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iveil · 17 days

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Welcome to Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, home to pizza and entertainment from our animatronics, Freddy Fazbear & Friends. Oh… What's that? The animatronics walks by itself and you can smell a rotten odor? Don't worry about that. Fazbear Entertainment, as the owner of the pizza franchise, is not responsible for any death or disappearance

cast: sunoo ✗ fem.reader (ft. itzy's yuna, cravity's taeyoung and serim, with a few ocs)

synopsis: pizzeria, animatronics, missing children, and mystery. those are words that encompass what people may believe of freddy fazbear's pizza, whose doors were closed years ago. so, what do you do if you and your friends have to stay in one of their abandoned establishments from midnight 'til sunrise? are you able to survive the night? and be careful what you answer, they're listening

genre: horror, mystery, adventure, survival, dark comedy, high school au, a bit of fluff, angst

based on: video game series five nights at freddy’s (2014-present); set before five nights at freddy's 3 (2015)

word count: 17929 (17.9k)

warning(s): blood, arson, a small kiss and romantic part, description of unpleasant odor, mention of missing and dead children, mention of murder, mention of animatronic and animal mascot (for those who have masklophobia), a bit lore dumping but i have to make you guys know it (especially in the context of the plot) (if i forgot something, let me know!)

message to the moon: remember that this story is fiction and do be careful and read the warnings at the top. all the idols mentioned here are not what they are in real life.

it's here!! and it is still june *weights drop off my shoulder* this is meant for sunoo's birthday so as long as it is his birthday month. i am extremely fine with that :D + the fnaf movie trailer came out yesterday. so i guess it is the right timing to upload it today

mini playlist: van halen's "jump"; toby fox's "amalgam"; lena raine's "scattered and lost" ; allen simpson's "d.j. music man"

now open

“what do you guys know about freddy fazbear’s pizza?”

“that pizzeria franchise? what about it?”

those two sentences were the start of a pretty unusual conversation you have with your friend group during recess. lifting your head from opening the snack you bought before as you and your friends sit in the cafeteria hall, other students walk around trying to find a table or return to one. the conversation continues with the boy and girl sitting across from you while another boy sits silently eating the snack that you open.

“serim got access to the abandoned building that used to be a franchise near this city.” you watch taeyoung lets out a smirk as yuna contorted while shaking her head, already knowing what he might say next. your eyes widen as you are now intrigued by following the conversation.

“how did he get it? did your dad buy the land there?” yuna replied, her eyes squinting at the boy your group of friends knows is the richest of the four of you. his father owns multiple properties in the city for whatever construction he has planned or selling them to the highest bidder.

“that’s what my brother implies.” taeyoung’s eyes wander between the three of you. you turn your head slightly towards sunoo, your next-door neighbor and best friend since you two were kids. both of you were quiet as you observed your two friends converse about taeyoung’s ‘special access’ to the mysterious building you had never heard of before, but have learned the stories surrounding what it has.

“and like that stupid brain of his, he dared me to stay there from midnight to 6 in the morning.” taeyoung ruffles his hair as you see him roll his eyes and scoff, covering himself because of the ridiculousness.

“what you’re getting from that?” sunoo asked beside you as you nod while raising your eyebrow. taeyoung is not stupid enough to be gaslighted by his older brother like that, isn’t he?

“his allowance for three months, you know how big their allowances are especially college students like him,” taeyoung replied snarkily, a smirk forming on his face. “and also my dignity cause you all recognize how much he teases me.” you see yuna rolled her eyes as sunoo giggled, you pursed your lips, looking at the boy in front of you in disbelief, leaning your body back as you don’t want to get involved in their sibling rivalry while grabbing the snack that is now in front of sunoo.

“and he said i can bring my friends so i want to bring you all.”

what?

hearing the ridiculousness of taeyoung’s invitation with the whole context made sunoo covers his face in embarrassment. yuna looks at the boy beside you and nods, understanding his feelings before looking away. you, on the other hand, viewed your surroundings as the voice of the cafeteria environment making your focus turn away.

“guys, please? (y/n)? you like true crime, right?” taeyoung asked, bringing your focus back to the table as your name is mentioned.

you and your friends know how much you love true crime. how your favorite board game is clue while your favorite activity while going out with them is to go to escape rooms. half of your entertainment is watching criminal psychology videos—including their interrogation or just story time of the true crimes that happened in history, both solved and unsolved. you have always liked mysteries, help solve alternate reality games on the internet with the skills you train to use. they always seem to intrigue you, the absence of certain information. it’s no different with freddy fazbear’s pizza and the scandals surrounding it.

the legend that is freddy fazbear’s pizza, their franchises and stories about how it becomes the business failure that has always intrigued you. how back in the late 70s, two people by the name of henry emily and william afton tried to open a diner by selling pizza for kids’ birthday parties. you learned from what you read, back at that time, mascots are popular in those establishments, so they create two spring-lock animatronics made for the kids’ entertainment the two can wear, while also prototyping four others which will possess their own sense of control. henry‘s called fredbear, a yellow bear, while william‘s called spring bonnie, a yellow rabbit. the other four are freedy fazbear, a brown bear; bonnie, a purple rabbit; chica, a yellow chicken; and foxy, a pirate-costumed fox.

that is until five children went missing and the animatronics started to act weird, as people back then described. it all goes downhill from the incident.

the original diner closed after lawsuits and missing children were reported with the diner as its connection. henry emily and william afton fought with each other where henry cuts their partnership and created his own company, hiring employees to get the business together in the 80s, it’s called fazbear entertainment. the company opens so many franchises of freddy fazbear’s pizza until one by one it closes down. rumors of odor coming from inside the pizzeria and the animatronics going ‘haywire to walk around the vicinity’ at night are the main reasons for its downfall until the early 2000s when the company disappeared, never opening another franchise again.

you always believed there is a connection between the missing children, the odor, and the animatronics acting weirdly. you really wanted to find out about it. never have you assumed that near where you lived, there was once a freedy fazbear’s pizza. and the news was the reason for your shock when taeyoung said that he, by proxy from his dad who is a property developer, gained access to one.

“i mean… i do.” you replied to taeyoung with a tilted head. “but never have i thought that you’re going to ask me to go to one of their places. heck, i didn’t even know our city had one.” you continued, unconsciously biting the inside of your lips.

“well, that’s good, right? you can explore the building while getting to know it and its history? maybe be able to contribute to the story that is out there.” you can only nod after what taeyoung said as it is, in your mind, the truth. you maybe aren’t the best equipped to solve this kind of mystery, but being a high school student sometimes has its boring times and this is an opportunity of a lifetime, a story that you can tell someday. you don’t even know if this abandoned building also owns its secret. were there also missing children cases back in their prime days like the other franchises? does it also have any link to the odor and weird animatronics people have associated the franchise with other than their pizza and arcade?

“i’ll go.” sunoo and yuna stare at you bewildered after what you said, making taeyoung lightly bounce on his side of the table. you can’t help to want to know. all the curiosity that’s running through your mind envelops you—you don’t even have enough moments to think about how to survive a night there, at an abandoned building engulf in trees where it is hard to reach. where danger can just be right around the corner, yet you just want to know what happened and why it has become like this.

“if (y/n)’s going, i’ll go too.” you see sunoo replied. you let out a small smirk as you glimpse at the boy, lifting your fist up for him to fist bump where sunoo grins at you while giving a light one.

yuna lets out a sigh and said, “fine, but, i know the other two agree with me. we want those allowances to be given to us evenly.” you let out a chuckle as the three of you glare at taeyoung with a baffled look on his face, before letting out his breath.

“25% for each of us?” taeyoung sees all three of you nodding, a sneaky grin on all of your faces.

“fine by me.”

“you’re nervous?” you heard sunoo speak as you tie your combat boots tightly and slip the remaining laces under the tied ones. sighing quietly as you look up to admire his room that you’ve visited hundreds maybe nearing thousand of times while looking at the backpack you packed full of stuff you needed as you told your mom and his mom that you’re having a sleepover in his room tonight.

“it’s… mixed. like nervous but excited and also scared.” you bounce your feet on the floor sitting as he furrows his eyebrows while also checking the backpack you can see is beside you. “anything can happen there.” you mumbled.

sunoo smiled as he replied, “we can get through it, all of us.”

in your group, sunoo has always been the optimistic one: like when all four of you play dodgeball for p.e. class with your other classmates, he is usually the one that commands the most but also throws the most, most of his shots are a hit which—you can’t deny—also amazed you. yuna is the pessimistic one: worrying at first but being solid at it after, like when she complained to the rest of you before a physics exam and then found out that she also gets the highest score. taeyoung is the mischievous one that pranks and dares all three of you, sometimes not even caring if karma gets him like a ball to his nuts. while you are the curious one: sometimes your curiosity gets you in trouble like getting detention but it also helps your friends in acing the hardest math exam you have ever taken with the answer key you remembered reading and all four of you got at least a 90 on the scores.

“speaking of getting through it, what do you bring?” you nudge your shoulder toward his backpack beside yours.

“snacks, water bottles, blankets, medkit,” he replied as he closes his bag, his gaze now on you.

you hummed as a smile formed, “like a scout. nice!”

“you knew about me going camping before. so i packed the things i pack when camping, “ sunoo answered as he gently put his hand on his waist. “how about you?”

“a notebook, pencil, spare clothes, water, spare batteries, and a pocket knife,” you reply while you think about how funny your differing priorities are for today’s adventure, exactly like what you group yourself and your friends’ stereotypes. both your phone vibrates at the same time as you glance at yours, the message being shared in your group chat showing on the screen telling you they have arrived at the meeting point. the open window of sunoo’s ground-floor bedroom opens to the front side of his house, ready for you both to go through.

as you two picked up your backpacks and climb out the window, sunoo slowly closed it, leaving a small gap so he can push it open when you both arrived in the morning. you two walk into the night to the corner of your block where a car waits. both of you can see taeyoung from the front seat window as you both are approaching, gesturing you to go into the back seat. climbing into the car with serim driving and yuna that sits with you two at the back, the car zooms away as saturday slowly ends.

seeing the streetlights illuminate the road and trees forming around it, you trail your eyes off to yuna who is sitting next to you. she has a small backpack of her own on her lap.

“how are you, bestie?” you nudge her shoulder with your own.

“to be honest, i’m sleepy. after we arrive, we should find a good place so that we can stay and i can sleep,” she replied, making taeyoung who sits at shotgun tilt his head back to take a glimpse at her and you.

“she doesn’t believe the roaming animatronics stuff.”

“as if they’re real.” she crosses her arm and leans against the car door beside her while the dark woods slowly envelop the car. the headlights are the only source of light other than the ones coming from the moon above you.

you heard serim chuckle from the driver’s seat. “i agree like what’s with the rumored stuff with the kids and animatronics being tethered. just tell the truth that they are malfunctioning. what an exaggeration to say that they walk around the restaurant.” you glance at yuna, who is nodding after serim finish his opinion. yet, you are still convinced they are tethered in some way. maybe the animatronics are haunted…

the car goes deep on a wide enough dirt track for a single vehicle and stops in a small clearing, a building’s silhouette upon it with an enormous billboard on the top of what you presume is the entrance. it stops and you all step out from the cramped interior, feeling the chills forming from the night wind blowing through the thin spaces of trees’ trunks and branches.

“the keys, taeyoung.” serim lightly flings it to taeyoung who catches it perfectly. “best of luck to you all, i guess, especially you. big stakes right here.” he points to his brother and gives a wink, the said boy getting disgusted by it and silently gagged. yuna, who is beside you, picked up everything as she chuckle next to your shoulder.

“shut the heck up.” taeyoung mumbles making serim lightly laugh as he grabs the steering wheel in front of him.

“see you at 6, losers,” serim said and then the car drove off. you can’t help but look at the time from your phone that you picked out from your pocket.

00:00

the beam from the flashlights all of you have brought shines on the path to the abandoned pizzeria building. the lights roaming on the building's exterior, seeing the scraps of a billboard on top of the building with a freddy fazbear head as the logo and the name is written across the bottom of the logo, signalling its glory and how it has withered with time with it being slanted; almost fallen off the roof. looking around the entrance’s exterior, you see images of the animatronics in a cartoon style in front of a mini playground with slides, monkey bars, and swings. in the distance, you can also see a silhouette of what looks like a door on the other side of in it. the door is most likely an emergency door shown by the weird positioning that is placed. if it uses another color, it will stick out too much. so that's why it uses the same paint as the exterior walls.

there are questions instantly running through your mind as you step closer to it. why isn’t the main entrance bordered with planks of wood like other abandoned buildings you know from documentaries or the internet? is it because every franchise is closed around the same time, and the staff and management didn’t mind the leftovers that they can use if they want to try again? maybe, they wanted to continue, but the lawsuits and pressure are just too much for them to be open. maybe, fear might have a factor in it.

you hear the jingling of the keys and the lock on the iron fence that stands in front of a set of glass doors. the metal creaks as taeyoung continues to move forward and open the glass door. one by one, you all go in as yuna slowly pushes the glass door open.

stepping inside the room, your flashlight lets you observe the strips of wallpaper that are deteriorating and watermarks staining the wall from leaking spots. you walk at the back with sunoo while letting your eyes adjust to the darkness as the flashlight beams roam the spacious room of what used to be a reception room, with its lectern for one of the staff to stand by and the many amounts of benches for people in the waiting list.

hearing the scrunch under your feet, you let your flashlight shines on the scattered pizza boxes on the floor and party decorations that have filled the room. your nose itching from the cumulated dust in the air but not enough to make rub your finger against it or make you sneeze. taeyoung walks to the front as the lights coming from his beam show promotional posters on one side, bathroom doors on the other, and a large doorway on the same side at the end of the hallway. old telephone booths sticking out onto the wall beside the entrance to the main area.

“we can spread out, but don’t go out of this room.” sunoo whispered behind the crowd as you all enter a giant room which you guess is the main area of the pizzeria, and its condition is worse than the reception area.

the room is full of dining tables and benches with paper plates and open pizza boxes, a stage on one of the sides, and arcade cabinets on one corner of the room; some stood while others were laying broken as a pool of glass shards reflected the shine of your flashlight. rubbers that were supposed to resemble balloons are flat on the ground—a few are looking like the air leaked from them while others look like they popped as their edges look like it was ripped apart. a few of the tiles on the floor are cracked and you can hear them crunch under your footsteps. holding your breath as you look like the restaurant resembling a shipwreck, your light shines on two hallways on two sides of the arcade area. both of them leading to dead ends that have a poster attached to the wall, but the one on the right has light coming in from a plank-covered window. and as you look closer, you can see doorways on both of the hallway; a room is there behind the arcade.

you and your friends scattered around the dining tables to search the nooks and crannies of the room. walking to where the stage stood, you could see chipped wood from the front of the stage and an emergency exit door on the corner beside it—the same position you see the silhouette on the outside. scattering your lights to view the surroundings, you see yuna shines hers to one of the dining tables. approaching it, you find rotten pizzas in an open pizza box that isn't complete or on top of a paper plate that has confetti on its design.

“ew, there are rotten foods here,” she commented lightly, waving her hand from the disgusting smell of spoiled food that have kicked your senses. you let your feet walk to one of the entrances to the hallways across the room, seeing a few doors in a hallway with a double door to the right.

“we should find a place for our base camp for the next hours,” you mumbled, the quiet atmosphere attracting their attention towards you as they approach where you stand. your flashlight shines in the hallway in front of you.

“yeah, we don’t know what is lurking in this building, so it's best if we can find a safe place.” sunoo echoes your idea, earning a nod and smile from you. peeking from the corner of your eyes, you can see he lets out one too from the slight shine that reflects on a bit of his face.

“we can search one by one.” yuna remarked behind you as she looks in the hallway and taeyoung hummed, agreeing to what you all said. all of you approach the two doors to see them made out of glass and windows spread along the wall beside them, miraculously not broken into smithereens like the glass screen from the arcade cabinets. an anomaly from the other two glass doors you presume will be an identical type of room is the double doors right on your right side.

“this must have been a private party room,” taeyoung commented with you turning around, letting his lights shine inside the room as you all take a peek from the glass door. bookshelves stood across the entrance with a few windows on top of them, a short table with cushion chairs surrounding it, confetti paper on the floor with party hats, matching paper and cup set of chica and a chalky and crumbly birthday cake at the other hand of the table with a blackboard that said “happy birthday“ written with chalk.

“is it just me or even though this place has been shut down decades ago, many of the decorations and small trivial things are still there? like why would they leave food?” yuna added as you take another glance at the long table where you can see other rancid food on it—resembling the ones in the main dining area. it seems as if the management doesn’t want to care about the restaurant when it closes. none of the furniture was moved out or cleaned up before being. it looks as if the staff working had disappeared so suddenly one day into thin air, and no one has the responsibility to clean the mess before letting it spread all over the restaurant.

“looks like the building has stayed in the past cause all i can think about is people abandoning the building and all of its activities without no actions to clean them up.” sunoo made a hypothesis the same as what you thought.

“hmm, 80s fresh air, felt so different.” taeyoung joked as your hand reaches the handle of the door and slowly open it. yuna’s flashlight right behind your body shines the room from on top of your shoulder. the chairs are so small you assumed it's for children around and under five years old.

“do you want to stay here or stay outside?” you turned to your friends as you gently held it open.

“inside the room is safer and we can barricade it. good for escape if we can reach up the bookshelves of the window above it. while outside, there is much more room to run if there is danger and the path to the exit, but we’re much more exposed.” you let out your thoughts as all four of you look at each other, gently letting go of the door before putting one cushion to the doorframe, not letting it shut as you don’t want to cause a loud noise if—if it is true—something is lurking in these hallways and rooms.

“inside could work.” taeyoung voiced out as he settles his bag on the ground. “great access to see the outside if we see any animatronics roaming down the hall.”

“no, they’re not.” yuna exclaimed as her face creased from the comment, then immediately yawns after before continuing. “since we searched the place when we get here, we should be able to make a small map of the place, right?”

“yes, we can,” sunoo said as he places his backpack and then looks at you. at first, you were confused by what he implied, but his eyes move to the bag on your back. you silently acknowledge before pulling your backpack down and opening the zipper, pulling your notebook and pencil out. all of you sit down, taeyoung sits on the cushion and yuna sits on the floor while you kneel on your knees down as you put the notebook on the dusty table, tracing the rough layout of the building from what you could remember.

“i’ve drawn the main entrance and reception, the hallway with the bathrooms, and the doorway to the dining room.” the others see your drawing as you let your fingers fidget with the pencil.

taeyoung gently grabs the pencil from you as he continues your drawing. “across from the entrance there is a small stage and a door. and the place where we are is through here, near the doorway from the reception. a hall with two party rooms and a double door to a room on the right side.”

“the kitchen.” sunoo cuts in as he is standing and looking at the double doors outside from the window. “i can see glints of silver in there from the circle window. on some angle, i can see the metal thingy where you suck up smoke from the stove and some circular stuff dangling which i guess are pans.” he tells his assumption.

“that makes sense. i was scouring near the arcade in the dining room and see the little window where servers usually grab food from the kitchen. the big cartoon-ish animal drawings on the wall can’t be ignored.” yuna said as she leans near you.

“i found another hallway beside the small stage and arcade. lights coming in seems to be a large window with a door at the end of the hallway on the left and one near the front of the hallway on the right.” sunoo added as you continued drawing the new areas on the map, few of the ones you made have already been assigned with their descriptions from all of your friends help. you added the stage you saw, the emergency door beside it, and the other hallway between the arcade and the kitchen; the one where sunoo didn’t catch as you heard him hum.

“i think that is all…” sunoo turns back from where he stands, now crouching on the other end of the table while looking at the sketch. you put down your pencil, unconsciously biting the nail on your thumb.

“what are the other two rooms then?” yuna asked from beside you. seeing the three empty rectangles with no scribbles on top of it. the room across from where the hallway to reception, the hallway sunoo mentioned with the door on the front right side, and the room behind the arcade.

taeyoung inspects the paper and the words inside them to indicate their purpose. “this is a restaurant, so supply closets for cleaning stuff and extra party decorations. and they have animatronics so maybe one of them is to clean their parts and repair them. what’s the last one then?”

“security,” you murmured, letting your thumb fall from your face.

“the animatronics are dangerous apparitions after all. security has to have their own office to help track animatronics and not let them do dangerous things.” you see the others nodding as you added the last three names for the last three doors beside the layout. the current matter is that you don't know the certain locations of them.

01:00

you felt your body being gently shaken inside the blanket that you are sleeping in.

by the time you finished talking about the layout of the rooms inside the abandoned building, all of you let your tiredness get to you and fall asleep. sunoo, who brought blankets, gave one to you as you are the only that doesn’t bring any form of sleeping props; taeyoung with his pillow-neck while yuna with her towel-turn-blanket. the thing is, you didn’t get any sleep when you can hear muffled clanks from outside of the room, your mind letting you awake, letting you observe the area with your hearing. and now, you can feel your head throbbing as you are placed in a between rem and non-rem sleep.

“(y/n), please…” you hear yuna’s recognizable voice. feeling a tad bit safer, your eyes open and you sit your body up on the party room floor.

“what’s wrong? did you also h-“

“i need to pee,” yuna hissed as she kneel beside you, trying to hold it in. the concern in your eyes fall as you let out a chuckle at the girl. dragging off the blanket from your body, you lean in closer to her.

“you can pee in the corne-“

“i rather get grabbed by the animatronic than see the boys seeing me pee.” yuna’s tense face made you chuckle again as you nod your head, seeing a small smile forming on her face before you paused when you heard the muffled clanks again. turning your head against where the sound came from—the double doors across from the room you are in. sighing, you quickly turn around to crawl closer to your friend, shaking his upper arm with enough force to wake him up.

“sunoo…” you whispered, seeing him stirring with his eyes open. his eyebrows are raised as he looks between you and yuna, who puts her hands on your shoulder.

“what are you doing?” he mumbled as he leans up.

“we’re going to the bathroom. i just need you to know so you can stand by if anything went wrong. don’t fall asleep on us,” you warned him as sunoo sits up while stretching his arms and neck. as yuna waits by with sunoo, you scrambled to your bag and grab a few needed items to be on your body: your phone and a pocket knife, before going to the glass door as yuna gently opens it. you turn around to close it and see sunoo now sitting on the cushion as taeyoung still sleeping on the other side of the room. you gave him a small nod as you point at your phone in your hand before gently walking away.

you were glad that the hallways are close enough with each other that no other occurrence really disturbed you in someway—the clanking that lingers in your mind for the past hour suddenly disappeared. you both walk to the hallway and stand facing the bathrooms, the female one is wide open with a poster of chica on display, while the male one had its door slightly open. yuna walks towards the female bathroom where you suddenly grab her wrist, stopping her movement before turning around towards you.

“what’s wrong?” she scream-whispered towards you. you jutted your chin to the door as you see how the hinges of the bathroom door she wanted to enter are broken, how the door is slanted and battered like many pressures of opening said door too hard has caused it to be like this.

“we should use the male bathroom. if something happens, the door from the male one can be our line of protection,” you replied as yuna looks back between you and the female bathroom before looking at the door beside it. she tilts her head and shows a slight nod before walking—also pulling you—to the male bathroom.

hearing the door screech as she pushes it wider, a flickering horizontal light from above the sink illuminates the dirty bathroom, the only evidence that electricity still reaches this building which has been abandoned for years. yuna pulled you to the stall in front of the last one at the back where the door is slightly open to see the dirty toilet. seeing her holding a tissue that can help to clean the pee, you turn around and close the door behind you as gently as possible as yuna does her business, locking the door that is still working.

staring at the paint of the stall, you can trace the various intangible writings on the stall’s walls from kids dating back to the latest in 2005; someone wrote the year in black marker along with other doodles. there are also a few drawings of the animatronic characters made with the same pen that wrote the year instead of the illustrations that you see in the halls. it is childish in nature and as you pin it into your mind, you felt a sudden somber by the missing children incident that is related to the franchise.

that’s when you heard a music box playing, and it seems getting closer and closer.

catching the sound of tissue from yuna’s hand as she throws it away, you turn and grab her wrist as you put your pointer finger in front of your mouth. she follows your gesture as silence consumes you both before you hear the music box playing again. you see yuna’s eyes widen before the sound of a door opens, and it opens hard, slamming onto the wall. you jumped as you heard yuna’s gasp before you walk closer and cover her mouth, looking back toward your stall’s door to see the lock that you put in is still intact.

putting your lips in a straight line to help muffled yourself, your legs wobble when the music box sound is getting louder, followed by the sound of something metallic hitting the ceramic tiles of the bathroom. you gently push yourself to sit on your knees, the song of the music box playing sounded familiar to you, like a part of a classical piece. the sound of metal and footsteps is heavy and your pupils tremble when you peek outside under the door to see a pair of legs full of fur underneath the light of the bulb from the sink. seeing its shadow walking closer, you felt yuna’s breath beside your cheek as she replaces your hand with her own, seemingly paralyzed along with you as you see the legs coming closer towards your stall.

you can finally recognize the color of the fur of its feet, brown.

the sound of mechanical joints whirling can be picked up from above where you sit, obscured by the door as the feet are walking to the front of the stall you are in. you can’t help yourself to cover yuna’s hand with your own to help increase the muffling, hoping that it can mute your breathing as you try to hold it as best as you can. seeing the feet slowing down right where you are, you can identify the side of the three-fingered paws of the animatronic. yuna seems to hide her face on your shoulder as you listened to her muffled gagged before you smell the cause of the gag yourself. as it walks away, the waft of rotten odor coming from it also leaves your vicinity and you peek to sit it turning around from the wall on the last stall—the stall you are in—and now walk in a pace that you observed before. the music box panning from both of your ears as the music rewinds again, knowing that it can attract something or someone to get closer.

as you hear the music box now muffled from the layers of walls—the thing not closing the door at all—you quickly stood up from your position and gently open the lock of the stall, seeing the sink area intact as you walk further from yuna, who is still covering her mouth, to the entrance of the male bathroom. the sound of the music box playing from your left, where the entrance is. you were glad that sunoo had the right mind to not let it open wide and not close it shut but leave a small gap for both the glass door and the iron fence. you could make a run if you need to. but that means leaving the others behind.

pulling out your phone from your pocket, you open your camera and use the front camera as a mirror as you lean back—but not with pressure—against the door with yuna now standing beside you, peeking to examine the torso and head of the being that is creating music. it stands facing its back towards you where you can see from the silhouette courtesy of the moon: the rounded ears and the hat right in the middle. your lips tremble as you see it walking around the benches, making most of its body obscure by the wall, if you stepped out.

you can’t believe it as you see the back of its head move behind the wall as you stood in the hallway, the music box still playing the same song. your heart is beating like crazy and you know it can jump out if it wants to. the cogs in your mind moving in a frenzy as you now know what you encountered.

“that’s a freddy fazbear animatronic,” you whispered under your breath.

“what th-“

the music box stopped when yuna replied beside you, making you grab onto her arm and your phone on the other side tightly as you turn your body around and speedwalk to the dining room doorway. but then a shadow on the ground of a bunny figure appears, making you hide behind the wall beside the doorway, the phone booth can be felt on your back as you turn your head to watch the silhouette of the bunny animatronic walking away from where you at before turning a corner, making its back now facing you. you remembered the lines of dining tables you saw, four rows from the stage, that takes most of the hall.

you let go of yuna’s hand when you heard her whisper, “wait” as you crawl on your knees and open the cloth of the dining tables. looking back at yuna, who has frightened eyes. you nodded at her as she follows you and crawl to the opening you made. crawling past you before you instantly drop the cloth around the right time as you listened to the animatronic footsteps coming from where you were now at the doorway. freddy’s music box stops playing like it’s in alarm mode.

you drag your knees to bring you closer to the middle of the long dining table, opening your phone that illuminates the space under the cloth slightly, making you able to see the dusty tiles with a few toy cars, paper plates, and character masks on the floor. you quickly open the group chat for your friends and quickly type into the group chat.

y/n: SUNOO!

y/n: IT’S TRUEEE

y/n: IT’S REAL

someone types right after you.

sunoo: IK

sunoo: WE SAW A CHICKEN ONE COMING OUT OF THE DOOR ACROSS FROM THE BASE

sunoo: THE KITCHEN

the chicken one…

y/n: THAT’S CHICA

y/n: WE SAW FREDDYY

y/n: AND BONNIE

breathing rapidly, you notice yuna looking between you and the phone in your hand.

“you didn’t bring yours?” you whispered as she shook her head, eyes still wide. that’s when you picked up the whirring metal moving around you. a slight gap underneath the cloth makes you able to catch another pair of legs full of fur. but this one is not brown. it’s purple.

raising your hands to your mouth, you try to not make a sound as best as you can. seeing the furry feet stomping onto the tiled floor—crunching underneath its weight. you hope they don’t have joints where they could lean down and see you under the table. but then you remember that is supposed to be a singing animatronic, how else can they show their rhythm and groove without a joint to their hip area. the machinery walks slowly. but you also suspect that they could run with their current physiology.

something touches you and you got startled as you turn towards your friend in a position that looks painful, facing her stomach down as she looks out from the other side of the table. you grab her hand to reassure her when yuna pulls you to do the same thing. slowly approaching her, you try your best not to let the rubber sound on the dirty tiled floor.

“what is it?” you whisper directly into her ear. the glint in her eyes letting you know she might found something helpful.

“see that open doorway?” she whispered back, pointing to the rectangle void compared to the greyish hue of the wall.

“we could go there. especially if the boys are also in trouble,” she replied, almost letting out a chuckle before you reply by ruffling her hair, non-verbally expressing how proud you are of her. you scan the doorway from that small glimmer of open space between the tablecloth and your own, seeing that it is on the other side of the room. you slowly raise your body as yuna raises her, seeing you in a near crouch position as you tell her with gestures as best as you can, pointing between the two of you, your forefinger and middle finger bent as it moves across the dorsum of your other hand, pointing on the table that concealed the two of you and showing three with your fingers.

‘we have to crouch under the table three times.’

she nods, understanding what you meant. with the moonlight shining into the room, and a few exterior lights as well. you can see the silhouette of the figures roaming around the dining room. a burst of laughter caught your attention, something you didn’t hear before as another animatronic steps into the hallway from where the side where your base camp is. chica.

as you watch the silhouette from the table you are underneath, you can inspect where the animatronics are: bonnie is walking in front of the stage, going the direction where you are going, chica is walking towards the middle of the room, whilst freddy is still near the hallway to the reception area. the coast is clear as you give a look to yuna, her stance resembling yours as you give nods in a rhythm.

one…

two…

three.

you carefully lift the tablecloth as yuna moves forward first, her hand reaching for the end of the cloth as she opens it. your eyes only strained forward as you follow her before she closes the cloth. your legs nearly slipped on the floor as yuna braces you. with your adapting eyes, you notice the rotten cream on your sneakers as yuna lets out a grim expression on her face, almost gagging before you shush her up. you glance at the remnants of a pie here, complete with the degrading aluminium foil that is in its place—deep down you are glad you didn’t step onto the aluminium.

yuna nudges you to the other side of the table when you realize the gap between this row and the one across is larger than the one you just passed. bracing yourself, you glance at her as she nods knowingly when she does her own countdown and lifts the tablecloth for you as you rush out.

eyes only looking forwards as your knees nearly gave out when you reach the other table, too late to open the tablecloth as it slips from your force. you gritted your teeth as you hear the plastic utensils above the table scratching each other from the force, the hum of the machinery turns towards you as you stare at bonnie’s three-toed feet that are walking in the path that separates you and yuna.

you quickly cover yourself as your mind scrambles to find something to help her. your eyes follow the shadowy items near you as you find a plastic fork not too broken like the ones you came across. it can help to be a distraction to get yuna to you.

your aching feet take you towards the fallen plastic utensils—thoughts in your mind still wonder how this is still here even with it being closed down—as you pick up the fork and adjust its prong to its maximum potential. approaching away from where bonnie is almost nearing the end of the long table, you lift the cloth up and throw the plastic fork towards where the kitchen is. your hypothesis on the animatronic becomes fact as you see bonnie rush towards where the plastic fork landed, even freddy joining the frenzy. you immediately close the opening as yuna’s swift body move to where you are, slipping behind the animatronic.

approaching her, she lets out a silent exhale as her eyes are wide open, shaking her head as you both approach the final table and do the final dash towards the doorway. the gap returns to the shorter one as yuna opens the tablecloth for you to pass, the animatronics is still focusing on the fork and where it landed. you open the last one for yuna and quickly close it as you step onto something not flat. looking down, you again meet the character masks you also saw earlier: one for bonnie and one for freddy. you didn’t notice that you linger on them when yuna approaches the last obstacle before you finally leave.

“hurry (y/n).” her whisper rings as you picked the masks up in your hand and slip them through your arm. the almost broken rubber bands stretch against your skin as yuna stares at you weirdly before you open the tablecloth for her. she steps out and approaches the void before slipping to the side—the door dark enough that it looks wide open but it actually has a small crack open. your eyes scan at the silhouette of the animatronics as you can see chica almost approaching the path you are now. you sprint towards the door and slip inside. you felt large wires behind you as you grab one and slip it onto the doorway before pushing the door close so that it doesn’t make the usual click sound.

“bad idea.” yuna mumbled beside you as you finally stare at the room and the things decorating the wall.

both of you were met by the heads of the animatronic, jaw open with no eyeballs. most of them sticking onto the walls. in one corner, there is a pile of metal amalgamation with a few of them sticking out. you can catch yuna’s chattering teeth as she looks at the menacing heads on the wall. the vibration in your pant pocket tickles your thigh as you pull your phone out and open it. the screen filled up with sunoo’s worries as you glance at the clock.

02.00

sunoo: you okay?

taeyoung: we’re so freaking worried

typing the answer, the light of the phone illuminates you, yuna, and some of the room. pipes and wires draping from the ceiling as you can pick up the whirring machines outside of the small gap in the door.

y/n: we’re alright

y/n: though we are stuck now

y/n: gonna tell you the next plan later

you let the phone’s screen light up the room which still irks you in a bad way, but it’s definitely not the worst as the one from the outside. seeing the familiar faces of the animatronic heads, you piece up what this room might be. the scent of oil sticks to your smelling scent and yuna moves to approach the tall shelf where tools and equipment are oxidizing there. remembering the layout, yuna pointed to one of the rooms that you remember is unknown on your do-it-yourself map.

