over Jaeyun, and he bent down to help apply pressure over Sunghoon’s wound. At first, Sunghoon gritted his teeth, but even he knew when to accept help when it was needed.

Sim Jaeyun was pretty sure he was broken beyond belief by now, but it was impossible for him to ignore someone who was dying right before him.

Even if he murdered Jungwon.

“Y/N, we need to get him to a—”

Jaeyun cut himself off when he looked up at you to see that your expression had changed. Something was different. You looked like numbness had seeped into your body, coiling around your heart until you couldn’t feel anything. The way you looked down at Jongseong, clutching his knife tightly, made Jaeyun worry.

“Y/N,” Jaeyun said again—slower, “whatever you’re thinking… please put it down.”

It didn’t seem like you were listening, though. Almost as if your body and brain were at two different places.

“Y/N—” Jaeyun shuddered when you brought the knife down, driving it straight into Jongseong’s chest.

Jaeyun’s stomach lurched. He watched as Jongseong struggled for his life, hardly conscious as you repeatedly stabbed him over and over again until Jaeyun was yelling at you to stop. He was sure he would never be able to close his eyes again without hearing Jongesong’s blood-curdling screams and seeing Sunghoon’s face drained of color.

“Wow,” Sunghoon choked out. One last amused look crossed his face before it fell apart painfully. “I told you, Jae, there’s no competing with a childhood best friend.” Jaeyun flushed with anger, but it dissolved quickly when he realized Sunghoon’s breathing got slower, shallower. The look on his face was one of someone accepting their untimely death. “Thanks for the show, though.”

In his arms, Sunghoon took his last breath and went still.

It wasn’t grief that Jaeyun felt. It was something far greater.

“Jaeyun, I—I didn’t mean to,” you sobbed out, shakily holding up your bloodstained hands. “It was self-defense! I tried to stop him, but he was trying to kill me, and then he… he killed Sunghoon. I couldn’t do anything else. I couldn’t run, I couldn’t—” You exhaled shakily. “I couldn’t do anything else.”

Jaeyun didn’t respond. He just stared at you in disbelief.

“Come on, Jae,” you pleaded. Oh, so it was Jae now. “You have to help me get rid of their bodies. I can’t go to prison!”

“Get rid of the body?” Jaeyun raised his voice, exasperated. “Y/N, they’re dead! We have to tell the police everything. I mean, what are you gonna do when your prints match?”

Your lips pressed together in a grim line. “Your prints are on the knife, too.”

Were you blackmailing him? Jaeyun couldn’t believe what he was hearing from you. He never expected you, of all people, to be the one to throw him under the bus like this. He had trusted you with his life before, and you threw it all away in seconds.

“Are you going to help me or not?” You looked toward the dock over the water. It was a good enough distance for you to drag Sunghoon and Jongseong’s bodies over to, but Jaeyun sure as hell didn’t want to get involved. “Just help me throw them in the water, and we can both walk away from this, Jae. We can go back to our lives, okay?”

He shook his head sadly. You just sounded like a stranger to him.

“Please, Y/N,” he pleaded, tears stinging his eyes, “please stop this. You have to turn yourself in.”

But his resolve was shaky. Jaeyun knew that he would still be booked once they found his prints at the scene, and there was no telling what you would do to protect yourself. By now, Jaeyun wouldn’t have been surprised if you somehow pushed the crime onto him.

“Jae, listen to me,” you insisted. Your eyes were wide and brimming with tears, and Jaeyun couldn’t help but think you looked a little crazed. “We can both get out of this, but you have to help me out here. We’re gonna tell them that Jongseong killed Sunghoon before we got here, and then he chased us until we ended up stabbing him out of self-defense. I mean, that’s all this was, anyway! It was self-defense!”

A distant part of Jaeyun’s mind wondered what happened to you. He wondered if you had always been this way, perhaps keeping it tucked away. In the end, you were still trying to protect Sunghoon in your own way. You were still trying to protect some fragment of his golden image.

“It’s you and me,” you whispered, kneeling down by your boyfriend’s side until you were cupping his face with your hands, staining his cheeks with Jongseong’s blood, “the two of us against the world.”

Just hours ago, Sim Jaeyun looked at you like you were his entire world.

And now, with your bloodstained hands holding his face, there was unmistakable fear behind his eyes as he looked up at you.

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ thank you so so much for reading if you made it all the way to the end !! i would lovee for you to guys to share what you thought, but just to point a few things out, jake's pov was the unfiltered version of what went down that night. the dialogue from mc is similar to jongseong's because while she painted him out to be the villain in the end to protect sunghoon, it was really her who said those things. originally this had a happier ending but i'm a lot more satisifed with this one actually. i hope you guys liked it !! <3 also i am deciding against using my permanent tag list this time because i haven't used it in a year and don't know if anyone exactly signed up to read horror 🧎‍♀️

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insertcurrentinterest · 6 months ago

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Dark (2017) Character Birthday Months

Note: these are purely based on vibes and have zero accuracy whatsoever

Jonas: May

Martha: August

Bartosz: November

Magnus: February

Franziska: July/September

Hannah: January

Katharina: August

Ulrich: November

Peter: December

Charlotte: May

Claudia: September

Regina: April

Alexsander: March

Egon: September

Elisabeth: October

Noah: Halloween or December

#dark 2017 #jonas kahnwald #martha nielsen #louis hofmann #bartosz tiedemann

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insertcurrentinterest · 6 months ago

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"no little German boy don't go into the wormhole cave"

"oh mein Gott zis cave is full of timeträveln"

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insertcurrentinterest · 1 year ago

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13 seconds is very generous in poppy war terms

headlines that remind me of the poppy war

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insertcurrentinterest · 1 year ago

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nothing can come in between a girl and her obsession for complex complicated fucked up toxic deliriously in love relationships

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insertcurrentinterest · 1 year ago

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“he killed people” yeah and what about it? It’s his most charming attribute

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insertcurrentinterest · 2 years ago

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With Love, Jay

pairing: guitarist!Jay x violinist!fem-reader

synopsis: Who knew young love could be so alarmingly disarming? Your new neighbor had you before a hello, his cute smile and charming first impression; you were doomed from the start. But what happens when it’s not your attention he was playing for? Will your efforts to make things work fall short or would they have him falling instead?

w/c: 14.7k

warnings: one sided pining, ANGST….,but a happy ending, jay annoying, Y/N is too nice </3, other than that there’s nothing! lmk if i’m missing something!

a/n: okayyyyy those requested this Jay best friend to lovers AU with a lot of angst…. this for you. i wasn’t sure how to feel about this since i’m not super confident in my angst but nonetheless please and enjoy and can you guess who’s the next installment in the series ? :* likes and reblogs are encouraged!

happy readings! - With Love Series

playlist;

Keep reading

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insertcurrentinterest · 2 years ago

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❥summer hair = forever young (m)

↳ Only three weeks after being broken up with by your long time partner, you’re dragged along for your friends summer vacation plans despite your best attempts at staying home to do little more than feel sorry for yourself.

Day one? Dinner and a movie.

Day two? The bar down the street that smells like old socks.

Day three? Well, that’s the waterpark, and the cute, blonde lifeguard that seems to make the lazy river his mainstay is a bit of a sight for sore eyes.

lee jeno x fem!reader — summer fling, strangers to lovers, fluff, light angst, porn with plot, explicit sexual content. [18,1k wc] cws: alcohol consumption, penetrative sex, oral sex (f), praise, dirty talk, body cum-shot, Lee Jeno has a Big Dick.

J♡ [22:40]: i just think with summer coming up it's probably for the best, we had fun but we both knew it wasn't a forever thing anyway

A year and a half. Just like that.

Even now, two days after the break up text from your boyfriend — the boyfriend that you were very much in love with and very much thought it to be at the very least a potential forever thing with — you find yourself coming back to it. Rereading it. Wondering what it was that brought the two of you to the here and now of it all.

Though, the pictures of him at a party that had been posted the following day sort of gave it away, you suppose.

Still, there had been talk of future plans, futures together and what that looked like. Maybe not quite a family and the white picket fence just yet — but there had been discussions over romantic dinners and between the sheets after some particularly enjoyable bedroom romps. At least, you had thought as much.

In hindsight, a break up always causes you to put every interaction leading up to it under a microscope. What could you have done differently, better, how could you have avoided the reality that you now find yourself in.

You choose not to reread over the texts you've sent him since, mostly out of humiliation of the fact. Through the crying and the begging and the reducing yourself down to someone that you don't even recognize even in the worst of times, the only thing that makes it that much worse is the lack of any such acknowledgement from a man who had once promised you so much of himself. Not granted even so much as a conversation — hell, he couldn't even be bothered to meet you in person to do it properly — the most likely case? Jaehyun met some girl at some party that in the moment he felt was worth ending the relationship for.

And in times like this, you realize it's difficult to think that you ever really know someone at all.

In the following weeks, your friends are kind, but even you can tell that they begin to get fed up with your insistence on being miserable over a guy that couldn't grace you with even an ounce of the same thoughtfulness.

Constantly turning down plans in favor of staying home on the couch with a bag of snacks and some shitty romance flick, the squad of pals that you've collected over the years only becomes more and more pushy of your getting up and out there once again — in the nicest way, of course. Comments about how he wasn't even that handsome (a lie) and wouldn't end up being all that successful anyway (also a lie) sneak themselves into conversations at any brief moment that any of them can sneak them in, as if attempting to convince you of the fact; rather, the reminder of him only serves as just that. You don't need it, because you're still at a point of pain in your chest where Jaehyun is always there. Knocking, jabbing, not allowing himself to fall off from your mind even for a second.

They mean well, but these things take time. You're thankful that with summer vacation coming up and the girls having plans to go out of town for a few weeks that you'll be granted a small amount of reprieve from the barrage of commentary, at the very least.

That is, of course, until the day comes.

"Rise and shine, darling! We're going on a mission!"

Waking to the shrill voice of one of the girls as she rips the covers off of your body — simultaneously exposing your freshly opened eyes to the offending illumination of the sunlight outside as another girl pulls open the curtains of a window just across the room — you briefly attempt to reach for the duvet before instead accepting defeat and instead slumping back into the cushion of the mattress, anticipating whatever nonsense these women have in store for you this time.

"What kind of mission?" You ask with a dry and throaty groan.

With blankets bunched in her arms, a girl with long, silver hair brings herself just next to your head while you remain lied and despondent in bed. "Today we leave for summer vacation."

One eye cracked open at the words from Winter's mouth, you groan again before answering her. "Yes, you all leave for summer vacation. I told you I wasn't going."

"Why?" Another girl chimes in from the doorway. A beautiful woman with long, silky black hair. "So you can stay here all month long and continue feeling bad for yourself? That guy was a fuckin' loser anyway."

"Karina."

"What?" She adds in retaliation. "He was."

Still standing by the window and with a white curtain in hand, Giselle rolls her eyes at her friends bluntness. Really, you know them all to believe it to be the case, but Karina is the only one willing to go to such feats to speak on it.

"What she means is that it would probably do you some good to get out and come away with us," Giselle amends, garnering a rather unbothered shrug from Karina along the way. "It's only two weeks, it certainly couldn't hurt."

Sighing at the words, you remain laid out in the comfort of your bed. Staring at the ceiling, you realize that there is still a small part of you that can't help but consider the possibility of Jaehyun calling you to tell you of the mistake that he has made, that the two of you should meet up and rekindle things, and the thought of being far away and well out of reach should that time come to pass causes an uncomfortable twisting in your gut that you're not all that ready to disclose to your friends in the room.

Partially because you know it to be so far from the realm of possibility, and partially because it's not a conversation that you're all that interested in rehashing with them now, either.

Regardless, you know there to be truth in their words. Staying home and feeling bad about where your love life has ended up thus far is not going to serve you: not in the near or the far future. Knowing as much, it then begs the question...

Is it worth throwing away an entire summer vacation for?

Inhaling slowly, your lips part to speak, but as your eyes fall upon Winter once more, you watch as her face begins to twist into that of glee before the words even begin to leave your mouth.

"Yes!" She exclaims with a jump before turning and ushering the other girls to begin packing belongings for your last minute trip.

It's only a few hours over to the next town by the beach, anyway, so if they forget anything of importance you'll easily be able to find something to make up for it upon arrival. You leave them to it over the calamity of delighted squeals as the women shove your belongings into a bag, and as you stare up at the ceiling over your head for one last time before your departure, you can't help but wonder: what are you getting yourself into this summer?

Four hours and twenty minutes in the backseat of Ningning's luxury SUV.

It's not the worst way to get somewhere, but the additional hour of travel time most certainly could have been shaved off if any of the people in the car capable enough of navigating a GPS application.

Instead, the time there offers you far too much ability to live with your own thoughts about whether or not you're in the right headspace to truly be making this trip. Granted, it's a little bit too late for that now on account of not being able to back out should you even want to — rather, you can't help but wonder if you're already regretful of having allowed yourself to be dragged along for such a thing.

Every ten minutes or so you check your phone for a message, not that you're keeping track or anything.

The concern is alleviated for a time upon finally reaching the summer beach house, at least. From the outside it's nothing fancy; perhaps appearing as nothing more than a typical, large family home at a glance — but putting together the knowledge of it being just walking distance from the sandy coast out back and the large count of at least six bedrooms inside — you know it to be far beyond just the way that it may present. Expected, of Ningning and her affluent family, and at the very least you're thankful in knowing that you'll have a bedroom for yourself that most likely has a lock on the door should you wish to take some time away from the girls at hand.

You feel somewhat guilty in thinking that, though: friends that you've known since the beginnings of high school and now well into the tail end of higher educational years, people who have been with you through thick and thin and through all of your poor decisions, messy break ups, and rash meltdowns. For whatever reason, this one feels different. The desire to be away and alone with nothing more than your feelings of sorrow, and sometimes you find yourself even lamenting the fact that you have to acknowledge anyone or anything outside of that.

It's good to feel your feelings, this much you know. It's probably better to not allow them to consume you, however uncomfortable it is, though.

Blonde hair swishing through the air as she twirls with keys jingling in hand, Ningning turns with a wide smile to the rest of you as she pushes the front door open and subsequently removes herself from the doorway to allow you all to go before her. "Home sweet home!"

Upon entering the premises, you can't help but think that 'sweet' may be an understatement: two stories and ceilings higher than you can really even fathom with more window paning serving as a perimeter than proper walling — it's most definitely a luxury home, and one that you couldn't really fathom ever owning for yourself, or even really being able to afford renting for a getaway such as this without the additional help of a well-off pal.

It's beautiful, and it makes you realize just how lucky you are to have friends willing to drag you out of your misery to force you to come along and experience it with them.

"Bedrooms are upstairs except for the largest one, which I'll be staying in on account of familial ties," the girl proudly explains as you all enter and set your bags down in the living room area. "Kitchen is to the left, as is another, smaller living area, pool, deck, and then obviously you guys can figure out how to get to the beach."

It goes without saying, because even though the sun is out upon your arrival, you can't imagine not being able to see the crashing of waves even in the nighttime from where you stand now. Looking out towards the coast, it makes your heart swell with promise and thankfulness once over.

You gotta give it to them, they might have been right.

Still, you've checked your phone twice since you've arrived.

"Should we freshen up then have dinner?" Karina asks suddenly and with evident excitement in her voice. You all nod.

"Dinner and a movie in on the first night," Winter adds, grabbing her bags once again. "But after that I expect nothing but trouble until we have to go back home."

Somehow, you don't doubt that to be the outcome, either.

Day two is simple, and much to Winter's displeasure. You, however, are a bit thankful for it on account of your inability to truly settle in. It helps after having gone to the bar just down the way and having a few drinks — that always does the trick in getting you to dreamland, but the aid of alcoholic beverages isn't one that you wish to rely on as a crutch for sleeping during your two week stay and without another plan of action, you think it best to take it easy and lie a little low for what may be the remainder of the trip for you.

When day three rolls around and Karina excitedly throws out the option of the enormous, landmark of a waterpark that the city is known for — everyone is beyond elated at the suggestion, even you.

Some sun and a little outdoors could probably do you good, and on top of that, you'll be far too exhausted from a day out not to get a good nights rest by the time your body meets the comfort of your bed.

With swimsuits on and towels in hand as the five of you enter the gates of the park, you realize that you had overlooked how busy it would be — and by quite a wide margin.