“this is the parts and service room,” you mumbled, glancing at yuna who turns her body to yours. she hums, lifting the tools as the small sound creates a scratch to your sense. slowly stepping onto the floor, you approach yuna as the light of the phone creates a spotlight to let you see clearer. it reflects on the metallic materials in the room. the soggy smell of fur from the backup heads of the animatronics, wet and might have moulds in it.

the metal amalgamation caught your eyes as you approach it. you crouch down and inspect the long pipe—like metal bones and joints that resemble the human skeletal system. you could identify the toes, fingers, hips, and torsos. as you approach, you glance at one head and look at a skull with uncanny eyeballs sticking to both the left and right sides. the eyes stare open, lifeless, yet it has eyelids that could blink in a moment; your heart thumps more imagining that. none of the skeletons stand tall, unlike the animatronics striding outside the room you are in, as if someone has pulled them apart to not let them be working.

“hey…” yuna calls with a small voice, the rubbing sound present also coming from her.

“i found something.”

“shoot,” you responded, straightening your stature as yuna stepped towards the metal table where half of chica’s head is present. the rubbing noise you heard is the large pieces of paper that she brought, shaped in rolls. tucking a few under her arms, she opens one roll and places tools from a wrench to a hammer on each corner.

“blueprints…”

pointing your lit screen towards it, you can see the white illustrations on the blue-colored grids and a few words around them. the unnatural shape of the top hat indicates that this is the blueprint of freddy. on the left side is the illustration of the body while on the right side is the illustration of the head, shaped meticulously so that it looks mascot-like and almost resembles the head of a real bear.

squinting your eyes, you scan the words surrounding it. it’s full of unfamiliar terms that you can’t instantly deduct. but you might figure out something when you glance and examine the body of the animatronic even further.

“their body is hollow. look at the gap between the skeleton and the outer casing.” you trace the skeleton’s spine down the drawing before trailing to the side where the stomach is. yuna stares at the mangled skeletons as you glance for a response from her.

“so they have an endoskeleton with fur casing? that doesn’t explain the odor coming from them and how they’re ‘alive’.” her hands lift to make air quotes.

an epiphany comes into your mind even though you don’t want to presume it happened. but you can’t hold it in.

“i think it has something to do with the missing children.” you pivot to her, seeing her shake her head.

“that can’t be possible, right? are they… possessed?” the pitch of her speaking voice tells you everything about her working mind.

“i mean… how can they still move even with decades past? the animatronic must be plugged into electricity to work. unless there is a supernatural thing going out, they’re not gonna move at all.”

yuna stares at you, her eyes trembling as she seems to consider the possibility of that happening. distracting herself, she returns to the blueprint as you turn your body around to lean against the metal table. the tap of the items on your arms presses against the edge of the table. your eyes stare at the mascot heads on the walls; how the fur is shedding from the casing and the watermarks trailing down, damping the paints on the wall so that it looks bubbly.

you don’t expect there was any missing children incident related to this specific building—especially in your town relating to a pizzeria. but the past is much harder to archive specifically with the little franchises separate from the main restaurant franchise. you don’t want to assume anything vile about what happened, but the smell of odor coming from animatronics makes you much more suspicious of what could happen. why the missing children from the main franchise building might not be found and how it could make the animatronics work and move like it’s alive. the uncanniness is making shivers run down your spine, but the animatronics act animatedly, unlike what a robot is.

“no way…” you heard muttering coming from the other person in the room. a small hum as a reply to her, yuna pulled your phone from your hand and pointed it to the words on the blueprint.

“facial recognition…”

you shift your head as you see her open more blueprints—bonnie’s, foxy’s, and chica’s—and check the same area as the first blueprint.

“they all have facial recognition. there are books from the same shelf. maybe a repair manual?” her words trail off as she turns to the shelf where she fetches the prints. the small beacon from your phone still allows you to trace the words of facial recognition right above the music box player on freddy’s blueprint. the heavy sound of books landing on something rings in the room as dust flies.

“aha!” she exclaimed with a little voice before bringing a book towards you. the word ‘manual’ sticking out to you when she flipped the cover open, tracing the directory before opening the right page. she held the book right by her eyes, seeing her eyes move behind the barrier from your view

“‘the animatronics has a facial recognition system that can detect the human faces from its fellow animatronic. this system was made to prevent entry for known child criminals and it has access to the criminal database…’” she read out the information. that’s when you stare at the items on your arm. the masks.

you push the masks slipped onto your arm to her as she stares between the book and the items on you. her eyes enlarged as she leans closer, slipping your phone back onto your open palm.

“we could wear this. get the boys out of the party room, and exit from the emergency exit, which is the door beside this room and get out,” you spoke, nodding your head along with it as you affirm yourself.

“that might work. we can recognize ourselves between them. let’s do it.” yuna said with a thin smile. you let her pull off the freddy mask from your arm. the mask looks like a child’s mask and you reckoned it might not fit your face, but when you slip the bonnie mask on, the bands stretching behind your earlobes, you can feel the plastic edge press against your cheek.

now, your view is much more obscured with only the holes for the eyes and nostrils helping to get the air in clearer. trying your best to inform the others, you send out a message in the group chat.

y/n: if you can, search for character masks to wear in the party room. we can meet up at the arcade area.

taeyoung: what’s this? ^

y/n: they have facial recognition. we can disguise ourselves - yuna

she slips your phone back into your pocket and gives you a pat. the scratching sound enters your ear as yuna now holds a wrench in her hand—better be safe than sorry. you take a deep breath, sensing her presence protecting you from the back.

“you ready?” she asked behind you.

“uh huh…” you said, with a tinge of worrisome you hope she didn’t figure it out. hand on the handle, the hinges creak as you pull the door open.

peeking your head out, you could examine the main dining area; thinking that enormous figures are roaming the hall, but finding it empty instead. the lingering sound of freddy’s music box is playing in the hallway on the other side of where you are. but no animatronics seems to be present. the curtain of the stage is closed like the last time you notice it and you caught clanging sounds from the kitchen area, probably from chica—the boys saw her from there.

yuna’s hands grip each of your shoulders when you step forward. each foot moves slowly on the tiled floor as the windows on the other side of the hallway let the outside light in. step by step, you amble beside the dining table you hide under a few minutes ago. you gaze at the abandoned food and utensils on the table. plastic plates, glass, knife; all you can study without worry.

looking towards the right, you find a half circle that is covered by the curtain—the small stage taeyoung mentioned. walking in front of the elevated floor, you notice the dark void in between the purple-patterned curtains. yuna’s empty hand grips your shoulder as you both stare at it.

“‘sorry out of order’?” you heard her faint whisper in your ear, but you didn’t expect a buzzing sound to come from behind the curtain. your body instantly shoves yuna behind you as you reach your other pocket, pushing your hand inside as you grip the handle. the source of light behind you reflects on something white as it gets bigger. a claw pushes out and moves the curtain out.

yuna’s trembling finger holds onto your waist as you see the silhouette of something poking out from the curtain, a head with a sharp nose. you held your breath when you look at the animatronic peeking out of the stage. the last animatronic of the roster: foxy, complete with its pirate garment of the eyepatch and the hook. its behavior is animalistic, jutting its nose as it sniffs the air with its artificial nose.

before it stiffs and turns its head towards both of you.

its body moves out of the curtain slowly as you both stood still, making yourself as robotic as possible. even with the mask as your front, you still feel as exposed as ever. the beating of your heart might explode out of your chest as your grasp on the pocket knife is ready to pull it out. biting your bottom lip, you let it stand before you as it scans your face. and it seems to recognize the familiar visual of the character’s face. its tall figure looms over both of you before it runs towards the bigger stage.

its heavy footsteps echo in the room as you stare at it moving away. your mind was too distracted by the animatronic that even a small, bitter touch on your exposed skin startled you. turning around, you find two people in chica and foxy masks.

your breath heave as you perceived the familiar touch of sunoo and the tousled hair that only belongs to taeyoung. the boy points towards the arcade area as all of you approach it. the clanking in the kitchen is still prominent enough as you stood beside the door.

“how’d you know the masks work?” sunoo asked as they gave out both of your backpacks back to their rightful owners.

“they have a facial recognition system. (y/n) suggests that masks might work so they see us as one of them.” yuna’s hand still grips your shoulder as you felt the wrench on her hand, swaying from the weight.

“we’re gonna get ou-“

the sound of an open draping cloth distracts you. your eyes follow the sound of it, the animatronic comes out from the stage as you see bonnie on stage. your breathing is calm and your mind is collected from the non-reactive way foxy did. but this is different as the sound of a ripping cloth filled the air. the bunny animatronic jumps down towards you and rushes towards you, letting out a gargled electrical scream that covers the music box from freddy.

“GUYS!” you exclaimed, but the animatronic only focuses towards you. the sound of the barging door opening from the side. chica’s laugh filled the room as you and yuna let go of each other and you pushed the others away as you let bonnie be distracted by you.

flicking open your pocket knife, you scattered towards the stage as bonnie jumps over the table to get to you. the rotting table legs collapsing as your hand still grips your backpack strap that is not on your shoulder properly. but the animatronic is too fast for your liking, from their taller stature to their mechanical limbs.

your backpack was caught as you pull it out of the animatronic, seeing it pulling as best as it can. its jaw opens and your tired body can’t hold itself up as your strength is lost against the robot. the eyes that are sticking to the endoskeleton are lifeless but reflect something that you have seen in other humans.

rage.

the robot growls as you’re being pulled against your might. the edge of the bonnie mask you’re wearing is pulled along your head with the strength of the conflicting forces, creating a flame to your skin senses. your head is almost near its wide-open jaw as you try hitting it with your knife; not applicable and only cut through the fur. not handling it well, you pushed the jaw apart with both of your hands.

your hearing is only focusing on the animatronic in front of you, making you didn’t expect the blow to the animatronic head as the eyeholes of your mask move nowhere near your eyes. pulsing bloodstream flowed to your palm as warmth wrapped around your wrist and drag you. trickling fluid coming out and dripping from your fingers as you still hold on to your pocket knife, not letting it go. you let your legs drag you along with the being that pulls you as it pushes you inside the room.

the heavy footsteps that followed you come to a halt as a loud bang comes before followed by the muffled one. you heard haggard breath as the sound of a large object scraping on the floor. something holds your shoulders up and you let your legs bring you somewhere else. but your vision is flickering as the black spots appear, tinnitus in your ear, your body getting heavy, and you can’t open your eyes anymore.

the void embraces you as your body shuts down.

03.00

something drips out from your lips.

hushes and the rustle of paper is all around you.

your hand fidgets as the pain spreads all around once again. opening your eyes, you were met with a blurry vision and light pointing towards the ceiling, painting it white instead of the musky grey. wooden marks from the ceiling tell you that this room in risk of leaking and might make the beam fall if not careful enough.

your lips are chapped as you sense a tear come down from the corner of your eyes, becoming clearer after each and every drop has fallen.

“oh gosh!” someone gasps as you felt your body being enveloped tightly. their hair tickles your nostrils but you needed the hug. your goosebumps grow as the coldness your body is showing is reduced by the warmth.

“you’re okay!” they whispered to you, pressing their palm against your cheek—a barrier that doesn’t allow the skin to skin contact makes a vertical down from under your eye to your jaw.

“sun?” you speak, a hoarse voice coming out as you see sunoo’s face. his smile is still as wide as ever, even with a smudge of thick dust on his cheeks.

“i’m here...” he whispered, holding onto your hand that is covered by something thin. noticing your expression, he lifts your hand so you could examine it. a bandage wrapped around your skin as you find a bloomed red coming from the palm.

“your tired body, adrenaline, and loss of blood make you instantly pass out as i brought you here. i tried to patch you up as best as i could.” sunoo answered your unspoken question, giving you the water bottle that he was trying to get you to sip even with your unconscious body.

“time?” you questioned, holding the water bottle as it still trembles in your hold. the soothing sensation wets your dry cavern as the water rushes down inside your digestive system.

“past 3. half past 4 actually,” he replied whilst looking at the lit phone in his hand. your eyes wander to the dim room, seeing the shelves rising above you like skyscrapers. a gallon of something looking like bleach is resting on one shelf—probably only left with its evaporated dust.

“we’re still in the pizzeria. locked in a cleaning cupboard of some sort.” his words reminded you of the locations of the map that are burnt into your mind. two out of three are identified. then the last room is security.

but when you touch the thin mattress beneath you, you became more alert as you can see a hole in one of the walls. through it, more shelves are standing and you can identify the familiar silhouette of brooms and mops.

“we’re deeper in it though. bonnie was still clawing at the door before i move one of the shelves over to hold the door close. then i found the hole, and it looks like someone lived here.” sunoo continued. one side of his face is shone by the flashlight, sitting with his knees now tuck to his chest.

“it’s a safe room of sorts, but by the messy mattress i found and newspapers. someone must have lived here.” your eyes wander to the pile of paper that sits beside him, scattered around the floor and a few near the edge of the mattress. you followed his hand as he picks one up and gives it to you. sitting up your body, you find the most comfortable position for you to read. eyebrows raised as you examine the headline.

Kids vanish at local pizzeria—bodies not found. Two local children were reportedly lured into a back room during the late hours of operation at Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza on the night of June 26th. While video surveillance identified the man responsible and led to his capture the following morning, the children themselves were never found and are presumed dead.

Police think that the suspect dressed as a company mascot to earn the children’s trust.

“i tried to trace where these came from and a few of them led back to the missing person incident in the main branch of freddy fazbear’s pizza. but look at this.” he then shuffles some pages around as he pulls one out and gives it to you.

Four children reported missing in our town’s very own Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza. Investigators link the incident to other similar incidents occurring in the other franchises.

the news was concise. telling you that there might be ten or more missing children that are scattered across the different franchises that are open. it is suspected that the same motive is done between all these franchises: children allegedly lured into a backroom during late hours.

sunoo then gave you another clipping that read “Local pizzeria threatened with shutdown over sanitation.” one about the main building while a few related ones about the other local franchises also, including your town.

“the others and i tried our freaking best to piece these up. they’re now stuck in the kitchen,” he said as he know you might wonder about yuna and taeyoung. “but i think this is when your knowledge comes to help. you knew more about these stories than anybody in our friend group. wikipedia doesn’t even give any straightforward answers.”

the boy moves so he could sit beside you, shoulder to shoulder. your fingertips still run against the pile you allowed him to stack on your lap as sunoo continues to open his phone, glancing your eyes to see the group chat.

you pat his arm to help you fetch your backpack, finding it as battered as ever with one strap hanging for dear life with a piece of string to not break. sipping the water bottle to help you better, your brain is much more awake that a few moments ago. the gears in them are turning as you open the notebook and scribble everything you know. the founders. the original five missing children. animatronic going haywire. unpleasant odor. and you trace each newspaper clipping to create the most effective timeline you could create. some of the newspaper has its ink bleed from the moist on it, but you decipher it as best as you could.

“yuna said that you speculate the animatronics are possessed?” sunoo questioned as you skim the words on the clipping before putting it aside. you hummed as a reply, mind to focus on connecting all the dots as best as you can.

whilst opening a few pages, something slipped out of the pile and landed on the tiled floor beside you. dashing to get a grip on the corner of the rectangular paper. you picked it up and sunoo shines the light from your flashlight onto it.

“a cheque...” the boy spoke as you scan the words.

mike schmidt. $120. valued employee.

the reflection of the flashlight shines more than the ink from the front side you are reading. flipping it around, you see a written note almost in cursive as you tried your best to read.

Father. It’s me, Michael. I’ve followed along your trails of blood even to the towns outside of ours. I’ve seen each and every one of your creations, from how they react to how they’ve smelled because of you. They all seem to recognize me because they thought I was you. No trace of your golden bunny suit means you’re not here. Something has gone terribly for me. But I will try my best to find you... I’m going to come find you.

“michael?” sunoo muttered, your eyes peeking at him as he realizes something and typed in something in a browser’s search engine. the result comes out immediately as he presses on the link on one of the founders. william afton.

“no way...” he mumbled, skimming the web page as you lean in against him. his sturdy shoulder holding you one before stopping at one section.

“‘nothing is much known about what happened to afton, but he had mentioned that he wanted his son, michael, to continue his legacy’... michael is william’s son.” sunoo turns his head towards you, so close to yours as you can felt his breath on your cupid’s bow.

“wait, wait, w-“ you push your hand out as your mind goes into overdrive. all the information you have in your mind pinning up against the surface of your brain, ready to be pieced onto your inner corkboard.

michael is william afton’s son.

golden bunny suit.

missing children lured by an employee.

odor from the animatronics.

their unusual frantic acts with metal bodies.

bonnie being aggressive towards you, who was wearing a bonnie mask.

looking up, you gaze at sunoo who is tilting his head, watching you putting the puzzle pieces together.

“they’re dead. the missing children are dead...”

“uh- okay..? that is so grim.” sunoo lets out a reply before you hold his hand.

“i mean, listen. they’re dead and they possessed the animatronic endoskeletons. okay, let me just-“ you picked up your notebook so sunoo can see, pencil on hand as you create underlines under the missing children incident.

“so ‘kids vanish at local pizzeria-bodied not found’ leading to the suspicions of an employee luring them back into the backroom of the restaurant. that means an employee-only area which we know by schematics on the place is the kitchen, parts and service, stage area, supply closet, and security office.” the graphite creates a line between the phrases and keywords you wrote on the paper.

“because of the vanishing bodies, either they were kidnapped or murdered on the spot. but i suggest the latter because...” you make a line between the sentence to the one above it. “the animatronics has an unpleasant odor, relating it to the pizzerias that are succumbing to lawsuits and eventually shutting down.”

sunoo continues following the line you made as you connect the employee to william afton, “i suspect william is the killer because of what michael said, ‘no trace of your golden bunny suit’. i have a guess that he has been searching for the father. and- believe it or not...”

you wrote something you remember by memory about the pizzeria that you didn’t write yet, “both the founders had to use this spring-lock animatronic costume in the early years of their business. william uses a golden bonnie suit...”

“so you’re saying the founder just commit a killing spree?” he questioned as you reply with a hum of agreement.

“i’ve seen discussion on forums on why both of them dissolve. many suggest that they have this business rivalry—unmatched vision, one has more power than the other—because afton also has his own company called afton robotics...” you write the name of the company right beside the two aftons.

sunoo grips one end of the piece of paper, eyes trailing down the content before speaking, “william is on the run for revenge and michael is trying to find him...”

“that and he’s trying to hurt the efforts of his former business partner. he must have done this killing spree on many freddy fazbear’s pizza locations. and if he want to leave no trace, he had to stuff the bodies into the animatronics, fusing their soul to the metals.” you replied, leaning back against the wall.

“that’s why i got attacked by bonnie for wearing the bonnie mask, how it’s more aggressive towards me. the child that possesses that must remember the bunny suit-wearing man that killed them, also all of us who are still human and alive. they’re sad and angry about what somebody has done to them. they’re stuck in limbo now, unable to rest in peace...”

you felt sunoo’s hand on yours, interlacing his fingers with yours and putting them on his thigh. his eyes strain on your face, glancing at your trembling lips as you empathize with what the children faced that is so unfair. ripping their lives because of a crazed man hungry for revenge.

“what do you want to do?” sunoo asked. even with your glum eyes, he can still detect how your mind is thinking about something. pupils frantically move around as you gulp down your saliva.

“we have to help them let go of this world. help them tether the connection here to let them rest.” you lean your head against his shoulder, his thumb rubbing softly on your dorsal as you let your legs stretch. seeing his feet beside yours reminds you of when you are children, sitting on the grass in the playground by your school, gazing at your friends who are dangling off the monkey bars or sliding down the slide. realizing the approximate time age of the kids that possessed the animatronics, you got reminded that they are also around your age. but because of what happened, they’re unable to grow up and live their life. instead, they’re stuck to a robot suit.

sunoo’s phone screen lights up both of your faces as he typed in all that you spoke to him about. your phone vibrates beside you—letting them talk about things as you collect your thoughts. you glance to see yuna using taeyoung’s phone saying their worries and how tragic all of this is.

“as much as i want to escape...” your eyes move to look at sunoo’s face as best as you can before he continues, “having second thoughts about what you’re saying and... yeah... they’re kids. those animatronics are kids who are frustrated and stuck.”

more vibration can be heard between both of your phones together as you let sunoo be your messenger, “i agree. we should help them rest- we should meet up and talk about it and also help convince them.”

you nodded your head, lifting and turning your head to him. a thin smile on your face as you stretch your wounded hand. “the security room is our best bet. right near all of us, correct?”

“yup...” he replied as he pushes himself, his hand outstretched to you to help you stand up as you gather your items—sunoo helping you put on your nearly breaking backpack. he handed you your pocket knife and you swiftly open it, seeing blood on the ridge as you look at your reflection; your blood. the makeshift mirror shows your wounded face as sunoo’s phone screen is shining the side, typing away to tell the other two to meet up at the security office.

ducking out of the hole of the safe room hidden in the depths of the cleaning closet, sunoo pushed the shelf from the door as you glance at your phone one last time before tucking it in your pocket.

04.00

the clicking of the door catches your attention as sunoo leads both of you. his head turning right, then left as before he jutted his head towards the right side as you move in front of him. he is still wearing his mask as his eyes turned towards the larger space as you move deeper into the hallway. ripped posters decorated the wall on one side, as the other is a window bordered up by planks from the outside. even with minimal lighting, you could see the open doorway at the end of the hall.

flicking turning left from a poster, you were met with an open office area. on one side is a cracking wall with a small bed for sleeping and cabinets you can assume are used for storing pieces of information—unless they’re eaten by termites. your flashlight turns to the other side, seeing a similar open doorway across from where you are before going to the left. the wall is covered with papers sticking onto the concrete: a large poster of the fabulous four animatronics dominates most of the wall before you move your spotlight to the side, coming across the structured map of the pizzeria. that is until you notice pictures of people right underneath it.

footsteps approaching you as you step closer to the desk, eyes gazing at the fan and old boxy computer desktop that is full of dust. sunoo entered the doorway you came in from before both of you were distracted for a few seconds by the sound of an open door on the other side. seeing the shadow of two people running as carefully as they entered the room. heaves of breath flowing between all of you as you give them a smile when they pull off their masks. yet, your sense still stay at the pictures as you stepped aside.

there are four different pictures in four different forms stuck onto a wall with staplers. shining closely at it, your hand pauses as you let the sound of sunoo explain the theory you two made. you let the flashlight shines on the pictures, colors fading along with the degrading paper. but features are smooth enough that you can examine them clearly. staring at the top of the papers, you identify a recognizable logo and its description.

these are missing person reports from the police. all of them are children.

scanning through the report, all of them has the same information on the last seen part.

‘Last seen at the local Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza.’

your hand reaches to pull them out, eyes looking closely as you can look at the sparks coming from the faulty and near-broken wiring, all connecting to one main switchboard with numerous other switches; divided into left and right for both lights and doors. recalling other than the exterior light, you could remember that the lights flicker back in the bathroom—electricity is still running through the building’s vicinity.

“guys...” you spoke and turn around. their flashlight shines their face ominously until you caught the two faces you hadn’t seen in the past hour. taeyoung has a bandage on his forehead while yuna has watering eyes, guessing it’s from the story that sunoo told them.

“aw (y/n)...” yuna sighed as you see her hand reaching for your bandage one. grimacing at her touch, you find taeyoung letting out a small smile while shaking your arm as carefully as to not hurt you more.

“i’ve told them the summary of our deduction and our idea to set them free.” sunoo said as you stood in front of them who are sitting on the bed.

“and we agree. they’re kids that are treated freaking unfairly by the world and they should deserve a rest. even thinking about it makes me so angry.” taeyoung spoke as you let out a snicker.

“thanks, guys. how did you two even survive in the kitchen, especially if it’s chica’s ‘place’?” you give an air quote.

“chica bangs on the kitchen door so much that we have to push the metal tables to both doors and sat in the middle of the kitchen so it couldn’t step inside. we also have the server hole that we used to peek outside at the animatronics.” yuna answered before noticing the paper you are holding in your other hand.

you give one of them for each of you as you let them read it through. you glance back at sunoo, his eyebrow folded from the information.

“they’re the children that possess this location’s animatronic,” you answered their unspoken question as you read the paper in your hand.

“in my hand is a report about junhao zhong. age 6 when he died. his parents described him as a child who is very active, especially running. the last time they see him, they remember him running around the tables in the dining area.” you read the information as briefly as possible, eyes lingering on the boy’s photo before you face the others.

yuna spoke after you, “her name is hanako yamamoto. she was 9 when she disappeared. in her description, it said that she likes freddy fazbear’s pizza a lot and that she could visit up to 4 or 5 times per week. she has a pretty chubby build to her because she loves eating.”

taeyoung leans his body forward and clears his throat, “this kid’s name is sei lee. she was 8. her parents describe her as a creative kid. likes to sing, likes to dance, likes to draw. one of her favorite past times here is drawing freddy and friends while they are on stage and meeting new friends.”

“and last but not least. we have kit murray. he is 11 when he died, the oldest of the bunch based on what each of you has told me. he is an avid freddy fazbear’s pizza fan. he had nearly all of his birthdays here after he became a big fan. he even spends the day after school here by himself or with his other friends. his favorite was bonnie based on this.” sunoo said as you look between them all, trying to figure out something that is stuck in your mind.

“what did you say about the girl?” you pointed towards yuna.

“hanako likes to eat-“

you snap your fingers as you contain your excitement at figuring something up, pointing towards the paper as you said with gritted teeth, “chica also likes to eat, right? it’s always in the kitchen most of the time.”

“right- wait. oh, shoot!” taeyoung’s face reflects yours as he also does the same gestures right at you.

“the girl is chica!” he exclaimed as quietly as possible as you nod your head. taeyoung seems to shake yuna’s body as he stares at him, speaking with his eyes to her as your mind is running everywhere on this.

“we could figure out which one of them is which...” sunoo cuts in as he stares at yuna’s shaken body by taeyoung before she then replied.

“taeyoung and i have been observing them so we can help with identifying their characteristics.”

“nice!” you emphasize the last syllable as you continue, “okay, about junhao being active-“

“foxy rounds around the room so much. he’s definitely the fox.” yuna jumps in as you see all of them nodding their head.

“now we only have kit and sei...” taeyoung mumbles as you tried to understand as best as you can. you want to assume kit is bonnie but you don’t expect afton will be that caring to have him reserved for his favorite character. your eyes glance at sunoo who is reading kit’s report.

“he’s 11...” he muttered. “and he loves freddy’s fazbear pizza. i’m just shooting it, but based on his age and his love for the franchise, he must’ve had great memories with it.”

“what are you saying, sun?” taeyoung asked, head tilted with curiosity.

“bonnie became aggressive after it looked at (y/n) wearing a bonnie mask. at first, i thought it was because the soul recognized the character masks match the same as who they are now but i was wearing a foxy mask and foxy stared right at me and he didn't become aggressive. it’s definitely more on the soul that is connected to the animatronic, not its system.” sunoo stood up as he turned towards you. you felt something warm on your covered hand as you find his hand in yours.

“11-year-olds are more developed, especially in relating to logic and action. him being the oldest helps because he could’ve figured out that the killer, william, wears a golden bonnie suit, especially since it’s his favorite character.”

“and that’s why he became aggressive when he looked at me. he thought i was him,” you mumbled, your memories return to the encounter you had with the animatronic. the eyes bonnie has: lifeless yet full of rage at the same time. he remembers the character that killed him.

“consensus says yes for kit is bonnie and sei is freddy.” taeyoung said as you all nodded.

“and we’ve seen freddy playing with its music box the whole time so it relates to her creativity too. but the thing is they’re more aggressive now knowing we're here.” yuna’s voice laced with resistance before continuing. “if we don’t act fast, they might actually notice that we’re here. so how can we do that?”

you glance at sunoo, his hand gripping yours carefully yet tight as he seems to understand what you’re guessing about.

“since the animatronics are made of metal and we can’t bury them or let them roam around other people.” you give sunoo’s hand a squeeze with yours.

“our only way to help them is to burn the building...”

05.00

it takes time for such a meticulous plan to be done in such an incomplete situation. and it took more than one hour to make the arrangements. yet, you persist and create the best plan all of you can conduct. you have your phone open as you are ready to click on the group call you are planning. your back against the desk, you gaze at your friends who are packing up their things. your eyes linger on your best friend for a beat too long. he had almost a pout that makes you want to giggle from the cuteness.

“remember, once i turn on the switchboard, the electricity will run to my area. there’s a chance that the animatronics will focus on me especially since i can control everything in the room. you all know your tasks, right?”

a chorus of agreement replies towards you as you gave them a nod before hugging them one by one. you smooth down taeyoung’s bandage on his forehead before giving him a pat on his shoulder as he lets go and leaves first. yuna is next as she hugs you tightly before she left for her task. your eyes landed on sunoo who has a stern facade on his face before it softens.

“you’re okay with leading the ship?” he asked as he reaches for your bandaged hand. the blood that seeps into the fabric has dry with leftover haemoglobins creating a maroon color.

“yeah...” you replied, falling out of your confidence as you stare at him. stepping closer, he interlocks both of your hands in his.

“listen, i-“ sunoo inhales before he continues. “if this doesn’t work or any of us are hurt by what we’re doing. i want to say that i care for you so much you don’t know how much. i was in tears while i was patching you up. you were bleeding so mu-“

you cut him off with a kiss on the corner of his lips, ending his monologue early as you glance back at him. letting go of his hand, you let yours trail up his arms before you held both of his shoulders, firming him up.

“i also care for you more than you think, sun. we’re gonna pin this, okay? it will work. you also plan this with every knowledge you know.” you pat his shoulders as he follows your nodding.

“okay, i’ll hear you on the call?”

“of course...” you replied as he retreated, stepping away to the door you came from as you turn towards the switchboard. the light of your phone screen is turned on and you can see the depleting battery. opening your group chat’s interface, you enter the group call—the only one inside as you waited for the rest to join in.

bracing yourself, you switch the main button on the switchboard and hear the buzzes fading in. the electricity now runs into the security office. the box screen turns on and the camera feeds show up, lights flickering on at the table and in the room, and even the fan turns on as it hums to create a solemn atmosphere if it isn’t for the sound of your friends entering the group call.

your eyes flicker to the screen as you watch the cathode-ray tube materials creating moving images of your locations throughout the night. with the joystick beside the switchboard, half of your screen focuses on one camera feed from the grid—no cameras in the kitchen or the supply closet. the feeds are black and white as you can only distinguish lights, items, and beings between each of the monochromatic spectrum.

“chica’s approaching you, taeyoung.” yuna speaks calmly in your talkie system when you pick up the sound of rummaging layers of walls from you. the sound becomes closer and closer as you turn the switch for the door to your right. it falls on the door frame, creating a thud as you glimpse at the switchboard bar right at the top, showing the amount of electricity left to be used.

pressing carefully on the lights button so you don't run the electricity out, you see chica’s silhouette from the small window by the side of the door. you hold your breath as the dark figure comes closer before it approaches the kitchen door, barging in with a loud noise. you could listen further from the call at the crackling sound of the animatronic trashing the kitchen for more pizza or food. that’s when you glance at one of the stages, seeing foxy’s head peeking out of the curtain.

“sun don’t step out no-“ you exclaimed as the animatronic ran to the side. with your swift reaction, you immediately close the door to your left and open the one on the right. you picked up scratches from the other side of the closed door as foxy shoves his face to the window.

“hi junhao...” you spoke as he pauses, seemingly realizing what you called him. the animatronic face moved back to its menacing phase as he continues staring at you. flickering the lights on the left. you catch him being distracted by the light and you behind the window. the correct moment for you to mumble, “you can move out now, sun. and watch out for bonnie. he’s by the stage.”

“got it...” the boy speaks as you distract foxy more. your sight goes back-to-back from the window and to the screen. in it, you see sunoo’s silhouette walking to the arcade area, ducking by the fallen and standing cabinets.

“i heard freddy’s music box. be careful, yuna!” said the boy as foxy’s moving away from the door, letting you open it to conserve energy. sunoo continues to duck as he looks behind him to meet foxy emerging from the hallway. the animatronic walks in a stance before he pronounces towards the stage, kicking anything that is on its way as it caught bonnie's attention. but not as long as you hope.

staring at the boxy monitor, you focus on the one by the hallway to the reception as freddy walks by the entrance before moving away. movements are there in the shadows. looking closely as you lean your body near the screen, yuna is hiding by the bench and fallen decorations, obscure by the darkness that is so grain-like to your eyes of the camera.

“(y/n), bonnie’s coming!”

you switched on both lights as you couldn’t guess where he comes from. the footsteps are too fade out as you decide to let the door close on both sides. feeling the rising panic internally as you flicker both lights, you jumped as half of bonnie’s body is visible by the window.

“you guys are in position?” you mumbled, focusing on the animatronic before you note the electricity that is depleting quick. a chorus of yes came in when you turn to bonnie once again. yet he stays there, standing idle. you tried to not do anything more on the switchboard other than letting the right door switch on.

“we gonna have to do this fast ‘cause the security office is depleting its energy fast. distract them towards me.”

your statement is then met by the sound of clicks and clanks from your call. on the screen, you look at freddy approaching the main hallway as chica’s laugh is followed—yuna steps out of the shadow as she creates something on the floor. the bear animatronic is approaching you fast as you yelled to get more of their attention; letting your plan go faster. sunoo gives a small glance at the camera he knows you are seeing as your shout makes each of the robot’s dangerous sides show once again.

you let them knock on the steel doors and you can see all your friends doing the plan. yuna is trailing along the papers and boxes she could as sunoo helps her as he pours out something out of one of the gallons that he brought. taeyoung is still not found as you can still hear the rummages in the kitchen.

your finger pads clench against your wounded palm, the pain is the constant reminder for you to stay awake and realistic. the knocking of the metal-on-metal is becoming more and more prominent even louder. you glance at both doors where you find dents forming on the barrier and screeching scratches all made into a cacophony to distract you.

“taeyoung, how are you doing?”