Crowds not really your thing and especially not during some of the hottest days of summer, you bite back any possible complaints you could have and instead focus on the positives: you and your friends are looking fine as hell, there's a comfortable breeze that you couldn't be happier to feel right about now, and your phone is tucked away inside of a locker — far from your sight until the day is over.

You're hopeful for any thoughts of him being just as tucked away as a result, too.

In the meantime and barely out of sight long enough for you to even notice, Giselle pops back up to your side with a bright blue slushie in one hand. "What should we do first?"

"Where did you even get that?" You can't help but question.

Turning and pointing, Giselle brings your line of vision over to a shirtless man standing at a small kiosk only a few feet away. "Hot guy selling them."

"We should definitely see if there's any more of those around here," Karina adds upon looking, and as a result, you cock your head somewhat confused. "Slushies?"

"Hot guys," she confirms sternly.

The thing about post-break up heartbreak is that often times the blinders to other people some times turn themselves on without your knowing it.

That is to say that even though you're not actively thinking about Jaehyun, and there are extremely attractive men here, you can't say that you're all that interested in the fact.

Standing back, you find joy at least in watching your friends enjoy themselves as they flirt with strange guys and playfully pat their arms and shoulders — laughing at jokes that aren't funny but for this, we can pretend — you know it all too well, and you suppose that from an outsiders point of view, it certainly is amusing, and given how long the line is up to this slide, you're thankful for the entertainment.

Nearing thirty minutes in line for one attraction in the hot, beating down summer sun is far from your idea of a good time, but you can see the end soon approaching, and while you cannot imagine that the ride down be worthy of this sort of gathering of people, the faster you can get up there, on the ride, and down, the better.

With only a small family of four ahead of your group now, you and the girls stand just near the very top of the water slide. Sweat pooling in all sorts of places that you'd really rather it not on account of the heat, you find yourself nearing the end of your willingness to enjoy this place, and more than that, you're happy that this is one of those slides that holds numerous people at once so that no one has to wait to get down from what you might consider now to be the highest mountain in the pits of Hell.

The family goes along their way, and with Karina ahead of you and the other behind you, the girl leans back to whisper towards you through the loud shouts of happy children surrounding you.

"Oh, girl—"

Granted, you don't know what this means as you continue with the last couple of steps to the top. Not until you get up there and your eyes land on precisely what it is that you know garnered that type of reaction from her.

Standing just beside the opening of the slide and preparing an inflatable tube for your party of pals, he doesn't take notice of you and yours before your lot does of him, and for that you're somewhat thankful considering the way that your eyes rake over the toned, tanned, display of arms and a bleached-blonde undercut of hair with the sides and back all too freshly shaven, at that.

With a loose tank top covering his torso, you can't help but feel a bit disappointed in the fact. A modest man working at the waterpark, you think, and it brings a bit of a grin to your lips despite the joke only being known to you.

In that moment and with it now being your turn to ride, he looks up and makes eye contact with you, in particular — a wide smile of teeth that's matched by an equally pleasant eye smile, as well — punctuated by a small freckle just at the lower corner of his right eye.

"First time riding?"

"What?"

You realize as soon as the affronted response leaves your lips that it is no ones fault but your own that you've responded to such a normal question in this way. Perhaps entirely on account of your eye-fucking the cute lifeguard before he even manages to get a word in edgewise, you watch him cock his head to the side inquisitively at your answer before snorting out a bit of a chuckle through his nose and continuing on as if you're not a complete fucking freak in public.

"Is it your first time? On this ride?"

"Oh," you answer back as normally as you can possibly muster up. "Uh, yeah, first time."

"Cool," he says, holding the raft still while your friends climb on and get into position beside you. "Hold onto the railing, don't let go, don't stick your hands out and try to touch anything along the way."

With a knowing grin, Karina leans forward to grab his attention as he pulls you and your girls towards the opening of the slide. "What happens if I lose a finger? Are you going to come down there and rescue me?"

It's flirtatious, although you can't help but think the logistics of it could potentially use some work.

But with little more than a shake of his head and a smile, the cute blonde answers the inquiry in the best way you think him to know how.

"I work at a waterpark, don't think you want me sewing anything on you back together. Have fun!"

And with that, the hot lifeguard disappears into the dark, black abyss of the waterslide.

When the day comes to a close and simultaneously, the park itself, with gentle sunburns gracing you and your friends skin and with slushies in hand, the five of you finally retrieve your belongings from the lockers near the entrance.

You check the screen of your phone to find little more than a text from your mother, asking how you're doing and if you're having a good time.

Looking forward to the day in which not finding a message from your ex won't make your throat feel like swallowed needles, as well.

"I see everyone made it out with all of their appendages."

The voice and joke are familiar in a sort of way that you can't seem to place just yet, but upon raising your sights from the depressing display at hand and towards the person in which the words have come from, it all comes rushing back to you at lightning speed. Eyes wide and taken quite aways aback, you just about drop your phone and as a result of scrambling to not let it meet the wet concrete of the floor below, nearly make a mess of the icy, blue beverage in hand, as well.

Thankfully, neither disastrous outcome make themselves to be — but still, your inability to be even a little bit normal in front of a man you've known for all of two minutes is getting a little out of hand, at this point.

Still in the same white, cut up t-shirt from back at the slides, the two of you make eye contact for a moment before you realize that you should probably actually say something to him in response.

"Yeah, well," you start with a nod back behind him and towards where Karina stands. "She was the one with intent to remove fingers, not me."

Pausing to glance back over his shoulder and acknowledge the other woman, he gives her a nod before turning his attention back and towards you.

"Good, because I really mean it when I say I can't sew for shit."

You can't help but chuckle at the words. "Would be quite a repertoire of skills under your belt if that were to be the case."

"Indeed. You live around here or on vacation?"

Sly, you think to yourself. Granted, you don't hate the attention especially since he seems keen on directing it to you, in particular. It does beg the question, however, of how much of a point is there to any of this, really? A summer fling can be fun, sure, although not exactly your usual speed of doing things — and especially not off of the back of some of the worst heartbreak you've ever experienced — you look the man in front of you over just one more time before parting dry, chapped lips to respond to him in some form or another.

"Vacation," you grant him, albeit slowly, as if anticipating something suspicious in his questioning. "Why?"

It's sort of a stupid question, you know.

Perching a well-defined arm up against the metal locker next to the both of you, he leans into it and maintains eye contact with you before answering as much. "We should do something while you're in town."

Reeling at how forward he is, your answer comes out a bit more stuttered than you would have liked to begin with. "I—I'm not sure there's much point in tha—"

But regardless, Karina is there to interject, anyway.

Nudging herself into the scene and with her own phone in hand, the woman stands between you and him to do something that you stand a bit half and half on: it's somewhat annoying, and a bit out of bounds especially as friendships go to be giving out your number to men that you've only barely just met...however...

He is so fine, and a bit charming, to boot.

"Here's her number," you hear your friend say as she stands with her back towards you. The whole thing takes place in a matter of seconds, and as he slides his phone back into his pocket, Karina makes haste in whisking herself back out of the scene, but not before flashing you a knowing, mischievous smile.

"Trouble that one is, huh?" He says, thumbing back over his shoulder as she disappears into the rest of your friend group.

"You have no idea," you sigh in response, and now resigned to the fact that this is definitely going to be some kind of thing, you figure it best to move along towards the next most obvious course of action. Whatever this is going to be, after all. "So, what's your name?"

Corners of his mouth pulling into an all too pleasant curl, you hate how much it sort of makes you melt at the sight of it. An unfortunate side effect of much too attractive and seemingly also kinda cool guys, you figure.

"Jeno," he says, as if delighted by the fact that you would ever even ask. "Lee Jeno."

Over the next handful of days — through a shocking amount of quiet evenings spent at home around take-out boxes and cheap wine with the girls — texts from the cute blonde at the waterpark that you now know to be named Jeno come far more frequently than you realize you had anticipated.

For one, he knows that you don't live around here so you can't imagine there to be much of a reason for him to be pursuing you for much more than a fun romp in the sheets, only to then never speak to you ever again. It's not an arrangement you're all that opposed to under normal circumstances, though you can't help but consider that where you are mentally and emotionally right about now is far from normal circumstances.

And two, he hasn't really laid on the same sort of aggressive, sexual interest that you may have expected from a guy looking for that sort of thing.

In fact, talking to Jeno is just pretty...casual.

Seemingly making it a point to text you late into the night and right before bed (incredible timing every time, you note), you chuckle every time thinking that this time to be the one where he comes on strong. After all, most men only text women that they're interested in this late at night for one thing and one thing only, so every time as the chime of your phone receiving a message comes through, you arm yourself with the armor of anticipating something heinous to some degree — you can only hope that it's not a dick pic, at least.

Phone in hand, lights off and snuggling into the plush, comfortable sheets of your bedding, you unlock your phone and navigate to your messaging application to see just what it is that lies in wait for you this evening.

Jeno [01:23]: good morning, or night, i never know how to announce myself at this time of the day

It's sort of annoying the way you can't help but smile, but you're thankful enough for the fact that he is unable to see the effect he already has on you in such a way.

In the wake of being told that you're not wanted, not desired — sometimes it's nice to have a reminder that not everyone feels that way.

You have no intention of engaging in anything more than basic flirtation with this man, but hey, that can be enough.

You [01:24]: how do you always know exactly when i'm settling in for bed?

Typing bubble popping up immediately after sending your message, you can't help but wonder just how eager this guy really is to be the receiver of your full attention.

Jeno [01:24]: i have karina on look out so she can let me know precisely the right time to hit you up

You [01:24]: creepy, but i respect your willingness to tell me, at least

Jeno [01:25]: well, you know what they say, honesty is the best policy. what are you guys doing tomorrow night?

Taking a moment to mull over the question before you begin typing your reply, you answer him easily, but mostly out of curiosity in why it is that he's asking.

You [01:26]: i don't think we have anything planned? you can ask karina ;p

Jeno [01:26]: very funny, are you going to hold that terrible joke over my head forever? anyway, my friend is having a party at his place, parents out of town for a week, you guys should come by.

You're none too proud of the way your heart beats just that much harder for a split second in time at the coming through of the invitation. Still, play it cool.

You [01:27]: i'll ask the girls tomorrow if we have anything going on and i'll get back to you. are any of your friends cute?

You're not sure you've ever seen the typing bubble pop up that quickly in your life after sending that message.

Jeno [01:27]: really man? already trying to scope out my friend group to see if you can get an upgrade? :(

You [01:28]: i have friends...they will want to know...it will likely be a huge deciding factor in whether or not we show up at all so think carefully lol

Jeno [01:28]: fine! yeah i guess some of them are handsome, not quite as handsome as me but you know what can you do? hehe

Rolling your eyes but with grin still plastered across your lips, you begin typing your response back to him.

You [01:28]: i'll pass the message along then

Jeno [01:29]: cool. get some sleep then, you really shouldn't be texting strange men so late at night anyway, who knows what could happen hehehe goodnight, rest well

Part of you wants to rebuke the claim despite very much having already considered it for yourself, but in an effort to not appear too interested and too eager, you simply leave the conversation alone and with that as the last message sent for the evening.

Butterflies in your stomach and the promise of who-knows-what at this party tomorrow leaves sleep hard to come by, but you figure it's at least a little worth it if it means checking your phone for text messages from a different man whose name starts with a 'J' for once.

Of course, you're none too surprised once you find yourself at said house party.

A bit more rambunctious than what you'd typically like to find yourself at back home — with slews of college-aged people running, yelling, dancing and talking amongst themselves as well as throughout the entire premises of the property both in and outside — as you and your friends make your way inside to the enormous stacking of alcohol bottles and disposable plastic cups, it's one particularly bright head of blonde hair that catches the corner of your eye as he makes his way across the room and towards you with a smile.

Nudging your arm gently with his elbow, as if to say 'I told you so' about your being there at all, Jeno grins even wider once your eyes meet. "So? What do you think?"

Looking around briefly, you glance back towards him with suspicion plastered across your face.

"I'm starting to think you might be too young for me."

Jeno reels at the suggestion with eyes wide and full of shock. "Why? Adults can party. You don't party?"

"I do, just not typically messy frat house parties...at least, not anymore."

Knitting his eyebrows together and slanting his grin, Jeno cocks his head sideways to look at you with something of a twinge of judgment. "It's a beach town, and a popular destination for summer breakers obviously, what do you expect? Maybe try winter break, next time."

Nudging you again to punctuate the thought playfully, you look back towards Giselle who quickly pushes an alcoholic concoction of you'll-never-know into your hand with a grin before her and the others begin to disappear into the crowd.

"Wait! Where are you guys going?"

"You have your date, we're going to find ours," Winter answers back with a casual flip of her hair. Then, her attention pulls to the man standing just beside you. "What was his name again?"

"Jaemin."

"Whatever," she says quickly and as if nothing he could have possibly responded with would have made any sort of a difference either way. "We'll be around, we all have our phones. If you need someone, you know how to get us."

Panic subtly settling in at the thought of being left alone with this guy that you barely know at all, it's not that you feel unsafe with him, or that you can't trust his intentions — no, it's far from anything so insidious that has your nerves firing and the anxiety bubbling up in your gut.

What if it's awkward?

"Ta-ta!" Ningning chimes as the four of them walk away, and it's in that moment that you realize you are deep, deep into the lions den, now.

In a room full of busy people, you can't think of a time that you've ever felt quite so alone.

Then, you feel your phone vibrate. A message from Karina.

Kari [20:42]: let the hot guy from the waterpark make it all better :p you know what they say, the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else

Turning your phone far out of sight of Jeno upon reading the message, another comes through before you have the chance to begin typing any kind of reply to her.

Kari [20:42]: or bent over by someone else, or on top of someone else? well you can fill me in on the details when he's done filling

You don't bother reading the rest of the message as you quickly lock your phone and shuffle it back into your pocket, but you're thankful enough when your attention comes back to Jeno that in the meantime he has struck up conversation with another guy just beside him. It gives you a moment to look him over for the first time, too: messily slicked back blonde hair and black button down shirt that's equally messily tucked into far too nicely fitting black jeans with a carefully placed aesthetic rip at one of the knees.

He looks good, and you're glad you didn't over or underdress in your fitted jeans and simple blouse, also.

"This is my friend, Renjun, he's the home owner...well, sort of," Jeno starts once he realizes you're finished with the nonsense going on within your cellular device. "He's one of the handsome ones we touched on briefly last night."

Introducing yourself in kind, you shake hands with the new acquaintance as he laughs at the concept of being discussed. "Thanks, happy to know I made the cut, I guess. What are you doing talking to this fuckin' guy, anyway?"

Jeno's eyes widen at the sudden attack. "Hey! I just complimented you, come on!"

Not helping the laugh that erupts from their jest, you take a sip of your horrendous drink before responding. "It's been a little out of my hands from the get-go. I'm just sort of along for the ride, he keeps texting me every night, what am I supposed to do?"

"Ah, yeah, I've heard that about this one before," Renjun nods and sighs, with Jeno spiraling into disaster beside the both of you all the while. "Can't let him start texting, he'll never quit. I hate to tell you, but you're basically married, now. He's a level five clinger."

"I am not a level five clinger!"

"That's unfortunate," you casually respond, carrying on the conversation with Renjun as if Jeno not even standing there at all. "Hopefully he doesn't have any weird quirks that are hard to live with, then."

Renjun shakes his head as he takes a sip from his own cup. "Nah, he's a pretty simple guy, all things considered, I think you'll have a pretty easy time with this one."

"Well that's comforting, at least."

"Hello!" Jeno finally interjects with success, stalling the ongoing banter and bringing both of your attention back to him. "I'm literally right here!"

Smiling then, Renjun brings a heavy hand up and to the back of Jeno's shoulder before turning on his heel and beginning his exit in the wake of destruction. "Have fun, call me if you need anything."

With a lull in the ongoing messiness that so far is this evening as it stands, you and Jeno stand calmly before one another for a few moments with no words spoken; that is, of course, until his lips part and he gently offers up an idea of his own.

"Want to go some place quieter so we can talk?"

There's certainly a distinct level of unease that courses through your bones with every step you take towards the second level of the home. Passing by people already paired off for the evening and making out on the steps for what feels like forever — you can't help but wonder if this is some kind of preliminary entry into what he thinks is going to be on the agenda for the evening. Yes, you had already considered this much, and yes, you're aware of precisely the types of things that go on at parties such as this, but it doesn't mean that just because you're here and to see a guy, at that, that you're resigning yourself to partaking in any such festivities.

Jeno leads the way, and once the two of you make it up to the dimly lit hallway lined with a handful of doors — some open, some closed, and a handful of people leaned against the walls engaging in their own, private activities — it's as he continues towards one of the open doors of what you could only presume to be a bedroom that your heart sinks into your stomach and you dig your heels into the ground.

"I don't—" Is all you can manage out, because it's awkward and you don't really want to make an ordeal out of this either. You don't know this man, and especially not well enough to know how he'll take to being denied the thing that he seems to be under the impression that he will be obtaining tonight. As a result, you lay out the 'soft no,' in hopes that it will be enough to get the point across.

Head turning and glancing back at you upon hearing the words, you're a little taken aback by his response: less because of any of the potential, aforementioned reasons, but rather...because he appears confused.

Did he really think he had it in the bag that easily? Just because you showed up tonight?

The thought is enough to raise a level of irritation in you that has you feeling comfortable enough in asserting yourself just that much more. "I don't want to—I'm not going to—"

It still takes a second, but when he finally realizes, it seems to hit him like a semi-truck.

"O—Oh, no! No, no! That's not...I wasn't...I didn't think—"

Hands up in front of his chest as if in full retreat just on account of the mere implication of it, you're a little charmed by the tinge of blush that takes across his cheeks and especially highlights his ears.

But more than that, you believe him in his earnest.

"I just thought because it's quieter up here, no music and less people...I didn't think anything was going to—we can keep the door open! Or go back downstairs, anything is fine by me."

You're charmed, just a bit. You hate to admit it to yourself, and you certainly aren't going to admit it to this man, but you are.

Offering him a gentle smile, you nod back towards the direction in which he had been heading just prior. "It's fine, we can go—" you say, stepping forward again with insistence that Jeno do the same, and as the two of you meet side by side once more, you're careful to add one more addition, just for clarity sake.

"—But keep the door open."

A couple of days later and once the banging drum of headaches and hangovers have worn off, with the friend groups now thoroughly enough enmeshed on account of Renjun's family home and an absolutely unfathomable amount of adult beverages, the next most obvious plan of action is set into motion.

Dinner and bowling.

One thing about this town that you've come to realize is that there is little to do — and especially during the summer time — that doesn't directly involve alcohol and partying. With most restaurants and shops closed until the middle of August at least, the guys are happy enough to inform that there is still one mainstay left that doesn't involve having a terrible time the next morning.

The dinner seating is something that you can't help but take note of: two, long tables pushed together by the wait staff to accommodate such a large party of patrons, with Jeno sat right across the table from you, you notice the way that certain budding couples seem similarly paired off. It's sort of cute, in a way, but you choose not to pay it much mind. Sure, chats with the handsome blonde just along the way serve as a pleasant way to pass the time, and you'd be lying to yourself (and doing a terrible job of it, at that) if you tried to say that you hadn't at least briefly considered where else this could go just for a fun little before the vacation were to come to an end.

Just as the thought comes to its conclusion in your mind, your eyes come up and meet Jeno's over the brim of his beer glass.

That charming-ass eye smile.

Slowly, he brings the glass down while maintaining eye contact, his hand disappears under the table, and you watch his eyes fall to whatever it is that he's doing under there.

Your questions are answered promptly, however, by the vibration of your phone in your jacket pocket.

Jeno [18:12]: interesting seating arrangements we've got here

You try to bite back your smile. Easier said than done, and dealing with his texting antics much simpler when from the comfort of your own bedroom.

Still, you play along and begin typing our your response.

You [18:12]: almost like they're hinting at something

Jeno [18:12]: i'm not too good at signals, need someone to spell it out for me hehe

Glancing back up from your phone, you catch his eyes as he does the same with a knowing grin plastered across his lips.

You [18:13]: you'd have to ask them, i don't know anything about it :p

Jeno [18:13]: okay will do, but speaking of spelling it out...you look amazing tonight

Stilling in your seat at the sudden forwardness of the message, a typing bubble pops up again just as quickly as the previous message is received.

Jeno [18:13]: like really...you looked amazing the other night at the party too. do you always look amazing or is it just when you happen to be seeing me?

Clearing your throat, you shift in your seat just slightly before reaching forward and taking the glass placed in front of you into hand in preparation for a much needed sip of water. You ignore him purposefully, but you can feel the sharp gaze of the man in question as he monitors your every move.

Jeno [18:14]: don't think i didn't notice the way you were looking at me the day we met :0

Unfortunate, but you had been a bit obvious, largely on account of not having expected being faced with seeing this man ever again. You'll have to reel it in better next time.

You glance up again, this time with intention of meeting his eyes — from across the table, Jeno sits with one corner of his lips curved upwards ever so slightly, as if knowing precisely what it is that he's doing. Not surprising, of course, he's not coming onto you now on accident — but he's never been this forward and the only thing you can really chalk it up to now is the dwindling time left on yours and the girls remaining vacation time.

As they say, 'shit or get off the pot.'

But are you interested? Frankly, you're not really sure.

Handsome? Without a doubt. Nice? Sure, seemingly so. Trustworthy? Probably enough to enjoy a night together.

However, you can't help but remain starkly aware of the still gaping whole in your heart where Jaehyun not so long ago resided.

Looking over his features again, Jeno takes another sip of his drink: messy, blonde hair, beautiful eyes, the most charming smile and all accented by that devastatingly stunning mole seated just on his cheek bone.

Yeah, maybe you are, because when you take him in as he sits before you now, just like this, enjoying each and every physically enamoring aspect of a man all the more infatuated with you, as well — you can't help but wonder...

God, how nice is your dick, then?

And just like that, is if everyone in the world having a window of insight into your mind, your phone vibrates again. Naturally, your first thought being another text from Jeno as your eyes remain glued to him, but with every round of vibration that sends through the device it quickly dawns on you that not only has he not dipped his vision back down from you to fire off another round of flirtation, but rather that the disturbance coming through is not a text message at all.

It's a phone call.

Looking down, the number isn't one that you recognize although the location code is. Eyebrows furrowing in thought and vague concern as the screen continues to illuminate in your hand, you feel the gentle tap of a foot under the table and from quite evidently — right in front of you.

Eyes now upwards again, you meet Jeno's concerned ones, but you don't have much time to quell whatever worry he may have before you're up, out of your seat, and heading outside to take the call.

Your first thought is one that sends anxiety through every nerve under your skin: family or friends in emergency, god forbid something terrible having happened, but once you reach the parking lot and are met with the cool breeze of the coast just down the way — when you answer the phone, you come to find yourself no more quelled of fears upon hearing the voice on the other end.

"Hey," the voice says, low and seemingly already defeated. "Sorry, I know you're out of town, I just wanted to talk to you."

Heart beating nearly straight through your chest and hands shaking as you strain to hold your phone to your ear, you stand in silence as your mind races with the how's and why's of what this is and could mean.

After having not received a reply for so long that you don't even notice the amount of time passed, the man on the other end speaks again.

"Hello? Are you there? It's Jaehyun, sorry, I changed numbers."

"Uh, y—yeah, I know who it is, sorry, I'm just—" you pause again to think through your words carefully, as well as garnering yourself more time in an attempt to steady the quake in your voice. "—I wasn't expecting to hear from you."

Chuckling lightly, he carries on, and just before he does you catch a glimpse of the blonde previously seated across from you at the table as he carefully exits the establishment to check on your whereabouts.

"Yeah, I know. Is it a bad time? I think you might agree that we left off on the wrong foot."

Swallowing down the lump in your throat as you quietly acknowledge Jeno's presence, you're not entirely sure where to go from here. The way that your heart thumps strongly at hearing Jaehyun's voice again is one that's hard to ignore, but the way that he broke up with you and only now is contacting you again lies equally as much on your mind.

He doesn't deserve a conversation, and especially not a second chance, but it doesn't change the fact that deep down you want to grant him both.

For better or for worse, however, now isn't a good time.

"I'm out with the girls right now but I can call you tomorrow night, when there's less going on. You know how they are, always have me up to something."

"Sure, you have the number, call me any time," he says with the most calm and nearly adoring of tones. "I miss you, have fun."

"Th—thanks," you answer slowly, and with that, the call ends.

Standing in the middle of the parking lot with Jeno only a few feet away in silence, you suppose that it's probably written all over you the sort of affect that something like this has on you. Despondent and borderline broken after having only so much as heard a few simple words from a man who despite all of his poor treatment of you still holds such a strong place in your heart...

There's no other word for it, simply put, it's pain — and soul-crushingly so.

You can hear he gravel under Jeno's shoes as he slowly approaches you, and there's a small part of you that wishes he just doesn't. Go back inside, stop pretending to care about this or us beyond just wanting a quick fuck, quit playing the nice guy.

But you know you're projecting, and you bite back the venom of your thoughts so that they don't manifest into underserved words.

"You okay?" He sheepishly asks and with concern weighing heavily on his features. You force a half-assed smile in response.

"My ex-boyfriend called," you huff out a laugh. "Broke up with me over text a bit ago, now he wants to talk. Said he misses me."

"And you're gonna tell him to go fuck himself, right?" Jeno says, and much to your surprise. Not used to such a strong response from him in regards to, well, much of anything.

Shrugging, you let out a defeated sigh. "Maybe? No? Probably not."

Silence. Then you glance back towards him.

"I love him."

"Yeah, of course you do, it's fresh," he says delicately, closing the distance between the two of you to take your wrist into one of his hands and carefully usher you back inside. "But that doesn't mean he's deserving of it."

"I know."

A small squeeze of your wrist, as if just to let you know that he's there despite your already being well aware, and looking up towards him as the two of you re-enter the building, Jeno smiles at you widely with teeth and eyes on full display in a way that sort of reminds you to just live in the moment — the here and the now — and to worry about that, whatever that is, later.

"I'm just a guy, I get it," he starts with his face leaned into the side of your head to whisper the words directly into your ear. "But sometimes accidents happen on purpose."

Turning to look at him and meeting so close to his face that it has you just about startled, you roll your eyes and snort at his attempt to bestow aged wisdom upon you in your time of need.

"That doesn't make any sense, is that your idea of giving advice?"

Slinging an arm up and around your shoulders to pull you in tighter against him, he once again brings his face to the side of your own. "Yeah, how'd I do?"

"Terrible."

"Hey, but you laughed, though."

As it turns out, there are perks to making friends with the guy who works at the waterpark.

That is, beyond his good-looks, pleasing disposition and the fact that he tends to be quite into you, when Jeno invites you and yours back to the waterpark for some free-entry fun, the five of you can't help but take him up on the offer.

Besides, it gives you just that much more reason to have your phone out of sight and subsequently out of mind.

Rather than the typical morning arrival, however, Jeno tells you to come later in the evening on account of things tending to be more quiet. This turns out to be the case and much to all of your delight as the crowds have long since thinned out and lines to rides are much shorter than your last foray at the place of amusement. Still, it's less time to do as much as you all probably would have liked, and as the closing hours quickly approach, you and the girls make your way back to the lockers to not only collect your belongings, but once again meet with the man who brought you all there to begin with.

You come to realize that you're quite fond of how he looks fresh off of a work shift, with tousled hair and a bit of a sun-kissed glow to his skin only amplified by the glisten of water and sunscreen — when Jeno approaches the group you find that while yes, you have seen this man now numerous times before so the way that he looks is of no surprise to you, something about him like this, like right now, is different.

And as usual, when it comes to Jeno, you're the only person in the room.

One strong arm up and against the metal just like the time previously meeting like this, he all but cages you in as he leans casually against it to speak to you. "I've got to stay a bit late to do some minor maintenance in the backend, want to stay with me and we can go out afterwards or do you have somewhere to be with your friends?"

It's a lovely offer, and the idea of seeing a waterpark long past closing is an enticing one just for the thrill of it, but you're not one to pass up on dinner with the girls that brought you here for an after hours slide ride.

"We were actually about to head out to dinner, text me when you're out though and maybe we all can—"

"No. Way!"

The shrill voice comes from Ningning this time, and a bit to your surprise as it's typically either Karina or Winter with something loud and boisterous to say. Regardless, the woman comes up quickly from behind Jeno with arms crossed fiercely as if personally slighted by your unwillingness to ditch her.

"Dinner at the lil' diner down the block can wait, when the hot lifeguard asks you to stay after closing, you stay after closing."

"Ningning..." you bemoan first, only to look up at Jeno who is far too busy feigning a lack of listening in to the situation playing out right in front of him.

"Stay," she insists again, slinging a t-shirt up and over her shoulder before slowly sauntering away as if having won the war that she, herself, started. "We'll see you later—"

And just before disappearing entirely with the other women, she turns back once more with just another thing to add.

"—If you come home tonight, that is."

Jeno's work in the the back where some of the machinery is kept is quick and for that you are thankful on account of it being mind-numbingly boring watching him do anything at all that he is meant to do there. The flex of the muscles in his arms and back growing bland far sooner than you might have anticipated, you're happy to hear only twenty or so minutes in that he's finished and the two of you can carry on with your tour of the premises now that there is no one else there but the both of you.

As you walk, he tells you fun stories of silly happenings since his three years of working there has begun: tales of lost belongings on slides and peoples swim bottoms being stolen by the waves of the pools that artificially craft them, the two of you laugh into the calm, night air as you circle back around to the large river that spans nearly the entire lot of the waterpark — calm and meant mostly for simply lounging about in the sun, Jeno sits at one of the small tables offered just at the side and motions for you to sit just beside him, as well.

Still in nothing more than your swimsuit and a towel, it feels oddly comfortable. In fact, despite your checking, you haven't caught the man eyeing you down at all — not that that leads you into a false sense of believing that he simply hasn't, because frankly, you know better than that.

But at least he's willing to reign it in in the event that you could see him in the act.

And on top of that, you've been stealing glances yourself, anyway.

"Things good?" He asks, and it feels so abrupt given the timing. You know what he's referring to with eyes honed in on any possible change of your expression, but you attempt to maintain composure whilst under the proverbial microscope of his view.

"Yeah," you sigh, leaning back into your chair casually. "Everything is good. Sort of not looking forward to leaving next week."

Jeno smiles at the words. "Yeah, this town is fun, but only on vacation. I think you'd find if you lived here all year around you'd miss it back where you're from."

"Yeah, maybe."

"Just gonna have to make sure you get the best this place has to offer then," he says with a groan as he brings himself back up and to his feet. Hand extended out towards you with an offering to help you stand, you stare at him blankly for a few moments before slowly taking it and allowing yourself to be hoisted upwards. "Shall we take a swim, then?"

"Are we allowed—"

The thought suddenly cut off by the sight of Jeno reaching down and pulling off his loose, white tank top shirt. And sure, it's loose enough that you've more or less caught a glimpse of everything under there already, but not like this, not on full display.

"No, absolutely not," he laughs as he chucks it into the chair he was only just sat in. "But no one checks the cameras anyway and they already know I'm here after hours as it is so it's not going to ring any alarm bells that there's movement on site. Is that a yes?"

You pause. You need the moment to think this through, not that you even really want to. Deep down, you sort of know what this means, at least to the most basic extent, and sure — you can decline anything at any time and you're pretty certain he'll take it in stride — but still, saying yes to this is effectively saying yes to something.

"Yeah, let's take a swim."

The water feels colder now without the sun beating down on it but you come to find that the trade off is the way that the overhead lights as well as the submerged ones illuminate the water in such a beautiful way that everything glitters all around you. Following Jeno's lead as you both wade through and into one of the man-made rock sculpture caves that under typical servicing hours, lend much needed reprieve from the sunlight — now instead you feel a bit something like a character in a fantasy film: a mermaid coming back to her home as the wetness of the ocean glistens off of the barely lit walls of the faux-rock now surrounding you in hideaway.

Realistically, the scene is nothing special, but right now and with present company, your feeling of being locked away and hidden from any potential prying eyes feels especially heavy knowing precisely the thoughts that have weighed on both of your minds ever since they very first meeting here.

As silence falls between the two of you and you comfortably place yourself with your back against the smooth offering of rocks, you use it as a moment to take in the sight of him while he's not paying attention: shirtless and with flesh on full display, Jeno brings a hand up and out of the water to push his hair back and out of his face before catching hint of the fact that he has an audience, after all.

Then, he slowly closes the distance between the two of you, and with the tiniest grin of understanding perking at the corners of his lips, you suppose that there's a part of you that sort of always resigned yourself to this.