“almost there, don’t worry,” he replied.

yuna went out of the group call along with sunoo as they approach the tables, so your voice doesn’t distract them from doing their part and caught the giant machineries' attention.

“if you’re done, step out of the kitchen by the party rooms.”

taeyoung hums when you watch the energy bar decreases. two bars now becoming one as you are approaching your last 10%. you try not to panic, trusting your friends too much as you close and breathe as best as you can. the punching on the metal and impenetrable glass windows becomes background sound as you see that taeyoung is now outside of the group call from your small peek to your own screen.

your phone is hot in your hands as you turn the call off and pocket it. your backpack sways behind you as you peer at your friends outside from the boxy screen. taeyoung coming out from the kitchen doors farthest from you, a radiant light by him as the grey becomes lighter in the black and white feed. glancing at the electricity, you only have 2%. a few more seconds and your protection will be gone as the door will rise back to its inactive status; wide open.

the animatronic seems to notice it too as the lights inside the security office are flickering and the fan now turning off. each second passes and more electric appliances turn off. the monitor shuts down as you relay every last bit of the electric current so the doors can survive. you can survive.

in the deepest part of your heart, you might actually be ready for this; to succumb with the restaurant.

“HEY!”

a muffled shout pierced through the clanks as you watch them all turn towards the hallway and scurry away. their focus stayed on it as the doors slams up, exposing you. and in a beat, you run to the left side, seeing the emergency exit beside the stage.

heat spreads through the room as the animatronics gather at the center of the room. flame spreading fast as it all lits up any flammable material and substance it has on its way. you listened to harrowing screams coming from the center as the voice box machinery they have burned along with their metal bodies. they scream out of pain as they seem more alive than ever. you fast walk as you look at the abomination. bonnie’s eyes stare at you when you didn’t see any rage inside, but content.

“come on, (y/n)!” someone pulls you by your arm as you turn to face sunoo who is dragging you to the exit that is slowly going into flames. pushing the door open, you were met with the outside air after nearly six hours of staying inside. the sun peeks behind the trees at the east as the flame is ever so close to the door. sunoo pushes a big dumpster outside before you realize it and come to help, putting it to rest by the door as it's going to be harder for something inside to go out.

“the others are by the entrance.” sunoo with energy still going on surging in him, helps drag you as you run past the playground to meet yuna and taeyoung, who finished locking the lock to the main entrance. in the distance, you hear a honk. you all instantly run to it.

you couldn’t be happier to see a car.

“hey, losers! how is it-“ serim voice pitches up as his smug face turns to worry as you all approach the car.

“why is the building on fire-“

“GO NOW!” his little brother said as he sits shotgun. you’re back in your center seat between sunoo and yuna. serim presses down on the gas, the car lurching away as all four of you are panting. your eyes stared at the screen at the front as a radio fm plays an old 80s arena rock song. specifically on the clock at the top corner.

06.00

you felt your weight falling off your shoulders, letting you rest your head against sunoo’s beside yours. your hand in his as he brushes your skin.

“the hell was that? taeyoung?” serim questioned as you drive out of the forest to be met by the asphalt street, approaching society. the sun is now more visible as the car came out of the woods. it shines the new day and a new page for all of you.

yet all of you are too stunned to speak. you specifically can’t. your mind brought you back to the last eye contact you had with bonnie and the one pause you had with foxy when you mention his name. their aggressive machinery seems to cover their pain and sadness, especially with their young ages. but your eye contact with bonnie lingers as you view the content in his eyes. how he now knows what all of you are trying to do. to help them out. to set them free.

“it’s the electricity. the current is still on even with the old and broken cable and it created a fire in one of the rooms.” taeyoung mumbles, saying the explanation that you all suggest if serim or his dad asked what happened to the property. “i know we failed. it’s just getting to danger-“

“nah. i was about to call you to get you out,” serim asked, he glances behind from the rearview mirror. “all of you running to me makes my job easier. i thought all of you guys are asleep somewhere in the corner. and what the heck happened to your forehead?”

“he got hit by one of the doors.” sunoo lays out another lie to help cover it up. “the kitchen door is swingy and heavy even with the dust and trash inside.”

you all let the radio play the music as the car approaches your neighborhood, parking by the block corner that you also went to last midnight. stepping out of the car, you and sunoo let out small “thank you”s to serim and your farewell to your friends as you walk by the sidewalk, hand in hand.

yet your thoughts return to the moments before all of you begin the plan. sunoo’s sudden confession even in front of danger’s door, and you say the same to help him calm down. but you do. you care about him more than friends and you’re willing to try with him.

“we did it, right?” your voice rings between you two as sunoo giggles. you notice more soot and dust on both of his cheeks and how puffy his eyes become because of the lack of sleep.

“yeah... you have a lot of things on your mind...” you can’t help to let out a smile as he sees through you.

“it's... before you drag me away... i saw bonnie looking at me. i thought kit’s gonna attack me before i see his eyes. how at peace he is. how he’s telling me he is okay with his sight...” you watch both of your houses in your sight approaching closer.

“you did right. we all did. we help them rest peacefully.” sunoo reassured you as you approached the window you left. the gap is still there to let him open the window and for you to climb in. the bed is left a mess so that if anyone comes, both of you are still inside. seeing no difference, you let out a sigh as neither of sunoo’s parents seems to check on him before you let out a yawn.

sunoo plops down on his bed after pulling out his shoes as he opens his arm for you. your legs brought you to him as you lay down on the other side, grateful for the soft mattress he has.

“you knew i reciprocate your feelings, right?” eyes glancing at the boy.

he hums before speaking, “do we wanna do something about it?”

“i do but....” yawn came from you. “i need some sleep... and you too. you look so tired.”

he wraps his hand around your wrist before you move to let him hold you more.

“we should discuss after we get our deserving sleep,” he agreed, pulling the duvet so that it covers both of you.

you see the stack of cash on the table after taeyoung pulls it out. divided into four different stacks before he pushes to each three of you.

“thanks for making my brother broke, guys. he couldn’t even go clubbing anymore.” taeyoung said with a smirk on his face.

“anything to help your brother go a step away from alcohol poisoning.” yuna replied as you all giggled. the commotion in the cafeteria hall masked your conversation as all of you swiftly pluck one stack to be put into your bag.

“how’s the cut on your palm, bestie?” yuna nudges your shoulder with her own.

“it’s healing. i didn’t know it was that deep until i realize that it's because of me holding onto the blade while trying not to get my head chomped by bonnie.” you replied, turning it as trivial as ever as you don’t want the weight to get heavier. all of you spend your sunday healing up from the trip at the start of the day. no communication with each other as you tried to cope with each other, but you spend your time with sunoo instead.

it became more like an impromptu date as he asked you if you want lunch outside. knowing the change between you two’s relationship, you agree and you now see sunoo in a different light like he is towards you. locking your fingers seems to be the perfect pda for both of you who are very new to this.

“we shouldn’t ask (y/n) that.” taeyoung retorts. “we should ask about their date yesterday.”

the two giggle as you glance at sunoo who has his signature sassy look.

“it went well for us. we’re taking it real slow now,” sunoo said as you nod your head.

“that’s right. plus y’all have to change your mindset to always be our third and fourth wheels.” it’s now your and sunoo’s turn to snicker as the two jokingly roll their eyes.

the recess progressed as usual with a new light to it. the fact that all of you survive a dangerous situation. older you must think it’s stupid, to get paid for staying in a haunted place for six hours. but those six hours will stick in your mind for a long time now.

you let your eyes focus on your phone as you scroll down something on your timeline. the three’s conversation is becoming background sound that you could understand tiny bits. but your mind immediately mutes it as your eyes read the words that make you stop scrolling.

“guys...” your words cut through to their conversation as they all turn towards you.

“'the cult-favorite local pizzeria, freddy fazbear’s pizza, is planning to make a horror attraction called fazbear frights.’” you read and spoke the headline as you scroll down on the article, letting out a gasp as you continue.

“‘the owners of the attraction have salvaged and searched every remaining franchise to find animatronics for their attraction but only to find them torn apart or destroyed.'”

“that’s why dad is furious yesterday.” taeyoung exclaimed as he looks at all of you. “the fire makes the property cost plummet, especially with the pizzeria intact now burnt. he must’ve known that he could sell it again without cleaning it up.”

all of you hummed as you continue to scroll down and speak, “'fortunately, the owners already have one animatronic in their arsenal. an original animatronic dating back to years of history for the infamous restaurant chain.’”

“what animatronic?” sunoo exclaimed, meeting your stern eyes as you lift it up to look at your friends. your grip on the phone becomes so tight that you sag your shoulders to help you relax. gulping down your saliva, you finally say it.

“a golden bunny animatronic.”

taglist: @endzii23 @camipendragon @hiqhkey @wccycc @cha0thicpisces @y4wnjunz @yeehawnana @beansworldsstuff @kimipxl @reallysmolrenjun @beomgyumineiro

#(📖) ; 2024 reads

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iveil · 2 months

Text

OH GIRL. I'M SPEECHLESS. My heart was COMBUSTING the entire time- Hyunjin is so desperate like DUDE IS LITERALLY UNDER A SPELL- NEVER WAKE UP DUDE. MAKE HER THE HAPPIEST LADY IN THE ENTIRE WORLDDDDD

When he came back about ten minutes later, he was holding a bouquet of daisies in his hand that looked like they were freshly picked. He put them in a bottle to serve as a vase and placed it on the dinner table to serve as a centerpiece. Then he took a singular daisy from the bunch and attached it to your hair.

“For you, darling.”

🫠🫠 It's not like this is new but for some reason this is warming my heart, melting it even. Darling? Darling?! Hyunjin is so deep into this class called "Becoming the best husbando for his wifey".

You offered him a piece of seasoned mussels you prepared as an appetizer, and his lips touched your fingers while trying to eat it from your hands. It was mussels for fuck’s sake, probably the least sexy food to ever exist, but you felt an intense surge of arousal coursing through your body when he refused to break eye contact with you. As if he was doing it… on purpose.

This made me laugh lol. It's just a freaking mussels for god's sake, it's just FOOD. But how could she concentrate on the damn food on her hands when a different kind of food is in front of her LOL? I could feel the tension that my hands are even shaking this bad while writing this reblog lmao.

You tried to pass it as if you were saying a bunch of generic lines, thinking Hyunjin didn’t need to know that these were your genuine feelings. The change in his expression, however, didn’t seem like you were very successful in pretending. Because you said it. You said it for real this time. He didn’t imagine it; he heard you say it. You called him the one thing you were calling him in his dreams night after night, and hearing it spill from your lips with that much affection felt like a gut punch for Hyunjin in the best sense of the word.

OKAY THIS MELTED MY ENTIRE SOUL, HEART, AND BODY. Like I can feel the LOVE in the air, I could even sniff it in my room lmao but that scene of them is just so UGHHHHH. OH MY GOD JUST CONFESS YOUR LOVE FOR EACH OTHER ALRD AND RUN AWAY TOGETHER AT ONCE.

“It depends on the person, but I personally think it’s the best thing,” you answered his question, “It’s important to take your time, but don’t hesitate to get sloppy if you feel like it. This is the only kind of eating where all manners should go out the window.”

You have no idea how this got me covering my mouth so quick LMAO- Right, all forms of manners should get yeeted out of the window. But man. I had to take a look at my surroundings bc of this. This is so- SPEECHLESS.

You caved. Who were you to say no to this absolute young god between your legs, desperately after gratifying you once again? Who the fuck were you to deny him permission to pleasure you out of your mind? You let him. You let him glide his tongue on your clit with more precision this time. You let him spell his name on your slick folds like he was signing a forever-binding contract with no way out. You let him play jump rope with your sanity, switching between reality and afterlife however the fuck he pleased. You watched him taste you like he was starving, but savoring every drop like there would be no more servings. You listened to him whisper sweet nothings into you again. You tugged on his soft hair as you were climbing towards your climax again. You came into his mouth as he slurped on you again.

OKAYYYY?? Didn't know eating like this could turn you into poet of the year, MC is gone GONEEE. Like I find myself reading this paragraph countless of times, it's just so—HOW DO I EVEN EXPLAIN IT? ITS A MASTERPIECE. Like my brain is getting bombarded with all these flashes of images and it's so INTENSE. HELP- SPELLING HIS NAME ON YOUR WHAT- WAIT I NEED TO TAKE A SECOND BC I THINK THIS IS GENIUS-

It couldn’t get any more erotic than this. Hyunjin was listening to every word you uttered so seriously like you were giving him homework, and immediately putting it into practice as if he was trying to prove something to you.

JESUS CHRIST. This is on the next level LOL. Hyunjin is acing this homework.

「Inferno」 · Chapter 5

DAY 15: SHARING ➥ Hyunjin's shell begins to crack, and it starts to scare you.

➥ 5k (~20 min. read)

⚠ — Explicit sexual content (see masterlist for more before reading)

I am willing To forfeit everything To feel your skin On mine again.

“Life is supposed to be shared, my lord,” you spoke to Hyunjin as he was scribbling something in his little notebook on the kitchen table, “Invite your lady for a conversation about your daily affairs and your business. In return, ask her how her day was, and do not settle for ‘Fine’ as an answer.”

You had asked Jaehyun to borrow the kitchen that afternoon so that you could cook some of Hyunjin’s favorites for him. When Hyunjin saw what you were doing, he brought out a handsome bottle of wine from the cellar and suggested having dinner out in the garden. He asked if he could watch you cook, and you agreed.

“Inquire. Make it clear you’re actually interested in the mundane details of her life and that they are not at all mundane to you. Help her, when you can, with her wifely duties. It doesn’t make you any less of a man.”

“How so?”

“Join her in the kitchen, for example,” you playfully smiled and offered him a copper ladle, “Walk her through your day while preparing a meal together.”

“Hang on one second,” he ran through the door that led to the garden and disappeared into the lush greens.

“For you, darling.”

It was such a simple gesture, but the impact it had on you… Your heart didn’t flutter; it freaking combusted in your chest.

“So, how was your day today?”

“Good, I’d say,” Hyunjin grabbed the ladle from you and started stirring the soup, “Preparatory school started today.”

“And what is that exactly?”

“It’s a small program of study you complete before transitioning into college,” he explained, “Father doesn’t want me to continue higher learning, but I’m taking them anyway.”

“That’s quite interesting,” you were genuinely intrigued by his news, “What are you studying?”

“A survey of world literature.”

“Of course, I should have known,” you burst into heartfelt laughter, “Here, try this.”

“This is exquisite,” he finally uttered with a smirk on his face.

It could be either because you used the best ingredients money could buy or because you prepared this table with Hyunjin, but you had the best dinner of your life, talking about this and that, getting tipsy together, and losing the sense of all reality in the meantime. For a second there, it really felt like he was your husband and you were just having dinner after a long, hard day.

What was scarier was the fact that this thought didn’t bother you at all.

“So sharing drinks with my lady is important too, huh?”

“Very much so. It’s one of those things that puts you on equal ground. A sign of mutual respect, if you ask me,” you uttered while carrying the empty plates back to the kitchen, “But it’s not the act of drinking itself. It’s the conversation you share over it that makes it taste so sweet.”

You placed everything in the sink and were about to start doing the dishes when Jaehyun basically chased you away from the kitchen, saying it was outrageous that you would even consider doing it. After a lot of bickering, you raised the white flag and agreed to retreat to your chambers while Hyunjin watched the whole thing in a laughter fit. As you were passing by his room, Hyunjin tugged on the hem of your sleeve to stop you.

“Would it be okay if…”

You looked at his face with an encouraging nod. That combined with the liquid courage he downed glass after glass in the garden with you helped him spill the beans much more easily this time around.

“...if we slept in our bed again?”

“You want to spend the night with me?”

He nodded in response with his eyes on the marble floor as if he were scared to look you in the eye. The rational part of you wanted to refuse since you clearly remembered how much the feeling of longing lingered when he left the next day. On the other hand, the extremely irrational part of you loudly yelled, Well, this is still part of his learning, and you readily accepted it as your excuse.

“Of course,” you smiled at him, “Please bring your nightwear.”

He beamed at you so brightly and dashed into his room to gather his belongings. Shortly after, there he was again. Alone with you in the privacy of four walls.

“What scents do you fancy, my lord?” you asked him as you were walking into the room, which seemed to confuse him a bit.

“Why all of a sudden?”

You reached the edge of the bed as you peeled your cardigan off of you, and placed it on the bench.

“A man and his lady should freshen up for each other before they lay together,” you took two steps towards him, “This is the difference between sleeping next to each other and sleeping together.”

Besides that stolen moment in the bathhouse, and well… your legs a couple of days ago, Hyunjin had never caught a glimpse of your naked skin before. Now both your shoulders were out in the open, begging to be kissed by him, and it took an insane amount of willpower for him to look away as he answered.

“V-Vanilla,” he loudly cleared his throat, “I also enjoy the scent of flowers.”

“Delicate taste of a fine man,” you knowingly smiled at him, “You can change behind the screen. Then come to the lavatory.”

You changed into your nightgown in there and let Hyunjin in once you were done. White looked so good on him. He was in simple nightwear but he still looked ethereal like an angel.

After going through a simple night care routine of brushing your teeth and hair as well as putting on lotion, you brought out a little box from a cabinet and took something that looked like a miniature glass bottle.

“How is this?” you let him smell the essence from the vial.

“Powdery,” Hyunjin observed, “I like it very much.”

“And this is sandalwood,” you brought another vial under his nostrils, “Do you like it?”

“Smells very fresh.”

“It does. Complements your skin very nicely if I might add,” you trickled a couple of drops on his wrist, and the powdery scent on yours, “Now we’re going to rub our wrists together and smear them behind our ears.”

Once you were done, you put the box away and started making your way towards the bed, but that ten-step distance seemed kilometers long to you. Your throat was dry, and you were trying really hard to calm down your heartbeat for fear that Hyunjin could hear it when he lay down next to you.

“Any bedroom sermon I need to know?” he jokingly asked after getting into bed, and you reciprocated his smile.

“Once you lay, don’t forget to shower your lady with love,” you placed your arm under your head while turning to your side, “Kiss her. Embrace her. Don’t go to sleep before telling each other you love each other. A woman in love is the best asset a man can have.”

“You know, I noticed there seems to be a lot of things a man should do,” Hyunjin pointed out, “Shouldn’t a lady do the same things you tell me?

“Fret not. Once you do them, she also will,” you chuckled, “And do iterate you are grateful for each other.”

“How so?”

“Like this,” you proceeded with your demonstration, “I am very grateful to have you in my life, my treasure. You make me appreciate life more. You make me really happy.”

“Now you try,” you attempted to send away the silence trying to lay between you two.

“I am very grateful to have you. In my life. In this bed. Right next to me,” he reached out to hold your hand, “I came to notice the little things in life thanks to your existence, and it makes me very happy. You make me want to better myself for you.”

He wanted to crown the beautiful words that moved you to tears with a kiss, but you stopped him at the last second.

“My lord…”

“Please, darling,” he quietly pleaded, “I want to kiss my wife.”

You let him. You had no choice but to let him. The way he was still a little clumsy with it made you smile into his kiss. Taking courage from you, he smiled back. The way he looked into your eyes that lovingly pierced through your soul, and you had to do your utmost best to stop yourself from crying.

“Is it possible to fall for your spouse after you get married?” he asked while playing with your hair.

“By all means. Love does not have an expiration date, my lord.”

“Please call me by my name,” he appealed, “At least here. In our bed.”

“Love does not have an expiration date, Hyunjin,” you emphatically uttered his name with a smile. He smiled back and kissed your hand.

“I love you, darling.”

You felt like you were falling from a fifty-story building when he said that, knowing damn well that this meant nothing. You quite literally just told him not to go to sleep before telling his lady that he loved her, and he was simply exercising it. There was no meaning behind it. There couldn’t have been. There shouldn’t have been.

Then why did your insides twist and turn when he uttered those three cursed words while looking at you like that?

“I love you, too,” you attempted to say as nonchalantly as you could.

He kissed you again, but the shade of it was quite different this time. The first one was loving. Tender. The next one felt eager. Passionate. Like a magnet pulling you in. As your kiss was deepening, you started touching each other under the covers until Hyunjin abruptly stopped himself.

“Are there… any other ways that I can… I can please my lady without… without…”

“Trespassing?” you cocked a brow, somewhat endeared by the way he put it.

He enthusiastically nodded while still panting, his hands still on your face. You placed a tiny kiss on the tip of his nose before answering.

“Yes, there is.”

“Then teach me,” he eagerly propped up on his elbows.

I shouldn’t have drunk that much tonight, you thought to yourself for there was a huge blank space where your willpower should have been. You found it impossible to say no to Hyunjin.

“I think I should show you something else first,” you guided him to lie on his back. He was keenly watching your every move with curious eyes, anticipating what you were going to do next.

You lifted his top just enough to reveal his chiseled abdomen and started placing little kisses on him. Then you started making your way down. And down. And down. The thin layer of linen covering his body was making his growing bulge much more prominent. He might as well have been fully naked under you since it left very little to the imagination when his cock twitched every time you kissed him. You kissed him over his nightwear bottoms first. Then over his undergarments once you got rid of them. Then directly his skin once you got him completely bare for you from the waist down. Beautiful. Beautiful. He was so freaking beautiful that this should have been considered a fucking crime.

“If you feel like it, it’s okay to use profanities,” you encouraged him, “Your lady would actually appreciate that.”

“W-Why?”

“It’s a sign of extreme arousal,” you made yourself comfortable between his legs, “It means you are so overcome with your desire for her that you are willing to cast all your manners aside and become as primitive as you can be.”

“But I–I can’t.”

“Trust me, you are going to.”

You wrapped your hand around his delicious girth and guided him into your mouth as if you were a marionette controlled by someone else. You were acting on pure instinct with no shred of rationality to be found in a single bone of yours. The moment his cock met the excessive wetness of your mouth, he jerked in his place and sharply inhaled due to intense pleasure.

“Oh, jesus fucking CHRIST, what are you doing to me?!”

“I’m loving you,” you placed his hands on your head to have him guide you, “I’m loving you to death. Control me.”

He could cum to this. He could die to this. Nothing ever felt this consuming, not even what you did to him a couple of days ago in this very bad. Losing all control he had, Hyunjin felt himself spiraling and started to slowly grind against you while moving your head to the same rhythm. The deeper you took him and the wetter you got him, the louder, the more guttural, and the more frequently he moaned under you. It took less than two minutes until he erupted into your mouth, squirting string after string of his cum down your throat.

“Better than your dreams, isn’t it?” you wiped your mouth with a grin on your face, “Nothing compares to the real thing.”

“Teach me how to do this for you.”

“Maybe some other t—”

“No,” he swiftly sat up in his place and held your face between his hands, “Teach me. Right now. I’m willing to do anything.”

Something was burning in his eyes, and it was impossible to go unnoticed. It was a magnificent thing to witness, seeing him transform into a man made of pure desire right before your eyes, but you knew you needed to put it out. Before…

Before anyone got hurt.

“Hyunjin, don—”

“I want to be able to get you to give in to me,” he held your face between his hands, “Comfortably. I want you to feel safe when you do so.”

“You mean, your lady.”

It was only at that moment he noticed the true object of his sentences. It wasn’t the realization that he might be making assumptions about you that embarrassed him, but rather…

It was the discovery of the true object of his affection.

“Yes. My lady,” he gulped and briefly averted his eyes from you, “So teach me.”

You are asking for it, you thought to yourself, It’s beyond my control at this point. You are fucking asking for it!

“Fine,” you complied with his request and lay down next to him. Hyunjin, on the other hand, was simply ecstatic to witness what was about to unfold.

“This is an art, if I may say so. Not many men are skilled at it,” you informed him with a soft voice, “But if you can master this, you will basically own her soul.”

“Own her soul?” he raised his brows, utterly amazed, “Is this better than…? Well, you know.”

You slowly slid your undergarments down your legs and spread your legs for him. Hyunjin gulped very thickly as he watched you and slithered between your legs. The sight itself was so damn overwhelming that it led him to contort his face in absolute delight.

“It’s… It’s so pretty,” he ghosted his hand over your folds, slick with arousal.

You watched him watch you in utter fascination for a moment. Then you watched your own hand reach out to his head and slowly undo the silk ribbon tying his even silkier hair in a half ponytail. It fell down to his shoulders like a crystal clear waterfall. He turned to his side and kissed the hand that set him free.

“This is where I’m most sensitive,” you brushed your thumb on your clit and then ran your fingers through his hair, “You know how you would lick a soft ice cream cone on a hot day to soothe your insides? Lick it just like that.”

Hyunjin felt like he was about to sit for the ultimate test, a rite of passage to manhood so to speak. If he managed to induce in you the intense feeling you just induced in him, if he could prove that he was indeed able to satisfy you, that would maybe change something in you.

And you would stop deflecting things maybe.

He licked a long drag from your entrance up to your clit, smearing your arousal everywhere, and started giving little kitten licks on it first. You were quietly moaning, but moaning nevertheless. It had to be a good sign.

Soft ice cream on a hot day.

A need. There needed to be a need. A desperate one to satisfy a fundamental urge. To relieve yourself.

Ice. Cream. Ice but as a cream.

He closed his plush lips on your clit and started gently sucking on it, and you let out a sharp moan upon the contact.

“Do you like the way I do it?”

Did you like the way he did it? Did you? You gave him one instruction and he was following it to a T like a teacher’s pet. And the fact that he was acing it already? Being nothing less than a star student? This willing to please? This eagerly?

“You’re… You’re fucking amazing, just… How?!”

Hyunjin was so damn proud of the reaction he was able to elicit from you. Even more so that he got you to curse like that. It’s a sign of extreme arousal, you had told him. So he was arousing you. Extremely. Until your eyes rolled back.

“So beautiful,” he pecked your pussy, “So pretty. I will always stay this hungry for you, I promise.”

He switched to licking your clit again, this time swirling his tongue around it. With need. So much need. It was like he was trying to please himself rather than pleasing you. With each circle he drew on you, you were dripping more and more, staining Hyunjin’s chin as well as the sheets under you.

“Like that. Right–right there!” you spread your pussy lips further to give him more access to your clit, “Kiss me. Suck on me until my taste becomes more intense in your mouth.”

Maybe he didn’t need further instructions. Maybe you were going to cum violently to those huge puppy eyes anyway. Maybe he needed to fucking cut it off before you married his fucking pretty face off or something.

“Keep cursing at me,” he whispered against your folds, “It does things to me. God, keep doing it!”

You were so overwhelmed with arousal that you were riding his face by then. Just looking at his perfect lips wrapped around you, kissing you, sucking on you, it was enough to drive you insane. Clinically.

“Fuck, Hyunjin,” you pressed his face deeper into you, “Oh, fuck, fuck, FUCK, RIGHT THERE!!!”

He was losing himself between your legs, eyes closed, kissing you deeply just like he was kissing your lips, hands wrapped around your thighs and squeezing them every once in a while. He was mumbling inaudible things into your soaked cunt and it made you tingle harder.

“I love your skin. I love your scent. I love your taste,” he placed a kiss on your pussy after every sentence like a full stop, “I love you, darling. I love your everything.”

You were dying in his mouth. This was nothing less than a crime of passion, hot-blooded murder solely aimed at ripping your soul out of you.

“You should moan like that for me every night. You should let me love you until you forget who you are,” he wiped his mouth on your thighs, “You should ask me to love you whenever you crave me. I’ll come rushing.”

You were on the ledge, looking down at the cliff you were about to jump into. All you needed was the gentlest push, and he was going to crush you into pieces.

“I’m addicted to you, darling,” he whispered and closed his mouth on your pussy completely.

“Hyunjin!!!”

You violently thrashed under him as your back arched, and he watched you cum like he was witnessing a miracle. He kept kissing your body everywhere until you were able to breathe normally again.

“I want to do it one more time.”

“Y–You don’t have t—”

“I want to,” he insisted, “Again. Please.”

“Again.”

“Hyunjin, I’m– I can’t handl— PLEASE!”

“No, you can. You can,” he wiped his mouth drenched in your cum and tasted you on his fingers, “Say yes. I’m learning here. Say yes to me.”

“Yes,” you grabbed him by his collar and pulled him to your face, “Yes, my treasure.”

Tasting yourself on his tongue had to be the most sensual thing you had ever experienced. It was the passion he was kissing you with that got you so dizzy. The way he touched you, felt you on his fingertips, the way he inhaled your scent and exhaled on your skin, his breath condensing on you like a layer of morning dew…

You were completely drunk on him.

As he was kissing your soul out of you, his hand slithered down to caress your drenched folds, and his fingers were so long that he accidentally stimulated your entrance, causing you to jolt in abrupt pleasure.

“Ah, fuck!”

Hyunjin didn’t expect that at all. It felt like he somehow discovered some uncharted territory.

“Do you… like it?”

You had no idea why you suddenly became so embarrassed considering what he was doing to you for the past hour or so. You silently nodded, hoping he would think the flush on your cheeks was because of arousal rather than bashfulness.

“Is it… Is it okay if—?”

He gently prodded your soaking-wet entrance to ask for permission. You got scared for a second there. If he was able to fly you out of your body with his tongue alone, who the fuck knew what he would do to you if he fingered you at the same time?

“Please?” he kept saying in between his kisses, “Can I please? Please?”

Oh, he knew. He knew you had lost your ability to say no to him when he relentlessly begged for something with those huge eyes. You finally gave in and nodded, and Hyunjin’s excitement hit through the roof.

“Which one?” he showed his fingers to you.

“The middle and ring,” you responded, trying not to die out of mortification.

As he smoothly slipped his fingers inside, he could hear the wet sounds coming from your pussy, and if you thought you were overwhelmed, you could only guess what Hyunjin was feeling.

“Is this okay?” he examined your face to check how he was doing.

“Don’t rush,” you guided him with the minuscule amount of mental faculties you had intact, “Move your fingers in and out. Slowly.”

He did exactly as he was instructed, admiring your pussy and relishing your sounds of pleasure as he kept stimulating you. You were so swollen inside. If you were this tight just around his fingers, who knew how you would feel around his fully hard cock? Would you moan louder? Would you speak obscenities for how overcome you were with desire? Just thinking about how you would struggle to take all of him him forced his salivary glands to work at full capacity.

“Hook them upwards,” you brushed his hair away to see his face better, “Pretend you’re gesturing me to come closer. There is a spongy texture inside me. Find it.”

Give me attention. Tell me what a good job I’m doing. Say how good I’m making you feel. Say it.

While he was busying himself with his quest, all of a sudden you were hit with the realization that you were letting Hyunjin fuck you. He was only using his fingers but he was fucking you nevertheless. When you clenched hard like that, it finally allowed him to spot his target.

“There!” you sat up on your elbows to watch him closely, “Right there! Now focus on it.”

He was scrutinizing every single change in your expression, studying what was making you pant that hard. When he started fingering you a measure faster, you clenched around him. You moaned louder. Your eyes rolled back.

“Do you like this?”

“Oh, I love this! I love the way you pleasure me,” you uttered in an ecstatic voice, “More. Give me more.”

This wasn’t a dream this time around. You said more, and he knew he could give you more. You had drawn the exact path he needed to walk on so that he could crumble you into dust, and he was struck with a terrific idea on how to end this.

“Hyunjin…”

“Say you love me.”

“Hyunjin…”

“Say you love me, darling.”

“I love you,” you tugged on his hair, “I fucking love you. PLEASE!!!”

Oh, the way you said it… A desperate plea asking for mercy. And you meant it. He felt it in his bones that you meant it.

“I love you more, darling.”

He closed his mouth on your pussy and started lapping at your clit so fast that there was no way you could prepare yourself for your doom.

“Hyunjin!!!”

Even when you arched into him, even when you came all over his fingers, even when you collapsed on the bed contracting around him, Hyunjin didn’t stop and kept going with his frantic ministrations. You thought you could endure it, but you became so overstimulated that you were on the brink of sobbing, asking him to stop over and over again, but secretly wishing he never would. When he noticed the change in your reactions, something unfamiliar awakened in him.

He found the idea of you crying extremely arousing in some perverse way. You begging him to stop but only because it was too much pleasure than you could handle?

No pleasure was too much when it came to you.

“Again.”

“Please, I’m begging you,” you wiped the tears out of your eyes as he wiped your cum off his lips, “No more. I really can’t take it.”

He was partly disappointed that he didn’t get to do it again, but he was so content nevertheless. You were glowing because of him, and it was a fascinating thing to witness.

“I can get used to this,” he kissed your lips, “I can do this for you every night before you fall asleep in my arms.”

Your wits snapped back to your brain once he uttered that sentence.

“If you do, you’ll have the happiest marriage in the history of everything,” you played dumb like you didn’t understand exactly what he meant. Hyunjin pulled you into his arms and kissed your hair before drifting off to sleep.

“I love you, my night sky.”

You felt something tingle in your chest as if something sizzling hot splashed on it, but this time, you chose not to dwell on the pain and let yourself be soothed in the comfort of his embrace instead.

“I love you, too, my moon,” you sunk deeper into his chest.

✉ Enjoyed this? Share your thoughts with me! It would also be cool of you to reblog so that my work can reach more people.

#જ⁀➴ library.#rip me 🫶#i need to reread this masterpiece of a chapter as many times as i could bc i have to inject it into my soul #veins and brain cells #the way you write just has this exquisite touch idk how to explain it but like a royalty touch LOL?? its like im reading a premium story-#they feel so alive and vivid too #thank you for the meal lol 🥲🫶#hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin smut #hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #skz x reader #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader

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iveil · 2 months

Text

Been procrastinating the entire day but can't skip a day of my creative readings when it's Ren's masterpieces 🫶

Oh my dear, OH MY GOD- I held my breath for god knows how long LOL 😭😭 MC is so intriguing like girl's so sexy? I mean yes Hyunjin is here but pls she's makes me forgot to blink to the point it got me teary-eyed, good heavens.

But I feel EMBARASSED like it's a different kind of embarrassment- this entire piece feels too intimate even when they haven't go further yet, like i felt like i was being an intruder—invading their privacy LMAO- this is weird.. I haven't read anything yet where it makes me feel like its happening in front of me.

This piece is gonna be the death of me lol 🫶 It's so well-written 🥹🥹 I LOVE ITTT

「Inferno」 · Chapter 4

DAY 12: COMMUNICATION ➥ Some cognac loosens Hyunjin's tongue.