And really, what's summer vacation if not for having a summer fling?

One hand planted against the firm offering of rock on either side of you, caged in but feeling neither scared nor small on account of it, Jeno brings himself close enough to you that you have little more option that to struggle with your footing at the bottom of the pool and allow him the gentle insistence of settling between your legs.

Slowly, he dips his head down and towards you, but you pause the moment to speak in a whisper.

"You brought me here to do this, didn't you?"

To that, he only smiles again before continuing with the movement. "You came knowing that."

A gentle first kiss, perhaps much more so than you would have anticipated; rather than coming in hot and heavy from the start, the true feeling of being with and near him instead comes from the way his chest presses you tightly into place as his mouth slots firmly against your own. It's a little breathtaking, and somewhat overwhelming having been caged in like this by him, but with every forward movement of his lips and tongue against your own you can't help but feel as though the breath being pulled straight from your lungs, and with intent, at that.

The first, testing grind of his hips against you has you gasping into his mouth, and the sinister curl of his lips tells you that he couldn't be more pleased by the reaction.

One, strong hand dropping down from the rocks behind you and instead holding firm at your thigh from the underside, Jeno holds your leg up and out just enough to maintain the open space so that he has precisely the access that he desires like this, and with another slow, deliberate grind of what you know to be the solid length of himself beneath much too thin swim trunks, you can't help the way that your head lolls backwards and just about slaps into the solid structure behind you.

Pulling from your mouth as if to allow you the ability to breath, warm lips trail down your jaw line and back around to your ear, but rather than speaking anything in particular, the man simply allows you to listen to the quiet moans and exhales that drop from his lips as a result of the friction forming between the both of your bodies.

With every simulated drive of himself into you comes a breathy, needy sound fallen from his mouth. On top of that, with just the right angle, paired with just the right amount of speed and force behind his hips...

Surely you won't cum like this?

But with how heavenly he sounds against your ear and the tensing in your thighs and abdomen, you pull your bottom lip up between your teeth hard with eyes clenched shut as if not wanting to make it so evident just the effect he's having on you like this. Squirming within his grasp, and your orgasm feeling just on the cusp but ever so slightly out of your hands, you huff out with frustration and throw all caution to the wind in a desperate whirlwind of pleading events.

"Please, God, I want you," you whine against his ear. "Want to feel you."

It's a terrible idea and you know that, for a plethora of reasons. However, you're horny and on the edge of cumming and cannot possibly be concerned with any of them. You've been good enough up until now pretending to have little to no interest in his cock at all, but enough is enough, especially as it glides against you rock hard and barely clothed between your bodies.

Jeno, for better or for worse, has other plans.

"Want that too," he whispers against your ear, the hot puffs of his breath washing over the otherwise warm, wet smooth of your skin. Unfortunately, instead of freeing himself from the very same confines that plague you, he merely picks up the pace of his hips against yours.

As well as aiding with a slight shift of the angle at which he grinds against you.

Turns out, that'll do the trick.

Orgasm fast approaching now as he repeatedly presses his hips against the apex of your thighs, he continues with the original train of thought. "You ever been fucked in a body of water like this? Doesn't make for great lubrication, unfortunately—"

You can't be bothered to pay all that much attention to the science lesson, and with your hands gripping into his back and biceps as he continues hard and fast against you, you feel the distinct feeling of his teeth dragging down ever so slightly against the column of your neck in such a way that it has your head spinning and toes curling with how close to the edge you are like this.

Not for long, though, as he finishes the thought entirely. "—Want that glide to be so fucking smooth."

Frankly, you're not used to hearing him curse all that much, so when he does it's especially meaningful, so when he shoots down your begging for him to fuck you instead because he has far more delightful plans for you in the future and under more optimal circumstances, you couldn't bite back the shriek if you had tried as your orgasm tears through you with so much force that you swear you may crack a tooth with how tightly your teeth are clenched through it.

And like a good boy, Jeno 'fucks' you through it as every shockwave of release jolts through your body and your clit begs to be untouched. Releasing the grip on you, he pulls his face back around to look you in the eyes with an all-too-proud grin plastered across his lips — though, you don't get much of a chance to fight him on it as those very same ones quickly meet yours just as adoringly as the first time.

When he pulls back, he's still smiling — odd behavior for the un-orgasmed half of the equation, you think, but before speaking, the man brings a hand up to your forehead to delicately wipe away a handful of stray hairs that found their way there in all of the debauchery.

Eyes meeting, you can tell he has something to say, and that you're probably not going to like it.

"You wanted me to fuck you, and raw at that."

"Oh come on!" You groan in playful embarrassment, pushing him away from you with desperate splashes of water left in your wake as you escape. Jeno only laughs as he trails behind lazily.

"You did," he reaffirms with a teasing chuckle. "You so did."

The following days come to pass far quicker than you had anticipated, you're soon to find.

With every day, every moment now seemingly enmeshed between the groups of friends, time with Jeno is more common than time away — no one hears about the goings on at the waterpark, at least, not on your end (and you have reason to believe that he hasn't said anything either on account of the fact that Jaemin would never shut up about it if he had) — but there's evidence enough in the distinct change of something between the two of you as the brief, casual brushing of hands slowly transforms into open and public slotting together of fingers during movie nights and not-so-concealed presses of kisses to the temple of your head at any time that Jeno seems to be able to close the distance between your bodies.

It's nice, and you can admit as much to yourself without fear or worry. The problem lies in the fact that therein resides so much more than it simply being nice now, and in fact, you're somehow managed to stumble yourself precisely in the line of fire of what it is you had sort of been hoping to avoid this entire time.

Granted, it's not necessarily worth a conversation on account of logistics and the more or less of what this is, but still, even with it only having been two weeks since you've met this guy, he reads a bit like an open book, and if there's one thing you're fairly certain you have down about him and the way his mind works, it's that he wants to have that talk, regardless of the realistic outcome.

Really, it's the least you can do on account of the whirlwind, summer romance you've happily found yourself wound up in, in spite of everything.

On the last night before you and yours leave to go back into the city, the blowout house party is at home; Ningning's summer house. An excellent decision on account of the fact that the five of you can pack up early the day before and simply wake up to leave the next day with little more to worry about than some final touches and your hangovers as a result.

Though, leaving the next day is far from what you currently wish to be attending much thought to.

With folding chairs strewn about around some of the tables in the back yard, as well as the barbecue that's fired up and attended to by Renjun, Mark and Giselle; with a red, plastic cup in hand as you sit facing out towards the crashing waves of the beach, you can't help but allow your gaze to fall to the side and onto the object of your desire that was never really supposed to end up as much more than simply the hot guy that worked at the waterpark.

Instead, you watch him as he engages in a conversation with Winter — a playful argument about which dog breeds are cutest — and it's times like this that you make a conscious effort to take mental snapshots of this moment, right here, right now. Making sure that you never forget this feeling, never forget what it was like to live in this time with the guy who sports such quintessential summer hair and reminds you of what it feels like to feel young once more, and forever.

Eyes curved into perfect, crescent shapes and a matching perfect smile as he laughs along to whatever it is that your friend is saying, suppose he must feel the heavy weight of eyes upon him as he shifts to grant you his attention once more.

There's a few seconds of silence, but you watch the way his face melts from one of joyous laughter to something that's more akin to fond adoration.

"Want to go talk?"

Jeno doesn't look all that surprised when you say the words, and instead offers you the gentlest of smiles, as if already anticipating as much, anyway.

"Sure, let's talk."

It's colder the closer the two of you get to the waves of the water, the sound of them crashing lightly against the muddy sands that lie beneath — with the sun just about set already and hues of orange with purple only barely peeking out from above the costal line — with legs dangled over the side of the small, wooden pier, Jeno slings an arm up and over your shoulders to tug you closer against himself, partially for the warmth and combatting the breeze, but really, just because he wants to have you there.

"Have fun?" He finally asks, you nod against him.

"I've kind of fallen for you a bit, ya know that?"

To this admission, Jeno reels so hard that it has you looking up at him — he looks far more shocked than you would have anticipated going into this because...obviously? And as a result, you snort out a laugh. "What? Isn't it obvious?"

"I mean—I'm just...surprised, I guess?" He admits awkwardly before settling back into place. "We're having fun and I was trying so damn hard, but I didn't think it actually worked."

"You're kinda oblivious, yeah?"

Jeno laughs. "I've heard that before, yeah."

With the words now out in the open, you allow there to be some silence between the two of you — something of a ruminating of what this is and what that means between the two of you right now, with no real need to add anything more to it in immediate time.

Instead, the two of you look out towards the water — still painted with pinks and purples as the sun sets over it for its final few minutes before nightfall.

You inhale to speak, though you're not thrilled about it despite its necessity.

"We can't...keep this going, you know," you say first, choosing words carefully as you carry out the thought. "It was fun but you know...back to real life, back to home."

Glancing up to gauge his response, Jeno only smiles as the words for a few, passing seconds before looking down at you and responding.

"Yeah, I know."

Through more silence, you think that you can feel it in his chest the way his heart beats in such a way that the sadness of the circumstances is evident. An unfortunate reality of such things: sometimes it really is wrong place, wrong time, wrong location, wrong...everything but you.

Standing again and heading back inside with fingers interlocked, you can't help but think of how the thing they never tell you about short term relationships is that they can be just as meaningful, just as impactful as long term ones. There's nothing inherently lesser, or worse, or meaningless about them — a snapshot in time where everything between you and someone else was perfect and incapable of being tarnished, at that — really, it's an ideal circumstance, especially as someone with a desire to rekindle hope in the concept of loving and being loved.

Just because a relationship ends, doesn't mean it lacks value.

And when you go back home, you'll take Jeno with you: perfect hair, perfect smile, and adorably unaware disposition all packaged up as a reminder of how good it can be to simply be.

Getting back inside, after enjoying the inviting sights and sounds of the quiet outdoors, the unrelenting boom of loud music and yelling friends pierces your ears in such a way that you can't help but attempt to curl in on yourself and escape from it. Jeno takes notice with a squeeze of your hand upon arriving to the kitchen, quickly pouring drinks for each of you and then dipping down next to your ear.

"Want to go upstairs where it's quieter?"

Yeah, of course you do. Still one last thing on the agenda for this trip, after all.

Discarding nearly full cups and making your way up the stairs; through the hallway that's all too familiar to you by now, you can't help but call back to the last time you'd done this very same walk, with this very same man: a few key differences now compared to then that are worth taking note of, however. For one, Jeno's grip on your hand as he leads you up despite not even being entirely sure which room it is that you'd once called yours is, and two, you now find yourself far more open to any potential scenarios that may arise.

In fact, you're hoping that they do.

Swapping places and taking the lead, Jeno follows just behind you as you open the door to your bedroom — stepping inside where all of your packed bags and other such belongings not yet able to be stuffed away until the very last moment lie about on countertops or draped over chair backs — when the two of you step inside, you realize that there's a part of you that has sort of already come to this conclusion a long time ago. It's difficult to pinpoint the exact moment, and likely well enough before the late evening spent alone with him at his place of employment, rather, your memory lands at that time in the parking lot, when your ex called, and Jeno was right there to pick up the proverbial pieces of you.

It wasn't much, just that he was there. Sometimes that's enough.

Turning back to face him, it's a quick movement and so much so that the surprise of it is evident on his face with wide eyes and a late response to the feeling of your lips on his, but more than that, the sound of the door shutting behind his back and locking into place by no ones insistence but your own.

He's quick enough on the uptake, however; hands coming up to slot gently on either side of your face to pull you just that much more into the kiss — and with the length of your body pressed just as hard against him as he stands pinned between you and hard wood, the close proximity is just so giving in how you're able to catch every hitch of his breath in his throat and forced back groan in his chest.

You pull back, and with a wickedly playful grin across your face. "You've been waiting?"

To that, Jeno scoffs before bringing hands down to your shoulders and gently pushing you to step backwards towards the bed. "Only as long as you have."

The removal of clothing is quick but never quick enough despite the flurry of fabric strewn about the floor through the incessant need to kiss and be kissed by him. Rather, the two of you only part from one another if it's required to discard something that now, more than ever, is no longer desired.

The irony, of course, is in the fact that the both of you have already seen so much of what there is to be seen. Swimsuits only leaving so much to the imagination, as is the same for the pool boys usual choice of lazy attire — you come to find that when presented differently, the absence of clothing and the emergence of skin that you think you've already grown used to couldn't be further from the case. It looks different, feels different — the smooth palm of your hands sliding over arm muscles that you've already felt so many times before as his teeth catch at the bottom of your lip in a kiss that only becomes that much more heated with every passing second — the man that you've known all of the way up until now still might just have so much more still to show you.

At least, that was your impression from the waterpark festivities that evening.

Creating space between your bodies only long enough to plop yourself back and onto the mattress, Jeno wastes no time in following you as he slots himself between your legs and once again kisses you as if never able to have enough of it. One hand pressed into the mattress beside your head, the other trails down the length of your form to settle right between your legs — and now, with no barriers between you and him but his own undergarments — just one, casual dip of his middle finger shallowly between your folds is enough to have your breath hitching differently against his lips.

He grins at the reaction, but says nothing.

Instead, he dips his head down leaving a trail of kisses and nips of his teeth into the flesh of your neck, shifting his positioning back and just enough to be able to mouth over one of your nipples with a firm, swirl of his tongue. It's nice, but nothing special — at least, not before the same pad of his finger between your legs finds such light but evident purchase against your clit.

Slow, careful circles rubbed against you, back arching ever so slightly off the bed and up against his mouth as he continues teasing licks against your flesh, it's a certain kind of torment feeling so much and not enough all at once, and you can't help but consider one fact: he knows it.

You're not one to beg (well, other than that one time), and you're certainly not going to be undone so easily by a guy that for all intents and purposes you barely even know, and biting back a groan, you tightly knit your eyes shut in hopes that perhaps he's not torturing you on purpose — dragging this out because you both know it's the first and last time you'll ever get to have it — and surely he'll make quick work of you soon enough.

But the slow, down and inward press of the same finger towards your opening, only to replace the empty spot with his thumb has you thinking otherwise.

Jeno barely penetrates you with the single tip of his digit — if he does, it's so shallow that you can barely even feel it — a crime in and of itself, but amplified by the fact that you're racing towards the point of no return in what it is that you want, and if he insists on teasing you with the opportunity of being filled by him, then little does he know that he's stumbled upon the grandest of unravelings of you.

A heavy exhale, you decide you have to look down to take it all in, and especially if you're going to have a chance at saying words at any point in time. As you crack an eye open, Jeno switches breast to take your other nub between warm, wet lips — and it's then that he digs a finger into you just a bit deeper than before and all the while maintaining attention to the aching bundle of nerves held captive beneath his thumb.

Now you're frustrated, and you're not sure you can hold evidence of that back much longer.

With another heavy exhale, you attempt to bear down your hips against his hand to feel more of him, but to that, Jeno looks up to meet eyes with you wearing a look that almost tells of disapproval.

"In a hurry?"

You groan, not entirely sure if at the words or the implications behind them.

He wants to take his time.

"No, just—" you all but whimper, head thrown back against the pillow beneath it once again as if resigned to simply being along for the ride with this man. "—Kind of killing me, here."

"Why?" He questions with lips still feathering against the skin of your chest.

Then, the finger far too casually settled at your opening is slowly driven in to the last knuckle, and it feels fucking electric.

"This what you want?"

For someone who has always had a low tone of voice, you're not sure where the next few levels in drop have come from, same going for the erotic gravel that courses through his throat with every word he says against you. Either way, that in combination with the full length of his middle finger buried in your cunt already has you wondering just how it is that you're going to get through this particular night.

Guys like this are supposed to kiss you, get a blowie, maybe give you the sloppiest oral sex you've ever had (but hey, at least the effort is there), and then fuck you into the mattress for a full, mind blowing three minutes before rolling onto their backs and passing out.

So, what the fuck is this?

"Yes," you resign yourself to answering, because presumably you won't receive much else if not for your going along with it. Squirming against his hand again, you feel him pull from you ever so slightly before once again burying the hand deep against you.

Jeno hums before speaking again. "I don't think it is, but I think you're willing to settle for now."

Oh, he's so annoying when knuckle deep in pussy.

It's then that he pulls himself up and into a knelt position between your legs: not removing his hand from your pussy, but instead, bringing the other one — now freed — to the same position.

The new thumb coming down to collect the slick collecting around his finger, he brings it to your clit to focus one hand entirely on that motion, and now leaving the other to focus entirely on the place where he enters you. Now, however, with far more range of movement and ease of angle, Jeno settles into a smooth, rhythmic flick of his wrist to once again simulate fucking you the way that you really want him to.

Everything but what you actually want, and it's driving you fucking insane.

It's almost perfect, though, and that you find irritating in and of itself. Glancing up at him, Jeno's attention is spent mostly on watching you and your face, only occasionally allowing his eyes to drop down to take in the sight of the absolute mess he's making of you now.

He adds a second finger, and with it, a slightly faster rhythm.

Still trying not to sound entirely defeated and fucked out, in the absence of your moans, instead the room fills with the familiar, wet sounds of the work that he's doing on you — and upon the realization, you might have to just moan, it's less humiliating than this.

A certain curl of his fingers, however, and you don't have to weigh the pros and cons any longer as the sound is ripped from your throat whether you like it or not.

"Oh," he whispers in the event of it, as if pleased by his sudden findings. "You liked that one."

"Sh—Shut up," you barely manage out in reply before another groan falls from you, and while you're frustrated and horny, you muster up the desire you begin making requests. "Faster," you whine out, hips grinding down against his hand in hopes for more friction against your clit.

"Demanding," Jeno coos in response, though not heeding it whatsoever and much to your displeasure. Instead, you feel another shift in the mattress from his movement, and despite being somewhat terrified of the next thing that this guy could have up his sleeve for you, you look down towards him...

Only to find him settling face first with your pussy, and two fingers carefully finding their way back inside of you.

"You're lucky I'm kind of a pushover," he says with a small chuckle, and punctuating it with a long, firm lick through the slit of your pussy that has your entire body trembling with promise. "You want to cum, then I'll make you cum."

There's not much to say to that, and not that you'd be able to on account of his lips quickly attaching themselves around the very spot that craves the attention. Less than that is the amount of time that you have to think over the fact that you're not going to be able to hold out very long due to him toying with you up until this moment, either. You consider that there's always a bit of ego involves in situations such as this — not wanting to appear too eager, too interested, but you suppose it's long past that point now, anyway.

With fingers dug deep inside of you and the expertly pointed grind of his tongue against your clit — relentlessly quick and just like you'd asked of his hand only moments prior, he's definitely trying to make you cum, and he most certainly is going to get his reward, as well.

Bottom lip pulled tightly between your teeth as every muscle in your lower body tenses for the impending release; one hand gripped into the sheets just below and the other coming up to find purchase in the bleached blonde hair that you've grown so fond of after such a short time — you're not able to say much as it feels as though every breath is being sucked out of you by the man as he teeters you on the edge one last time before pushing you over it — instead, you're somewhat displeased by how easy it is to say his name in little more than an airy chant; over, and over, and over again as he finally topples you over into orgasmic release and with a rush hitting so hard and so fast that any sound that once would have escaped from you is instead replaced with a silent shriek of nothingness as a result of your dry, spent throat.

You need a moment before anything else happens — many moments, in fact — of heavy breaths and a heaving chest as you attempt to collect yourself in the aftermath of it all, and there's a split second where the thought crosses your mind that if this was all that would amount from your night together with him, that might actually be good enough.

Still plenty of time left in the evening, however.

Finally, you pull in a full breath of fresh air before looking back down towards Jeno: face cradled in one hand and gazing at you with nothing but proud adoration in his eyes, you're annoyed but not enough to ignore the disheveled mess of hair atop his head, as well as the wet glisten of you that's still happily sported along his chin.

"Good?"

He's so annoying.

You roll your eyes. "Yes, you like being praised or something?"

"Doesn't everyone?" He playfully responds, once again dragging a finger through the prominent wetness of your folds. "Look how wet you are, so good for me."

You know he's toying with you, not meaning anything in particular by it, but you're not proud of how evidently correct he is, either. Regardless, he changes the subject fairly quickly beyond it.

"Are you down and out for the night already?" Jeno chuckles, pulling himself up and into a kneeling position once again and if anticipating the fact that you'll tell him you're not.

It's only then that you finally get a real, good look at the lining of what lies hidden beneath the last remaining black garment on him.

Not done, not even close.

Sitting up only long enough to grab an arm and pull him back down with you, Jeno catches himself with both palms splayed out on the mattress as you pull him into a kiss once again. This time is different, however. Beyond the taste of yourself so evident on his mouth, he kisses you in a way that's far needier, less held back than all of the other times before. Always wanted you, and probably painfully so, but not enough to ever put that above anything else at hand.

But, suppose it's his turn now.

Hand dipping down between both of your bodies and wasting no time slipping into the black fabric to feel him, your fingers wrap around the smooth flesh of his cock in such a way that already has him sighing into your mouth — it's sort of addicting, the way he sounds and feels and looks like this, at the mercy of you and only ever really wanting you since the moment he laid eyes — in ways, it's a job well done, and now he shall receive his prize.

Though, you're not even really sure which one of you is winning, now.

It's difficult to get a feel for metrics just by touch — but thick and plenty long enough come to mind in a way that's far too dizzying to spend too much time thinking about. You give him a few lazy tugs before Jeno pulls up and away from you entirely to hang over the edge of the bed and fish out the most obvious thing from his pants pocket.

"Came prepared," you casually comment, and when he comes back up with the package in hand, he only sighs in relief.

"Not a chance I was going to fuck this up by not thinking ahead," Jeno responds firstly, finally shuffling the fabric at his hips down and revealing the full sight of himself to you. "Though, you'd let me hit without it anyway, I guess."

"Oh my God!" You whine in embarrassment, reaching up to playfully slap his arm as he rolls the condom along himself. "Moment of weakness, I would have come to my senses."

Settling back down lengthwise against your body, Jeno kisses you hard once more as you feel the distinct wrapping around your thigh of an arm that intends to have you fully splayed open for him. Once finished there, the same hand comes between you — dragging the wide, length of his cock through your wetness before even attempting to push inside.

It's similarly torturous to before, however, and your squirming beneath his body is evidence of it enough.

Forearm holding his body weight, Jeno shifts his hand upwards so that he can touch your face as he continues to bring you to madness — soft kisses peppering not only your lips but your jaw, cheeks, and even falling down onto your neck — you can't tell if he's doing it purposefully in hopes that you'll beg, or if he truly has no idea just what it is that he's doing.

You believe it to be the former, though.

Regardless, he's a man worn thin of patience himself, and your requests are not needed to feel the incredibly present stretch of him entering you.

Embarrassingly slick for him and well prepared, you're reminded of the comment he made back the last time you two shared a moment such as this — how he wanted it to be different, right, in some ways, and as the feeling of him pushing to fill you to the brim brings you to nearly dizzying new heights — with fingers gripped into the skin of his back and shoulders and teeth gritted, you can kind of see why.

You don't want to say his cock is perfect, but it's pretty fucking good.

Once fully seated inside of you, Jeno brings that hand back to your thigh to pull it wide and away. Rather than moving right away, he allows you some time to get used to him — no stranger to a big dick, but a wide one certainly tends to take a second each and every time. In the meantime; lips trailing down your neck, sucking and biting into the skin as you try to bite back the whimpers that threaten you already — unfortunately, you're soon to find this man to be no such help in you maintaining your composure.

Stray fingers curled into your hair — not to pull or cause pain, nothing more than simply holding you there — you become starkly aware of how consumed you are by him now, and with hot breath cascading across your ear and cheeks, you're once again faced with that same low, gravely tone of voice from earlier that had you coming nearly undone in the palm of his hand.

"How do you like it?"

Barely coherent enough to register the question, you feel the shiver the words send down your body as a result of it, all the same — as if somewhere in your subconscious well aware of the implications long before your present and aware mind capable.

Before you can answer, however, his voice drops lower and down into a whisper against the shell of your ear. "How do you want me to fuck you?"

Another chill, and with it paired with one shallow drive of himself against you.

"Been dying to feel you cum around my cock, so please," he says, and this time with desperate emphasis coloring the plea at the end.

"Tell me how you want to be fucked."

The shivers subsequently pooling right between your legs and at the very spot where Jeno enters you — you know well enough that he can feel the way your cunt clenches down hard around the thick of him with every pointed, filthy word that drops from his lips. More than that, however, is the way your fingernails dig that much harder into his flesh at the promise of finally receiving precisely what it is that you want from him.

To be fucked stupid, and borderline incoherent.

He doesn't wait for an answer from you before beginning a calm, steady rhythm against you, though. Smart enough to know that regardless of your answer, you both do require friction from this sort of engagement — rather, just like the time before it's the particular way his breath hitches and he softly groans into your ear with every tight, wet hug of your pussy against his thrusts that is quite possibly doing you in more than the actual action itself is.

No matter, though, because your mind is made up.

"Harder," you whimper out for him with hips pushing up to meet his actions. "Fuck me harder, deeper—"

His next drive into you has your entire body moving up the length of the bed, as well as any further words or thoughts lost somewhere in the mix between.

The next shift in positioning is quick, so much so that it has your head spinning ever so slightly as you feel him bring his torso off of your own to prop himself up and over you once more — it's better leverage for harder thrusts, and even more is the capturing of one of your stray wrists in hand just before settling himself in place. Effectively pinned beneath him, there's a brief moment where he stills — flashes you a look to check in and make sure you're not displeased with the new development, because there's always a bit of growing pains in an attempt to take the lead, be sexy, and more than that, not overstep any boundaries.

But really, you know he just wants to do whatever it takes to make you cum as hard as possible, and it's a commendable effort, that much is for sure.

Two, three hard drives into you with your wrist pinned just next to your head and you're all but crying out for him. Figure, that's probably motivation enough.

Jeno continues to fuck you hard, but not especially fast as every drive of his length into you is deliberate, pointed, and angled perfectly to find and continue to rub against that particular spot that has you tensing and shaking beneath him. Watching him from this angle above you; muscles firm and flexed with every calculated thrust, mouth only slightly hung ajar as eyes that now remain nearly glued to the place that the thickness of his cock disappears inside of you with slickened ease — it's hard to imagine that you ever considered not allowing yourself this moment in time, because God, he's going to get precisely what he set out for.

Glancing up from that place, Jeno's eyes meet your own before clenching shut tightly to take in the feeling of you. "Fuck, you feel so fucking good."

He was right, the praise thing is pretty fucking excellent. Might as well pay it back.

Bearing down to meet one of his thrusts, you whine out for him in response. "Feel so good," you start before another hard pound of his hips against your own interrupts the thought. "F—Feel so big."

With that, you feel his hips falter ever so slightly, paired with a light chuckle falling from his lips.

"Don't say that," he says in a laugh. "Talk about how big it is and I'll cum in two second flat."

This knowledge piques your interest, hand that remains unpinned coming up to lightly cradle his face. "That's what does it for you, huh? Like hearing about how big your cock is? How full I feel when—"

"I'm serious!" Jeno then gasps suddenly, stilling his motions between your legs altogether and laughing all the while. "I'm not joking, I will cum right now if you keep it up, no one wants that."

You laugh to match him. "Okay, okay! I didn't realize it was that bad..."

Dipping down again, Jeno kisses you hard and firm on the mouth before pulling back up and delivering a single, hard drive of himself into you. "It's bad, and if I cum before you do I'm going to put my fucking head in the blender, so may I?"

"By all means."

It's out of scene and not a particularly sexy conversation, but it is one that reminds you of all of the things that you seem to adore about the man. Someone who can be everything and at a moments notice: caring, funny, sexy, good in bed, bad in bed should the moment fit — it serves as all the more reason that you're thankful for your making of the decision to go through with this, after all. Not just for the sex, because sex can be found anywhere — but rather, because of this particular moment right here and now, shared with this particular man.

And that, you can't find just anywhere.

Jeno wastes no time settling back into things as he fucks into you hard once again, but also faster than previously. There's something about the new angle that he's settled himself in — a perfect lean of his torso over yours that has the shaft of his cock rubbing perfectly against your clit in such a way that has your body tensing and nerves firing with each and every thrust of himself into your cunt. This time, over the sounds of wet and skin meeting, instead it's you that's heard in particular over everything else — with no way or ability to bring yourself back down from the impending doom of the orgasm that's now threatening to rip through you at a moments notice.

Of course, Jeno notices, and probably feels as much with how tightly wrapped around his cock you are — and if he's close to cumming himself, you can't tell through his composure as his steady hips never once falter through the loud whines and whimpers that fall from you on account of him.

"Close?" He asks, well aware of the way you fall apart beneath him and with no other interest than you get you precisely there.

You nod quickly. "Harder, harder, fuck—"

And you don't have to ask twice as Jeno once again settles into a different position — unpinning your wrist and instead bringing both of his large, strong hands down to clasp onto the dip of your hips for leverage — instead now he holds the ability to not only fuck up into you, but also pull you down onto his cock, and in even quicker, harder succession.

You sort of wish you could have enjoyed the feeling of him like this just a bit more — the full, thick pull of his cock against your walls with every fluid drag of himself against you — but instead, Jeno is only granted a handful more drives of himself into you like this before you're crying out and cumming hard around him in electric pulses and waves of clenches down around his length.

Reduced to nearly whining, Jeno doesn't stop his relentless force into you in chase of his own release now that his job here is done, and rather, you're not quite satisfied with the impending end of this scenario just yet, either.

"Cum, baby," you whisper out to him, and you're certain that you can see the way the pet name all but deep fries his brain in real time with the clench of his facial features upon hearing it. "Want you to cum on me, wanna see it."

Another shockwave to an already far too aroused mans brain, he attempts to shake it off long enough to focus back on the task at hand but shortly thereafter realizes that there isn't much left to focus on. Four or five more hard thrusts into your cunt, Jeno quickly withdraws from you — peeling the condom from his glistening wet length and swiftly palming over himself in quick succession to bring himself the rest of the way there over your messy, exposed pussy and stomach.

But really, you just want to watch him stroke it.

A beautiful sight: a man desperate and on the verge of orgasm, fast at hand to bring himself over the edge, the muscles in Jeno's abdomen tense as he teeters on the edge of release for your viewing pleasure, and as his breaths begin to hitch in his throat only to be replaced by short, pained whimpers, you deliver the killing blow for him.

"So big, cum for me baby—"

Granted, you hadn't planned much of a script in your head past that point, but it would go unneeded anyway as you watch Jeno's fist stutter to a halt halfway down the shaft of his cock before emptying his load atop the already messy pool of wetness gathered at your spread open folds.

And perhaps nothing better than the loud, anguished groan of his release as he slowly finishes stroking himself over your cunt and to completion.

Kinda defeats the purpose of condoms but the two of you will have to take that up with the health clinic another day.

Slumping down and onto his back next to you, both with quickly rising and falling chests in an attempt to breath air that brings something other than the scent of sex, Jeno is the first to lean into you to press a kiss to your temple, just like so many times before.

"Good?" He asks.

You hum coyly before shrugging. "It'll do, I guess."

"Nice, that's what I am for. Have all the ladies in town like 'eh, it was this or reruns of Friends."

Smiling, you inhale deeply with thoughts of this. All of this, and just how nice it is. You wonder briefly if this is a life you could see yourself getting used to — being had and held by the man lying next to you — before the stark reminder of it not even so much as being an option settles in once more.

Short term relationships are valid, and giving — and you couldn't possibly end this one off on a better note.

Take it for what it is.

Waking together in the morning is as nice as the night before, albeit far less involved. Even through the entanglements of limbs and an incredibly pointed lack of clothing on either of you, you're the first to stir with Jeno still lying beside you, although quickly met by the man to have gentle pecks and other such trinkets of adoration bestowed upon you in what is now your final couple of hours left together.

In the shower, there's a moment that you think maybe it can be done after all, and as Jeno stands with toothbrush in hand and mouth full, when you dip your head out to make a mention of the prospect to him, once your eyes meet you can't help but cower back behind the stained glass from which you had come.

Don't ruin this, just let it be.

With bags lazily packed and messily stuffed into the car, the friend groups say their goodbyes at around noon, and with the way that some of them go, you think that you and Jeno far from the only two who consummate their relationship on the final night.

It's sort of sad, in a way, but you suppose you're glad you're not alone in feeling this way.

Turning to face Jeno one, final time — eye smile and freckle that you've grown so fond of — his hands come up to cradle the sides of your face before pulling you into a tender kiss for the final time, his eyes never leaving yours in the pull back even for a second.