➥ 3.2k (~14 min. read)

⚠ — Guided masturbation (see masterlist for more before reading)

Call me darling again.

Hyunjin was convinced he was going insane.

Ever since he caught a glimpse of you under that bathhouse fog, his mind was infested with the thoughts of you. He was seeing you in his dreams every day and he hated himself for it because they were those demon dreams again. He was doing unspeakable things to you in his subconscious every night, but…

Call me darling again.

You seemed to like it when he touched you. You made delectable sounds of pleasure and pulled him close and kept saying ‘More’. You clearly couldn’t get enough of him as much as he was unable to get enough of you. He wanted that feeling to last forever. Wet. Hot. As irresistible as it could be. The most beautiful temptation.

Call me darling again.

‘Almost there,’ you were saying. ‘Almost there. I love you, my treasure. I want you. Call me darling again. Consume me. Eat me alive. Almost… there!!!’

But every single time, Hyunjin woke up right before he could figure out what ‘Almost there’ was. It was messing with his head big time because he was convinced the reality of the marital bed would be exactly like that. He was feeling too self-conscious about it, maybe irrationally so, but still…

Call me darling again.

He didn’t even know how he got there. He only became aware that he was at your door when he noticed his hand was rolled into a fist to knock on it.

“Yes?”

When Hyunjin peeked inside, he saw you by the little corner of your room again, seemingly waiting for him with a bottle of cognac this time.

“Can I come in?”

“Please, my lord. It’s an honor,” you stood up as he walked towards you, “I think I already know the answer, but still, would you like a drink?”

“Actually, yes. Thank you.”

Surprises. Little ones. Hyunjin seemed to have a lot of those lately. Contrary to his usual aloofness, he seemed almost… nervous that night.

��I recommend a piece of chocolate with this,” you pushed a saucer-like small plate in front of him, “It really elevates the t—”

“I saw you.”

You looked at him slightly confused when he interjected out of nowhere.

“Where, my lord?”

“At the bathhouse,” he spoke examining the patterns on the tablecloth. Looking you in the eye was simply going to cause him to combust, “Doing things… to yourself.”

“Oh.”

You didn’t even know what came over you that night. When he said darling right before he left the house, the tone of his voice, the smile he flashed for you then, the faint glimmer of mischief in his eyes… Something had shifted in you. You couldn’t stop thinking about what other beautiful expressions he was hiding from you the entire day. And when you finally surrendered to a blanket of warm water relaxing you to that extent, Hyunjin’s imagery insisted on clinging to your eyelids and refused to leave.

So you weren’t imagining things when you thought you heard Hyunjin’s voice in the vicinity that night. You wondered how long he was standing there and what exactly he saw.

“Did it… displease you?”

“No.”

“Then why the shadow on your beautiful face, my lord?” you gently touched his cheek, “Why are you frowning?”

He wasn’t frowning per se; this was just how his face manifested the sentiment of burning alive. Even the cold showers he frequently took didn’t seem to put it out. Even the cool evening breezes that brushed his hair were to no avail. He didn’t know himself why he brought it up. It wasn’t like he was expecting anything. In a momentary lapse of sanity, he just blurted out the only thought that occupied his mind as of late.

“Being husband and wife does not automatically grant one the power of reading their spouse’s mind, my lord,” you held his hand over the table, “You shouldn’t assume things. You need to talk to each other, even talk each other through things sometimes, and explore together. Marriage is a neverending journey of learning.”

He finally made eye contact with you, but the meaning hidden in his gaze wasn’t quite discernible. It could be interpreted as many things. A bit of sorrow, longing for something unknown, patches of impatience, and…

“It might be makeshift, but I’m still your wife. You ought to tell me what you desire. Openly.”

“And you are going to do it no questions asked?”

“Of course not. I shall tell you if I have my doubts about it, and you shall respect it, but it’s a two-way street.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning if you have doubts about what I ask of you, I shall respect it, too, and not insist.”

Hyunjin examined your hand on his for some time, then scooted closer to you.

“Then kiss me.”

If a bolt of lightning struck at that very spot at that very moment, it would have still been less shocking for you. The way he said it with so much intention… It painted Hyunjin in a completely different color in your eyes. All of a sudden, he felt ten times more manly than some self-proclaimed neighborhood machos you knew.

“My lord…”

“It’s Hyunjin,” he brushed a piece of your hair behind your ear, “I’m your husband, darling.”

Your heart started beating in your ears when he uttered that word again. You could feel the blood rushing to your face and you wanted to ground to rip open and swallow you whole.

“Kiss me,” he started leaning into your face, “Just once.”

One kiss. It wasn’t like he was asking for something utterly unreasonable. What harm could possibly come out of it, right?

Everything. It could derail every single thing you thought you knew.

When you pressed your lips on his, you could swear you were able to feel his heartbeat within you. Crazy. Rabid. Dangerously escalating. But it wasn’t enough.

You took those perfectly plush pair of flesh in your mouth to feel him more. The more you moved your lips, the deeper he invaded you. You tasted the mixture of cognac and chocolate on his tongue, but Hyunjin tasted better than any alleged aphrodisiac. A natural kisser. A natural lover. Naturally passionate.

“I know your condition was that you wouldn’t lay with me,” he spoke with his eyes closed, “And I am not asking to, but I desire… I so desire to…”

You examined his face to figure out what he was trying to say so that you could help him get it out. He wanted something from you, but he was clearly embarrassed by it. You brazenly uttered the first thing that came to your mind.

“See my womanhood?”

“Not just that.”

He didn’t even hesitate when he said it. Not just that.

Then what the hell else?

Hyunjin poured a glass of cognac for himself and downed it in one go, clinging to the liquid courage to say something before he perished. When his insides burned like that, it allowed him much less space to overthink.

“I desire to watch you,” he confessed as he almost slammed the glass on the table, “Doing what you did the other night.”

You didn’t even know how to properly respond to that for it caught you so off guard. You could dare say no, but he was already stripping you with his eyes anyway.

“In front of you?”

“Yes. As your husband, it is my wish to watch.”

Hyunjin’s sudden audaciousness with his eyes ablaze like that… It didn’t simply arouse you.

It set your soul on fire.

You finished your own glass, and without saying anything, you gently grabbed his hand and stood up, guiding him to the bed with you. Every night you slept there, it felt so extravagantly big, but with Hyunjin right next to you, the size felt just right.

As you leaned against the headboard, Hyunjin crawled towards the middle of the bed and laid down on his side, propping up on his right elbow. You pulled the skirt of your dress up but refused to take your clothes off. Only your legs were naked up to your thighs, and the fabric of your dress was pooling between your legs.

“You can feel me under my skirt if you like.”

Hyunjin had dreamed about this for so long that he was having such a hard time believing this was indeed real. Clothed or not, it was still your most intimate part. Sensitive. Delicate. Probably tasted like heaven. And you were giving him permission to satisfy the maddening itch in his brain.

“R–Really?”

“You are curious, aren’t you?” you brushed his cheeks with your thumb, “Don’t be shy, handsome.”

“You think I’m… handsome?”

“Very much so,” you softly chuckled, “but I am sure you are already aware of this.”

“No woman has ever called me that before.”

“That is just not true!”

“No, really,” he insisted, “I’m not lying.”

“Do you feel uncomfortable when I call you that?”

“No,” a smile threatened to cling to the corners of his mouth, “I–I like it very much.”

“Well, here is a little sermon for you,” you ran your fingers through his hair, “When a husband and wife are being intimate, they should call each other with loving addresses. It’s beautiful and makes the experience much more enjoyable.”

“Can I call you whatever I want?”

“As long as it’s loving,” you slowly reached for his hand and guided it between your thighs under your dress, “Touch. But don’t rush it.”

Hyunjin locked his eyes with you as his hand slowly disappeared under your skirt. He flinched in his place when his fingertips finally met the fabric of your undergarments. It felt warm to the touch. He instinctively started caressing you and while doing so, he noticed something out of the ordinary.

“It’s… getting wet,” he looked at you with inquisitive eyes, “Is that a good thing?”

You nodded.

Hyunjin’s slender fingers brushed against your inner thigh, and he inadvertently started silently groaning.

“Can I kiss this spot?” he very lightly squeezed the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh.

You nodded again.

He lowered himself to be on eye level with your core, still hidden behind your skirt. But your thighs… They were out in the open. To be kissed by him. His thumb was still caressing your pussy over your undergarments, staining the fabric more and more with the slick you were secreting. When he finally pressed his lips on your skin, it felt so electric that you jolted in your place.

“Darling,” he whispered against you, “Darling, you are… you are so…”

Kisses. Many of them. On your thighs. On your legs. Continuous friction on your pussy no matter how masked. You closed your eyes and started moaning.

“Does it feel good when I move my hand like that?”

“Mhm,” you contently sighed, “It feels just like the way you feel when you pleasure yourself.”

Hyunjin was flushed from head to toe already watching you from that up close, but your words somehow darkened the blush on his cheeks even more. You stopped his ministrations when he didn’t react and leaned into his face instead.

“You do pleasure yourself, right handsome?”

By then, you knew exactly what it meant when Hyunjin kept his silence. You held the hand he was caressing you with and brought it to your lips.

“When you are away from your lady, you might feel these urges creeping in. You have to know how to take care of yourself so that you won’t fall victim to temptation. Fidelity is one of the utmost virtues of a true man.”

You pecked the fingers he was rubbing you with and then stole another kiss from his full lips. You looked right into his eyes when you asked the question that nudged him towards insanity a bit more.

“Would you like me to teach you?”

It was obvious how he was dying to say yes, but he was simply unable to utter that hardest fucking syllable of the language. You stroked his cheek with the back of your fingers and gave him an easy way out.

“Kiss me if you want me to.”

Immediately. With no hesitation. Yes, that kiss pleaded. Yes. A thousand times yes.

“You can ask your lady to do this for you, too,” you pulled him towards the headboard, “It is not solely to be enjoyed when you are alone.”

You started to leisurely unbutton his shirt. It was actually kind of cute how nervous he seemed.

“It’s okay,” you reassured him with a soothing voice, “It’s just you and me. There is nothing to be ashamed of.”

You peeled the silk layer that hid him from you and what you saw was utterly mesmerizing even under those flickering candlelights. You gently pushed his chest for him to lay down, and Hyunjin was unable to look away from you the entire time as if he was hypnotized. You proceeded to take his trousers off, and soon enough, he was bare for you. In all his glory. Impossibly gorgeous.

“Don’t be embarrassed. I feel very privileged to see you like this,” you smiled at him, “Did you know you are beyond beautiful?”

“Did you know beauty is in the eyes of the beholder?” Hyunjin placed a kiss on your hand. You couldn’t help the giggle you let out.

“Now close your eyes. Get comfortable,” you instructed him, “Do you happen to think about impure things every once in a while?”

“I–I know I shouldn’t but—”

“It’s okay. We are not fully in control of our thoughts, after all. They might occasionally pop into your mind,” you spoke almost in a whisper, “You will need those when you are by yourself anyway.”

You took his hand and wrapped it around his girth, demonstrating a rhythmic motion to repeat.

“Caress yourself,” you laid down next to him and started speaking into his ear, “Now tell me. What are you thinking about?”

Hyunjin’s breathing started getting heavier when you came that close. He wasn’t in pain, but those moans were just forcing themselves out of him. It felt strange. A nice kind of strange. Addictive almost.

“I think about… about you.”

“About me?”

“Yes.”

“How so?”

You lightly squeezed him over his hand, urging him to do the same every once in a while. His precum had pooled around his slit so densely that one drop of it trickled down his length like an ice-filled glass sweating under a hot summer day.

“Your–Your silhouette…” he gulped thickly, “At the bathhouse.”

“Only that?” you pressed him for more details, “Don’t you ever think about doing things to me?”

Hyunjin was dying of embarrassment, but it felt incredibly good at the same time. His cheeks were flushed pink in a shade very close to the tip of his cock, and beads of sweat started appearing on his forehead.

“In my… dreams.”

“Do you see me in your dreams?”

“Yes.”

“What am I doing in your dreams?”

When you started stroking him faster, Hyunjin’s moans became louder. His chest was heaving much more frequently and you could see how tightened his balls were already.

“More,” he panted, “You say more to me.”

“Are you fucking me in your dreams?”

Shameless. You were absolutely shameless for wording it that way. Hyunjin had never heard this word uttered before, much less from a lady, and you were whispering it right into his ear like you wanted to murder him in cold blood.

“Yes!” he squeezed his eyes tighter as if he was in pain, “And it feels… it feels too good, but I can’t… I can never…”

Any skin-to-skin contact with you was already enough to blow his fucking mind, but when your fingers were wrapped around Hyunjin’s like that, guiding him, showing him what self-release looked like, of course it would cause him to rethink his entire existence. Of course it would make him want to commit fucking suicide in your hands.

“Why… Why does it feel—?”

“Tell me, gorgeous. What does it feel like?” you kissed his temple.

“I’m so lightheaded. I think… I think I’m going to faint.”

“No, you won’t. You are going to climax,” you smiled when his breathing got even more labored, “But not right away. Control it. Relish this feeling.”

You slowed his rhythm way down so that he could calm down a little. When his breathing became somewhat stable, you picked it up where you left off.

“The more you prolong it, the better it will feel,” you caressed his hair with your other hand, “You are doing great. You are doing perfect, gorgeous. A little more now.”

“Kiss me, darling,” he begged desperately almost like a prayer, “For the love of god, I’m so overwhelmed, please kiss me!”

You kissed him, but you weren’t about to give him everything at once. Every time you took his lips between yours, you slowed him down and only started stroking him again when you moved away.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

And finally, fucking finally you were able to see his true colors after edging him for that long. Hyunjin was clawing the bedsheets, on the brink of ripping them to pieces out of sheer frustration, and you couldn’t bring yourself to torture this beautiful man any longer.

“I will finish you now, okay?” you informed him with a calm voice that was the complete opposite of your fervent ministrations, “Always ask if you can ejaculate on your lady. It’s only polite. Show her how much you need her. Ask for mercy. It will elicit a definite yes if you plead.”

“Please,” Hyunjin snapped his eyes open and held onto you like he was holding on for dear life, “Please can I… God, PLEASE!!!”

“Yes,” you whispered into his ear, “A hundred times, a thousand times, yes.”

You swiftly made your way down on a whim and shoved his painfully hard cock down your throat. The second your tongue swiped against his skin, Hyunjin came so hard that he was almost knocked out of consciousness. You let him. You let him unload into your mouth as much as he wanted. You let him ride out the highest waves of pleasure, relishing his salty taste on your tongue all the while.

“Can I… I want to– for… for you.”

“Sleep now,” you placed a kiss on the crown of his head, “Maybe some other time.”

As you attempted to get up from the bed, Hyunjin mustered all the remaining strength left in his body and pulled you into his embrace.

“Into me.”

You let him. You let him hug you with his chest flush against your back and bury his face in the crook of your neck. You let him wrap his arms around your waist. You let him sleep on this bed with you that night.

“Good night, my night sky,” he sleepily mumbled into your ear.

You felt something tingle in your chest as if something sizzling hot splashed on it. A part of you felt joy, a part of you felt at peace, but another and much bigger part of you was incredibly confused. Almost guilty. Way to refuse to lay with him.

How fucking weak could you get? you castigated yourself.

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iveil · 2 months

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Please when Hyunjin calls her darling, my heart were electrocuted as well. I'm swooning over them two, they're soooo cute!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

「Inferno」 · Chapter 3

DAY 8: SHARING ➥ Hyunjin's intentions are nothing but pure, but hearing you moan his name turns his entire world upside down.

➥ 1.4k (~6 min. read)

⚠ — Voyeurism (see masterlist for more before reading)

As the hour was nearing closer to dusk, you and Hyunjin were in the garden, accompanied by some cricket song and the scent of summer air enveloping you. You were sitting in silence, but not an awkward one this time—you were cross-stitching while Hyunjin was scribbling some things in that little notebook of his right next to you on that bench. When you looked up, you noticed his brows were creased as if he was having a staring contest with the page in front of him.

“What is it that you’re thinking about so deeply, my lord?”

“I can’t find a word that rhymes with orange,” he kept tapping his fountain pen on his notebook, “Maybe there isn’t any.”

You scanned your memory to aid him in his quest and blurted out without thinking.

“Porridge, storage, courage, hemorrhage…”

Hyunjin looked at you all dumbfounded as he was racking his brain out for the past ten minutes just to produce absolutely nothing.

“Just how can you come up with rhymes this quickly?!”

“I was told you are very fond of the art of poetry, so I have been studying a dictionary.”

For the first time ever since you met him, you noticed some softness in Hyunjin’s eyes. His usually sharp features were all relaxed while looking at you.

“For–For me?”

“Why, yes. We ought to take an interest in what makes the other happy.”

He jotted down the words you just uttered, and asked somewhat apprehensively.

“Do you have something like that?”

“Like what, my lord?”

“A craft. Or something you are… fond of.”

“I am very fond of cross-stitching,” you showed him the hoop in your hand, “In case it wasn’t obvious.”

“Ah, of course,” he chuckled sheepishly while scratching his nape, then attempted to change the subject, “Are you not going to give me the advice of the day?”

“Did you mean sermon by any chance?”

His expression suddenly fell. You didn’t mean to aggrieve him; you genuinely wanted to poke fun at the incident to convey that it was now a laughing matter for you. That all was forgiven. Hyunjin managed to surprise you once again, yet quite pleasantly this time around.

“I wholeheartedly apologize for my behavior back then. That was…” he was clearly struggling to find the words, “That did not suit me at all.”

“It’s fine,” you squeezed his hand over the table, “I mean it. Water under the bridge.”

He smiled in relief. If smiling suited one person in the entire world, that would be Hyunjin. Even when it was dark, he somehow managed to brighten up the entire place with those dimples of his, which were only visible when he smiled from the heart.

“So?” he looked at you with big eyes, “What does a true man do for his lady?”

You inadvertently chortled at the way he was looking at you so innocently as if he was a puppy asking for forgiveness for the mess it caused.

“A true man isn’t afraid to please his lady. In every way he can,” you told him while busying yourself with your embroidery, “You should regale her. Humor her. Make her smile. Disgracefully laugh even. Using terms of endearment for her would be the first step.”

A shadow passed through Hyunjin’s face all of a sudden. He scooted closer to you, and to your complete astonishment, held your hands in his.

“Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?”

You didn’t understand where that was coming from as you had just told him everything was fine between you.

“I told you, my lord, it’s water under th—”

“Not–Not for that,” he shook his head, “I never asked you your name.”

His eyes… You had never seen his beautiful doe eyes this remorseful. Your heart sizzled in your chest, and it hurt so much that it would have been preferable if someone poured boiling hot oil over it instead.

“You can call me whatever you wish, my lord.”

He smiled to himself somewhat abashed. Then he momentarily checked his pocket watch and immediately jumped to his feet in panic.

“Going out again?”

“It’s–It’s not… It’s not that I want to go. I just… I have a prearranged commitment. I’m supposed to meet my friends today. We had promised that—”

“It’s okay,” you reassured him, “I hope you have a pleasant evening.”

While he was making his way inside, Hyunjin stopped dead in his tracks and turned around at the last second.

“Thank you, darling.”

To say that you were electrocuted would be a massive understatement. Not only was it completely startling, but at the same time… You felt something in your heart that was desperately trying to fly. You didn’t know for how long you stayed on that bench after your makeshift husband left.

On his way to meet his friends, Hyunjin caught a glimpse of something colorful at some haberdasher. Without giving it much thought, he walked in and bought a bunch of floss in different colors. Teals, baby pinks, pastel blues… Quite happy with his purchase, he headed to the downtown tavern, whistling along the way.

Man did he get drunk that night. Rather than trying to drink his troubles away, he got the pleasant kind of intoxicated for once. Laughter, friendly banter, an overall good time that catalyzed his cheery haze.

He knew how drunk he was when he returned home, but he still wanted to give you the floss before collapsing on his bed. Although it was pretty late, on his way inside he noticed the dim lights coming from the bathhouse. It was a pretty peculiar incident as no one in this house bathed at this hour. Succumbing to his curiosity, his feet dragged him towards the window adorned with the brightest candle lights.

And when he peeked inside, Hyunjin was a changed man.

The bathhouse was basically a heated indoor pool. There was a lot of vapor inside fogging the scene, but he was still able to discern that it was you. Completely naked and submerged under the warm water.

The only naked body he had seen until that day was his own. Now that he was in the presence of yours, it was simply…

Beautiful.

Your head was resting against the edge of the bath, and your eyes were closed. You seemed to be breathing heavily for some reason. Were you in distress? Did you need some help by any chance?

“Hyunjin…”

Did he hear that correctly? That couldn’t possibly be true. He must have been so drunk that he was hearing things, right?

Right?!!

“Hyunjin, please…”

No, it wasn’t a coincidence. You said it again. All of a sudden, he felt himself get uncomfortably hard under his slacks. He unfortunately knew how good it was going to feel if he touched himself, but he couldn’t abuse his body. He wasn’t supposed to. It was a sin. It was the impure thoughts in his head and the lust in his heart that was the sin.

“Touch me, Hyunjin,” your voice reverberated through the hall, “Call me darling again.”

Touching you. Like he did that day. Would that cause the same tremors in you as he felt under you? If he touched you, would you feel like you were dying, too? Would you… Would you be willing to commit unspeakable sins with him? Because he was more than willing to knock on hell’s door with you.

But…

You were his wife for an entire month, weren’t you? Which meant… which meant if he acted on lust, it wasn’t going to be—

“Oh, god, Hyunjin!!!”

He couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help his body folding in half when you moaned his name like that. Untouched. He couldn’t help the groan that escaped his throat, either, which instantaneously alerted you.

“Hello?”

He ducked under the window and bolted towards his room, trying to camouflage himself between the trees and bushes. His heart was about to burst through his ribcage when he finally threw himself into the safety of his room.

When you looked towards the window, on the other hand, there was no one, but that sound that caressed your eardrums just now was eerily reminiscent of the young lord’s voice.

Hyunjin never knew it was possible to see a demon dream while wide awake, but from that moment on, he was painfully aware of how much trouble he was in.

It was going to be simply impossible not to have a violent visceral reaction just to hear your beautiful voice uttering his name.

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iveil · 2 months

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Oh wow—i'm shocked 😭😭 That escalated so quick I covered my mouth lol.

「Inferno」 · Chapter 2

DAY 3: RESPECT ➥ The wrong choice of word leads to tensions escalating even more.

➥ 1.1k (~5 min. read)

⚠ — Mild violence (see masterlist for more before reading)

When Hyunjin arrived at your room that evening, you welcomed him with a little dinner table you prepared in the corner, which harbored wine, some meat dishes you personally grilled as well as some fruits for dessert.

“Would you like a glass, my lord?” you asked him as you reached for the wine bottle.

“No, thank you.”

Upon his direct refusal, you dodged his glass and proceeded to pour some for yourself. You both ate in silence for some time and at long last, you reached for the lute that was lying right beside you.

“What are you doing?” Hyunjin asked as if you were about to do something completely heinous.

“Entertaining you?” you put the instrument back down since he looked like he was getting upset over it for no reason, “I thought you would like it.”

“Why would you assume such a thing?”

“I heard that you enjoy listening to lute pieces, my lord.”

The only person who knew Hyunjin’s fondness for lute besides his parents was Jaehyun. So you were asking about him, huh? Why? Why was it so important for you to entertain him? Didn’t you have anything better to do? Did his mother put you up to this?

How long were you going to pretend you cared about him for the sake of money, huh?

“Your lady has it tough,” you smiled at him warmly, “I hope you won’t be sulking this much when you’re with her.”

“I doubt they will be locking us in a room like this,” he retorted.

“I doubt there will be any need to do such a thing where there is love.”

“Love?” Hyunjin scoffed, incredulous, “You think I’m getting married because of love?”

“Why, of course,” you shrugged, not even following why he was speaking to you in that sarcastic tone, “How do you hope to start a family without love?”

While you were refreshing your own glass, Hyunjin sneakily pushed his glass towards you, silently asking you to pour wine for him, as well. You obliged. As you took a big sip from the mildly sour liquid, you were hit with an unexpected question.

“Have you ever fallen in love?”

You momentarily froze. Why this all of a sudden? It was irrelevant to quite literally anything. What was he going to do with that answer anyway? Why would he st—?

“A woman who is not in love would not make a good wife,” you spoke while serving him his drink, “but it is the man who must provide this to her.”

“So I should force her to fall in love with me?” he mockingly questioned.

“A woman is ready to fall in love, my lord,” you calmly continued, “You just need to—”

“I didn’t ask that,” Hyunjin interrupted shaking his head impatiently, “Have you ever fallen in love?”

You reflected his usual irritated gaze back at him several times more intensely and almost spat your answer.

“Yes, I have,” you exhaled through your nose deeply, trying really hard to bite your tongue and change the subject, “A true man should be able to recognize the true beauty in his woman. Looks are ephemeral but the soul is permanent.”

“You deliver a lot of sermons for a prostitute, you know?”

SMACK!

You slapped him on the face so hard that you could see the exact shape of your palm blaring bright red on his skin.

“THAT’S WHAT YOU THINK I AM?!”

You grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and threw him on the bed you were supposed to share all along, straddling him over his slacks immediately after. You ripped off the first three buttons of your blue dress to put your breasts on display and started dry-humping him out of pure rage.

“Look at a prostitute’s tits then. LOOK AT IT!” you grabbed his hands and pressed them on your hips, “It’s just a pound of flesh to you, isn’t it? There is NOTHING you can learn from a woman. We are only CUMDUMPS for you!”

As Hyunjin instinctively sank his fingertips over your clothed but still very much supple skin, a violent tremor spread throughout his body as well as excessive wetness between his legs accompanying a loud groan that ripped from his throat. It was quite different than what he had experienced in his demon dreams. This felt like a sneeze, only a million times better. Then his brain reset for some reason.

“Do not ever insult me like that again,” you hissed once you were convinced he came to his senses, “Now go wash yourself. You’re going to have to learn how to control your seed on your wedding night, brat.”

SMACK!

Hyunjin had absolutely no idea where that came from. He was so shocked at himself that it was as if he got out of his own body and just watched himself do it with no control over his willpower whatsoever. He had never been a violent person but… But…

“Good. You’re finally learning to become a man,” you pressed your cold hand on your cheek to soothe the burn his fingers left on your skin, a crooked smile refusing to leave your lips, “Thank you, my lord.”

You were about to leave the room to head towards the garden when you noticed Byeol right by the door, listening to the entire thing go down.

“What in the world is happening here?”

“I’m teaching your self-righteous son how to ride a goddamn horse!” you gritted your teeth, “He has to fall down a couple of times to learn it properly.”

“What kind of horrendous language is this?!”

“Oh, was that too peasant-like for you, my lady?” you scoffed, “I’m trying to make a man out of a boy here. You either let me do my job, or we go our separate ways by the morning. I don’t give two shits about the aftermath.”

“Let’s… Let’s just all calm down,” Byeol tried to assuage the intense tension while Hyunjin just left the premises crying out of sheer fury. On top of everything you had just said, he absolutely despised himself for what he did to you. He walked and walked in the empty streets, drowning in his thoughts for god knows how long. Questioning, cursing, begging, praying…

A little past midnight, when you heard some footsteps in the marble hallway, you walked out of your room in your nightgown. In that dark corridor only illuminated by candles, you saw Hyunjin’s beautiful features stained with several liters of tears, and it broke your heart into a million pieces. As he stayed put in his place, looking at you as if he was paralyzed, you slowly approached him and put your hand on his cheek.

“Don’t sulk. Don’t resent me. There is nothing to be embarrassed about,” you wiped away his tears with your thumbs, “Let’s forget about all this and start over, shall we?”

You placed a chaste kiss in the exact spot you hurt him several hours ago as though you were trying to clean a wound.

“Good night, Hyunjin.”

You retreated to your room, but Hyunjin stayed in that hallway for a little while longer, touching the brand-new new page your lips just turned on his skin.

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iveil · 2 months

Text

AAHHH THE TENSION BETWEEN THEM 🥹🥹

「Inferno」 · Chapter 1

DAY 1: RESPECT ➥ Hyunjin is forced to spend some time with his 'master', and it doesn't seem likely he will get used to this any time soon.

➥ 1.2k (~5 min. read)

⚠ — No major warnings apply (see masterlist for more before reading)

Knock, knock, knock.

“Yes?”

You thought it was the head housekeeper checking to see if you needed anything, or maybe Bora delivering some news, or even the lead singer of the tavern downtown asking your hand in marriage, but you most certainly did not expect to see Hyunjin.

“Mother says I am to spend time with you this evening,” he uttered with that blizzard voice of his.

“Please sit, my lord.”

Hyunjin was dying the slowest death by mortification and found this whole thing outrageous as hell, but there was nothing he could do about it. He made his way to the sofa diagonal to you and sat down.

“Are you hungry?”

“No,” he curtly replied without looking at you.

Upon his response, you didn’t speak for some time. The tension in the room became so palpable that Hyunjin instinctively jumped to his feet and started pacing in the room like a caged animal.

“Why are you even doing this?” he raised his voice, “Don’t you have any self-respect?”

“What part of what I do is indicative of a lack of self-respect? I’m here to teach you about marital practices for your approaching union, my lord,” you responded calmly, but your voice morphed into something dangerous in the second part of your answer, “And don’t you dare insult what I do.”

Not being used to a woman talking to him with that kind of firm voice, Hyunjin decided to take a step back and sit back down.

“What are we supposed to do here then?”

“We are supposed to converse,” you smiled at him, “Could you put that needle on this tray please?”

Hyunjin did as told, and you reached for the tray to pick up the needle. He was quite confused by the two-step action.

“Why didn’t you just ask me to hand it to you?”

“It’s an old superstition. Rumor has it people exchanging sharp objects with each other have terrible fights,” you tied the floss to the needle, “What do you think respect is, my lord?”

No one had ever asked Hyunjin such an abstract question before. He took a couple of moments to think about it carefully.

“Honor. And care. For people or things you consider important,” he answered quite seriously, “If you respect something, you should not attempt to change it, nor should you harm it.”

“Very true. A lady is to respect her man beyond all else. In return, a man is never to deny his lady’s worth. You should always appreciate and put each other first,” then you looked up to establish eye contact with him with double the emphasis on your words, “Should you fail, she will find a man who knows her true worth.”

“Says who?”

“Says your ancestors. It’s cumulative knowledge distilled from many many experiences.”

“I thought my ancestors said men were superior to women.”

“With all due respect, I refuse to believe your ancestors were of Barbarian descent.”

Hyunjin didn’t know what to expect from you, but he knew what not to expect. This. A clear display of wit and intelligence, refusing to retreat to your corner even when talking to someone of higher class.

And he found that… oddly charming about you.

“I’m afraid I don’t believe in things I don’t have clear references of.”

“Yet you are a man of God, aren’t you, my lord?”

He felt like he was shocked from head to toe upon hearing those words. Hearsay was something, but faith was something else entirely.

“That’s not up for discussion,” his voice was clearly symptomatic of acute irritation.

“I’m not discussing it. I’m merely stating a fact,” you spoke, annoyingly serene, “You do believe in God, don’t you?”

He jumped to his feet again, afraid he would do or say something he was going to regret if he spent any more time in this room.

“I’m leaving.”

“Where are you going?”

“Out!”

He harshly closed the door behind him and threw himself into the garden to calm down next to the fountain. As he was trying to appease the burst of emotions that came out of nowhere, a figure approached closer.

“Hello, Hyunjin,” Yeji sat down next to him.

Hyunjin cursed a mouthful at the circumstances he was under. If only they were different… He wasn’t even able to talk to the one person he wanted to talk to the most.

“I assume you heard the news?” she asked with a coy smile.

“Yes,” he responded in resignation, “They even announced it in the society papers.”

The two sat there quietly for some time as neither of them knew what to say. Their whole lives were supposed to drastically change in less time than a human being was allowed to be born.

“You look sullen,” Yeji finally broke the silence, “Why?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Are you upset that we’re going to get married?”

“Aren’t you?” Hyunjin finally turned to her, “For crying out loud, Yeji, we’ve been friends forever.”

“Isn’t it better than marrying a complete stranger?”

Well… Maybe. It could be. If getting married was on anybody’s radar in the first place. While the premise of wedding someone you knew seemed logical, the fact that it had to be a person you were this close to… That you were fond of in the most innocent sense of the word… That you were forced to see in another light that was impossible for you to see…

Hyunjin was sure he was going to go insane within the month over how much he was thinking about these things.

“Say, who’s that woman at your house?” Yeji hesitantly asked.

“Mother took in a maid,” Hyunjin looked into the distance as he answered, “She’s not of good health lately.”

“She doesn’t seem like a maid to me, Hyunjin.”

“What else would she be?”

Yeji was pretty restless, but she didn’t know how to word her concerns properly in a way that wouldn’t come across as offensive. One month prior to their scheduled wedding, and all of a sudden Gyeonggi Hwangs took in another maid? That alluring for that matter?

“I–I don’t know,” she shrugged, “You already have Jaehyun, and uh… She seems older than you.”

“She is.”

“And she’s beautiful.”

“What’s your point, Yeji?”

Hyunjin was clearly getting more annoyed with this interrogation that didn’t seem to incorporate any questions. Yeji opted for keeping her silence in order not to irritate her friend-turned-fiancé any longer.

“N–Nothing,” she stood up and gently squeezed Hyunjin’s shoulder with a forced smile, “I hope to see you around.”

As Yeji disappeared into the distance, Hyunjin got lost in his thoughts once again. A woman older than him, but by what? She must have been in her late twenties or something. She was indeed beautiful. Calm. Composed. Seemed to be skilled in holding a conversation. You were going to be living under this roof for the following month, yet Hyunjin couldn’t even be bothered to learn your name when none of this was your fault.

Who were you really?

✉ Enjoyed this? Share your thoughts with me! It would also be cool of you to reblog so that my work can reach more people.