Hands dropping to pinky fingers on each hand interlocked as you begin to make your way to the vehicle, you're thankful at least that Jeno have the ability to maintain a strong facade in the aftermath of all of this because frankly, you're not so sure how well you're going to fair once it's all said and done.

There's a pause with arms extended as you open the car door, the link between you and him now stretched nearly as far as it can be held by a mere two fingers — all the while, his gaze never falls from you.

And neither does his smile.

"Safe drive."

Two unreasonably gut-wrenching words.

"We will."

And just like that, you're off.

Arm propped up on the side of the door, the inside of the car is dead silent. You know why. Everyone knows why. No one really wants to talk about it.

Then, your phone buzzes.

Digging it from your bag, you're not entirely sure what to expect, though you're hoping not to find one thing in particular. Instead, you're pleasantly surprised by the name that flashes up on the screen.

Well, suppose that's a bit of an understatement.

Jeno ♡♡ [12:22]: so, what are your plans for winter vacation, anyway?

♡ send me your thoughts and feelings in my ask.

—this is a oneshot, there will be no part 2 (probably)

#GIVE ME MY SUMMER FLING ‼️#vicarious fics

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insertcurrentinterest · 2 years ago

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Baseball (& Other Disasters)

Description. Everyone admired Mark Lee, starting pitcher of your school’s baseball team and famed ladies man. You, on the other hand, only know him as the boy who broke your dorm lobbies microwave the first time you met.

Too bad that was all it took to grow an embarrassingly huge crush on him.

So when he comes to you, in need of a new baseball manager, how could you say no to that face? (Spoiler: You couldn’t)

Pairings. Mark Lee x Female Reader

Genre. Romance, F2L, Idiots to lovers, Mutual Pining

Warnings. Cursing, An awkward scene of you walking in on the deed being done, suggestive comments, (I think that’s it?)

Word count. 10k …

Note: I had so much fun writing this, sorry if it seems like it moved too fast, I didn’t want it to be too long since it’s been sitting in my drafts forever! Anyways, enjoy and remember feedback is always appreciated <3

Mark Lee is out fifty dollars, a phone bill, and most recently, a baseball manager. And he’s about to pull his hair out, because seriously, who quits right before the season starts? Not to help that he could’ve never seen it coming.

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insertcurrentinterest · 2 years ago

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Ventana

Synopsis: Your favorite window seat and silence were unexpected allies in the love that grew between you and your neighbor.

Word count: 6k (a baby considering my other works but I love it just the same)

Genre: neighbor!au, boynextdoor!au, fluff, nothing too grand but it is something light-hearted.

Warnings: Some language. Teeth-rottening sweetness, really.

Pairing: Jisung x Reader, ft. Chenle, Jaemin and Jeno!

Author’s Note: Hey friends! This is a short and sweet dessert to hold you over for the main course coming up! I missed my dreamies so I wanted to write something for them. But I can’t wait for your thoughts on my chris work coming up. I have lots planned for the summer so brace yourselves! ~Angelo

The sun was heartless on this beautiful summer day. The window you lounged beside had been your absolute favorite spot in said house since your family moved in when you were younger . Most summers growing up, it was hard for your sisters to convince you to move from that little window seat. The summers were solely yours- that was, until Jisung started staining them.

Looking back on it, all of your favorite memories of Jisung were bathed in summer glow.

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insertcurrentinterest · 2 years ago

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the Special | Sanji x reader

a/n - my first One Piece fic. absolutely terrifying but definitely a needed change of scenario to get out of my writing block. please be kind; I'm taking all my inspo from the live-action as that is what I am currently the most familiar with. but, well, we just have to see how it goes. bon appetite

Shoutout to my dear @mydearzero for encouraging my newfound obsession with this show and this character, as well as generally encouraging me to write. this is all your fault. And to everyone else who had been expecting me to finally post one of the other million fics I had promised... I'm sorry

And kind reminder that reblogs is what makes tumblr work. Please, if you enjoyed the story, reblog

word count: 9.9k

warning: 18+ only. MDNI. smut. piv sex. oral sex (f!receiving). unprotected sex [wrap up your eggplants yall]. semi-public sex. several FDA regulation code breaks, probably. afab reader. swearing. little bit of angst. shitty and fat-shaming [oc!]boyfriend/date. fist fight. alcohol consumption.

“Look at your waiter's face. He knows. It's another reason to be polite to your waiter; he could save your life with a raised eyebrow or a sigh.”

― Anthony Bourdain,

The first thing you saw was the red, bright sign spelling out the restaurant's name.

Baratie. You had no clue what it meant but could only hope that “the best restaurant in the East Blue” was somewhere down the list of its definitions, especially after the months that they had kept you on the waiting list and the tumultuous trip that it took to sail there. Next, as your ship approached, you saw the… fish head. The sight of the sculpture at the front of the ship structure buried some worry in the pit of your stomach, but surely, if so many people had given it such fond reviews, the exterior was not to speak for what awaited you inside.

‘Believe me, baby, you’ll love it here.’

‘I really hope so,’ you smiled as you got off your boat. Your legs shook at the knee as you stepped onto the sturdy dock planks. Days at sea, which had never been your friend, had clearly done more damage than you expected. You would have been on the floor if it wasn’t for the pair of arms holding on to you.

‘Thanks, Chosi,’ you said towards your boyfriend as he helped you steadily get back onto your feet.

‘Can’t have you faceplant the second we get here,’ he brushed some invisible dust off your shoulder, and with his arm entwined with yours, he led you to the entrance of the establishment. You grabbed at the skirt of your dress to keep it down as the wind blew by.

As you walked, you looked at all the other ships harboured on the… was this an island? Was the entirety just one large ship? Was it anchored to something then, or was it drifting around the seas constantly? You couldn’t quite comprehend the logistics of it all. But you could tell that humans and other creatures of all walks of life–royalty, commoners, marines, pirates—were unbothered by each other's presence and enjoying the outing. Once inside, the shushed sound of the waves was exchanged for a whisper of swing music, as well as the chatter of the restaurant’s patrons and the clinking of their cutlery on plates. The walls were lined in crimson wallpaper as well as painted depictions of sea battles, accented in gold and bronze details matching the furniture placed spaciously around the room and the two stories above it that lead the eye to a beautiful aquamarine ceiling that gave the illusion as if one was looking up at the bright sky from underwater.

The maitre’d, a Fishman, stood to attention at your entrance.

‘Good afternoon, how may I help you?’ he asked kindly.

‘We have a reservation. Name is Chosi,’ Chosi stated with his head held high. Despite you doubting that anyone knew his name in these parts of the world, he never ceased to pronounce it with a level of expectation to it. It was commendable, as well as disappointing, when nothing happened afterwards. The maitre’d simply nodded and glanced down at his long list of names, searching for the one he had just heard, ready to cross it off.

‘Ah, yes, right here. Please, do follow me to your table.’ And so, you did just that, walking down the grand staircase onto the restaurant's main floor, where you seated at one of the smaller tables, perfect for a romantic dinner for two. ‘Your waiter will be right with you.’ The Fishman bid you farewell just like that and returned to his position at the door.

‘So?’ Chosi looked at you with a raised brow as you looked around.

‘It is quite stunning.’ You must admit that you did not expect this kind of splendour when looking at the carved fish that gaped at you outside. Something about that just did not exude the same essence as the timeless and classy beauty of the interior. You barely even felt the shake of the waves beneath you.

Maybe your response wasn’t sufficient, for Chosi had opened his mouth to respond, something in the angles of his face announcing displeasure, but he was interrupted by a new presence at your table. You looked up at the tall figure towering over you.

‘Welcome,’ the man spoke, his accent clearly indicating his origin if only you had been aware of where that was. Simultaneously, he put down a plate of bread rolls, perfectly and meticulously positioned atop it. ‘...to Baratie. My name is Sanji; I will be your waiter this afternoon.’

‘Took you long enough.’ Chosi mumbled under his breath, giving you an immense urge to kick him underneath the table, but you knew better than to do that, especially when he did not seem to be ready to stop any time soon. ‘Trying to convince my girl this place is worth visiting, heh.’ You could feel your cheeks burning up in embarrassment. Nevertheless, the waiter—Sanji, he said was his name—did not seem to give the comment much thought as he looked down at you with a curve to his thin-lined lips.

‘My apologies, madame; I hope my service will not give you the false impression of this establishment being worth any of your precious time.’ The smoothness of his voice almost concealed the true meaning behind his speech, leaving you, as well as your date, speechless. However, you felt your speaking ability to be taken away by more than just his words as you spared a second to take your waiter in properly. You just could not help but notice how his suit wrapped around his arms, and although one was covered by his blonde hair, his eyes had a glint of something that excited you despite not even knowing the root of that excitement.

Like nothing had happened, Sanji continued, ‘Would you care to see the menu? Hear the specials?’ That is when you noticed the menu cards he was holding in his hand. And he must have been ready to list the special items, but Chosi was a step ahead.

‘Actually, I think we are ready to order.’ That was the first you had heard of it, but you stayed put as he continued. After all, Chosi had eaten here before. He knew what was good, and you could trust his judgement.

‘Prime rib, medium rare,’ as your boyfriend spoke, you kept your eye on the waiter, noticing the appearance of the smallest of flinches in his face at the sound of the dish, but never faltering his picture-perfect appearance, ‘and my lady will have the salad.’

Another twitch, right below his visible eyes, followed, but Sanji’s professional facade stayed on as he inquired: ‘We offer quite a variety of salads; which would madame prefer?’ And with that, he turned to you, that smile plastered on like a sticker, but he had trouble keeping it on as the answer to his question did not come from your mouth.

‘Whichever is the best, of course.’ Chosi rolled his eyes, and you wished you could do so as well. The waiter glanced between you and him, turning back to you momentarily. Long enough for you to give him a reassuring smile. It would be in everyone’s best interest if he just moved on from the matter.

‘Drinks, then,’ Sanji again spoke with an unphased essence about him, as if nothing from the past few minutes had ever occurred, or at least tried to emulate this. ‘Madam, anything I can get you?’ The way he emphasised that word didn’t require any pointed glares.

‘Uhm,’ you hesitated as he kept his full attention on you, completely ignoring the man sitting opposite you at the table, making Chosi stare at you just as, if not more, intensely, for all the opposite reasons. Out of panic, you just blurted out the most straightforward order. ‘Just water, thank you.’ It being the first words you said in the waiter's presence, they came out soft. Nothing like your regular voice, which startled you slightly.

‘Still, sparkling or mineral?’ Sanji pursued.

‘Still please,’ you smiled shyly, unsure where that actual shyness derived from.

‘Ice? Cubed or crushed?’ He fired the questions at a rapid pace.

‘A bit of ice is fine. Thank you,’ you repeated yourself, looking down at the table and letting the waiter move on to the rest of the order. He didn’t say anything else but looked at Chosi with anticipation.

‘I’ll have your finest brew.’

‘Coming up,’ his voice had a sudden coldness to it as he walked away, back to the kitchen, leaving the table to a thick silence.

‘I could have ordered for myself, you know,’ you said, with that same soft tone you had spoken with earlier, although this felt much more familiar seeing who you talked to.

‘And have you stuff yourself with some useless carbs? C’mon, you know I’m just looking out for you, here.’

‘I know.’ You straightened out a fork in front of you, suddenly feeling uneasy at how far away from the plate it was positioned compared to the knife on the opposite side. You were straightening out a crease in the tablecloth when Sanji returned with a silver tray in one hand. He placed the pint glass full of golden brew in front of Chosi before turning your way and setting a glass beside your plate. With a pair of tongs, one by one, he let ice cubes fall to the bottom of it, the clinking against the glass almost deafening. Then, he followed up with another pair of tongs and reached for a little tray but stopped himself to ask you: ‘Care for a slice of lemon, madame?’

‘Oh, uhm, sure,’ you shrugged, unable to look away. This process of pouring a glass of water felt rather extensive, but you could not deny the fact you were enjoying it all. As he grabbed the large pitcher to pour the water, you were unsure how he had carried all of these items with one hand and did so seemingly effortlessly.

‘There we go,’ he smiled, ‘your food will be with you shortly, but do let me know if you require anything else.’ And just like that, he was gone again, but not without leaving you feeling that he had meant his parting words especially for you and that that sentiment had undoubtedly not escaped your date.

‘I don’t like the look of that guy.’ Chosi glared at you as he took a sip from his pint, slurping up the top layer of foam with it.

‘I think he’s quite sweet.’ You straightened out the fork again and reached for a bread roll to tear it apart piece by piece.

‘Of course you would,’ he rolled his eyes, which made you look up from your little snack.

‘What is that supposed to mean?’ You put the bread roll down as the pit in your stomach hollowed out your appetite. Right, making space for that damn salad.

‘Nothing.’ Chosi shrugged, ‘Just that it's typical that somehow I’m the only one to notice when some guy is trying to cop a feel.’

‘He was doing no such thing.’ You had to bite your tongue not to raise your voice as his insinuation, despite being on the waiter's actions, seemed to be brutally judging yourself. ‘The poor guy is just doing his job. I’m not bothered by it, and neither should you be.’ Usually, you would attach some sweet nickname at the end of that sentence, but this was one too many times you had said a variant of the confirmation, and you were growing tired of just the thought of it.

Somewhere in the distance, a table erupted into a shouting match that had to be broken up by a handful of waiters. While usually, you turned away from such brutalities, never having been fond of violence and not particularly having a necessity in seeing people getting their teeth punched out minutes before eating a meal, this time you stretched your neck out to glance across the room, secretly hoping to catch a glimpse of the white-blonde hair among the rousing heads. Someone had pulled a pistol, but the weapon was kicked out of the man's grip before they could shoot or even alarm people enough to hide beneath their tables. Just like that, the restaurant resumed its normal state of pleasantries, and you got back to your abysmal date and hoped it was still worth saving… or that saving was still even an option to begin with.

‘From what you had told me about the place, Chi, it is much grander than I had expected.’ You smiled, and he nodded to your affirmations.

‘Well, I didn’t want to raise the expectations too high, but you know I don’t do anything but the best for you, sweet cheeks.’

‘Of course—’ you were interrupted by the footsteps nearing your table, and the weight nearly lifted off your shoulders at the sight of Sanji carrying too large plates.

‘Hello there,’ he grinned slyly, ‘hope I don’t interrupt anythin’.’

‘Not at all,’ You moved your glass aside to make space for your dish, but Sanji put Chosi’s plate down first, announcing the food.

‘Prime rib, medium rare, for the gentleman.’ Like everything else, he precisely placed it so the gold details on the plate faced the diner exactly right. The roast glistened in the restaurant's dim light, and the smell hit you right at the nerves that reminded you of your hunger. But that was for the gentleman, and the gentleman had ordered for you the—

‘And for the madame,’ Sanji put a plate in front of you, ‘what I like to call the Sanji Special.’

You looked down at your plate of food with a stunned expression and then looked back up. Just in time, you caught the slight wink that your waiter had sent you before stepping back to then, with a nod, say, ‘Bon appetite.’

He got to take about three steps and had just turned his back towards your table when Chosi called out to him, clearing his throat. ‘Ehem, excuse me, Sonny.’

‘Is there a problem?’ Sanji returned with his hands behind his back, but you didn’t need to see his fists to know he was clenching them. It was all visible in the strain of his upper arms and jaw as he restrained himself to keep up a polite smile.

‘I am pretty sure we had ordered a salad?’ Chosi tried to play it off with a casual laugh, but it turned out to be anything but. Sanji leaned forward to grab the plate, but then your boyfriend exclaimed, ‘No, not for me; for her.’ before the waiter got his hand on his prime rib.

With a satisfied smile, Sanji glanced at your plate and stated: ‘That is a salad.’

Not that you did not appreciate what was in front of you, but if it was a salad, it was the loosest interpretation of the definition possible. You had to keep your laugh in as he explained that the dish was a “twist on kensui salad with steamed components, egg, and pork” or, in your simpler terms… the most delicious-looking pot of ramen you had ever encountered in your life, but no, definitely not a salad in the traditional sense. You smiled at the food, not daring to look up at Sanji while your boyfriend’s head seemed to be boiling alive, but the waiter was a step ahead of you.

‘Ah, almost forgot, for the lady,’ almost out of nowhere, he made a pair of chopsticks appear for you.

‘She will not be eating that,’ Chosi grunted.