#જ⁀➴ library.#hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin smut #hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #skz x reader

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iveil · 2 months

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Ah, I love Hyunjin and his character already 🥲 As always, your writing is the very best. You're the only writer who can make me read a fic about a group I don't actively stan. This isn't even a fic, this is a masterpiece <3

"This is what's it supposed to be like," he quietly mumbled to himself, "In love."

The part where Hyunjin sees the bride and groom, and says these words actually gives me so much goosebumps that I paused for a moment from reading it and still is as I'm writing this reblog. I may have resonated with him so deeply in this part, but it's simply amazing how you can write such a concise yet impactful scene!

Long for the moment

their souls blend in a whisper

these doting lovers.

What can I say, this haiku is so perfect that it gives me such a vivid imaginations of lovers. You never disappoint! This entire episode is so well-written, I can't wait to read the next chapter and meet our MC!

Thank you for writing such an amazing and fascinating story, Ren 🫶🏻

「Inferno」 · Prologue

GATES OF HELL ➥ On the eve of his eighteenth birthday, Hyunjin receives news from his parents that will turn his entire life upside down.

➥ 3.6k (~15 min. read)

⚠ — Discussions of arranged marriage at an early age (see masterlist for more before reading)

Faith.

Have faith, they said. Have faith that everything is going to work out in the end.

If it was up to Hyunjin he wouldn’t be attending a Catholic school, not that he had anything against it, but he would much rather lose himself in the arms of literature. There were times he would be simultaneously fascinated and repulsed by the things he read. Some pieces he got caught reading were considered so outrageous that he got himself detention after detention, enraging his parents to no end. What on earth was he doing reading these blasphemies? The only thing he needed to read, repeatedly for that matter, was the Bible. End of story.

Hyunjin didn’t need to be one of those adults to deduce that this was as hypocritical as it could get. He was taught not to act on lust—ergo, it shouldn’t have been a problem if he was solely reading about it. Yet, did all that chastising stop him from seeking more springs to satisfy his curiosity?

No.

Because if you deny a person something, that’s going to be the only thing they are going to crave.

Hyunjin went ahead and bought a tiny notebook for himself along with an ornate fountain pen and started spitting words on it in absolute secrecy whenever the urge hit. The only person who knew about it was his best friend Yeji, the daughter of the Hwangs’ closest family friends, but not even she was allowed to take a peek. No one was to read his lines. No one was to call him a sinner based on fucking poetry since whatever happened between his God and him was not up for discussion. She, with capital S, knew his true intentions. She knew Hyunjin would never do something against Her wishes in practice. She would see no harm in this young soul seeking to scratch an itch through words only since that was all he was trying to do.

Nevertheless, he couldn’t help wishing that maybe he could one day move people through his lines. Not the most private ones, but… At least some of it. Under a pseudonym maybe. Some day. In an unknown future. Or an alternate reality.

Because his future was pretty much decided for him already.

Hwang Sungjin was a reputable bespoke tailor whereas Hwang Taeji owned several establishments that sold textile goods, which was what forged their friendship in the first place all those years ago. Since they coincidentally shared the same last name, the town differentiated these families by their ancestral hometowns as Gyeonggi Hwangs and Jeolla Hwangs respectively. With Sungjin and Taeji being this close, their only children naturally grew up together and ended up being best friends. Yet it was sort of an unspoken agreement between the families that once Hyunjin and Yeji turned of age, they would marry each other. Hyunjin would take over both businesses, and Yeji would be the mother of the third-generation Hwang offspring.

“Give me my notebook back, Yeji!”

Yet, this scenario that took place in a very much adult context seemed unlikely from time to time. Watching their almost-of-age children chase each other in the huge garden like two kids, the mothers contorted their faces in slight disapproval while sipping on their Earl Grey tea.

“Catch me if you can, Hyunjin!”

“GIVE IT BACK!!!”

“Maybe we should send them back to kindergarten instead. Good Lord,” Byeol sighed as she watched her son run after a notebook.

After their guests left that day, the husband and wife sat their son down to finally break some news to him.

“Listen, Hyunjin, you’re about to turn eighteen, but you’re still… a boy,” Byeol spoke with worry in her voice, “That’s not a very desirable quality in a prospective husband.”

“Prospective… husband?” Hyunjin looked at his mother all confused, “What’s that supposed to mean, Mother?”

“It means you need to become a man already,” Sungjin declared with a firm voice, “You are soon to take Yeji as your wife.”

Hyunjin’s eyes widened in shock, completely incredulous of the words that came out of his father’s mouth.

“I beg your pardon?!”

“I don’t think I stuttered, son.”

“Father, are you hearing yourself? Yeji is like a sister to me!” Hyunjin instinctively jumped to his feet.

“I didn’t realize I offered choices for His Excellency,” Sungjin retorted and grabbed the little notebook Hyunjin was squeezing, “And you are to stop with these frivolous indulgences. You are the heir to both thrones, Hyunjin. It’s high time you acted like one.”

Seething in his frustration, Hyunjin bit his tongue in the literal sense of the word and extended his hand to ask for his notebook back.

“If you’re finished, I’d like to go back to my room, sir.”

Sungjin slapped the leather-bound piece of stationary into his son’s palm and watched him leave the living room with quick, angry steps.

“What are we going to do about this, Sungjin?” Byeol asked, helplessness dripping from her voice, only to be met with resigned silence.

“My lady, may I approach?”

The husband and wife both turned to the source of the voice to see the head housekeeper peeking through the corner of the room.

“Come, Jaehyun. What is it?”

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, my lady,” the woman walked into the living room with timid steps, “but I might have a suggestion for the young master’s situation.”

“I’m listening?”

“You are familiar with the something borrowed tradition, correct, my lady?”

“Yes?”

“There are… certain mentor ladies the young master can consult to.”

“You mean like… like a prostitute?!” Byeol instinctively clutched her pearls.

“No! Goodness gracious, not like that!” the maid raised her hands in panic, “They are not common streetwalkers, my lady. They are considered manmakers.”

“Manmakers?” Sungjin questioned with doubt.

“Yes. They are commonly referred to as makeshift wives, my lord,” the maid explained further, “It’s not solely about laying together as man and wife. They teach young men about the institution of marriage and how to be a good husband.”

“This is outrageous. A woman is supposed to teach him how to be a man?” Sungjin roared in objection, “I’ll nip this in the bud. He is going to a brothel on the night of his eighteenth birthday.”

“Sungjin!!!”

“End… of… discussion.”

As scandalized at the thought as she was, Byeol knew for a fact that it wasn’t possible to change her husband’s mind once it was set on something. It was obvious where Hyunjin got it from.

“Fine. Do whatever you want, but if you fail, you will accept to do things my way,” she insisted.

As Sungjin retreated to his chambers, Byeol sat in silence for some time with her maid still by her side, thinking about how to best go about this whole ordeal.

“Where do we even find a makeshift wife?”

“I heard that the Lee boy was taught by one before his wedding, and she’s supposed to be very famous,” Jaehyun informed her lady, “I’ll ask their head housekeeper.”

“Please keep this discreet, I beg of you,” Byeol implored, her expression trapped between reserved and scared, “We don’t need more reasons to be a laughing stock to these people.”

Hyunjin had learned in his youth groups that he was supposed to save himself until marriage. No relations until you found that one person to share your life with because there was no union to consummate otherwise, which made complete sense to him. However…

“Don’t even think about abusing your body in any way. It’s not even the act itself that’s the sin; it’s the impure thoughts in your head. It’s the lust in your heart.”

He understood it in principle, but in practice, not so much. Even if you weren’t doing anything, it was quite literally impossible to have full control over thoughts since they kept cropping up out of nowhere. Why else would you get this irrational urge to laugh in the middle of a funeral? Why else would you think about what would happen if you jumped when you were looking down from a high place?

Nevertheless, they said no. They said it was a sin. There was nothing he could do but abide by it.

He couldn’t remember when exactly it started but at one point, Hyunjin started having what he called demon dreams. He wasn’t able to recall what he was dreaming about the next morning—only the fact that it felt like dying towards the end of it, but dying shouldn’t have felt that good.

Maybe it was because it felt that good that suicide was such a cardinal sin. Who knew?

Every time he had these dreams, he always woke up with a mess in his bed. The very first time, he thought he soiled himself, but upon closer inspection, he noticed the discharge was different. White. Thick. Pungent but not acidic. A part of him wanted to ask someone if they ever had these dreams, too, so that he would know how common of an occurrence it was, but he was so ashamed of it that he didn’t even know who to talk to about this. Instead, he kept praying to stop having these dreams every day to absolutely no avail. Every morning was still the same—waking up drenched in sweat, panting like he had just run a mile, and with an ample amount of thick, sticky fluid all over his crotch.

Luckily, or to his absolute misfortune, this torture was only reserved for the nighttime. He was still a functional member of society during the day.

On the night of his eighteenth birthday, Hwang Sr. had called over a bunch of Hyunjin’s older friends to accompany him to a secret location where his gift was awaiting. The whole way there, the young men surrounding him were playfully landing smacks on his back and talking in obscure sentences.

“We should have gotten him cherry champagne. It would be hysterical to pop by the door!”

“Try to last for ten seconds the first time.”

“You can ask for a backdoor entrance or shoot in the face, too. They are supposed to do anything you ask for.”

Hyunjin had no idea what they were grinning about as none of it made sense to him. At long last, they arrived at a decrepit building with dim lights streaming through all its windows. Faint sounds of different people moaning were melting into each other as if there was a torture chamber inside. Hyunjin thickly gulped as he walked through that door, having no idea why he was brought here in the first place. As far as he was concerned, he hadn’t done anything that bad that would warrant writhing in agony.

Once they passed the threshold of the anteroom, the young bunch were met with a large number of ladies inside, all clad in clothing that left very little to the imagination. All of them were looking at these new arrivals with predatory gazes and sleazy smiles, strutting their stuff to be the one to get picked.

“Go ahead, Hyun. Choose one.”

Hyunjin turned to his friend Christopher with complete bewilderment in his eyes.

“For–For what?”

“Geez, flustered already? Fine, I’ll choose one for you,” the older guy scanned the room with squinted eyes and landed on a delicious brunette, “You with gorgeous tits. Approach.”

The woman basically floated towards them while swaying her hips from side to side with a content smirk never leaving her face.

“Yes, my lord?”

“This handsome thing right here turned eighteen today,” Christopher threw his arm around Hyunjin’s shoulder, “His pops has strict orders that he is not to leave this establishment until he manages to ruin you. All night long if need be.”

“Oh, is that so?” the woman brushed her middle finger right under Hyunjin’s chin like she was petting a kitten, “Is this the little lamb we’re going to turn into a man tonight?”

“Don’t touch me!!!”

Hyunjin bolted out of the building completely as a fight-or-flight response as if he was in the presence of a tiger in a jungle. He didn’t even think about where he was going, just ran and ran and ran towards nowhere with complete trust in his feet. Maybe it was because he subconsciously wanted to wash the raunch off of himself that he ended up at the church to hide.

Once he managed to catch his breath, he stood up to walk towards the confessional, noticing a very small wedding ceremony going on inside with maybe only ten people present. He stopped dead in his tracks and watched Father Seojoon perform the ceremony as well as the couple holding each other’s hands with bright smiles.

“This is what it’s supposed to be like,” he quietly mumbled to himself, “In love.”

Yes, he did care about Yeji but nowhere near what this groom must have felt towards his bride. That look in their eyes of absolute adoration… It wasn’t something that could be acquired at will. Looking at Yeji like that would feel incestuous, to say the least.

Hyunjin picked up his notebook and pen from the inner pocket of his jacket and hastily scribbled a clumsy haiku that popped into his mind before forgot.

Long for the moment their souls blend in a whisper these doting lovers.

“You are too hard on him as it is, Sungjin. Do not say anything that will hurt his pride any further.”

After the birthday night fiasco, Byeol took the matter into her own hands and set out to find a makeshift wife per the agreement with her husband. She was in two minds about whether to go through with this arrangement or not until the last minute because a part of her kept mocking her about what a ridiculous idea this was. Nevertheless, desperate times indeed called for desperate measures, and the long-awaited guest finally arrived on a Tuesday afternoon.

“My name is Bora, my lady,” the woman politely bowed, “I’m the overseer of your person of interest.”

Byeol had prepared herself to meet someone of sordid nature, but this woman seemed very much deferential, from her looks to her manners. As the two women settled down in the living room exchanging pleasantries, Jaehyun swiftly arrived with two cups of tea.

“I have never done something of this nature before,” Byeol finally got to the point of this visit with a bashful smile, “All I know is that I need the best of the best. Whoever taught the son of the Lees.”

“Oh,” Bora silently put her cup down on the saucer, “I’m afraid she’s not available anymore, my lady.”

“Why not?”

“She came to find this duty very tiresome. Not to mention it’s the reason she couldn’t have a family of her own.”

“Please. If I weren’t in quite the predicament, I wouldn’t ask for them specifically,” Byeol pleaded while holding the hands of this stranger, “My son is supposed to get married next month, and the bride’s family is not willing to go through with it if he’s… if he’s not…”

She couldn’t even finish that sentence herself. If he’s what? Not man enough? Not tough enough like his father, roaring at every single inconvenience? Yeji seemed to be very fond of him, and these two were the ones to start a family, so why did anyone else’s opinions matter?

Nevertheless, Bora was able to see that glimmer of desperation in this beautiful woman’s eyes.

“Even if I bring the invitation to her, I’m sure she will have conditions, my lady.”

“Of what nature, may I ask?”

“I’m not quite sure, but there needs to be an irrefutable reason for her to take on an apprentice again.”

“Please extend to them that whatever conditions they may put forth, I am ready to accept. Money is not an issue,” Byeol started speaking fast when she saw that ray of hope, “I just want my son to be seen as a dependable head of the household.”

“I’m not promising she will readily accept, my lady, but I shall do my utmost best.”

The whole way back home, Bora was still in disbelief that she just left the manor of Gyeonggi Hwangs. Never once in her career could she dream of visiting this place, much less delivering an invitation of apprenticeship coming from it. When she finally returned, she found you in the kitchen washing vegetables for dinner.

“You will not believe who extended an invitation for you!”

“An invitation?” you asked without looking at her, “You of all people know that those days are behind me. I hope you said no on my behalf.”

“I don’t think that snark will stay intact once you hear who it is.”

“I don’t care, Bora.”

“Will you listen already?” she insisted as if her life depended on it and turned you around to face her from your shoulders, “I guarantee you it’ll be worth it.”

“What’s so damn important about this invitation that I will be unable to refuse?” you lashed out at her, “And you better make it a good one.”

“They are willing to accept any condition you may pose.”

“So?”

Bora took a profound breath and looked dead into your eyes before continuing.

“Your prospective apprentice is the son of the Hwangs. Young lord Hyunjin.”

The last name Hwang meant a great deal in this town as it is, but everybody also happened to know how ridiculously good-looking the Hwang boy was. The idea of teaching a prince for a change was indeed tempting, but then again, there was a reason you had quit being a makeshift wife. You could never be someone’s actual wife because of it since manmakers were barely seen as more than glorified prostitutes. You had made your peace with it, though. Maybe the fate you were destined to fulfill was just of a temporary companion.

“I don’t know, Bora.”

“Think about it! You can ask for as much money as you want. They will take care of you during your residence, and your sister will have enough to study the letters while you’re gone!”

Your sister… That was the one thing you could never ignore, and Bora of course knew about it, not that she was solely thinking about the commission she was going to earn. She genuinely liked that kid no matter what an aggressively rebellious phase she was going through. Should you accept this invitation, the Hwangs could basically cover all her schooling expenses, including room and board. When you thought about it that way, your decision became a no-brainer.

“Very well. I accept to take him as an apprentice, BUT—!” you pointed your finger at Bora threateningly, “I will not lay with him. That’s my condition.”

“How is he supposed to learn how to consummate the marriage?!”

“However the heck our fathers learned it,” you turned to your vegetables again, “I will only walk him through the fundamentals of a happy marriage and that is it.”

“You do know happy marriages require s—”

“Bora!”

“Okay, okay!” she raised her hands in surrender and broke into a wide smile, “I will let Lady Hwang know about your decision. She will be elated!”

It was only for one month anyway. The only request of the Hwangs was to keep this arrangement a secret so that the bride and her family wouldn’t hear of it. Per the nature of this agreement, once the schooling was over, no contact was to be established with the prospective groom. Everybody was going to go their separate ways, and you were basically going to inherit a fortune.

Nevertheless, when you walked into the Hwang Manor that day for the initiation ceremony, you didn’t need to be a psychic to deduce that the young lord was utterly despondent about the circumstances. While he was still somewhat courteous, his expression was thoroughly abysmal like he was about to get a death sentence. He wasn’t even looking in your direction.

“The four pillars of a healthy marriage are love, respect, sharing, and communication. And passion is the beautifully ornate fountain right in the middle of them,” Bora spoke with a loving smile, “Father Seojoon, if you please.”

Per tradition, the ceremony required the blessing of a priest. Even though it was temporary, the arrangement still involved carrying out the duties of a husband and wife. The intentions may have been didactic at heart, but no one was going to risk going to hell for that.

“Do you take him as your apprentice?”

“I do.”

“Do you take her as your master?”

“Hyunjin!” Byeol pinched her son’s arm when he kept his silence.

“Fine, I do,” he responded with a deadpan voice.

“Do you bear witness to this union?”

“We do,” Byeol and Bora confirmed in unison.

“Then from this moment on, your master shall be your makeshift wife until your learning is complete. You are to honor each other just like a real husband and wife would do,” Father Seojoon blessed the union, “You may kiss your wife.”

“I will do no such thing,” Hyunjin sneered through his clenched jaw and left the room furious, slamming the door behind him on his way out.

You didn’t take offense at Hyunjin’s severe lashing out and let him process his emotions. This wasn’t uncommon with apprentices who didn’t agree to take a makeshift wife. If he insisted on sulking, it didn’t really have any consequences on your end as you didn’t promise to create a miracle. You would cross-stitch in your room for a month, collect your payment, and get the hell out of there.

If only either of you knew what destiny had in store for you…

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Back to the shelf it belongs.

✉ Enjoyed this? Share your thoughts with me! It would also be cool of you to reblog so that my work can reach more people.

#જ⁀➴ library.#love love this masterpiece <3 #for some reason i can see a piece of myself in hyunjin #hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin smut #hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #stray kids fanfiction

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iveil · 2 months

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this sums it all up 😭😭 yn open your eyes ..

word count: 5.8k-ish

warnings: best friend!kei, virgin!reader, unprotected sex, cream pie, kei’s pining after reader, reader likes euijoo but also kinda in love with kei but not??, oral (M & F receiving), fingering (F receiving), kei’s a lil cocky(just a tad), degrading/praising, undescriptive aftercare/not really mentioned, lmk know if I missed anything, not proofread/edited, noncon thoughts(briefly)

a/n: had to reupload because of a bug on my side,. sorry this can’t go directly to you ask anon, hope this gets back to you, love you and thank you for waiting !!

KEI COULDN’T BELIEVE WHAT YOU WERE ASKING HIM

“You what?” Kei asks with a slight smirk evident in his voice, a lough coming out of his mouth, him thinking you were joking.

You whine over the phone, “Don't make me repeat it, please. Just tell me if you'll help or not."

“Mm, I don't know. I just think it's weird, don't you? I mean think about it, you’re asking me to help you get more experienced so you can use it on my group mate? Besides we’re friends."

“How is it weird?” You pout over the phone, picking at the skin around your nails as you sit on your bed crisscrossed, giving him your full attention even over the phone. “I trust you, how is that weird?"

He rolls his eyes, acknowledging but ignoring the fact you completely skipped over his reasons, “I’m almost 6 years older than you, don't you realize how weird it’ll make me look? What would the guys think? Why don't you ask Nicholas?"

“Who cares what the guys think? And if I wanted to ask Nicholas, I would have but I don't trust him as much as you.” You grew nervous and rather embarrassed since he wasn’t giving you a straight yes or no, but instead beating around the bush. “If you don't want to it’s fine, I won’t get mad at you for saying no and I won’t make it weird. I can just sign up for some dating app or something."

Kei purses his lips, breathing heavily through his nose, “Dont be dumb, you know how that’ll end. Fine, I’ll help>"

“Well that didn't take much convincing,” You mutter jokingly over the phone with a smiling growing on your face.

“Shut up before I change my mind.”

“I’m only joking! Thank you Kei, I love you!” You cheer loudly over the phone making Kei wince as your voice booms through his ear from the speakers. “Try gathering some info on him, I’ll be over soon so we can gt started!"

Kei’s mouth is gaping like a fish out of water, “What, right now?"

“Uhh yeah? Is that a problem?” You ask over the phone, already getting ready to shower before heading over to his.

“Well,” He lets out quietly, staring down at his freshly made sandwich. “I made a sandwich."

“Fine, 2 hours then.” You sighed before hanging up.

Kei was frozen in place, his hand falling from beside his ear to flop against his side as he processed what he just agreed to. I mean, helping a girl he’s been in love with [something he won’t admit] become more experienced for his OTHER best friend? I mean, yeah, he gets to be your first; first to see you naked, to fuck you, probably first to see or be near your lower region. Only for you to use it on his friend? It’s a win-lose for him.

“What’s up with you?” A voice breaks his thoughts, his head whips around to see Euijoo looking at him with a confused look etched on his face.

“Oh uh,” He mumbles out, rubbing the back of his neck. “Y/n’s coming over."

“Y/n?” he says tilting his head in confusion. “Ah? Ah! Y/n! Your little girlfriend right? The cute one?"

Euijoo casually bends down to look in the fridge, glancing over at Kai as he heard him begin to sputter out nonsense.

“She’s not my girlfriend!” Kei says defensively as he turns to grab his sandwich to walk away.

“Hm, you both act like it,” Euijoo mutters loud enough for Kei to hear. “She’s like a little bug, follows you around everywhere. You sure you guys aren’t something?”

“Positive,” Kei stops in his tracks, turning to face Euijoo with a small scowl on his face. “Besides she wants someone else."

“So then,” Euijoo starts off, cocking his head to the side to look at Kei, who is at the entrance of the hall. “If you dont like her, does that means she’s free?"

Kei doesn’t answer, instead choosing to stay silent instead of giving an answer before he walks off to his room, leaving Euijoo alone in the kitchen confused.

The two hours felt like forever to Kei. The sandwich he ate was gone in less than 30 due to his nerves, and he had already gotten ready. Two mint gum pieces were popped into his mouth after he showered and got freshened up, making sure to shave any patch of hair growing. Now all he was left to do was to calm his nerves and to kick the other boys out of the dorm for a while. Euijoo walks into the room, coming to grab something from Nicholas’s side of the room but stopping in his tracks when he sees Kei constantly sniffing himself and looking in the mirror.

“What are you getting ready for?” Euijoo asks, looking at him confused as he grabs a charger and steals a couple of snacks Nicholas had out.

“Uhhh,” Kei stuttered thinking of an excuse. “Y/n wants to do something alone, I dont know what but can you take the boys out please?"

Euijoo looks at him for a while, searching his face before shrugging and turning on his heels towards the door, “Yeah sure."

Euijoo shuts the door behind him, slightly muffled talking coming from the other side, assuming Euijoo is telling the others to prepare to leave. Just then, the doorbell rings. Kei quickly gets up from his bed and runs out. He sees Euijoo had beaten him to the door, already letting you in. Kei feels his stomach churn as he sees your heels turn a bright red as you say hello to Euijoo, your head turning and your blush lightening when you see Kei awkwardly standing in the hall.

“Have fun,” Euijoo says ushering the boys out as most of them were already ready to head out the door. The door shuts behind him, locks clicking from the other end as you look from the door and back to Kei.

KEI COULDN'T BELIEVE WHAT HE WAS SEEING RIGHT NOW.

It felt as if it must’ve been a dream or something. You on your knees in front of him didn't seem like a sight he’d ever thought he’d see. I mean, it’s not like he was complaining or anything, it quite the opposite. His bulge pressing against the tight material of his jeans was proof of it. He watches as a pink hue spreads across your face and up to your ears, letting out a small laugh as he reaches to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Dont laugh,” You whine out, resting your forehead on his knee in front of you, hiding your face from the man above you.

Kei coos out, running a hand through your hair before grabbing a fistful and slowly lifting your head back up, forcing you to look up at him, “Take your time, we can always try again another time."

You smile shyly at him, sitting up completely on your knees to reach up, “Can you kiss me again? Please?"

Kei nods softly, meeting you halfway as you pucker out your lips begging for a kiss that he soon grants. A moan is drawn out from you as he tilts his head to the side, depending on the kiss as your hands come up to tightly grip his thighs. He pulls away from the kiss and watches as your eyes flutter open, your pupils filled with lust as you stare up at him innocently waiting for him to tell you what to do. Your tongue runs across your bottom lip, swollen from the previous make-out session you had before you even got in this position. Kei couldn’t imagine how he looked, but he was sure he looked the same, if not even worse.

You let out a small breath, your hand coming up to the button of his jeans. Kei rests back on his palms, giving you more room to get his jeans undone. Your hands wrap around the waistband of both his jeans and underwear, looking up for confirmation before receiving a nod from Kei to let you know it was okay. His hips lift off of the bed slightly, giving you enough room to pull his pants down without a struggle. Your breath hitches as you watch his length spring up before being weighed down from how heavy he was. Kei hisses as the cold air nips at his dick, a shiver running down his spine from being finally free from the restrictions he had on earlier. You watch intensely as a beat of cum rolls down his shaft, running along a vein that travels down to the base.

“Jesus,” You whisper with wide eyes as you stare at it, your eyes flickering up to Kei whose smile is growing wider and into a smirk.

“What?” He scoffs running a hand through his hair. “Didn't expect this from your best friend?” You stay silent, saliva gathering in your mouth as you stare at his length, your eyes meeting Kei’s as he teases you.

Kei pushes himself off of his palms, “Mind taking your shirt off for me darling? It’ll be more enjoyable for me."

You look at him wide-eyed not expecting him to want to see your body so willingly, taking a moment to respond before nodding yes. Your shaky hands come to lift the hem of your shirt, pulling the material over your head and dropping it to the ground. You feel Kei’s eyes on you as you do so, his lip tucked between his teeth as his eyes rake over every inch of your exposed skin, focusing more on the white bra you decided to wear today. He lifts off his shirt shortly after, tossing it to the pile you’ve created and leaning back down on his palms. He relished the way you paid close attention to his body, one of your new favorite sights, and his every move.

your eyes flicker back to his face watching as he reaches out for your hand. You sit up straighter, placing your hand in his and watching as he brings it up to his mouth. He lets a fat wad of spit fall from his lips and into the palm of your hand and slowly leads it down to his fully hardened cock. He realizes his hand as you wrap your hand around him, pumping his cock softly and twisting your hand to spread the spit as you draw out a choked out moan from him.

“Mm, keep doing that.” He moans out, his eyes fluttering shut and breaking the silence as he lets his mouth fall open.

His eyes open in time to see you licking your lips and leaning in, staring at him with wide innocent eyes as you guide his cock into your mouth. Your lips wrap around his tip first, sucking softly on it making his eyebrows scrunched as he lets out a moan at the sight and feeling.

“Eager slut.” He chokes out, making you moan around him softly while squeezing your thighs together. “Oh? You like that?"

You dig your nails into his thigh, making his hips buck up with a pained grunt. Your eyes glare at him and he looks back down at you with a small glare. You lower your head little by little, not breaking eye contact until you feel him hit the back of your throat making you gag slightly. You squeeze your eyes shut as you push your head further down, a loud moan escaping Kei’s mouth as he feels your throat contracting around him. His hand landed on the back of your head to get a fistful of your hair. You pull off for some air before going to lick a stripe from the base to the tip on the underside of his cock before wrapping your lips around him again.

“Fuck,” Kei hisses out, his head thrown back as his eyebrows knit together. “Doing so fucking good princess."

You let out a whine around his cock not knowing why his words were affecting you so much as you bob your head up and down. the vibrations of your whine made Kei’s hips jolt. His tip harshly hits the back of your throat forcing you toga as he mutters a half-assed “sorry”. Your hands go under his thighs, softly pushing them up so he takes the hint to take over.

“Fuck y/n,’ He grunts, eyes opening and drooping shortly after, staring at you with hooded eyes. “Want me to fuck your throat already? Are you sure? It’s still your first time.”

You pull off of his cock with a small pop, “I’m sure,” You croak out with a small smile on your face. “I truest you.”

He nods leaning down to kiss the top of your head before you go down on him again. His hands are in your hair as his hips slightly thrust up softly, testing the waters and moaning at the feeling of your wet mouth around him. His thrust into your mouth gets deeper and harsher, slowly picking up his pace after every thrust.

“F-fuck, ju-just tell me, if it gets t-too much.” He quickly lets out in slurred words.

His hips get to work, one hand gripping your hair tightly enough to make the sting feel good while the other is gripping the sheets below him. The most beautiful moans pour out of his parted lips as he fucks up into your ur mouth faster than you’ve ever seen him move his hips. Your eyes water as he continuously hits the back of your throat, thanking yourself mentally that you didn’t eat before this.

“H-Holy fucking shit!” he groans out, his thrust into your mouth getting harsher making you cry out against his cock while your nose-breathing only becomes more audible as you desperately try to breathe, fueling him even more.

“Fuck, Euijoo’s gonna be one lucky man.”

You furrow your brows in confusion, thanking god his eyes were squeezed shut as you realize that he was the reason for this in the first place. Not because you wanted Kei and not because he wanted you. You shut your eyes as you try to imagine Euijoo making those beautiful sounds and facial expressions, but it only ever takes you back to the man above you.

“Fuck holy fuck y/n,” Kei cries out as his hips begin to stutter. Your tongue pressed up against his cock as he continues to slam his hips up into you. “Fuck, I think I'm going to cum. Fuck your mouth feels so fucking good.”

You can't help but let your hands trail up, testing the waters as you begin feeling up against his toned body before scraping your nails down his stomach to his thighs. He lets out a high-pitched gasp as you do so, crying a bit louder when you do it again but harsher.

He pulls your head off, wrapping the hand that was in your hair around himself as he furiously jerks himself off the the sight of you. Your face is stained with tears as more pour out and your swollen, puffy lips agape as you gasp for air. his eyebrows are crunched as his hooded eyes make eye contact with your own, he looks like a god to you. You get closer, sticking your tongue and positioning him to aim at your mouth, drool falling from your tongue in between his legs as you stay in position with your mouth open.

“Fuck in y-your mouth?" He grunts out surprised, his hand faltering in speed as he stares at you in shock.

"Mhm," You quickly hum, licking his tip softly before speaking, "I want to taste you."

Your lips close around his tip as your hand wraps around his wrist, encouraging him to keep jerking off while you stay there. Your tongue makes circles around his tip and digs into his slit to drink up whatever small beads fall out. It didnt take long until he reaches the edge of his orgasm, in fact, it came fast. His hips buck up as he cuts with a loud moan of your name, his warm cum pumping into your mouth and painting your tongue. You swallow whatever shoots down your throat, feeling his hand slow down while he pumps whatever is left of his cum in your mouth. His labored breathing was barely audible as the arm holding him up buckled under him. He pulls away his hand, moving hair out of your face while you pull away from him and swallow what didnt go down.

“You're insane.” He mutters, wrapping his hand around your throat as you smile up at him softly, pulling you up and into his lap before locking his lips with yours.

The material of your shorts brush against his sensitive cock making his hips twitch as he feels his member getting hard again as he desperately kisses you until he loses his breath. Only pulling away when he feels your hand pushing his chest, trying to pull away from the suffocating kiss. You gasp for air when you break free, Kei trying to go back in for a kiss only to doge him. Not that he cares, he went straight for your neck after anyway. A different kind of gasp fell from your lips when you feel him kiss the spot behind your ear. His lips wrap around your skin as he begins to suck on the same spot, feeling yourself clench around nothing and loving the feeling of his lips on your skin.

Kei doesn’t pull away as he flips you both over on the bed, tossing off the clothing on his lower body somewhere in the process. He only moves when he switches to the other side of your neck as you adjust yourself on his pillow. The scent of him surrounding you became overbearing as you tried to shut your legs around him, not being able to due to him being in between them. his hand trails up your body, fingertips leaving goosebumps behind as he barely touches you. Fingers tug as the middle of your bra, not processing anything until you feel him pull away.

“Already fucked out?” He teases looking down at you as your shaky hands go to take your bra off, you reacting time slower than before. “Haven’t even done anything to you. Bet Euijoo is gonna love playing with you as much as I am."

You whimper out at his words focusing only on the part where he mentions loving playing with you. Your bra slides down your arms as you tug open the clasps. A loud moan brewing from Kei’s throat as he immediately comes to cup your breast in his hands.

“A’ways wanted to play with you like this.” He whispers out unintentionally, leaning down to take on of your nipples in his mouth.

Your hands come up to grip his hair as he continues to practically make out with your breast, strings of spit trailing down the sides of your body while his other hands begins to pinch and roll your other nipple. He doesn’t last long there, leaving a trail of kisses down your stomach as he watches you pant for air. His fingers wrap around the waistband of your shorts and underwear. Looking you in the eyes as he slowly slides them off, watching your face intensely for any signs of discomfort. Your legs spread open wider for him immediately, your wetness dripping down out of you clenching hole and into the sheets. Your inner thighs are wet and glistening in the light as you shoe yourself off to him.

“Pelase Kei,” You whine out looking at him with begging eyes. “Please i want to feel your mouth against me, please.”

His brain freezes as he stares up and you from between your legs, his breath fanning against your cunt before sticking his tongue out and licking a strip up your folds. He lets out a choked grunt at the taste of you on his tongue. Separating your folds to lick every inch of you that he could, circling your clit with the tip of his tongue making you grind against his mouth for more. His eyes flutter shut out of pleasure as his hands come to wrap around your thighs; pulling you closer and licking you in place as he moves against you getting faster & desperate. His tongue prods at your home, marking you while as he pushes it in as far as he can. His nose pressing against your clit as he inhaled the smell of you, making you whine loudly when he slightly shakes his head from side to side stimulating your clit. His tongue trusting in and out of you before staying in to lick at your walls that clench around his tongue so nicely.

“Taste so good,” He practically growls out, pulling his face away as a hand comes up to slap your cunt harshly, a surprised cry coming from your end. His hips begin to softly grind against his bedsheets. “I can stay here all day.”

Your eyes roll back as your mouth drops open, letting out a pornographic moan as he shows no mercy. His tongue dancing all over your cunt; dipping in and out of you and playing with your clit. Slurping noises come from him as he wraps his lips around your bundle of nerves, your legs beginning to shake as you cry out his name. Unintentionally, your legs that wasn’t being held down begins to try to shut around his head. His pillow-like lips pull away from your as he lets his fingers glide up and down your pussy, gathering enough if your juices to be able to slide into easily. He gives one more long and slow lick up and down your OUSSY before pulling away again. His middle finger nudges at your inner thigh soft kisses and cold if praises fall from his lips as he slowly begins to pump his fingers in and out of you. Soaking in the way you moaned, whimpered, and whined just for him. It only fueled him even more as his hips continuously rutted against his bed as he listened to every noise that came out of you. He slides another finger in, his lips coming back to your count as he tongue plays with you to distract you from any pain.

“Doing s-so good for me baby,” Kei praises against you, his cold breath sending shivers down your spine as he let out a choked moan, his hips moving faster. His hooded eyes stare up at you without you even knowing that he was getting off in the way you looked and tasted. “Think you can take a third?”

“An-anything for your.” You stutter out in between moans as his fingers move faster in and out of you. “Holy shit!”

Your hand flies down to grip his hair, your back arching as he fits a third finger in, stretching you out more than your own fingers do. His tongue continues to dance in your cult as he curls his fingers up in you, touching a spot you’ve never known existed. The room is filled with his groans, your moans and whines, the squelching noises of your pussy, and the slight squeaking of his bed from how fast his was fingering you. It was something you’ve never felt before, your lower body trying it’s hardest to grind into his fingers and against his lips. All you could feel was how fast the funny feeling grew in your stomach, focusing on how good he was making you feel just from his mouth and fingers. You couldn’t help but think further on, how good he would be able to make you feel on his cock. Just the thought of him hovering over you and thrusting into you made you closer to the edge.

“Kei, o-oh my g-god! I think I’m gonna-“ Your body shakes violently, his lips sucking on your bud and his fingers never slowing down as you cum all over his face.

Your jaw drops, a sob mixed with a moan escaping your lips as you shut your legs around his head. Your sob covered his moan against you as he came with one last hard thrust against his sheets, but the vibrations from it only make you feel even better. As you came down from your high, Kei only slows his fingers. His mouth still sucking ferociously on your clit, only pulling away to lick the juices around his fingers before going back.

You groan softly, weakly pushing his head away from you as you come back to earth. You blink slowly, surprised when you see him hovering over you with your juices in his face, his cock slowly rutting in between your folds with his lips between his teeth. The stickiness of his cum catches your attention as you look down to see his lower region covered in his own cum. Pearls if it still dripping out and sticking into your skin as he continues his actions.

“Did you-“ Cutting yourself off with a hiss from sensitivity as you stare at his hard cock, feeling it throat against you as he continues rutting on you. “Cum? From eating me out.”

“Mph, mhm.” He quickly Huns mindlessly answering your questions, too drunk off of you to respond properly. “Can I fuck you now? Please? Are you ready?” He practically begs, the tip of his cock getting caught in your hole as he thrusts up.

You nod rapidly, spreading your shaking legs wider for him. Equally as desperate as his to get to the real part, your actions surprising him as you don’t even ask for protection.

“What about a cond-“

“I’ll get a pill after,” You quickly slur out, softly rubbing your eyes. “Unless you want to use a condom I have one in my purse.”

Kei quickly shakes his head no, aligning himself with your hole. His head getting cloudier than it already is, pushing the tip in slowly and already feeling himself get close from the warm feeling of your throbbing walls.

“I’m gonna out more in, okay?” He whimpers out, trying his hardest to contain himself as he waits for you to respond. You let out a soft “okay” pulling him down his neck, connecting your lips with his as he begins to push his hips forward.

A pained moan from you gets muffled against his lips, your body feeling stretched out more than ever. He slowly pulls out, pushing back in a little bit more as he drags his cock against your walls. You’re crying by the time he bottoms out, your walks clenching around his cock so tightly as he stays still to give you time to adjust. You feel him so deep in your stomach, it felt as if his tip was poking at the entrance of your womb. His hand comes to cup your face, wiping away your tears before leaning down to place a kiss in your nose, cheek, forehead, and lastly lips.

He couldn’t help but feel his cock twitch at the sight of you. Tears falling from your eyes as you sniffle, all because he was too big for your cute cunt. He’s overwhelmed with the urge to start pounding into you, not caring if you cry or fight back. God how hot you would look, fighting against him as he uses your body however he pleased. Nails clawing at his arms and face, trying to push him away as he takes advantage of your weakness. Kei snaps out of his thoughts when you tap his arm, grabbing his attention as he looks down at you with a soft smile.

“You can move now.” You mutter shyly as you curl your arms around his back, preparing yourself for whatever comes next.

He pulls out of you slowly before pushing back in, loving the way your eyes roll back completely. His slow thrusts continue as he bends down to leave kisses in your sweaty skin, imagining he’s as equally, if not sweatier than you. Whimpers of his name fall out from your mouth one of your hands gripping the sheets while the other grips his arm. Your lower half slightly grinding down against his him with each of his thrusts.

Kei’s desperation gets the best of him, not being able to get enough of your soft moans and only wanting to make them louder. His hips begging to pick up the pace, catching you off guard when he starts pounding into you harder and faster. Your moans increase in volume and whininess, just as he hoped. The sound of skin slapping against skin making your head fuzzy, your eyes going cross-eyes as he fucks you like there’s no tomorrow. The pain of the stretch of his cock feels more delicious than ever as he abuses your cunt over and over.

“Fuck y/n,” Kei practically sobs, his hips thrusting in and out of you at an insane pace, eyes fixated on the way your tits bounce so deliciously with each of his thrusts.

“You feel so fucking good wrapped around me, darling. Fu-fuck oh fuck. I’ve waited so so long. Always d-dreamed of this.” He babbles kissing every part of your body that he would with loud moans. “Dreamt of you under me, letting me use you however. F-fuck, you feel so much better than I thought, so much prettier than I dreamt.”

His hands find yours with urgency, holding on of your hands while the other searches mindlessly for your thigh, quickly pushing your leg to your chest and hitting deeper than he did before. He knows he shouldn’t do this, it’s your first time he should be gentle and caring. But this might be the first and last time he has you in his bed like that before he loses you to his best friend, he can’t help but give in to his deepest desires. A broken cry falls from your mouth as he shifts slightly, hitting your sweet spot over and over.

“G-god, Kei!” You squeal out, your back arching up into him. Gasps fall out of your mouth as your eyes shut tightly, the funny feeling in your stomach growing more and more with each of his thrusts.

You dig your nails into the hand that’s holding yours, looking at him for a split second but feeling your eyes roll back from the sight. Parts of his hair sticks to his forehead while parts hang over above you. His eyes squeezed shut like yours were while his mouth slightly open, letting out the most beautiful moans in existence. His moans begin to mix with whines, getting more high if he’s with each thrusts of his. His hips stutter, his cock twitching inside with every roll of his hips.

“Fuck,” He whimpers out. “Please tell me you’re close baby. Shit, you feel so good.”

You nod your head rapidly, the hand holding onto yours lets go and plants it near your head. The other loosens it’s grip , placing it near his waist before muttering, “Wrap your leg around me.”

Waiting until you follow instructions before his hand goes down in between the both of you, fingers quickly finding your clit and rubbing messy and quick circles on it. Your walls clench around him tightly, almost making it too hard to move as you feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge.

“Oh god,” Your hand going to grip the nape of his hair tightly pulling him down closer to you. “Im gonna cum!”

“I’m right there with you baby,” Kei sighs out in pleasure, bathing in the feeling of you clenching him tight. “Gonna let me cum in you? Huh? Gonna let me fill you up so good with my cum?”

His words come out broken, moans interrupting his sentences as he feels himself getting closer. You whimper out at his words pulling him down until your lips meet. Your tongue messily fighting with his barely being able to kiss back properly with how good you were feeling. You finally let go, your OUSSY fluttering around him as your moans get swallowed by his lips. Kei let’s go once he feels you clench around him, your leg bringing him deeper into you as you come around him. One final slam of his hips and a twitch of his cock has him releasing into you. A loud groan is let out, barely muffled by your kisses as he slowly grinds his hips into you, pumping all of his cum deep inside of you as he slowly comes down from his high.

It’s silent. Almost too silent.

The only noises being heard is you both panting as you pull away from the kiss. Your head is cloudy from an orgasm you’ve never experienced with yourself. You can barely process your own thoughts, not that you had any now. Kei holds your waist as he slowly pulls out, groaning is annoyance at the cold air while you whine at the feeling of being empty. He sits back in his feet, spearing your lips with his fingers as he watches globs of his cum pour out of you as you clench around the air. He can’t help but scoop the spilling cum, diving it back in with his fingers making you smack his wrist away softly.

“Damn,” He mutters under his breath, stuck in a trance because of the sight of you filled with his cum and his only. Not Euijoo’s, and not anyone else’s. “You look fucking good full of me.”

You let out a groan as you kick his side softly in the side, letting out a small laugh as he glares at you.

“I’ll go get a rag,” he mumbles, leaning in forward for a kiss in your lips, but hesitating once he realizes it’s over. Opting to land on on your cheek instead. “I’ll be right back.”

He slides on his boxers leaving the room momentarily before coming back in with a water bottle, along with a damp rag, a dry one, and a completely new demeanor. It’s silent against as he cleans you up, softly cleaning up the cum spilling from you and your sweat with the other. Once he done he hands you the water making sure you drink enough before cleaning himself up and getting a new pair of underwear.

“Boys should be home soon,” Kei starts out, his voice slightly getting more monotone by the second, completely different from earlier. You brows furrowed together out of confusion as he walks to his closet for a change of clothes and giving you some as well, along with a towel. “Freshen up. You wouldn’t want Euijoo seeing you like this, it’ll make him back off more.”

You nod your head slowly, realizing again this was all for you o get better for Euijoo. You grab the towel and wrap it around you before grabbing the clothes, heading towards the restroom to hop in the shower. Kei’s on his bed staring into nothing as he begins to regret what he did. Not because of you, but because of himself and his feelings for you. By the time you’re out, the boys are back. You step out into the living room the same time Kei steps out his room, seeing the boys with multiple bags.

They all greet you, inviting you to stay a while and eat with them as they watch movies. You look over at Kei, who simply shrugs and walks past you. A smile is quickly placed on his face as Harua excitedly shows him all of the new snacks he wanted to try with him. Maki, Taki, and Yuma gathering around the eldest as well to share their excitement for their new items as the rest head to change.

“Hey y/n,” You hear from behind you. “Can I talk to you for a moment? Alone?”

The voice catches Mei’s attention, his head snapping up and seeing a shy, blushing Euijoo nodding his head towards his room. He guides you over, you following close behind giddily before disappearing into the hall.

The only sounds Kei being able to focus on being the sounds of footsteps and his heart breaking.

#&team smut #andteam smut #andaudition smut #&audition smut #andaudition hard hours #andteam k smut #&team x reader #&team hard thoughts #&team hard hours #koga yudai #koga yudai smut

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iveil · 3 months

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TOMORROW X TOGETHER.

ENHYPEN.

RIIZE.

ZEROBASEONE.

NCT & WAYV.

SEVENTEEN.

THE BOYZ.

WRITTEN WORKS MASTERLIST. © hannie-dul-set.

69 notes · View notes

iveil · 6 months

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UMAZANE MISLI | c.bg

STARRING: Choi Beomgyu x fem!reader

CAST: Lee Heeseung (EN-), Lee Geonu (Just B), Jung Sungchan (ex-NCT), Yang Jeongin (Stray Kids), Felix (Stray Kids), Choi Seungchol (SVT)

RUNTIME: 35.9k (sorry)

SYNOPSIS: Beomgyu thought that a life of academic excellence, popularity contests, and ego trips were left behind the moment he graduated from a prestigious private school. However, he found himself locked in an intense, three-year rivalry with you. He always had to be number one in everything that the two of you were involved in, but god damn, your band makes incredible music. Lord knows what would happen if one day, you find him moshing to one of your basement shows. Alas, you were oblivious, and he managed to convince himself that several streaks of messy, temporary red dye and ripped jeans immediately transformed him into a spy that infiltrated your band's smelly, sweat-infused, beer-rotting basement.

GENRE: Coming of age, slice of life, romance, comedy, band!au

DIRECTOR'S CUT: hi everyone !! this will be my debut into txt writing !! i hope you enjoy this fic, and as always, PLEASE triple check all warnings and make sure you read this work at your own discretion. You are responsible for the content that you consume. also !! of course, some facets of the band is inspired by the lovely joker out, the slovenian band that stole all of our hearts in esc 2023 !! the family dynamics and rich kid problems in this fic is inspired by succession, the HBO tv series. i also just wanted to give a quick shoutout to alice @jayflrt and her stoner's guide to starbucks smau, which inspired heeseung's character in this fic !! do give it a read if you have the chance !! she's vv funny LOL. also !! another shoutout to @jitaros for the e2l law school dynamics !! i tried my hand at the trope (watched too much better call saul for this LOL) !! this is an homage to crying lightning, and i hope reading this will inspire you to complete law school!hyuck :")))

SOUNDTRACK: Umazane Misli, Plastika, Demoni, Vem da Greš, Proti Toku, Carpe Diem, A Sem Ti Povedal, Bele Sanje, Katrina, and Dopamin by Joker Out (basically the entirety of Joker Out's discog tbh)

VISUALIZERS: Joker In // Law school Beomgyu

I. SHAGADELIC, BABY!

The studio has seen worse things. Pizza boxes covered in mold spreading toxic mildew across the entire room; broken drum sticks that were basically tetanus-inducing pieces of legos on the floor for the unlucky person sans socks or sandals; curled ends of guitar strings strewn across the floor like upturned nails; permanent stains of beer scattered in patches on the wooden floorboards; broken lightbulbs for more tetanus and other forms of infectious diseases; a nest of fruit flies concentrated on one of the leaking pipes next to the generator; an unidentifiable liquid etched on the edge of a dirty carpet with an equally mysterious source; crude graffiti filling up the bare cement walls; the temper of a lead singer with a god complex; and lastly, the simmering temperament of a guitarist that believes he deserves more credit than he is currently given.

To call the basement of an abandoned house on the distant outskirts of Hongdae a studio was an insult to professional musicians who spend their entire lives in a well-insulated creative space. Your band barely had the budget to install acoustic foam panels across the basement—not like you needed it, though. Nobody in their right mind would dare take the last train to the station and hike at least an hour atop a closed trail to record music in a dilapidated house. It wasn’t like there was anything or anybody listening to the so-called “noise” you and your friends made at ungodly hours, too. If there were, it was probably the ghosts of those who once populated what you assumed was a small, forestry village before the war.

Nonetheless, it became the meeting place that would house all of the band’s creative endeavors—and to be fair, you didn’t mind the musty smell or the murky leakages of dirty water. All of it to you slowly became a sanctuary that broke you free from the bondage of a degree you weren’t even interested in. What was even better was the people that occupied the rather decrepit space. Sure, there was a lot of infighting in the band that made you want to throw your drum sticks at each member or assault them and get charged with battery, but in the end, it was growing pains for the fruition of an otherwise decent band. For you, the disagreements everyone often faced were a testament to the band’s potential longevity. Even if you didn’t consider yourself the most vocal member of the ensemble, you had a reliable voice of reason that validated the input you’d give to every suggestion or performance discussed.

“Disagreements should be normalized, you know?” You once remember saying when Jeongin would often cry about the heated arguments Geonu and Sungchan would have. “I don’t think we’d be as good as we are now if we never fought or stood up for what we wanted in this thing.”

A word had to be said about the duo before proceeding into important matters—after all, it was the two of them that had the longest overall experience in Seoul’s university basement scene. Geonu in particular was who one might call the “veteran” in your band. He practically grew up around independent musicians his whole life, and his brother was in the garage rock scene since Geonu graduated from middle school. It was the norm for him to show up underage inside bars, venues, taverns, and any place that reeked of spoiled beer, sticky sweat, and copious amounts of cannabis abuse. Of course, Geonu managed to stay clean save for a few sips of beer here and there; he was notorious for his inhumane self-restraint and resilience, after all. When Geonu was fifteen, around the end of his last summer as a middle schooler, he started a hardcore band and toured a couple of basements around Seoul and beyond. The problem, though, was that his lead singer was a late bloomer. Instead of obtaining the gruff, aggressive, and extremely hardcore (for lack of a better word) tone that was required for the genre, Geonu had to suffer through his band receiving “baby noise” status. To his credit, he took it extremely well, using the ridicule to his advantage. It became a common gimmick later on for the band’s cult following to bring pacifiers and cry like an infant during the breakdown of each song. He even began attaching packets of powdered milk with each tote bag or cassette tape purchased from his fans for extra humor.

That period of his life closed when he was in his second year of high school, where he founded an indie band and completely changed the direction of his music. The hardcore punk to soft boy indie pipeline was a pretty common shift in many musicians in the current generation, and by then, Geonu had grown out of the nu-metal craze of gelled, spiky hair and repetitive power chords. He wanted something more out of his music and thus formed an unexpected friendship with Sungchan, who at the time was the star football player in their high school. Since then, the two had been in the same band together, often changing the lineup depending on where they were music-wise. The first generation of the band was called King Suit, and most of their shows consisted of covers translated from English to Korean. King Suit was perhaps the most radio-friendly iteration out of all the bands that Geonu and Sungchan were in, and they broke off for the exact same reason.

“Nobody really wanted to write music,” Geonu explained one time after a freshman party. “I mean, I can’t blame them. It takes a lot of effort, and most of us were self-taught. Sungchan was the only one who was willing to make the academic sacrifice to write and produce music with me, so we broke off after graduating high school.”

From what you could tell, Geonu didn’t seem to look back at King Suit with the rose-colored fondness of nostalgia. Each time he complained about his former members in a drunken pursuit, his voice would drop an octave lower, seething bitterness and poison in his slurred cadence. Geonu also only complimented Sungchan when he was drunk.

The second iteration of his attempts into the underground indie scene was with a short-lived shoegaze venture that was ironically named DARE. One surprising fact that you managed to squeeze out of Geonu was that Sungchan conjured the idea of starting a shoegaze band. He had been listening to a lot of my bloody valentine and Cocteau Twins owing to his nightly Naver scrolls and Spotify recommendations. According to an extremely inebriated Geonu, Sungchan became obsessed with collecting effectors and pedals, blowing his entire savings and part-time earnings into expanding his ever-growing collection of overpriced battery boxes. Truth be told, his obsession for pedals didn’t necessarily come from a place of musical interest—he just thought that some of the artworks plastered across the Keeley or Electro-Harmonix pedals looked cool. He managed to learn how to use them through deep research on YouTube and Reddit, but he would never admit that the sole reason for his collection was the pursuit of aesthetics. Geonu would also never admit that he wanted DARE to live a longer life, simply because his stubborn pride wouldn’t allow it. He would always argue with Sungchan about how the genre of shoegaze itself was a cut-and-paste replica of each other, and for Geonu, it would be embarrassing to admit that his opinions can change over time. He was too much of a staunch idealist in the sense that he stood by most—if not all—of his opinions, thus it would take an eternity for him to admit that he was either wrong or misconstrued about whatever statement came out of his loud mouth.

Then, Joker In was born—at least, that was what the current band was called. Prior to the name change, the band didn’t have an official name, so each gig just listed your names as individuals. It was the only iteration of Geonu’s bands that consisted of you in the lineup, in addition to Jeongin’s replacement as the current bassist. Prior to Jeongin’s untimely recruitment, the band had an upper year who promptly had to leave because he graduating and he was an exchange student. You didn’t know what went inside Geonu’s mind theater when he recruited Felix, but you assumed that the short-lasting membership was worth it if he was that good of a bassist.

And to your judgement, Felix was amazing. He was a veteran of the instrument and played the double bass at his university’s big band back in Australia. Naturally, he would adjust to the electric bass pretty quickly, mastering all the techniques and genres by the time the band scored their first gig. Felix wasn’t particularly good at Korean, but he didn’t need the language when his skills spoke for themselves. In addition to mastering the instrument, he was a phenomenal performer that captivated the audience through his laid-back playing style. Every note he plucked was effortless, and his deep, sultry voice complemented Geonu’s powerful vocals quite well.

The first time you saw Geonu cry was when the band dropped Felix off at the airport, bringing Jeongin along despite the awkward, one-sided tensions between them. Felix didn’t mind Jeongin’s presence since he joined the band knowing it was a short-term commitment, but Jeongin thought otherwise.

“What if he’ll hate me?” Jeongin would lament. It was your job to comfort him whenever he would dive deep into his woes about filling such a big role. Geonu was too cutthroat, and Sungchan was too much of a deadpanner. There was no way those two could ease the noisy thoughts of an anxiety-ridden boy.

“Felix doesn’t hate, Jeongin,” You’d reply as you stuffed his mouth with endless slices of pizza. “Have you seen the guy? I don’t think he could get angry even if he wanted to.”

The band became Joker In after Jeongin’s obsession for Eurovision came to light. At first, the three of you eyed him with confusion and bewilderment, wondering how a boy born and raised in Korea could care about a Europe-exclusive song contest. After being subjected to an entire week or two of arduously rewatching past contests and performances, you’ve grown to realize that Jeongin never watched Eurovision for the quality of songs that each artist produced. Sure, there were some good hits that grabbed your attention, but Jeongin didn’t care about the meaning of the songs written for the contest. For him, Eurovision was specifically created for drama and political tensions, paired with ridiculous, overtly surreal, and over-the-top staging that made you question the infinite potential of the human mind. What initially started as Jeongin’s sole hyper fixation now influenced the entire band’s direction, and Eurovision became a pact of friendship in Joker In.

“You have to watch Viktor Plushenko skating on a fucking ice rink on stage with Dima Bilan,” Jeongin said, pushing his phone screen on Geonu’s face.

“I’ve already seen that performance dipshit. You’ve shown it to me like, I don’t know? Every single time we go to the studio?” Geonu would reply, then keep his eyes glued to the performance. He didn’t want to admit that his go-to stage costume of a wifebeater and loose, silver parachute pants came from endlessly watching Dima Bilan on YouTube, but the avid Eurovision fan could pretty much piece his inspiration quite easily. Luckily for him, Korea didn’t have a lot of people that were willing to watch four whole hours of countries they’d never heard of sending artists runnings around in hamster balls singing about dusting a turkey in 2000s-era technicolor.

“They sure did bring a wholeass ice rink on stage, did they?” Sungchan said, using his tall stature to tower over Geonu and Jeongin. He kept his eyes focused on the Olympic figure skater as he gracefully slid around the small, constrained ice rink in Belgrade.

“Anything for Dima Bilan. Anything.” Jeongin cooed, eyes never leaving the blue-tinted stage on his phone screen. “Look at him! He’s so… sexy.”

“Take a shot every time Jeongin simps over Dima Bilan,” You interrupted, snatching the phone from Jeongin’s hands. You went on the search bar and typed in the keywords that led to your favorite Eurovision winner, Duncan Laurence. Once his deep, solemn voice began to reverberate across the vast emptiness of the basement, you felt the three roll their eyes in your direction.

“Of course, you’ll always play Duncan Laurence’s performance,” Jeongin sighed as he shook his head. He yanked his phone back from your hands and paused the video, momentarily admiring the tall, Dutch man playing the grand piano before shutting his phone off altogether. You returned the sentiment and folded your arms, closing your eyes from exhaustion.

“Jeongin, you know that people can enjoy the contest for the actual music they produce, right?”

“Well… yeah, but where’s the fun in that?” Jeongin replied, giving you his signature foxy smile. “You’re free to argue that Stefania won last year because of its musicality and experimentation with hip-hop and Ukrainian folk music, but man, you can’t deny that people liked it because of Mr. Pink Bucket Hat and MC Kilimmen’s breakdancing.”

“I don’t know, dude.” Sungchan interrupted. Whenever the topic of Eurovision 2022 came up, he always felt the need to join the conversation. “I think Chanel with Slomo deserved the trophy.”

Sungchan always had a penchant to enjoy female entries in Eurovision. When the band rewatched Eurovision 2010 and host their first sleepover in the basement for the first time, Sungchan fell asleep until Lena’s “Satellite” came on. The moment he heard her voice, he jolted awake as if someone shocked him with a defibrillator, posture immediately upright as he leaned his tall frame too close to the projector that they managed to hook up. For the whole week since, he kept replaying her performance whenever he had free time. When he was doing chores around the basement or setting up for practice, he would constantly hum the chorus of the song, following the singer’s odd, breathy cadence while swinging his hips to the rhythms in his head. It got to a point where it became an earworm for the entire band, and for a while, Geonu decided to ban the song from playing whenever they were together.

“You can’t keep playing Satellite when Alexander Ryback was way better,” Jeongin would bitterly mutter under his breath. He would then pretend to hold a violin and prance around the floorboards, using his light, airy steps to do several failed pirouettes.

Eurovision became the center of your band, and it became a gimmick to put at least one Eurovision song on your setlist—much to your chagrin. On the one hand, you would enjoy the songs that Jeongin would pick, such as “Believe” and Lordi’s “Hard Rock Hallelujah” for your university’s Halloween bash. In those moments, you were into it because you enjoyed the songs. On the other hand, the songs that were often chosen for your gigs were too “poppy,” for lack of a better word. There was not much you can do except keep steady beats intact while you watched Geonu and Jeongin mess around on stage. It was fun watching them get extremely drunk on copious amounts of cheap beer and vodka cranberries, but in the end, you were left performing basic 808s while the rest had their share of fun.

It wasn’t unfair. It was just the way music was evolving. You weren’t much of a connoisseur to begin with as well, so you sucked it up and kept the musical harmony of the band. After all, what was important to you wasn’t the ability to execute flashy fills or steal the stage from the rest of the members. If you wanted that for yourself, then you wouldn’t be in a band in the first place. The sole purpose of forming a group is to produce quality as a collective, not as individuals—as such, you kept your role practical. So long as you sounded good as a band, that meant you were doing your job right.

Maybe that was why you got along with everyone very well. Unlike Sungchan, who had a greedy streak of outdoing Geonu’s vocals with his shrill fills, or Jeongin, who had the opposite problem of staying behind and lowering the volume of his bass on the amp, you kept a good balance between showing off your skills and keeping the band’s overall sound in mind. That dynamic was also reflected in the way you interacted with the rest of the band. When you were with Geonu, you were an agent that showed him humility. You would always slap him in the back without any ill will, making sure he understood that there was no hierarchy in the band.

“We’re not Geonu and friends, you jerk,” You would often say to him while pinching his ears. “We’re Joker In now, and I don’t recall seeing your name at the forefront of our group.”

“My bad, my bad,” Geonu replied, feeling the pain inflicted wherever you pinched him. Sometimes, it would be a drum stick thrown in his direction. When you were feeling generous, you just shook your head and taunted him.

“I could do your job just as well, wanna bet?” You’d ask, pushing him to your drum kit in jest. Geonu could take jokes pretty well, but whenever this threat would reach his ears, he’d often see his life flash before his very eyes. Even if he prided himself in his skills as a multi-instrumentalist, he didn’t want to admit that he was terrible at the drums.

You had a relatively peaceful relationship with Jeongin, owing to the fact that you were both in the same section. As such, you had to parle with Jeongin the most about the musical direction of each song Geonu wrote or translated. Since the genre that you often played with the band was along the lines of contemporary indie rock or pop, you didn’t struggle a lot with learning the songs or creating a soft, basic beat that can go along with Geonu’s vocals and Sungchan’s playing. Jeongin’s case was rather different. Although he was a great bassist that had an impeccable sense of rhythm, he lacked the confidence to properly execute all the bass lines he had in mind. Whenever he felt daunting, it would take him a few drinks or a few words of encouragement until he could finally swallow his insecurities and face Geonu.

“Why are you so scared of that tiny angry man,” You’d often joke, sticking your elbow to Jeongin’s sides. He would look back at you with a flushed and nervous look, scrambling for answers in his fast-paced head while looking back at Geonu.

It’s not to say he was scared of Geonu, because you can’t really be scared of a man who was his height. Rather, Jeongin was intimidated by Geonu’s presence—and you completely understood where that unfounded sentiment came from. Jeongin was the only one who did not have any experience with live performances prior to joining the band. Sungchan had been playing with Geonu since high school, and you paid your dues back in high school when you were forced to play jazz drums in the big band. Sure, you had a bit of a blank when it came to performing live, but it was easy to get back in the motions of it all when you already knew what to do. Jeongin didn’t have the experience; he only had skill. No matter how great he was at the instrument in theory, he often didn’t know what to do once he was on stage. Geonu would have to pull him back an hour before rehearsals and sound check just to tell him to let loose—which ironically wasn’t something anyone could teach.

“Loosen up, kid. You just gotta get out there and play! Don’t think about being perfect or fucking up, because once you do, you mess up. It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy, so you gotta get in there with good vibes only.”

Jeongin’s gotten better now, but he still shared the same meekness and apprehension when it came to Geonu. You were sure that it’d completely disappear with time, but you weren’t completely confident about the band’s status in a few years. There was a part of you that still considered it a short-term gig—something you’ll eventually grow out of once you graduate from university and get a “real job.” For this reason, you got along with Sungchan quite well.

Another word about Sungchan: Though he had the longest track record of witnessing Geonu’s god complex, he was also someone that didn’t take the band seriously. In fact, your shock persisted to this day when Sungchan drunkenly told you that he planned to leave the band and music altogether after he graduated.

“This is just a hobby for me,” You vaguely remember him saying with overly dilated pupils and languid, hazy steps. “I think I’ll quit when I get my shit together someday.”

It wasn’t until you were four months deep into the band that you realized why Sungchan didn’t want to pursue music forever. At first, you thought it was an uncomfortable, yet silent and covert tension between Sungchan and Geonu. They’ve known each other for so long; it was natural to have disagreements. Then, you realized through Sungchan’s work ethic and his commitment to the Varsity baseball team that he simply had more going for him than a four-piece cover band. He wasn’t the smartest of the bunch, but he was extremely athletic—which was always a plus when it came to the unlikely colliding worlds of mosh pits and Olympic-level stamina.

Joker In often had its moments of explosive fights and passive-aggressive silent treatments, but you wouldn’t have had it any other way. Usually, all it took was for Sungchan to complain that he was hungry, or for Jeongin to take his phone out and plug it into the projector, screening his niche obsession of odd European performances for everyone to see.

Unfortunately for you, though, the topic of today’s fight was around the one thing that should have brought the band together: Food.

“What should we eat tonight?” Geonu asked, adjusting the microphone stand with one hand while scanning the messy, crumpled, and coffee-stained lyric sheet in his hands.

“Pizza?”

“Sungchan, we’ve been having pizza for the past six months. If we order the same shit again I swear I might throw up,”

“Yeah, I’m siding with Jeongin on this one,” You added, leaning your head on Jeongin’s shoulder while clutching your unruly, growling stomach. “Pizza’s just not it right now.”

“Then what the fuck do we order, captain?” Sungchan snapped, heaving a sigh as he groaned in pain.

“Hey, don’t call me that!” Geonu replied and returned the sentiment, scratching his head in frustration and confusion. He looked out at the sky and checked his phone, taking quick glances between all the furniture in the basement. The skies were dark, and the only source of light the band had was the dim, low glow of an ancient, yellow light bulb that was still there before they called the place their studio.

“Didn’t I say we’re all equals here?”

“Well, you’re technically writing all the songs that we’ve played so far, and you’ve been really anal about the solo I’ve considered for Butterflies and Katrina…”

To be fair, Sungchan was right. For the past three weeks or so, Sungchan has tried his best to add more input into the mixing process, but Geonu would either turn his suggestions down or ask him to play quieter in recent gigs. At first, Sungchan could understand the frontman’s qualms; it was never in his best interest for anyone to overshadow each member. However, he disagreed with the way that Geonu played favorites. Two nights ago, he caved in and allowed you to perform a drum solo—but then again, that was out of the request of the audience. You were lucky enough to have half your friend group and the entire law society show up to embarrassingly chant your name over and over again until you had the opportunity to strike. For Jeongin, it was much more forceful. Geonu had been trying to replicate the same charisma that Felix had brought to the band, and as a result, he has given Jeongin complicated bass lines that aren’t the easiest to execute in front of a crowd. Geonu had his own moments as well, but he chalked it up to being the “face” of the band. Disagreements between the two were commonplace, but it wasn’t common to completely diminish Sungchan’s role to basic chords and simple riffs.

“Sungchan, for fuck’s sake,” Geonu replied in his usual tone. “I’m not being anal because I don’t like it. I’m being anal because I know you could come up with something better. This is the same, lazy, cut-and-paste solo that you’ve been playing in every single show so far, and we need more diversity in our tune to get everyone to eventually listen to the stuff we put out.”

“Geon, we’re a cover band. Don’t you ever forget that,” Sungchan chimed. He was sick of hearing Geonu tell him the same thing since they were in high school.

“So? Translation takes a lot of work! Besides, the only reason we’ve gained our following so far is that we do something unique and original that Joker Out don’t do on their shows.”

“Oh please, all the gimmicks you do on stage basically count as stealing. You see fan videos of Bojan online and regurgitate that.”

“Oh? Like what? Please give me an example, because from what I can see, the crowd loves what we already do.”

Usually, all it took was for you and Jeongin to step in and break the two apart. Jeongin would console Geonu on the sidelines, and you would take Sungchan out for a “walk” until he came back with a fresh perspective. Sometimes, it took hours—days, even—for both of them to set their differences aside and swear an oath of momentary truce. However, this was the first time you’ve seen their bickering evolve into a full-fledged fight. You snuck glances between a panicked Jeongin, who slowly unplugged his bass and turned off the amp. He looked like an ostrich that constantly peaked his head in all directions, eyes rapidly scavenging the best time to step in and do what he does best.

“I don’t know? You call our music shagadelic sad boy rock—just like how Joker Out describes themselves,”

“It’s an original word!”