‘I think that is for her to decide,’ Sanji didn’t even bother to look at him, keeping his sweet smile on you, which, in turn, rushed a hot flush over your cheeks.

‘Chosi, don’t be like that; this looks delicious.’ You spoke, hoping he would calm down and let you finally sink your teeth into this gorgeous meal. After a tense second, Chosi finally huffed out and sank back down in his chair, making you realise he had been on the verge of getting up for whatever reason. Either way, his intentions could not have been good. In the meantime, Sanji excused himself once more to finally leave you to eat.

You had perhaps taken half a bite when Chosi, his food untouched, spoke up again. ‘Why do you always do this?’

‘Do what?’ your throat tightened around the pork you had just swallowed.

‘Embarrass me like that?’ He sighed, a vein in his forehead looking more prominent than ever.

‘I didn’t—’

‘Cut the shit, you know what you’re doing.’ Chosi slammed his fist on the table, startling you and the few people sitting at the nearest tables to you.

‘Please, can we not do this now,’ you kept your head down, ignoring all the pairs of eyes that must have started catching on to what was happening. Chosi had turned red from anger by that point.

‘What, am I being too much for you? Imagine what it’s like going out with a slut—’

‘Chosi!’ you snapped, immediately covering your face with your hand as if you had not meant to shout and grab the attention of even more people.

Deep breath in.

Out.

‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’ You hissed at the man across the table from you.

‘With me? You’re the one that has been eyefucking the waiter this whole time, and now you disrespected me like that in front of him? Do I mean so little to you?’

‘I did no such thing.’ You rolled your eyes, catching glimpses of the room you were in. The people that sat around, the employees. Of course, Sanji stood only a few tables away, taking an order. Could he hear what was happening? Most likely, the idea of that burned you in a new, much more unpleasant manner. Chosi must have said something, but you had been too occupied by your surroundings and too tired to even listen to what other vile things he had to tell you. The only thing that kept you at that table was the food, but no matter how good, it wasn’t worth enduring him. ‘You know what,’ you grabbed your napkin and slapped it onto the table, ‘I can’t do this right now. I’ll see you on the boat.’ The chair shrieked as you shoved it back.

‘Where the hell do you think you’re going,’ Chosi growled practically, and despite you having already turned your back to him, you heard his own chair scrape the deck floor. You had your eyes squeezed shut as you got ready for what was coming. He reached out, but nothing happened.

You looked over your shoulder to see Sanji pulling Chosi in by the sleeve.

‘Believe me, we don’t wanna do that, mate.’ Sanji said, his eyes filled with a new rage that made you take a step back.

‘Let go of me, you sleaze.’ Chosi suddenly reminded you of a feral kitten, how he tried to wriggle himself out of the waiter’s grip. ‘I’ll make you regret ever touching me. Do you know who I am?’

‘Do I look like I give a shit?’ he let go with a laugh, almost pushing Chosi to the ground. As your date dusted off his sleeves, Sanji took a step forward, pressing himself against him. Now that both men were standing face to face, did you only realise how much taller Sanji was than your boyfriend. How much bigger and, most likely, how much stronger. With a hushed and reserved tone yet somehow full of intimidation, the waiter said, ‘Don’t you ever try to touch or speak to a woman like that again, you hear me? Or I’ll make you regret you were ever born.’

Chosi could only nod with his eyes blown wide open. The restaurant was dead quiet, unable to pull their eyes away from the scene unfolding before them. No one said anything or moved, and yet, somewhere, a stack of plates fell. The crash of porcelain echoed through the space, and Sanji turned his attention toward the kitchen’s double doors for a second. That quick moment was enough for Chosi to find his moment and attack.

Or at least make an attempt at it.

Sanji was still looking toward the kitchen, and Chosi’s fist was in mid-air, but the waiter flawlessly manoeuvred around it, swinging himself back and letting Chosi fall forward. To make matters worse, Sanji supplemented the fall by kicking him over. If it wasn’t for the fact that your boyfriend’s chin had smacked against the table, you would have missed the entire thing, as Sanji’s movements were so elegant that it seemed as if he had not moved at all. He might as well have been refilling your water, ignorant of the groaning mess of a man he had kicked down to the ground with such ease.

Chosi got up shakily. A nasty cut was already dripping blood from the underside of his face, but the redness didn’t compare to the rage on his face. He looked around until his eyes caught yours. ‘What, you’re just gonna stand there like some dumb–’

‘What did I just say?’ Sanji said, this time much louder, not trying to hide the row from the rest of the diners. But before he could make another move, Chosi reached for the nearest thing he could reach, which in his case was your dish of ramen, and threw a fistful of noodles Sanji’s way, hitting him square in the chest.

Silence.

He must have been too stunned at the audacious strike to move out of the way for it. Everyone must have been watching the noodles unstick from his navy jacket and slowly fall to the ground, then watched as Sanji raised his head back up, his expression unamused and cold, but his eyes filled with a passionate and furious fire. One that was enough to live up to the promise he had made the man you had come to the restaurant with. And so, just like that, without another word needing to be said by anyone, you watched Chosi back away—one, two, three steps, whimpering and mumbling some comments that could almost make up an apology, before he sprinted up the stairs to the exit.

‘Ridiculous,’ you heard Sanji mutter under his breath. ‘Fucking waste of food.’

Before you could think any better about it, you walked up and knelt down, as he did, to reach for the spilt noodles. ‘I am so sorry,’ you started apologising. ‘I swear normally he–’

‘Is exactly like that,’ Sanji chuckled with a rasp. You looked up at him, a bit dumbfounded. He had managed to scoop most of the food before you had and was already getting up. ‘You have nothing to apologise for.’ One of his colleagues had been quick with bringing over cleaning supplies. ‘If anything, I should be the one saying sorry. Let me make it up to you—a drink in the bar, on the house.’

‘No, that is really not necessary.’ You couldn’t accept anything for free after your boyfriend pulled off such a scene and… had run off without paying. The realisation hit you like a brick on the head as you cursed under your breath with a strong sense of panic, which Sanji caught on to immediately.

‘Please,’ He reached gently for your arm. ‘I insist.’

You stuttered for a moment before actually answering in defeated agreement. With a satisfied smile, Sanji led you to another exit, leading to the bar deck. ‘Right this way, madame.’

The bar deck, located in the mouth of that giant fish head, was moderately empty. Except for you and the appointed barman behind the counter, only a handful of others were sprinkled across the couches and futons. You chose a seat overlooking the sea and the setting sun that coloured the sky and waters an array of warm colours.

You understood that you had to go up to the bar to order, but you felt no particular need for it, just enjoying the breeze that brought over the calm sea air towards you.

It was unclear how much time you spent sitting out there, looking at the waves splashing by and the clouds above you and the people around you. Only once the sun had set entirely, darkening the sky completely, and most people had left the area, you decide to finally walk up to the bartender and place an order. The man nodded and proceeded to make your drink with only a few attached flourishes to the craft, but the result was charming and tasted delicious.

‘I hope I had made it clear that that was one drink on the house,’ you heard from behind you.

‘Don’t worry, this is my first.’ You said, turning around to see Sanji standing behind you.

‘You might just be the slowest drinker I have ever met,’ he said as he took the spot by your side.

‘Jeez, do your manners flush away the second you’re off the clock?’ You smiled, taking a sip of your drink, most likely also proving Sanji his point as the sip you took was particularly small.

‘For what it’s worth, madame, I was about to tell you that your bill has been taken care of.’ He leaned against the bar countertop with his forearms. ‘But I will make myself scarce now.’

‘No, wait,’ you stopped him before he could push himself back. ‘What do you mean it was– I would have happily paid. At least let me leave a tip.’ You were ready to pull out your purse when he took his turn to halt your movements.

‘I will not be accepting any tips for my service today. And honestly, you barely had a meal to eat, let alone to pay for. It is all taken care of. I promise.’

You looked up at him apprehensively, but something about his–not necessarily laidback–but how he was so comfortable with the situation put you at ease, too. But something was gnawing at your conscience.

‘Alright then, but I disagree with the review of your service. You most certainly need something for it in return.’ How could you repay the man who had just gotten you out of your horrific relationship? You doubted anything in the world could match your actual gratefulness. Although, maybe the smile that pulled at Sanji’s lips said something different.

‘Let me cook for you.’

‘What?’ You blinked slowly, making him smile even wider.

‘You haven’t eaten anything proper in hours. Let me make you something in the kitchen–an exclusive guest experience.’

‘That doesn’t sound much like a gratuity for you.’ You pointed out, but he did not seem to mind.

‘Indulge me,’ was all he responded with. Feeling giddy at the prospect, you glanced over at the bartender, who was definitely listening in on the conversation. Understanding what you meant with your look, he simply shrugged while wiping the glasses.

‘Ok then.’ This entire thing felt utterly ridiculous, and you didn’t hide the amusement you felt from it as Sanji opened the door to the kitchen for you. That is when your smile lightly faltered, only to be replaced with a fallen jaw as you looked around in amazement. Like the dining area, this room had a high ceiling but wasn’t decorated as much as simply visually enhanced by all the bronze pots and pans hanging around, and the pipes leading from the ovens and stoves up to the chimneys. There were long lines of prep stations, behind which one Sanji comfortably made himself at home as he immediately got started on something.

The first few minutes, after you watched him exchange his suit jacket for a white chef’s uniform, you were occupied with the kitchen itself, but once you had gotten used to the environment, you wondered where you could make yourself equally comfortable as not a nuisance to him as he cooked.

‘Make yourself at home, sweetheart,’ he said while chopping some ingredients at a speed that made your heart skip a beat in fear. Or did that come from the new nickname that caught you by surprise?

‘What happened to “madame”?’ you walked closer to his station. Sanji just looked up briefly, eye covered by his hair but his smile evermore present. Your smile lasted longer as you forgot you had meant to look at what he was doing, not to stare at him. Noticing he was not planning on answering your question, you asked another. ‘So, what exactly are you making?’

‘Since I’m sure dinner did not turn out entirely as you had planned, I thought maybe dessert would be a good pick-me-up. Rose and chocolate meringue tartes, how does that sound?’

‘Makes me wonder what I did to deserve it,’ you laugh it off while speaking the question that had been on your mind this whole time.

‘I like to show a lady how she’s meant to be treated,’ he said as he poured several ingredients into a glass bowl and began wicking at a pace that should have stopped him from looking so effortless long ago. ‘It’s all part of the special package deal.’

‘Right, the Sanji Special, was it?’ You looked around at the countertop next to him, which seemed free from ingredients and anything you could set on fire. You glanced his way, and he swiftly nodded your way. With that permission in mind, you pushed yourself up on the counter, swinging your legs lightly back and forth. ‘So what exactly does this special indicate?’

‘A nice meal, a little surprise, a few kind words, nothing too crazy. I would like to think that, with it, I have perfected the recipe on how to eliminate shitbag boyfriends like that prince charming you came here with.’

‘My knight in shining armour.’ You rolled your eyes, hiding how much you appreciated all his actions from that day. ‘Must have worked on quite a few girls then?’

‘Can’t say it has,’ he said as he pushed the oven open to prebake a few tartelette frames. The speed at which he worked truly was otherworldly.

‘Can’t because of a bad success rate or because you hadn’t actually tried it before?’

He appeared next to you from beside the oven; tiny droplets of sweat were forming at his temple, but his energy was still burning like the fire under the pot where he was melting the chocolate. ‘Let's say the latter. For both our dignity’s sake.’ It did not come as a surprise to you that he was a flirt and most likely tried these tricks out on the entirety of the female clientele, and yet, for reasons unknown, you did not mind one bit, and it still did not seize to make the smallest of his advances work on you with tremendous effect.

‘Don’t think I have much more of that left after everything that happened out there.’ You cringed at the memory of the shouting, the mess, and just how many people had been sitting there watching you.

‘There’s been much worse out there, believe me.’ Sanji lowered the fire under the pan lightly.

‘I hardly believe that. He threw noodles at you. That is absolutely revolting behaviour.’ And somehow, you managed not to get kicked out of the restaurant along with Chosi but even got to hang out in the kitchen after hours as a special dessert was being prepared for you… by the waiter that your boyfriend had tried to assault— no, that your ex-boyfriend tried to assault. That felt much better, but still didn’t let the whole situation make any more sense.

‘And that wouldn’t even make the top ten of shit that’s happened around this place.’

‘I… am not sure wether to be relieved or disappointed.’ For an inexplicable reason, you thought you would be more memorable to him. However, would you have wanted that, seeing the actual circumstances under which that would be? Ugh.

As if he could read your mind, Sanji added in. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not planning on forgetting you anytime soon.’

‘I bet you say that to everyone.’ You rolled your eyes, to which he just smiled. ‘But really, I am sorry for what happened—especially to your suit.’

‘I care more about the noodles, honestly, don’t like seeing food go to waste—’ he drifted off with his thoughts before coming back up to the surface with another question, ‘speaking of noodles, where’d you meet this guy anyway?’

‘It’s complicated,’ you sighed, not wanting to burden him with your story, but from the eager attitude he was conveying as he managed his ingredients, he did not hold the same sentiment over it. ‘We had been friends for ages—out dads worked together—and it seemed, to everyone, apparently, like the natural progression of events that we would end up together.’

‘Everyone… except for you?’ he assumed, looking up at you from the counter space.

‘No, I mean, at first I thought so too, but over time… well, you saw it yourself. But by the time I had realised what a mess I had gotten myself into, it felt like I was already too late.’

‘How so?’ You heard the gentleness in his question like he was treading the topic lightly, not wanting to put any pressure on it or on you to answer.

‘Heard people talking he had been planning to propose.’ You shrugged it off. ‘But I doubt that will be happening anymore.’

‘What are you going to do now?’ The question came with that same carefulness but perhaps a bit more intrigue. You simply shrugged again.

‘Will probably have to find another ship to get back home on, as I can’t imagine he would want me on board with him.’ It was crazy you had not bothered to check but assumed that he had already taken off hours ago, leaving you behind to fend for yourself. ‘And then, if I see him again… well, not much else I can do but officially dump his ass.’

‘So I shouldn’t feel bad for what I did?’ He stopped what he was doing as he waited for an answer.

‘Absolutely not. I can’t thank you enough for doing that.’

The both of you shared sheepish smiles before you watched him work silently for a few more minutes. The tarte frames came out of the oven in a beautifully crisp golden tone, and he mixed the chocolate into a thick mousse while the rosy syrup lay back to cool off. While the two of you remained quiet, the kitchen was anything but that as his utensils clinked around the pans. You thought back to a few hours ago and how the silence at your table had been anything but this. You had sat in a cold dread, waiting for something to snap until it inevitably did. However, you sat back comfortably here, happily watching as Sanji focused on his work.

It really was his element. While you thought the man had been exemplary at waiting tables, it was nothing compared to the ease at which he performed here. Each move he made seemed like second nature to him.

‘Do all the waiters here know how to cook like this?’ you inquired, leaning in to see how he filled the pastries up, hands in a tight grip on the piping bag.

‘The ones that are cooks do,’ he chuckled.

‘You’re a cook?’ you blinked, ‘then what were you doing out there earlier?’

‘Ah, the old shitbag that runs this place likes to torture me and send me off to do the waitin’.’ He readjusted his hold on the piping bag, briefly stopping to wipe his hand on the towel tucked between his belt.

‘Doesn’t that bother you? I’m sure you’d much rather work here.’ You certainly would. Some people could be real assholes to serve… your former date being a prime example. But Sanji simply laughed it off.

‘Nah, not when beautiful women are out there waiting to be served.’ He stopped to look up at you with a shit-eating grin, and the unseriousness dripping off of it made you blush, smile along with him and push him back by his shoulder before you would do something else much more irrational. Perhaps a bit too hard, as he lost his balance, only finding it on the counter, exactly where the piping bag had been left behind. His palm fell right over the ending, bursting out the mousse in an unfortunate mess, spilling all over him and the counter.

‘Oh no,’ you said, covering your mouth but not the giggles from it, ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘You think it’s funny, don’t you?’ He couldn’t keep his smile, but you shook your head harshly. ‘You’ll pay for this,’ he pointed his hand, covered in chocolate, at you. Several thoughts ran through your mind initially, but you managed to suppress most of them, opting for simply running your finger over the back of his hand where most of the mousse had spilt and giving it a taste.

‘That is really good.’ you hummed at the sweetness. Sanji stood back, somewhat frozen at what you had done, but quickly thawed out with a few blinks.