“It’s not if they’re already using it…”

“Guys!” Jeongin finally screamed. “I’m hungry! Can we just postpone this little lover’s quarrel for another time?”

“Jeongin’s right,” You backed up, watching the two attempt to bicker amidst Jeongin’s ear-grating, dolphin-like screech. “We haven’t eaten anything since we arrived, you know? We’ve just been busy going through our setlist like, five or six times. Can’t we just call for a break and get back once we’ve eaten?”

“I hate that you’re always right,” Geonu finally responded after a light, pondering pause. “Pizza?”

Before Geonu could start dialing the usual pizza place’s number on his phone, a light creak bounced back and forth between the gray, cement walls of the basement. It came in little waves, then echoed with a booming shriek. The four of you immediately looked behind you, catching the lanky silhouette of a man wearing an oversized rugby shirt with marinara stains all over its striped pattern. He tipped his cap off and gave all four of you a smile, the very definition of heavy embodied in the soft, yet dense movement of each footstep. He wasn’t even wearing leather boots or platforms; his sneakers seemed to shake the entire room with every step he took. Once you were able to catch a glimpse of the intense redness in his eyes, you finally knew why someone who appeared so light carried such weight with him.

“Oh my god, you scared me, Hee!” You jokingly exclaimed, greeting him with a strong pat on the shoulder. He cocked his head back and forth, giant, glassy eyes adjusting to see the blurriness of your face. Once he was able to stay still, he returned the gesture with a wave that almost knocked him down to the ground.

“You losers didn’t call the shop so I got worried you died or something,” Heeseung said, passing the large box of pizza to Sungchan before slumping his entire body on one of the couches in the studio. “This place looks pretty gnarly, so I kinda expected a horror movie plot going on where one of you goes insane and murders everyone in the room.”

“To be fair, you did come at the right time,” You said, practically shoving a glass of water in Heeseung’s mouth. “Geonu was one step closer to ripping Sungchan’s head off just now.”

“Did you bring the usual?” Sungchan asked, knowing the answer just by the whiff of garlic, tomatoes, and mozzarella that wafted throughout the entire basement.

“Yeah, so every single one of you better pay me back. This was out of pocket.”

“You have the employee’s discount though, so the total price was probably around like, 12,000 won or something,” Jeongin said, trying his best to hold his laughter while taking a slice of pizza out of the box. Whenever Heeseung came with pizza, the war zone between Geonu and Sungchan subsides into a peaceful truce.

“Hey, shit’s brutal lately, okay? I gotta get my money back.”

Heeseung kept his body within the crevices of the old, unwashed couch, sinking his body further and further until he practically disappeared from your current realm of reality. At this rate, you would be surprised if Heeseung could get up and go home on his own. Though he was notorious for smoking copious amounts of weed every day, it wasn’t like him to show up to work completely fried. While the boy had problems with addiction, he was perhaps behind Geonu went it came to self-control and resilience. One time, he was able to quit weed for an entire month to focus on his studies. In those four months, he refused temptation altogether like a patron saint. No matter how many people tried to tempt him with a single puff or a bong rip, he would cover his nose and run away from the room. So far, he’s never caved in during these periods of asceticism.

“Fine, you stingy ass motherfucker,” Geonu replied, opening his phone to send a few Wons to the demanding pothead. “Broke ass bitch.”

“Can I talk to you real quick?” Heeseung suddenly interrupted. His brain shouldn’t be capable of multitasking in his current state, but the addition of money to his bank account was enough for him to forget about collecting his debt from the band.

“If it’s about that guy then I don’t wanna hear it. Besides, that’s all you talk to me about.”

“Beomgyu’s not bad if you give him a chance, trust me.”

Beomgyu. Hearing the name alone was enough for you to reach the same levels of anger that Geonu and Sungchan had just presented. Whenever the topic of Beomgyu came into the conversation, Geonu and Sungchan’s outbursts seemed like nothing but child’s play. While their arguments could easily be solved between a slice of pizza or a pint or two, you could never imagine yourself sitting idly and peacefully at a dining table with Beomgyu.

“Trust you?” You suddenly interjected, anger slowly seeping into your brain with each passing second. “Trust you? The person who gets insanely high and goes to Starbucks because you find the barista cute? No thanks!”

“Hey, man,”

“Don’t hey man me, you prick.”

“But you’re gonna love what I’m about to tell you,” Heeseung shushed, doing his very best to lull your unquenchable temper. The funniest thing to him was how being quick to anger was never in your personality. Throughout all the times that he’s known you, he was sure that it took infinite attempts to get you to at least crack or start getting annoyed—not angry. This was why no matter how much he tried to restrain himself, he couldn’t. It was too much fun watching you explode over some guy that apparently made it his life-long goal to get under your skin as much as possible—the best, or worst part about it is that it worked too well.

“I caught Beomgyu listening to Joker Out lately,” Heeseung started, barely containing the eruption of laughter that was bottled within the confines of his throat. “It’s probably your doing,”

“Of course he would,” You snapped, rolling your eyes at the thought of Beomgyu listening to your band’s idols. “He’s nothing without me,”

“You know what the better part is? He’s trying to learn Slovenian so he can one-up you and see them live in Europe or something,”

“I don’t care,”

“You clearly do,”

When it came to Beomgyu, you were terrible at keeping your temper in check. This was a well-known fact among your bandmates and a funnier gag to Heeseung. While your bandmates tried their best to pretend Beomgyu didn’t exist in your so-called friend group, they counted on Heeseung to spark the dormant anger within you. It’s not as if they were afraid of you, per se. It was more so the idea of taking responsibility; they’d rather let Heeseung take the fall than have you endlessly scream at them throughout practice for even mentioning Beomgyu’s existence. To be fair, they were right. With Sungchan and Geonu, things were simple. Even if they were to start punching each other during practice, everything could be solved if they ordered a slice of pizza. With you, however, things were different. You would endlessly talk about how much you hated Beomgyu regardless of the occasion. Even if there were pizza or expensive tickets to see your favorite band live, you would never let your loathing for Beomgyu come to a timely rest. It was always in the back of your brain, itching to come out at every opportunity you had.

“Look at you, little miss I have to be number one in everything,” Heeseung mocked in his inebriated state. He took a dab pen out of his pocket and inhaled its contents, watching the world around him slow down by the minute as your warped, contorted face continued to deepen its wrinkles. You were tempted to take a huff, but adamantly shook your head in absolute refusal.

“Say that one more time and I’ll hit your already empty head,” You replied, already hitting him a couple of times on the shoulder.

“Ouch,”

“Who the fuck does he think he is?! He’s the one who started this whole thing! I never even wanted it to be this way!”

“Yeah you kinda did,”

“How?!”

“I don’t know? Like, that one time you got angry because he beat you in a project,”

At this point, the band dropped everything to pay attention to Heeseung. He was already somewhat dangerous when he was sober, but he practically had no filter when he was high—which was, to be fair, about ninety percent of his existence. Whenever Heeseung was high, all social filters were removed, allowing him to gain access to all of the things that would incite anger in you. This time, it was the sacred project that sparked the endless rivalry between you and Beomgyu. The band knew to keep their mouths shut around the topic to maintain the peace that they kept between you, but Heeseung? The word peace itself didn’t seem to exist whenever he was too high to even think about what he would order at Starbucks.

“Well, that’s because he kept rubbing it in my face! I wanted to congratulate him!”

“He told me you got this close to beating him up in the lecture hall,” Heeseung replied, failing to contain the large grin that was permanently etched on his face. “One of the TAs practically had to grab you before you swung your knuckles in his face.”

“Well, that’s because he kept being annoying about it! He said I got a good mark because I sucked the professor’s dick!”

“You should know him by now, though. He has no filter.”

“But he said it like he meant it,”

“Yeah… about that…”

Even if Heeseung was, indeed, high, he was not a snitch—at least, he believed himself to be a man of his word. Even if tormenting you with talks of Beomgyu was one of his favorite forms of entertainment, what he refused to tell you was that Beomgyu was doing it out of his weird ways of telling you he had the hots for you. Heeseung didn’t know much about Beomgyu, to begin with, but to him, obsession in all forms was a pure sign of attraction.

“Look, I think you two just need to lock yourselves in a room and fuck,” Geonu interrupted, rolling his eyes at the scene playing in front of him. A part of him enjoyed watching you lose your cool at a single man that couldn’t even utter proper insults correctly. Whenever Geonu had the displeasure of seeing you and Beomgyu fight, he ironically laughed at the two of you without realizing that it was pretty much a reflection of his own battles with Sungchan.

“Hee’s right,” Jeongin quietly muttered, breaking his silence after devouring the last pizza slice. “I think you just need to get laid.”

“Excuse me?” You replied, mouth agape at the thought that Jeongin out of all people would call you out in your endless musings towards Beomgyu. “For your information, I do get some.”

“Oh really? When?” Sungchan joked. “When was the last time you fucked?”

“Last month!”

“Rebounds don’t count.”

“Yes, they do!”

“No, they don’t.”

A word about your rebound: it didn’t count. It was just a quick hate fuck with an ex that you haven’t talked to in three years. There was no preamble; it was action without thought. You didn’t even bother asking for her contact information after, and the two of you parted ways in mutual acknowledgement to never cross paths again. In that sense, it didn’t count.

“Anyway, you better sort whatever beef you got going on with Beomgyu out. It’s getting really annoying watching you two fight all the time.” Heeseung said, taking another puff out of his dab pen once he started to feel the ground on his feet again.

“Why is it up to me to fix things?! As I’ve said so many times before, he’s the one who started this whole mess!”

“Sure…”

“Why don’t you guys believe me?!”

“Have you seen yourself?” Geonu interrupted, scratching his head at your poor attempts at salvaging your once calm demeanor. “You’re like, little miss perfect. You’re in like, a million different student clubs, you’re volunteering around campus to the point where you live there—hell, you’re even running for student government this year.”

“Well, that’s because I need to! I need my resume to look good or else I’ll be unemployed for the rest of my life! It’s not like I’m doing so much because Beomgyu does a lot too!” You rebuked, treating the basement like a criminal court. So far, all the witnesses acted as judges with a gavel, striking each of their hammers down to denounce your alibi. Even if you believed you were right, it was up to them to recite the final verdict: Sure enough, you were guilty. Guilty of the vice that is competitiveness.

“I mean, I believe you when you say that, but you have to admit that you’ve been overworking yourself since you met the guy like, three years ago,” Sungchan admitted, shuffling his feet towards you to give you gentle pats on your back.

“No I haven’t!”

“Listen,” Geonu started with a deep sigh. “You’re in varsity, you’re in charity, you almost joined a cult, you’re in debates, you used to be a senior editor for the school paper, you completed your internship like last month, you’re acing all your classes, you’re in the administrative board for your faculty’s association, and you’re in Joker In. That’s overkill, and I’m betting my dick on you not doing this much had you not met Beomgyu.”

“He just brings out the worst in me!” You screamed to no avail. This was the dead end of your court case, and you had to leave the basement without the last word.

“He brings out the private school overachiever in you that’s for sure,” Heeseung joked, his pupils consuming the whites of his eyes until they were overly expanded like obsidian marbles.

“That was so uncalled for, Hee. Put a trigger warning before you make my PTSD worse,”

“Sorry, princess, didn’t realize that going to a super rich private school would be the same as surviving the Korean War,”

“Get the fuck out, Hee.”

You had to stand your ground. Every single time the conversation led to Beomgyu, you were always seen as enemy number one. To be fair, you were the more aggressive out of the two of you. While Beomgyu limited himself to crass insults, you elevated the threat of physical assault and a free boxing match for all of the university to see. Sure, it wasn’t your intention to want to beat him up into a neat, fine pulp, but there was something about Beomgyu that always made you so violent.

“And tell Beomgyu that he’s a prick!” You shouted, after finally managing to push an incredibly high Heeseung out the door. Through the small cracks that you left open, you could see him stumbling on his feet as he began to walk away, waving your figure off with a haughty grin. As always, he left his hat in your basement, and once you descended to the meeting point, you picked it up and threw it out of the broken glass windows, watching it swing back and forth between its sharp shards.

“You two really need to see a marriage counselor or something,” Geonu whispered, watching your rage slowly disperse into your usual calm.

“Geonu’s right, and I rarely agree with that cunt,” Sungchan added, attempting to flail his elongated arms on Geonu’s shoulders.

“Hey! We’ve been playing together for centuries and this is how you repay me?”

“My bad, captain,”

“I think you two need to go to couples therapy instead of them,” Jeongin interrupted, using his thin, fox-like eyes to slyly look at the pair. “I mean, you guys have been at it since high school. They’ve only been at it for like, three years.”

“Thank you, Jeongin. Thank you.”

As always, it was up to Jeongin to fix things whenever the entire band was on the brink of disbandment. For Jeongin, though, it was another stressful addition to his reluctant ventures as a member of Joker In. First, it was his anxieties about keeping Felix’s legacy after he left. Then, it was helping you mitigate the couple’s quarrels that Geonu and Sungchan always found themselves in. Now, it was helping you calm down after the mere mention of Beomgyu’s existence.

“Anyway, let’s get back to practice. Rhythm first,” Geonu snapped. The one thing about him that made him an efficient frontman was his ability to gather the team back into practice. No matter how many times he’d often want to throw his microphone stand in Sungchan’s face or duct tape your mouth shut whenever Heeseung would come in and deliberately bring Beomgyu up, he had faith that the entire band would succumb to obedience once he took control.

“Why?” Jeongin grumbled. To his detriment, Geonu had asked the rhythm section to double their practice time for the past week. At first, he didn’t really see an issue with this, but now, he was skeptical. You, too, shared the same sentiment, looking at Jeongin in confusion before reluctantly shrugging your shoulders and picking your drum sticks from the floor.

“I have to talk to Sungchan about something important,”

With this, you gave Geonu a salute and watched the two climb up from the basement and disappear altogether. Once they were gone, you started to hit your sticks together, counting from two as you waited for Jeongin to play the backing track.

As for Geonu and Sungchan, they eased into the abandoned kitchen of the rustic house, watching Heeseung’s slumped, sleeping figure on the broken couch. They made sure to drop him home before you finished your round with Jeongin, and they hurried to one of the care packages they’d often pack for a bottle of water.

“How do we tell her that Beomgyu’s been sneaking into our gigs?” Geonu asked in a hushed voice, his ears turned to the direction of the stairs that led into the basement.

“I mean, I don’t think we need to tell her,” Sungchan replied. “It’s gonna ruin the band and everything we’ve got going for us so far.” He nonchalantly took a sip of his water and took a quick glance at Heeseung, who was knocked out cold.

“What do you mean? I think she deserves to know so the two of them can finally fix things,”

“Geon, it’s not that easy,”

“How would you know?”

“I don’t, but I can tell,” Sungchan muttered, trying to keep his already quiet voice even lower. “It’s probably just them blowing some steam off because they couldn’t find a way to do it before,”

“Hate fucking?” Heeseung joked, keeping one eye open before slumping back down into the comforts of the smelly, tic-ridden couch. Geonu also reminded himself to tell Heeseung to visit the doctor and take a long shower once he got home.

“Not quite,” Sungchan said, returning the sentiment while walking towards Heeseung with another bottle of water. “You know, if you think about it, both of them come from a pretty well-to-do background. They’re both in the same program, and from what I sort of know about her situation and from what I can guess about Beomgyu, they’re both just facing the consequences of overbearing tiger parents,”

“What did she tell you?” Geonu asked. He was always one for good gossip. Unfortunately, Sungchan wasn’t.

“That’s not my story to tell, I’m just trying to see it from her perspective,”

“So we don’t tell her?” Geonu asked again, rolling his eyes at Sungchan’s tight-lipped nature.

“I mean, if she finds out, then she finds out. Just let it happen on its own.”

“And how do we make sure that nothing too messy happens in our gigs?”

“I don’t know, let them fight it off if it happens,” Sungchan muttered after a long, quiet thought. He’s thought about the scenario one too many times, but he wasn’t one to stop the inevitable. “It’s good to let all that pent-up frustration out I guess…”

“You’re too nice, Sung.”

“I know, Geon. I know.”

“What?! Come again?!”

For Heeseung to call Beomgyu’s voice a scream was an understatement. If a dolphin were to learn to speak, it would sound better than Beomgyu whenever the topic surrounded you and your entire being. It was for this reason that Heeseung sometimes loathed the idea of coming home; he supposed the price of free rent came at a cost of living with the earthly incarnation of wrath.

“Gyu, I know you heard me the first time,” Heeseung said, attempting to cover his ears to no avail.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Hee. My ears are getting bad from hearing her name!” Beomgyu screamed again, fury visible in the twitches of his eyes.

“Jesus, you don’t have to shout at me… I’m just your messenger boy,”

“And I don’t need to hear about her! So what if she’s playing their songs? She’s probably gonna fuck it all up anyway…”

“Says the person who went to their gig two nights ago,”

In the same way Heeseung knew all the tricks and tactics to turn you into a red, fuming ball of anger, he also knew how to push all of Beomgyu’s buttons. Then again, it wasn’t that difficult to get Beomgyu angry, for Beomgyu was the type of person to get angry at a mere fly that happened to land on his shoulder. It was very easy to tick Beomgyu off, but only you had the power to get him into a continual period of rage that never ceased to disappear the moment he hears your name or catches a whiff of your scent. Heeseung wouldn’t compare Beomgyu’s so-called hatred towards you in a predator-prey dynamic—to him, both of you were blood-thirsty warlords that could never come to terms with a ceasefire to the detriment of the rest of the world.

“Hee, I swear, if you told her that—”

“Don’t worry, Gyu. I’m not a snitch.” Heeseung interrupted. “What I am, though, is a messenger boy, and if I’m being honest with you, I’m getting sick of my job. Just admit that you like her and I don’t know? Go fuck her or something,”

“Hee, I don’t like her. Let me correct myself: I will never like her. I like her band, not her.”

Beomgyu was an enigma in many, many ways, but what never failed to amuse Heeseung about his reluctant roommate was how hatred was stronger than attraction or any feelings of love. Beomgyu was the type of person to go through lovers like a page in a novel—fast, yet detailed, but never stuck on the same page for too long. And yet, when it came to you, he seemed to be an avid reader that ceaselessly consumed and repurposed every page of a novel, adding and subtracting everything that he could concentrate all of his energy on understanding the layers and complexities of a text revered by schools and institutions alike.

“All you talk about is how impeccable the mastering is on the drums whenever you listen to their SoundCloud…”

“So? I just happen to like how she plays. That’s not a testament to me liking her,”

“Why do you hate her so much, Gyu? I don’t think I’ve had the chance to properly ask,”

Heeseung never had the chance to ask Beomgyu out of fear, even when he was high. That was the one thing that never went away no matter what state he was in. To be fair, he had every right to be scared or fearful in any shape or form; he’s never seen a type of hatred as intense and raw as the one Beomgyu harbored over you.

“Because she exists, Hee. She exists.”

“Can’t you just let it go?”

“No, I can’t.”

“Why not?”

Beomgyu took a deep breath. He hated that he always ran out of something so essential to life whenever you came up. “Because some dipshit keeps telling my parents that she’s basically beating me in everything! Her!”

“So…?” Heeseung replied, rolling his eyes at the underwhelming result of their rivalry. “Why can’t you just tell them to shut up and mind their own business?”

“I wish it was that easy, Hee. God, I wish. Every time they call me it’s like Oh that girl got number one again! Oh that girl’s president of the law society, why are you VP external? Beomgyu-yah, why can’t you be better?”

Another word about Choi Beomgyu: If it wasn’t as clear as day, then it would be helpful to explain it now. He was from a well-to-do family with no financial obligations or the threat of living a brooding, middle-class life chasing paycheck after paycheck to sustain the bare necessities in Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. With this in mind, Heeseung begins to paint a kaleidoscopic diagram of the various reasons why Beomgyu may be so hung up on always being number two against you. He closed his eyes, allowed the remaining traces of cannabis to set the cogs in his brain into motion, and came up with an epiphany that shook him to the core: Beomgyu was a bored, rich kid that needed something to keep him at his toes, and you were the very stimulant that he was looking for. Sure, it was, in a sense, an underwhelming conclusion, but Heeseung could only digress. He wasn’t born into a family that had it all, and he reckons that if he didn’t have to worry about his finances, he would end up being a bratty, bored student out for blood just like the very person that offered him a taste of wealth in a sky-high apartment.

“Yikes… Talk about Tiger King and Queen…”

“So yeah, it is personal.” Beomgyu spat. It would be rude to call the boy tone deaf—especially in his hot-headed state. Heeseung kept his mouth shut, something that he rarely did when he was inebriated in any form.

“You don’t have to tell them about her, you know?” He asked after finding the right words to say. Beomgyu rolled his eyes and huffed under his breath, his hands twitching to throw his phone off the balcony.

“I’m not! That’s the point! I’m not telling them about her! They’re just stalking me on their own!”

At this moment, Heeseung thought of trying his best to reconcile the bad blood between you and Beomgyu. Then again, he pondered—another thing he never seems to do. If he were to succeed in getting you and Beomgyu to set your respective differences aside, then he wouldn’t have his very own source of entertainment anymore. As much as he would’ve hated to admit, he always looked forward to getting high just to hear Beomgyu complain about you. What made it even funnier to him was how you were nothing like the devil that Beomgyu pictured. It wasn’t to say you were an angel that descended from the heavens, either. You were, in fairness, just an average university student that couldn’t—and shouldn’t—care less about a rich boy that endlessly yapped about you. Without Beomgyu in the picture, you were just a drummer that had to deal with another pair of noisy rivals that needed to go to some form of couple’s therapy.

“Hee, you don’t get it, do you?” Beomgyu suddenly spoke, breaking the short-lived silence that Heeseung tried to salvage.

“Afraid not.”

“I can’t get along with someone like her. I just can’t. She gets on my nerves, and I wish she didn’t exist!”

It was common for Heeseung to hear Beomgyu complain about his parents and his brother in the few months or so of him living with the boy. In fact, it was a routine for Heeseung to hear Beomgyu complain. That was what he was good at, and he was glad that he was putting his skills to good use by choosing the right program and career path. Now that Heeseung had the chance to picture it, Beomgyu would make a fine lawyer, incessantly nagging his way through each court case until the jury rules in his favor so he would shut up.

“Jesus, you rich kids are kind of an ick…” Heeseung whispered. He gave Beomgyu a quick wave and headed straight to the balcony, closing it to see his roommate flash him the middle finger. He returned it with a smile, and fished a lighter out of his jean pocket to light the stem of a dirty, unwashed bong that was filled with beer instead of water.

“You should be lucky I’m letting you live here for free,” Beomgyu mouthed through the glass windows just enough for Heeseung to see.

“Yeah, I guess hearing you pine about a fellow overachiever and trauma dump about your terrible childhood is better than paying for rent,” Heeseung replied, opening the door to let Beomgyu into the balcony. Beomgyu hated it whenever Heeseung would smoke. A part of it came from the stench that stuck to his hair and clothes despite three laundry loads in the washing machine, and another part came from his irrational fear of anything related to drugs—which was rather odd since he was the type of person who was pretty loose when it came to drinking copious amounts of alcohol at social gatherings.

“Hee, if I go to jail one day, you’ll probably be out of this earth to witness it.”

“Oh, I’m so scared!”

Heeseung tried his best to stifle a bout of laughter that began to accumulate in his lungs but to no avail. In an instant, he was a laughing mess with red-laced eyes, and all Beomgyu could do was cover his nose as the hooded boy continued to blow smoke on his face.

“Close the fucking door when you smoke, you’re hotboxing the entire apartment,” Beomgyu screamed, storming out of the balcony to close the glass windows shut. Before he could go back to his room, Heeseung stood up and opened the door again, letting the stench of weed laced with moldy beer enter the ventilation system.

“You should try it sometime, Gyu. It’d loosen the stick up your ass for sure,” Heeseung said with a languid touch to his cadence. Every word and movement he uttered was met with heavy restraint, and Beomgyu knew that Heeseung wasn’t on earth anymore.

“Are you coming?” Beomgyu asked. He knew there was nothing he could do to reason with someone that was properly baked.

“To what?” Heeseung responded, almost shattering the bong in his hands as he languidly danced back into the apartment.

“Joker In’s gig tonight,” Beomgyu said reluctantly—almost too quick for Heeseung to catch.

“Gyu, I deliver their pizza like, every day. I don’t need to go there again unless they give me shrooms for free.”

“Whatever,”

Beomgyu stormed off into the bathroom to grab the essentials that he relied on for the perfect disguise: a disappearing can of Manic Panic hair dye in neon red, a pair of scissors and a bunch of razorblades that he used to tear his jeans and his tank tops, a pencil of kohl eyeliner that he stole from one of his first hookups during freshman year, and a near-empty bottle of black nail polish. Heeseung often joked about how his so-called “disguise” was just a blast from the MySpace, scene-girl past, but Beomgyu refuses to admit that his go-to look to your gigs was less-than-perfect. He’s snuck into your gigs since he saw you secretly put posters of a Valentine’s bash on every crevice of the law faculty; he was sure a couple more gigs couldn’t hurt before the inevitable occurs.

“You’re going alone?” Heeseung asked, waving at his reflection in the mirror while trying his best to stop himself from uncontrollably laughing.

“Yeah, why?”

“What if she sees you?”

“Have you seen her play? She only focuses on rubbing two sticks. I doubt she’d even notice me.” Beomgyu replied, sharpening his eyeliner. Heeseung knocked the bottle of nail polish and caught it, a wide grin of pride on his face as he carefully placed it back in its original position near the sink.

“See? You’re constantly horny for her,”

“I’m not, she’s ugly and she’s annoying,”

“And yet you’re going to her gig,”

“Man, shut the fuck up.” To Beomgyu’s surprise, this had become his way of saying goodbye to Heeseung whenever he would go to your band’s gig. He used to push Heeseung out of the bathroom so he could concentrate on applying eyeliner on his waterline, but he’s become desensitized to the stings that he would feel when he would accidentally poke his eyes. Sometimes, Heeseung was willing to help Beomgyu apply red dye to his hair, tracing the lines of his tattoos around his arms and calling them crude shapes such as dick nozzle or pee pee stains. Whether he liked it or not, it had unfortunately become a ritual to have Heeseung with him when he was going through his transformation, and now, he was afraid that Heeseung’s absence wouldn’t give him the push and comfort he needed to go through with his covert operation to see you play the drums.

“I’m calling out to you, I wish I could hide,

Oh, no one loves me tonight

It’s just my demons and I,”

This was supposedly the hundredth time that Beomgyu had seen Geonu sing, but he could never learn from his mistakes. Alcohol, nicotine, and Geonu’s voice seemed to give Beomgyu the worst cross-faded experience of his life. Contrary to what others might believe, Beomgyu felt like this during all of Joker In’s gigs because Geonu was too good at his job. His voice had an enchanting quality to it that made Beomgyu’s walls collapse into putty, turning the decrepit paint-job of the basement into one, giant quicksand that continually pulled Beomgyu in. It didn’t help that the rest of the band amplified Geonu’s hypnotic timbre; Sungchan’s guitar acted as a second voice that harmoniously meshed with the mystic melodies that left Beomgyu in a trance-like reverie; Jeongin’s bass didn’t act as a stabilizer with its own heavy renditions of weightless bliss—and, of course, you.

Suspension of disbelief was something that Beomgyu thought he could never accomplish, and yet, the moment you started to strike each tom with your drum stick, he knew that everything in his life didn’t matter to him anymore. He supposes it was the power of music, but he also hatefully admits that your skills carried an unbreakable spell with each note you hit. Rhythm wasn’t even something he particularly enjoyed, seeing as most of the music he listened to was melodic and lyrical in nature. It was only when you took the seat to the drum kit that he was finally able to stand close to the speakers, in the very corner he saved for himself, just to see your tireless figure effortlessly match the energy of the rest of the band. He didn’t know what it was that made him nearly obsessed with the way you played: What it the nonchalance you brought to the stage? Or was it the fills you’d add here and there whenever there was an instrumental break? Was it perhaps the almost-melodic nature of your playing that aroused not just him, but everyone in the room into a mosh-pit frenzy? Maybe it was the way you looked when you played—but he wasn’t drunk enough just yet to admit something so… raunchy.

The walls started to fade one by one, and the group of people that crowded all corners of the basement slowly blended together into various forms and colors. The neon, old gray test lights that dyed the room in a diverse spectrum of colors swirled into one, hazy, hypnotic vision that almost made Beomgyu nauseous. Geonu’s voice began disappearing into thin air, and all he could hear was the muffled bass drum that you kicked with patterned intervals.

This was out of the norm, and Beomgyu’s recklessness amplified into tenfolds of fear. He couldn’t feel the sensations of his skin anymore; his eyes continued to swirl into an amalgamation of colors and people that looked like blurry amoebas; time seemed difficult to track as everything was moving too fast and slow for him to ground himself; each body he bumped into felt like he was getting crushed under its weight; Beomgyu couldn’t breathe; Beomgyu couldn’t see anything anymore; the only thing that Beomgyu could hear was an all too familiar voice that he wasn’t sure he hated or loved.

“Hey, you alright?”

When Beomgyu opened his eyes, he was outside the concert venue, crouched down on the same levels of the tall grass that tickled his face. His cheeks felt cold to the touch, almost as if someone had thrown a bucket of ice water on him. He felt through his hair and tried to contain the fear that embraced his body, locked in a state of panic at the sight of bright red staining his palms. It took a while for him to realize that it was just the temporary dye that he’d placed on his hair, but the apprehension and trepidation came to haunt him again when he looked up to see your concerned, glassy eyes.

“You don’t look too good,” You repeated, kneeling down to his level as you lit a cigarette and blew the smoke against his direction. There were several empty water bottles next to you, coupled with an entire cooler filled with soft drinks, fruit juice, and whatever Beomgyu could see in the dimly lit outdoors of the outskirts of town.

“No, I’m fine.” He breathlessly replied, staring down at the soles of his scuffed, leather combat boots. There was no way he could look up now. He could tell that you weren’t convinced; your chuckles made the pits of his stomach dance with the bile that was piling up in the organ. You took a water bottle and gently held his face in the soft surface of your palms, letting the liquid slowly refresh the corners of Beomgyu’s mouth. The haziness that he felt in his vision slowly dispersed into clarity—which worsened the nausea that overwhelmed Beomgyu in waves. It was the first time he got this close to you without wanting to rip your head off. He didn’t know how he felt about it, but the remnants of alcohol that swirled throughout his bloodstream made his cheeks flush in a bright shade of red. He quickly took the water bottle away from you, drowning himself in its cool temperature. Maybe that way, he would wake up and remind himself that you shouldn’t be a friend.

The cool winds of the summer night grazed his cheeks in a tender embrace as he tried his best to keep his head down. He relentlessly prayed that the dimness of the venue’s entrance would hide his worst-kept features from you, fearing for the worst. Ever since his first visit to your band’s gig, he’s never felt something so close to a palpable sense of freedom—a euphoric high that gave him the taste of being a carefree young adult caught up in the fast times of rock music and decadence. He’s thought about making amends just to keep his little, secret sanctuary intact, but his stubborn pride wouldn’t allow him to yield to someone like you. Now that he was sober enough to think about it, he found the irony behind you embodying both his shackles to parental approval and a one-way ticket to liberation quite laughably fascinating. During the day, you were the very picture of something his parents wished he could be, and during the night, you had all the qualities of becoming a musician he idolized. He cursed fate under his breath, wishing that you weren’t blessed with the gifts of intelligence and innate leadership skills. He refused to admit it, but in another life where all you were to him was a drummer in his favorite band, he would’ve given you the benefit of the doubt and let you into his life.

He was reminded of your presence when you hovered a thin, white stick in front of him that glowed within the vast darkness of the night sky. He politely refused, shaking his head as a way to tell you that he didn’t smoke. You stifled a bout of laughter and tucked the cigarette back into its flimsy, dilapidated box, taking a languid seat next to the boy that you decided to take care of without realizing that he was the main source of your misery in your school life.

“What was the last song that you guys performed? I think I missed it because I blacked out or something,” Beomgyu asked with slight hesitance.

“A new version of Vem Da Greš that Geonu translated a few days ago,” You replied, humming the tune to the song that he wished he saw you play live. Something inside of him was telling him that he shouldn’t stay here any longer, so he got up and stretched his arms and legs, callously calculating his angles so you wouldn’t see a single hint of his face. He reveled in your denseness but despised your natural amiability. Once you got up and mimicked his stretches, he turned his head back and stuffed his hand in his jean pocket, fishing for his keys as he mustered a small goodbye in your direction.

“Are you sure you can go home alone?” You asked. “I can drop you off at the bus stop or something, since this place is pretty far out from the nearest city,”

A part of Beomgyu knew that the city lights would reveal his identity, but another part of him also knew how stubborn you can be. Even if he were to tell you that he was fine, and that he’s been known to rely on drunk navigation a lot, he was sure you would ceaselessly insist on taking him home. That was another thing he hated about you—you were too nice, too caring, and too kind to be his rival.

“I’ll be fine,” Beomgyu replied, trying his best to change the tone and cadence of his usual voice. As expected, your cackles echoed across the large stretches of grass and greeneries that surrounded the abandoned house that your band inherited, and you slowly walked closer to his side to poke his shoulders.

“You were literally wobbling around the basement, and if it weren’t for a nice group of girls that nursed you back to health at the sofa, you wouldn’t be here standing up to go home,”

Beomgyu covertly checked the time on his phone, afraid that the phone case filled with his cards and IDs would give his identity away. The time read 03:46 A.M., and he heaved a long, drawn-out sigh. He should’ve called Heeseung a little earlier to pick him up before he got absolutely wasted. In fairness, he could just call an Uber and hitch a ride home, but the transaction would raise another round of suspicion for his parents. He already had enough to worry about when he turned off his location and lied about going on weekly hiking trips with his friends, and he didn’t want to subject himself to another endless lecture and the threat of heightened surveillance from his parents.

“Fine,”

You jogged back to the venue and quickly came out with several water bottles in your small backpack, tossing one in Beomgyu’s direction. It was already bad enough for him that you out of all people saved him from his drunken downfall. The last thing he needed to end his night was to go on a long walk back into the city with someone he was supposed to hate.