‘Well, what else did you expect?’ He wiped the rest of his hand on the towel at his side, ‘and I’ll have you know it’s rude to eat the food before it’s done. Takes away from the experience.’

‘I’m sorry,’ you pouted, ‘but I promise you I am still very much enjoying this whole experience.’

‘You better.’ Sanji said, taking the baking tray and putting it back in the oven for the last few minutes. With the oven door shut, he sighed and leaned against the counter opposite you. ‘Now we wait.’

‘How long exactly?’

‘In a rush, are we?’ He glanced at you from behind his hair, and the question made you heat up in the face. Because how could you explain to this practical stranger that you were feeling the opposite of what he insinuated. That you did not want this night to end at all. That being here with him, even if you were just waiting for a damn tart to bake, you were having more fun than you had had in weeks, if not longer. So, all you did was simply shake your head again.

‘It will be just a few minutes, and then gotta let it cool for a bit.’ He reassured you. That is when you noticed the bowl he had mixed the mousse in, mostly scraped clean while filling up the piping bag, but even the best chef can’t always scrape every last ounce out. Now, you might not have had any particular urge to leave any time soon, but you certainly were hungry, and having tasted just how delicious Sanji’s food was, you couldn’t help but lean in to get another little taste.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ He said, bemused, reaching to stop you from taking another swipe of mousse onto your finger. His hand gently grabbed your wrist, but he had been too late. When he caught you, you had your hand directly over your lips, looking up at him. He glared down at you in a daring manner.

You licked the chocolate off yourself as innocently as possible without bursting into laughter.

‘I can’t believe you’d do that.’ He took a step forward, nearly closing the gap between you. The presence of his body, so close to yours, almost touching, reverberated off of you with warmth, and suddenly, you felt the breath you had taken to be stuck in the back of your throat. ‘Did you not listen to anything I just said?’ His breath was hot against your skin, and if you didn’t know any better, you would have thought it was a direct source of the skip in your heart.

‘Of course I did.’ You ignored the fast beating of your heart and the feeling like it might just burst out of your chest as you took him by the arm to give you some space and let you slide down the counter back onto your feet. ‘Something about experience and…’ you slid out from between him and the counter, and as you did so, swooped by the bowl of mousse with your finger one last time. ‘I forgot what else.’

‘You are unbelievable,’ Sanji reached for your hand, but you were quicker and manoeuvred around him and from his arm’s reach. Taunting him with the mousse, you walked around the work counters, and he, happily playing along, followed suit.

Like children, you ran around the kitchen, with him not far behind you, trying to catch you until he finally did, picking you up by the waist. Unintentionally, a squeak of a shriek came out of you, followed by both your laughs. You kept on laughing until you heard something outside the door. Heavy footsteps, freezing you both in your place until they moved on by. That is when you noted the time. Hours past midnight.

‘Are we even allowed to be in here at this time?’ You whispered as if the person who had walked by would suddenly be able to hear you.

‘Of course,’ Sanji said with confidence, but his expression juxtaposed this with signs that you could only read as “absolutely fucking not.” chances were that if you were caught in the kitchen at this time of night, you would be shot on the spot by, what did Sanji call him, the old shitbag.

But before you could run away in fear of getting caught, it was Sanji’s turn to take you by surprise. As you stood in his arms, he leaned in and wrapped his mouth around your finger, sucking all the chocolate right off. You could feel his tongue move down your knuckles and back up until he released it, leaving you stunned and wide-eyed.

‘I thought it’s rude to eat a dish before it’s done,’ you managed to sputter out.

‘So you did listen,’ he smiled, ‘but you might want to know that a good cook always tastes their dishes in the process, and that… was delicious.’

‘Are you always this humble about your cooking?’ Your heart was basically in your throat at this moment.

‘Wasn’t talking about the food,’ his tone was deep, sultry, as he leaned closer. ‘But care to give me another taste?’

Your breath was officially hitched in your throat, unable to breathe properly, as you stared at him, body flooding with heat and need for him. As words escaped you, you nodded lightly and leaned in as he did the same, meeting your lips in the middle with a kiss.

As soon as it happened, his arms found their spot on your side as you fastened yourself on his shoulders. It was nothing like you expected it to be. For a man spending his entire nights and days in the kitchen, he felt nothing like it. You could smell the cologne, taste the cigarettes and the fresh mint he used to conceal the former. His tender but firm touch held you in your place as he pressed closer.

There was a force to it, but nothing that you didn’t feel in yourself to copy as the need for him boiled deep inside you.

Your hand moved slowly up to his cheek, over to his hair at the nape of his neck.

One of his hands, in the meantime, had found your thigh, pulling it up over his leg as he squeezed your soft flesh, but before giving you a chance to even react to this new position and all its implications, Sanji moved.

Pulling apart, leaving your lips to be the last piece he detached from as he kept your bottom lip between his teeth lightly, he apologised, ‘Excuse me for a moment.’ because while you might have forgotten all about the world around you, he had still been keeping track of the tartelettes that were baking down in the oven.

He pulled the tray of pastries out with a white tea towel, practically throwing it down on the counter, discarding it with a metal clang.

‘Now we wait for them to cool,’ he explained as he got back to you.

‘And what were you planning on doing in the meantime,’ you pulled him back in by the blue ascot tie.

With his lips ghosting over yours, he half-whispered, ‘I might have a few things in mind,’ and with it, kissed you again. While the kiss itself was not much different, with that same intensity and passion running through both of you as before, now you were very much aware of what was to follow. If it wasn’t your need that spurred you on, then it was Sanji and his eagerness. Despite his chef’s uniform and the navy apron, you could feel him grow harder against you as the kiss continued. A moan escaped you as his lips travelled down to your neck, leaving sloppy kisses one by one until he reached a spot that was more sensitive than others. The simple touch sparked a fuse inside you.

As he continued playing with your sensitive skin, he led both your bodies to one of the empty tables at the side of the room, pressing you right against the edge and locking you in between it and him.

Without needing him to say a word, you understood exactly what you needed to do and climbed on top of the table, spreading your legs to make space for him right in the middle.

Your dress might have hiked up slightly over your thighs, but it wasn’t enough for Sanji, who took it upon himself to pull it up.

‘I hope you don’t mind me saying’,’ he smiled as he kissed the corner of your mouth and as his hand reached the top of your leg, ‘but I had been thinkin' about this ever since I saw you.’

‘Me too,’ you exhaled deeply, letting the confession sink in. Maybe Chosi was right after all. Now, with him out of the picture, you could admit that something had been there from the start, from the moment you caught a glimpse of the waiter cook. And if it wasn’t for all the shit that occurred that day, maybe you would have felt a twinge of guilt as you guided Sanji’s hand between your legs. If you had not shut that chapter behind you, perhaps you would have felt bad, but any insecurities of that disappeared as Sanji began to toy with your core. His slender fingers grazed slowly over your slit, putting enough pressure on it to make you arch your back in need of more.

‘Already so needy,’ he smirked. ‘And I barely touched you.’

‘Touch me then,’ you said with gritted teeth.

‘Don’t need to tell me twice.’ His fingers moved up in pace and barely went any deeper, keeping you on the edge of satisfaction. ‘And what would madame like me to do?’ He threaded his movements, and you were growing impatient with the teasing.

‘Fuck me,’ ready to hear his next question, you added, ‘I don’t care how.’

His grin only grew wider at your words. Much to your dislike, he pulled his hand away to place both at your thighs, pressing his fingers into your skin and using that as leverage to make more space for himself in between.

‘As madame wishes.’ He spoke softly right below your ear as he descended onto his knees.

The kiss he left over your panties already invoked a tremble through your entire body, and it only got worse from there, in the best sense. He pushed your underwear aside and took his time giving you all his attention and care. Kissing your core deeply until his nose pressed up against you. His tongue licked up your juices like a starving man until your eyes rolled back, and you felt weak.

The table you were perched on was empty, so you only had Sanji to hold on to. At first, you reached for his shoulder, but it was just not high enough for you to find support. As you tried to look for it, Sanji reached for your hand and brought it up to the side of his head for you to tangle your fingers in his light locks. Before you even managed to grab onto them, simply letting your nails trace over his hair, you felt the vibrations of his moans strike you. Another deep blow to your senses pulled you further down to the edge. Closer and closer until you couldn’t take it anymore. Your grip on his hair tightened as your breath grew sporadic.

‘Fuck, fuck,’ you moaned, voice filled with desperation for a release, and one that Sanji would be more than pleased to give you… just not quite yet. As he pulled away from you, you deflated with the feeling of a ruined climax and the urge to pull him back to finish what he had started, but all you could do was whimper in protest.

‘Don’t worry,’ he kissed your knee softly, ‘all in good time. I promise to take good care of you,’ and with that, he rose back up to his feet, untying his apron.

‘That was good,’ your chest still moving up and down heavily as you caught your breath. ‘Really good.’

‘It pleases me to hear that,’ he said as he threw the apron aside onto the ground. ‘And believe me, I would love to go back for seconds—’

‘Does all your pillow talk stem from restaurant jargon?’ you interrupted jokingly.

‘You laugh, and yet you’re the one begging me to fuck you.’ God, he was so cocky, with the way he stood there in front of you, his head tilted sideways, and his lip turned up in a grin that told you he knew he was right. ‘So, please, let me.’ His hand was already on his belt buckle.

There was no time or need for either of you to undress. With your dress hiked up to your hips, he already had easy enough access, and once his belt was loose, it only took a few sharp pulls for you to release him from the material restraints.

‘You ready?’ he asked.

‘For the love of god,’ grabbing him by the arm, you pulled him in, ‘stop talking and just take me.’ You knew he was about to respond, but before he got the chance to make another absurdly silly but nonetheless flirtatious comment, you shit him up with a kiss. Just like that, the two of you melted into one another. Sanji made himself comfortable between you and let his lips wander down to your neck again, to that one spot he found that drove you crazy.

He kept kissing your neck as he finally slid into you. The two feelings made your body go weak, melting you into a puddle of burning nerves as he spread your walls and filled you up perfectly.

First, he moved slowly, but with each thrust, he sped up more and more, putting more force into it until you were both shaking with ferocity, and the table underneath you scratched over the planks it stood upon. The sound of the tortured floor was the only thing covering up both your moans and that of the messy skin-to-skin contact.

While he practically pounded into you, you reached for his hair again. There was just something about it: how messy you managed to make it with a few tugs and brushstrokes. All of it, how he acted and reacted, it was all in response to you. Just how he made you see stars with each move he made.

‘Feels so good, fuck,’ he groaned over your shoulder as you grabbed for his, pulling him closer if possible. He had your legs pressed against his sides. He shook his head quickly, letting the hair flick out of his sight, but the attempt was poor as the lock quickly fell back over his eye despite his efforts.

‘San–’ you moaned, ‘Sanji–’

‘That’s right,’ he might as well have been kissing you, so close were his lips to you, but instead, the only thing you truly felt was his hot breath on your skin as he kept going deeper and harder. ‘Gonna come for me? His voice got even deeper the longer he kept going. At the sound of it, your nails dug into his back, his striped shirt being the only thing saving him from possibly some nasty scratches, but it seemed to only spur him on more. ‘I–’ you gasped out as you felt him hit the deepest part of you.

‘Yeah?’

‘I’m close, fuck.’ the pit in your stomach tightened, your muscles strained as you tried to hold on to that feeling of pleasure he brought over you. The tension built up like a band being pulled tighter and tighter, ready to snap at any moment; he had you in his grip, waiting to let go of you at the exact right time. All you needed was that touch, just the right one in the right spot.

You could feel it all. Could feel just how close he was himself as his thrusts got sloppier, and his breathing grew heavier and rougher between his words. ‘Yeah, c’mon. I know you can do it. Come all over my cock. ‘’s gonna feel so good, I promise you.’

The encouragement might not have been necessarily what did it. It was more like a concoction of things that all led to this precise moment when ecstasy overtook your body and washed over you like a hot flash. Sanji was not far behind you, riding his high as he ensured you got to yours. His movements slowed down as you felt the cum slick down your thighs. While you both caught your breath, it became quiet once more.

It took you a bit longer to catch up on air in your lungs, and so while you closed your eyes and focused on your breathing, you heard Sanji zip his trousers back up and lightly walk across the aisle between the workstations. When you opened your eyes again, he was making his way back to you already, a handful of paper towels in his hand.

Despite the burn you already felt in your sore muscles, you spread your legs one last time to give him access to clean you up. His soft touches to your sensitive core now were in stark contrast to what he had been doing to you moments ago, but the cold of the damp towel brought a nice sense of comfort.

‘You think you can stand up for me?’ he asked gently, and the little words in that tone were enough to make your heart flutter.

‘Yeah, I think so.’ You said, but that was quickly proven wrong when your knees buckled almost immediately when your feet touched the ground. It was only because of the way that Sanji held your arm that you had not completely toppled over.

‘Woah, alright.’ He smiled, never letting go of you, ‘How about we just sit for now.’ Slowly, he guided you to sit on the ground, back against a cabinet. ‘Water?’

You nodded in agreement. The question had made you realise just how parched you were.

‘Still, sparkling, mineral?’

‘Surprise me.’ You said through a tired smile at the reference to how he waited on you earlier, but moments later, you reminded yourself of your preference, ‘just not sparkling! It just tastes foul.’

‘Anything but sparkling water, coming right up.’ He moved around the room to pour you some surprise water, and while he did so, you pressed your face into your hands, laughing at the absurdity of it all. Less than 12 hours ago, you had been walking up the deck, arm in arm, with your good-for-nothing boyfriend, soon-to-be fiance. Now you sat on the ground of a restaurant kitchen, with no idea where said–now ex–-boyfriend was in the world, coming down from one of the best orgasms you had ever received… all by the hand of a stranger. A handsome stranger at that. One that you could imagine seeing much more of in the future, but it was all just too silly.

And you were tired. And hungry.

‘Voila,’ Sanji appeared in front of you with impeccable timing, a large ice-cold looking glass in one hand, filled with ice cubes and cucumber, and two plates in the other hand. The rose and chocolate meringue tartes look particularly inviting. ‘Thought you might finally want to try one,’ he said as he handed you a plate and fork.

‘I swear, you’re a godsend.’ No matter in how much need you were of a drink, the sight of the dessert made your mouth water.

‘Ah, just a little something sweet for—’

‘If you’re going to say what I think you’re going to say, I will shove this tarte in your face.’ One could only endure so much of this sappy flirting, even if you found it very endearing. Sanji shut his mouth and sat beside you, poking his fork into his portion.

The two of you ate quickly but still took enough time to appreciate the flavours that oozed out of the pastry and its filling. The moan you made as it all reached your tastebuds might have been more pornographic than any sound you made while he had been deep inside you.

‘Mmm, this is delicious,’ you said through another bite. The praise brought a huge smile to the cook’s lips. ‘Seriously, thank you. For everything.’

‘It’s been my pleasure,’ he spoke in a way that almost made you think he was getting shy on you. That felt unlikely, but you let him process it all for a moment as you kept eating.

Only once you had eaten everything off your plate did you ask your next question of the evening. ‘How did you know I would like this?’

‘It’s a chef’s best trait,’ he pulled the fork out of his mouth with a pop, ‘to be able to read their customers well. To be able to tell what they like or dislike; to know them better than they know themselves.’

‘But how?’ With intrigue, you moved closer to him. He had been leaning against the same cupboard as you, one of his knees raised up and an arm hanging casually over it. His hair was still messy, falling over his eye. ‘How could you tell I would enjoy this specific dish?’

The one unobstructed eye fell over you, looking up and down over your body as his mischievous smile reappeared. ‘It felt fitting.’

‘How so?’ You blinked, confused as to what he meant.

‘Sweet, decadent and hot; what’s there not to like? I mean—’ he leaned in over his arm to kiss you, feather-light. Then, he hummed as he pulled back. ‘It is an absolutely divine combination.’

Your cheeks burned up for what felt like the millionth time that evening, and you could not dare keep looking at him as he stared down at you with that innate hunger. That kind that could only be filled with one thing, and it just so happened to have wholly exhausted you.

‘Is this still all part of that special of yours?’

To this, Sanji shrugged, ‘Depends.’

‘On what?’

‘On how long you want to keep me around.’ He scraped some leftover mousse from his plate, licking it off his fork.

‘I think for a while,’ you admitted. Yeah, you definitely hadn’t had enough of him yet.

‘Well, then there’s so much more I can do for you, madame.’

the end

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