“So, where do you live, if I may ask?”

Beomgyu pondered. He didn’t have to tell you his exact address. “Around Mapo-gu, near Mapo station.”

“Oh?”

He didn’t like the lack of response on your end. A low, vibrating hum escaped your lips, and you snapped your fingers as your mouth widened in amusement. “That’s where my friend lives! I can ask him to pick you up once we get there!”

You quickly took your phone out of your pocket and held it in your ear, too quick for Beomgyu to protest and stop you from doing so. Now, he was sure it was all over. The moment he heard the receiver pick up, he braced himself for what was to come.

“Hee, are you awake right now?” You asked, impatiently tapping your foot on the concrete roads that led to the only bus stop in sight—a shadowy silhouette of a thin, metal pipe with a flat circle that read Supsok Village Complex 2. He took a quick glance at your fretful stance, fidgeting with the straps of your phone’s drum keychain while fiddling with the pair of sticks that were lodged under the straps of your loose, billowy joggers. A satisfied hum huffed out of his breathless mouth when he saw you irately throw your phone inside your backpack. Even if Heeseung didn’t pick him up from the venue tonight, he knew that he could always rely on his copious cannabis routine to fall into a deep, unyielding sleep around this hour.

“I’m sorry, my friend’s a bit of a pothead so he’s probably knocked out cold or something,” You apologetically muttered. I would know, he’s my fucking roommate, Beomgyu thought to himself, returning your regretful sentiment with the only form of forgiveness he was willing to give you. Now, it was just the two of you, and Beomgyu had no clue if he should take the long, arduous hike back to his apartment or be thankful enough for your clumsy attempts at assisting him back to his domicile. The fact that he leaned towards succumbing to your aid made him realize that he wasn’t as good with alcohol as he would’ve liked—and now, he was sitting right next to you, eyes glued on his warped reflection in the glass windows as he watched you idly fidget in your seat. He was more than willing to suffer through the entire bus ride to his area of town in awkward silence, but judging from the way you tapped your feet and snuck quick glances between his brows and the tip of his nose, he knew that there was no escaping your desires for a tangible conversation.

“So… did you enjoy the show?” You asked after passing through six different bus stops. Beomgyu played with the loose hems of his tattered tank top, letting the seams go undone. He didn’t expect you to take your hoodie off in one motion, tossing it to the side of his neck as you quickly looked away. He tried his best to etch the rare shyness he saw written on your curved, cat-like spine; this was definitely something he’ll be bullying you for tomorrow.

Was he at fault for catching you in your most vulnerable state? No. You were just too dense to realize that the handsome, messy, rocked-out, drunk stranger right next to you was the very bane of your existence.

Beomgyu’s glory was short-lived, though. Now, he had to make the move. He remembered what his brother had taught him back in middle school, when Beomgyu was still struggling through incessant voice cracks and embarrassing one-liners that he’d religiously recite to get the girl of his then-dreams to bat a single eyelash in his direction. Step one, take a deep breath—because oxygen is the key to looking good, apparently. Step two, expand the diaphragm to fill the ribcage and beyond. It provided the facade of chest muscles. Step three, turn the chin low enough so the vocal cords could only register low notes—he didn’t know the science behind it, but he found that doing these three steps immensely lowered his already low, baritone voice into unknown depths (Beomgyu would like to add that he would never do this sober. It took courage for him to fall for his brother’s tricks, and he was only ever so courageous when he was drowned in eighteen glasses of tequila sunrise).

“Y-yeah, you guys did great as always,” Did it work?

No, it didn’t. The timid shyness in your slouched stature was gone, replaced with your best attempts at keeping your laughter within the confines of your throat. He couldn’t tell if you were choking on air, stifling your dinner and pushing it back into your stomach, or suffering through an intense, sharp pain in your abdomen. All he knew at the moment was that the tension that was once present in the air instantly dispelled into the flowery picture of two young adults failing to hold their laughter back in the empty seats of the night bus. It was certainly an odd experience for Beomgyu to not just share a ride home with someone he would very much murder in the confines of an empty, night bus, but he couldn’t deny how right things felt at the moment. Within the dim, flickering fluorescent lights of the shaky bus, all he could see was another universe through the reflections of the glass windows—a universe where he met you under different circumstances. A different reality where he would take you home and house you in his apartment, watching sad movies in his bedroom until the first sunrise.

Are you more of an action person, or comedy? My favorite genre is melodrama, he wanted to say. Maybe in his “new” identity as a faux washed-up youth in leather combat boots and ripped jeans, he might have some leeway into managing his double life. Tirelessly hating you for three years straight certainly added tired him out, so perhaps it would be a new thing to try

“Ah, a repeater,”

“That’s… odd? I don’t see you around a lot, though,” You replied. It was often common for your band to track and befriend those that constantly attend your shows—then again, you weren’t the best judge of that. Each gig always ended in

“That’s because I don’t stick around after the encore. I just leave once the song is done,” Beomgyu replied, trying his best to alter the tone in his voice. He couldn’t tell if you were just extremely tired or if you had too much to drink, but the deep swirls of colors under your lids was enough for him to feel a sense of security in his identity being under wraps. Just like the milkiness of the dark skies that danced with several shades of navy, you swayed back and forth with the motions of the car, heavy lids slowly going in and out of sleep as you tried your best to stifle a yawn and pay attention to your somewhat new companion. The driver announced the last stop, acting as an alarm for you to slap yourself in the face and hop off your seat.

To be fair, both of you were in an equal state of fatigue and inebriation. Beomgyu was waddling as he tried to balance himself on the railings of the exit door, and you placed your weary palm on the semi-wet surface of the bus, momentarily taking it away after the driver had angrily beeped at you until you did so. Once the bus zoomed away, you felt a wave of nausea hit you—at first, it began at the back of your stomach, then, it slowly climbed its way up until you were hunched over at the nearest sewer, coughing out everything that was supposed to fuel you for a one-hour set. Beomgyu turned away and reluctantly placed gentle pats on the small of your back, hiding his face from the city lights that threatened to blow his cover off.

“My apartment is this way,” He muttered. You nodded after a few rounds of coughing, then doused yourself with the last water bottle that was inside your backpack.

“Mine’s on the other end of the street,” You replied, wiping your mouth with your jacket and quickly waving off his concerns with a tired grin. He couldn’t imagine the toll it took on you, or any musician for that matter, to play intense, fast-paced songs back to back without any rest, but perhaps that type of stamina was what it took to become a professional of sorts. Maybe that was also why you were such a feisty fighter, because you needed the energy to carry yourself throughout the day.

“See you around?” You asked. He didn’t turn to look at you. He simply stood still, lowering his head until all he saw were the messy, beer-stained surface of the degrading leather in his combat boots. He gave you a quick nod, then stuffed his sweat-ridden hands in his jean pockets. Somehow, he could still feel your presence lurking around, waiting idly until he entered the apartment. It wasn’t until he was within the comforts of his building, swiftly jogging up to the elevator, that you began to walk away. Through the large, glass windows of the apartment building, you were but a mere ant, eyes lingering on the path he took as if it were a complex maze. He could see you taking quick glances between your road and his, a satisfied smile on your face as soon as you confirmed that he was, indeed, safely home. That was another thing he hated about you. There was no need for you to have gone that far to make sure a stranger from your gig got home without getting mugged.

He didn’t need to be cautious when he opened the door to his apartment. Heeseung was already fast asleep on the sofa, strewn with empty bags of potato chips and bags of Starbucks takeout that he probably went out to get once Beomgyu had left to go to Joker In’s show. In his current state, it was practically impossible for him to get up and pick Beomgyu up. Beomgyu was pretty much used to ending his night with the role of a babysitter, but now, he didn’t feel like he had the energy to keep up with his routine. Heeseung could probably manage fine on his own, and Beomgyu desperately needed a cold shower to refresh his head at the unexpected encounter. God, she’s so fucking dense, Beomgyu thought, smiling to himself as he plopped his body on the warm, soft surface of his duvet. The shower will have to wait until the morning, and until then, he didn’t mind the extra load of laundry that came with massive spots of red dye on his pillowcases.

II. VOTE NO.24 ON EUROVISION! GO SLOVENIA!

To your luck, Geonu didn’t announce a practice session today. Normally, the band was privy to five hours of practice every single day—including the weekends. A part of it came from Geonu’s penchant for perfection, but another came from the growing bond that the band had developed over time. While Geonu and Sungchan didn’t necessarily need more time together, the daily sessions helped the entire band get to know each other and experiment with compatibility in the most esoteric way possible. In your first sleepover with the band at the eerie, decrepit basement (Heeseung would call it a horror movie set), you were able to call Jeongin a friend after he gently sat you through one of your first acid trips, gripping your hands tight as you endlessly cried about the visions and voices that still manage to chain themselves in your nightmares to this day. Another thing you learned about Jeongin that day was that he had a problem with mushrooms during high school, only quitting in his second year after an intervention that led him spiraling into a near-death experience of impulsively taking his car out in the middle of the night. You didn’t ask him for the specifics, nor did you mention that you were surprised that someone like him had gone through rehab, but you learned that Jeongin had trusted you with his story.

“Believe it or not, but Eurovision was what got me through that entire ordeal,” You remembered Jeongin telling you at some point. He was confined in a psychiatric ward for nearly a month, his schedule and time dictated through therapy sessions, group activities, and worksheets that he haphazardly filled. He also told you that time passed differently when one was locked inside the same, white walls every day, and so the only time started to move for him was when the person next to him invited him to watch several Eurovision performances in preparation for the finals in Rotterdam two years ago.

“I knew nothing about Europe then, but the guy next to me was married to a Swedish woman for a decade before she passed. They made it a routine to watch Eurovision every year, and he still tries his best to keep up with it even when she’s gone.”

You expected him to mention Maneskin as the band that got him through his slump, but Jeongin was a man full of surprises. For someone with beady, glassy eyes and a geekish demeanor, you didn’t think that Finland’s Blind Channel would be the one that would get him out of the institution.

“I mean this sounds like an edgy fourteen-year-old’s confession on an anonymous forum, but man, I’ve never really seen a band like that go so hard on live television, you know? Every time I see crazy antics or bands that had the same energy as Rage Against the Machine, it was always in the 90s or the early 2000s, when things weren’t too radio-friendly. And it wasn’t just them being hardcore like that, but it was how down-to-earth they all were—almost like they really loved what they were doing.”

Jeongin didn’t tell you why he started taking mushrooms or what led to him getting institutionalized in the first place, but it was enough for you to know that what you once perceived as an odd affinity for Eurovision was to him, an important getaway that cemented him back into the ground. Since then, the topic of Eurovision had become a daily part of your life—and now that the 2023 semi-finals were coming, Jeongin and the rest of the band had been keeping tabs on the latest culmination of the contest. In your downtime, Sungchan would update the Discord server with his ever-evolving tier list of entries, and Geonu would log on just to argue and contest Sungchan’s opinions. Of course, both would know their places once Jeongin would enter the conversation, but nonetheless, it came to a point where your days would feel empty without someone mentioning anything Eurovision related.

There was Eurovision, and then, there was Beomgyu.

Oddly enough, your days also felt incomplete without Beomgyu. Ever since you made the bold mistake of scheduling the same office hours as Beomgyu, the two of you had been in a constant stalemate of academic excellence. For you, it wasn’t necessarily the fact that you needed to prove something; you initially enjoyed seeing someone get so riled up and bothered at the fact that you were always better in everything you did. In a sense, your goals, ambitions, and fortitude didn’t come from a place of parental pressure or identity-building—you had to be on top of your game to the detriment of your well-being. While Beomgyu may have seen it as a competition, you saw it as a zero-sum game. To you, your entire livelihood basically depended on being the best at whatever, whenever, and wherever—excluding your role as a drummer in Joker In.

“Good morning, dipshit,” An all too familiar voice rang in your ears. You didn’t need to turn your head around to see who took the spot next to you in the vast lecture hall. Keeping your head to the busy tabs on your laptop, you heaved a sigh of both relief and exhaustion. Despite the absence of practice, you still had another part of your daily routine in check.

“What the fuck do you want, Gyu,” You coldly spat, knowing that the response you were going to get had to do with your gigs last night.

To the surprise of many—yourself included—your persona as the drummer of Joker In had been one of your best-kept secrets. Sure, being in a band was something most college kids got to experience, and student musicians were a common phenomenon across all facets of campus life. You nonetheless kept those two aspects of yourself as separate as possible, creating a clear divide that made sure none of those parts of your world intertwined and meshed together in any way. The law society didn’t need to know about the nightly debauchery you involved yourself in within the confines of the basement; those were stories that you kept to yourself to your grave—a musical pandora’s box that was meant to stay a secret.

“Heard through the grapevine that Little Miss Perfect got shitfaced last night,”

This time, you closed your laptop and snapped your head towards Beomgyu. Heeseung was terrible at keeping his mouth shut, but he wasn’t there to bear witness to the copious amounts of alcohol and weed that muddled your body that night. In a flurry of panic, you did your best to remember everyone that was present at the gig, scouring through the entirety of emails on Eventbrite that signed up for a ticket or two.

“And?”

Then again, what consequence would you get if you got caught? It wasn’t like the Law Society could strip you of your position; you were single-handedly the only president of the contemporary generation that managed to revive the organization from near death. If you told any of your professors about your musical ventures, you doubt they would look at you differently. In fact, they might even check out your gig or look up Joker In’s several sites across the internet, either becoming a fan of the band or not. Truthfully, there was no certain risk that threatened your current position and reputation on campus as the face of the Faculty of Law. The only thing that mattered to you was the unpleasant nature of combining your professional life with one that you exclusively created to escape the shackles of boundless perfectionism and tireless efforts to maintain all that you had built.

“That’s not a good look for the law society,” He grinned, perching his chin on his palm as he flipped through his notes. You did the same, clearing your throat as soon as the ten-minute mark on the digital clock succumbed all students into a quiet, dreary dread of a two-hour lecture.

“Last time I recall, you’re the one seen at a super sketchy rave last summer,” You whispered, keeping your head low enough so the professor couldn’t see you. “If you’re ratting me out for my band, then I’m ratting you out for doing lines with Heeseung at the Seoul Jazz Festival,”

“I only did one line, mind you,”

Another odd occurrence between you and Beomgyu’s rivalry was how both of you had accumulated so much dirt on each other, that it was practically impossible to call everything a truce. For the past three years, each intense battle between grades, essays, and projects was met with threats of outing the other for reckless behavior. Whenever Beomgyu would bring up your period of weed addiction in first year, you would rebut with some of his worst speeding incidents. If he were to draft an email to the program coordinator about your experiments with DMT when you just began your friendship with Geonu, then you were ready to send pictures of him doing lines with his rich friends at a yacht in Mykonos. Three years of constant rivalry also meant constant surveillance, and now that the two of you had reached the finish line to your respective degrees, the tension and threat of total exposure increased tenfold.

“A line’s a line,” Beomgyu silently spat through gritted teeth. “I’d never do coke, so you should be thankful I’m not kicking you out as president,”

“Fuck you,”

“I wouldn’t.”

“I’m lucky, then.”

“That’s the only luck god’s gonna give you, Gyu.”

Three years of unyielding pride and egoism also meant that the two of you knew when to stop arguing. Even if most of the people around you saw you and Beomgyu as a pair that didn’t know when enough was enough, there were certain limits that introduced a silent armistice in the war that Beomgyu had waged on you. For one, if fights were to occur before a lecture began, both of you were willing to swallow your feelings of pride and pay attention, ushering the competition elsewhere in the form of aggressive keyboard smashing and who could raise better questions to the professor. This was one of those instances, and as always, you left the lecture hall as the main victor, even being called after class to discuss the prospects of constitutional reform with the professor. Beomgyu simply stood to the side instead of leaving—another trait about him that you grew too accustomed to. Every single time you were either called after classes to discuss further questions or network with the professors, Beomgyu would always be behind you, scanning through every nook and cranny to seize any opportunity to either sabotage your efforts or present himself as the more eloquent and intelligent version between the two of you. Usually, professors didn’t mind this type of engagement—in fact, many academics would thrive in an environment where their students would actively contest and participate in the discourse surrounding topics that interest them the most. However, between you and Beomgyu, this would be a strenuous experience for any professor that was unlucky enough to be caught in your competitive mess.

Luckily, in every case, Heeseung would always be the savior, dragging the two of you out of the lecture hall in the nick of time.

“You two should just make out already,” He would often say while muttering strings of apologies to the meek, slouched professors that would hastily grab their bags and rush back into the comforts of their own offices. Albeit humiliating at first, you were now too accustomed to the lanky, tall, and especially inebriated man taking both you and Beomgyu’s collars throughout the ends of the campus, only momentarily seating both of you at the edge of the cafeteria to either laugh or complain.

“That’s giving him too much luck, Hee,” You bitterly retorted, giving Beomgyu the middle finger as a late greeting.

“She’s privileged enough to be a rich private school nerd who sucks people’s dick on LinkedIn. I can’t give her too much action,”

“You’re the nepo baby, Gyu! Last time I recall, you got in because of your brother’s recommendation letter,”

Talks about Beomgyu’s brother were what always riled him up the most—of course, second to talks about you.

Here’s the thing about Choi Seungchol: Though he wasn’t in the Faculty of Law, he was a memorable student that continues to be the face of the Faculty of Medicine. An accomplished oncologist with a prestigious tenureship at John Hopkins, he was one of the few Korean medical students who were able to break the difficult threshold of Western-dominated academia, proving himself with his tenacity, wit, and ever-expanding knowledge of cancer research. From the young age of seventeen, he had already graduated high school and shortened his study as an undergrad, dedicating his entire life to an ambitious—but certainly commendable—dream of finding an affordable, accessible, and efficient cure for cancer. Coupled with a look that was universally easy on the eyes, having a brother like Seungchol would have definitely sparked a deep-seated inferiority complex in anyone who had the displeasure of being his younger sibling.

Tit-for-tat seemed to be the game that you and Beomgyu often engaged in, and if his kryptonite was his brother, then yours would be the long line of lawyers that you descended from.

Unlike Beomgyu, who chose to study law out of an intense desire to separate his identity from his brother, you treaded onto the same path that marred your family name with generational pride. Sure, it wasn’t to say you wanted to become a lawyer, but rather, you wanted to become the best lawyer out of your family. Rich people had a different set of issues that they needed to face—a constant, mental battle that cut all ties between blood and family. In your family, there was no such thing as a maternal or paternal bond; every one that bore your name was wrought with the constant pressures of living up to it. Each generation was always compared to the last, and each brought the troubles of the past to the realities of the present. All the woes, infighting, and distasteful pride have unfortunately been a product of an entire familial generation that fought hard to keep its legacy intact—and for you, that meant your ticket to leave all of that behind was outdoing the family altogether, reigning supreme in the lifelong struggle of succession.

With you, your family wasn’t family anymore—they were stepping stones. A key to success and freedom that can only grant liberation once you did everything to prove yourself.

In a sense, all rich families were Darwinian. The Chois were a household name in medicine, and yours happened to dominate the legal system. One wanted to break free by independently taking another route in life, while the other aimed to destroy an old empire from within. To those that didn’t have the taste of prestige or the amount of free time to comprehend the psychological detriment of wealth, it was a simple case of money bringing too many unnecessary problems. Why worry about such minute issues like reputation and status when your windows didn’t work?

To you and Beomgyu though, things were different. Too different, in fact. When both your lives were mapped out to success and filling in the shoes of the past, it was inevitable that you would define yourselves and your actions around your family’s troubles. Something as simple as joining a band would cause immediate ruin to the decades of perfecting your role as the ideal candidate to take over your family’s law firm.

What Beomgyu didn’t know, and what you kept as an even deeper secret than your nights of musical debauchery in the basement, was that you were a bastard—the only child to a second, hidden marriage that broiled your entire family’s law firm in a mess that led to buying out several news outlets and tabloids who eventually took the money to erase all evidence regarding the scandal. You were paraded as the legitimate daughter of your family, and every single facet of your life had been broadcasted to the public since. From bagging first place in an essay-writing contest as a child to constantly making headlines as one of the best debaters in each high school debate competition, you had maintained the aura and image of a perfect successor. And now, all your accomplishments throughout university had been scantily advertised in university newspapers, online gossip forums, and local magazines—from your events in the law society, the talks you’d organize and give in legal seminars, down to the minuscule acts of charity you would do with the Cold Case Foundation. All of your life was documented for the world to see, prepping you up so the family could contain its skeletons within the safety of its closets.

This was why you couldn’t contain the hatred and anger you’d managed to keep to yourself for so long when Beomgyu would bring your family into the conversation. An inferiority complex paled in comparison to a family secret that threatened to bring the mighty walls of your family’s empire down to the ground with a single slip-up.

“News flash: I’m not the one who comes from an entire family that practices law,”

Ah, there it was. You stood up from your seat like always, never looking back as you stomped out of the cafeteria in blood-curdling, fuming anger. It was natural for Beomgyu to assume that you had an uncontrollable temper—after all, to him, you were a figure of contempt. Someone who was lucky enough to be born into a profession that he took up just to escape his lack of medical skills and affinity for science and mathematics.

“Jesus Christ, she’s so entitled,”

“Not cool, dude. Not cool,” Sungchan suddenly appeared as he always does, carrying a carton of coffee milk and sipping its sweet contents into his throat. Heeseung never really understood why Sungchan would always come to defend you whenever it came to any mentions of your family, but he chalked it up to the behavior of a secret admirer. Spending time together every day in the basement and playing in a band is a great way to get to know a person, and an even better chance to fall in love. If that were the case, then Heeseung certainly felt bad for the guitarist. Although you were already perceived as a picture of admiration, awe, and intimidation from afar, nobody truly knew how cutthroat and blunt you were behind the sheer curtains of model excellence. Heeseung was one of the few that bore witness to how ruthless you can be, and if it were him, he would thwart all chances of attempting to woo you. If Beomgyu was already enough of a testament to your mercilessness, then it was the strict, iron command you had at the law society that made you a less-than-ideal lover in bed and beyond.

“So I’m the bad guy for bringing up her family,”

“To be fair, she was the one who brought it up first…”

“Thank you, Heeseung!” Beomgyu exclaimed. Sungchan rolled his eyes and tossed the carton of coffee milk; a perfect shot right into the plastic opening of the bin. Heeseung watched with envy, lamenting at his failed basketball career. If only he had been taller, then maybe he might’ve had the chance to skip college altogether and fly to the US to sign a contract with the NBA. He’s always wondered why Sungchan didn’t opt for basketball as a sport, playing for the university’s varsity baseball team instead. He had the height and build to quickly gain ranks as a star player, and he certainly had the agility and aim to entrench himself as one of Korea’s best three-point shooters. Whenever Sungchan would look in Heeseung’s direction, the sense of being tinier than an ant in the entire universe maximized tenfold. It wasn’t just Sungchan’s height, but his general aloofness coupled with his nonchalance made everyone feel small under his presence.

Sungchan raised his hand at Heeseung, waving goodbye once a mutual high five was sealed and locked—a pact of honest brotherhood, as one might say. He mustered a quick, awkward bow in Beomgyu’s direction and ran off the same way you treaded, ignoring the pair’s curious gaze as he scoured through the maze of crowded young adults and intertwined hallways to catch you in your usual spot.

Beomgyu trailed Sungchan’s tall frame, watching his forehead graze the entry of the cafeteria. He huffed a sigh and grabbed his backpack, slinging it on his shoulder while knitting his eyebrows in frustration.

“Gyu, you’re not red anymore. You’re green,” Heeseung joked. Before Beomgyu could land a clean, painful hit on Heeseung’s neck, the boy quickly waved and ran past the swarm of students that crowded the hallways, waving his dab pen in the air as a quick sign of surrender. Beomgyu rolled his eyes and stared in the direction that Sungchan treaded, wondering if he should follow along.

Then again, what was it to him? Why was he so angry over something that didn’t even concern him in the first place? You were the one who brought his brother up constantly, so it would only be right for him to hit you where it hurt the most. He didn’t know much about you, but an aching, swelling pang of guilt began rising up in the form of acidic bile, swirling like rough tides in his stomach until a bout of nausea overwhelmed his entire body. Why the fuck do I care? She’s the one who started it all, Beomgyu thought. He gave the hallway that led to the Law Society’s office one, last glance, completely turning his back in the other direction. He had another lecture to catch; he shouldn’t be worried about you.

Once he found your figure crouched under the table of the Law Society’s main office, he knelt to your height, placing a firm hand on your shoulder. You swatted it away with faux bravery, rigorously wiping the soft tears that marred the apples of your cheeks.

“Hey,” He greeted.

“Leave me alone,”

“I can’t,” Sungchan laughed under his breath. “I’m witnessing you cry like a baby for the first time,”

“Shut up, Sung.”

For Sungchan, striking a friendship with you was unexpected. He’d at least expected himself to be on good terms with Jeongin before even attempting an acquaintanceship with you. When he initially met you, he had to admit that you were a deplorable person of sorts. You carried an air of superiority wherever you went, treated everyone like they were below you, and you always had a ruthless, competitive streak that turned everything sour with a single blink of an eye. From the moment he laid eyes on you, he was sure that he was going to tell Geonu to look for another guitarist.

“I can’t work with her,” He confided right after he heard you play the drums in a mock-up audition for a new recruit. “She’s… bitchy.”

“Sung, she’s a professional,” Geonu would often retort, ignoring Sungchan’s complaints about his own strict standard of musical perfection. “I’ve never seen anyone play with so much dedication and tenacity. If only you took this shit more seriously, then I think you can learn to put those feelings aside and actually play the way I want you to.”

For a while, Sungchan did his best to avoid you. Every time you would ask him to play with you so you could synchronize your playing style with his, he would politely decline, opting to send you recordings of his guitar practices from home or outright pretending he didn’t hear you. Granted, he anticipated that you were the type to not let passive-aggression go. One thing he knows about all law majors was their argumentative streak—to him, that was the reason why so many of the people enrolled in that program were born under the star of Aries. Hot-headed, independent, and defensive—those were all the characteristics that aligned with Aries Suns and anyone practicing the legal field.

It wasn’t until he got too drunk to stand that he experienced your rare displays of kindness. Though it was common courtesy to take care of drunk people at parties, you and Geonu were the only ones who actively checked up on him, closing the door to one of the rooms that became his personal infirmary while constantly feeding him water and a few, light snacks. Whenever he felt like throwing up and Geonu was unavailable, it was you who took him straight to the bathroom, lifting his head of hair as he lurched out his organs into the once pristine, white ceramics of a toilet bowl. Instead of asking him why he hated you, you simply kept your mouth shut, actively giving gentle massages on the crook of his neck and on the small of his back, gently feeding him more water in timed intervals as he continued to hurl and belch in the tiny, squared space of someone’s bathroom.

“Aren’t you gonna ask me why I don’t like you?” He asked, completely aware of his slurred words. You laughed and pretended you didn’t hear him—the exact same way he behaved whenever you would ask him to practice some of Joker In’s parts with you.

Perhaps he had too much to drink, or perhaps he just felt safe in the small, cramped, yet cozy spaces of the bathroom, but the first thing he told you—sans re-introductions—was the fact that he wasn’t sure if he was attracted to Geonu or not. In what felt like hours of him trying his best to keep his voice down amidst the blaring, muted, and bass-booted music that streamed into the tiny cracks of the wooden door, he sobered up in a crying fit, watching your figure transform from blurry blobs of wooziness into swirling, tear-soaked waves that made you look like you were submerged into an ocean of his woes and worries. He admired your silence; he admired the small smile that you gave him throughout his entire episode; he admired the way you screamed at whoever was banging at the front door to fuck off; he admired how head-strong and confident you were, even if he knew that you didn’t return those qualities to yourself.

From that day on, there was a mutual, unspoken pact that formed into a true, life-long bond between you and Sungchan. Whenever Geonu or Jeongin would ask him why he suddenly changed his mind, he would simply shrug, mimicking the same silence you gave him when he spilled his entire emotional journey of sexual discovery inside that holy bathroom. You did the same, giving subtle looks of confusion or outright denying the bad blood between you and Sungchan. The two eventually suppressed their qualms about Sungchan’s drastic shift, nodding in reluctant agreeability that this had to happen eventually for the band to continue.

“Anyway, I’m pretty sure Beomgyu didn’t mean it,”

“To be fair, I brought it up first. I got what I deserved,” You whispered, careful eyes scanning through random bystanders through the small creak of the agape, wooden door in front of you. Sungchan stood up to close it, but you grabbed the hem of his sweater, begging him to stay.

“Shh, don’t say that to yourself,” He replied, humming lowly to himself. “I think this is the point where you realize you should probably just get over it all. I mean, it’s been three whole years. Shouldn’t you just get over it and be the bigger person?”

Sungchan’s words hit you like a knife that slashed and hacked at an open wound. Each pause of silence brought another ounce of pain in your chest, and you couldn’t pinpoint if those feelings were a guilty conscience or another byproduct of your massive pride. You hated it when others were right, and you hated it even more that you continued to do the wrong thing despite knowing you could just ignore Beomgyu and get on with your day. Certainly, if you had kept things at light insults three years ago, then you shouldn’t be as riled up or hurt by Beomgyu’s actions and words by now. What bothered you even more, though, was how you didn’t seem to know who made things worse. At this rate, the rivalry between the two of you had gone on for far too long. You couldn’t pinpoint a true start that fueled your spite for him. It was almost like you had always hated Beomgyu from the start, even if there was a part of you that wholeheartedly disagreed with that predicament.

“You know what, you’re right, Sung. I should stop giving him any of my attention if I want him to shut up,”

“See, it’s not that hard!”

Before you and Sungchan could shake things off with a friendly hug, your phones buzzed in unison. With a quick nod, the two of you burst out of the Law Society’s office, ignoring the wary eyes that watched each of your steps with confusion and suspicion. You declined the call and swiped right on Sungchan’s phone, popping your head near the camera to see who was on the other end of the line. To your relief, it was an excited Jeongin, carrying crescents in his eyes as he huffed on his earphones’ microphone.

“Guys!”

“What’s up, Jeongin?”

“The finals!” He screamed, loud enough for you and Sungchan to mute the phone and cover the speakers.

“What about it?”

“It’s streaming right now on YouTube!”

You gave Jeongin a look of confusion, arching your brows and poking Sungchan with your elbows. Despite only getting close to each other for a short time, both of you mastered the art of silence. You didn’t need to tell him to look up the ESC’s website to check if Jeongin was right; there was a certain telepathy that linked your brains together. There was no need for eye contact or physical gestures, it was as if thinking was all it took for Sungchan to understand what you wanted him to say or do, and vice versa. If you were to picture it, then there would be a thin, invisible wire that connected your soul to his, matched with telephone cups where you each whispered your thoughts and actions back and forth.

“Oh word?” Sungchan muttered once he reached the homepage of the ESC. The semi-finals happened too fast, and it didn’t occur to you that you missed the entire ordeal. Sungchan nodded along, shrugging his shoulders while using his height to push past the sea of students who fell victim to your band’s antics. The key to the exit was Jeongin jumping up and down at the entrance to the university’s main gate, fighting his way out of the security guards trying to calm him down.

“Come on!” Jeongin exclaimed with infectious glee, grabbing you and Sungchan by the hand and taking the two of you to the nearest train station.

“Jeongin, where are we going?” You asked. You were sure that Geonu had pinged the entire group chat about the absence of practice that day. Sungchan checked his phone and showed you Geonu’s message once the three of you slowed down and tapped your transit passes to the gates. There was indeed, no practice at the basement today out of Jeongin’s incessant pleas to cancel it. Geonu would have never imagined canceling practice over a singing competition held in Europe, but Jeongin threatened to leave the band if Geonu and the rest didn’t comply with his wishes. Considering how Jeongin was the most compliant member who never seemed to ask for much unless it had to do with Eurovision, Geonu granted the boy’s wishes.

“The watch party!”

You scrolled through Joker In’s Kakao group chat with Sungchan, only to find no mentions of a Eurovision watch party anywhere. By now, the entire band had figured that Jeongin was the impulsive type. While you had access to his hidden story of mushroom addiction, the rest were privy to Jeongin’s sudden online activity at the crack of dawn. He would send a barrage of memes and videos on the group chat only to disappear for a week. The only times he would come back was if Geonu had made a practice announcement in the chat, or if the band called him to the meeting place.

Ergo, Jeongin was not the type of person to organize an entire watch party with his sporadic communication patterns.

Once the three of you had reached the apartment, a barrage of cannabis hit your nose. Of course, Heeseung was on the side with a bong in hand, while Geonu was already absorbed into the couch, eyes red artificial bliss. Before you could take off your shoes to step inside Jeongin’s apartment, you halted your steps, blinking several times to make sure you weren’t hallucinating. Some people say that hate was just another form of obsession, and the last thing you wanted was to see Beomgyu in your dreams.

“Why is he here?

“Beomgyu is Heeseung’s roommate,” Jeongin meekly replied, keeping a small smile on his face as he kicked his shoes off to dash into the kitchen. Sungchan reluctantly followed suit, taking a bowl of potato chips and popcorn to the small, glass coffee table that was at the center of Jeongin’s rather spacious living room.

“So? Heeseung never brings him to the basement when he delivers pizza,”

“That’s because Beomgyu doesn’t work at the pizza chain,”

Instead of sitting in the empty space next to Beomgyu on the couch, you opted to take a random spot on the couch, sitting behind Geonu’s legs. Normally, he would complain about you using him as a headrest, but at this rate, he was too high to comprehend that there was something leaning into his calves.

“Whatever. Since when did you like Eurovision anyway?”

“Before you did, that’s for sure, fucking poser,”

“Oh my god, you son of a—”

Before you could stand up, Sungchan placed a firm grip on your shoulder, entrenching you within the surface of Jeongin’s soft, fur carpet. You took a mental note to ask him about his tastes in furniture. On the other side of the couch, Jeongin had hurried back from the kitchen with a few packs of seltzer that he struggled to carry, pushing one of them into Beomgyu’s lap before he could retort in violence.

“So everyone in this room is voting for Slovenia, right?” Jeongin asked with an eerily large grin.

“Yep! Number twenty-four!” Sungchan confirmed, making it his duty to make sure you didn’t lash out throughout the entire song contest. There was no use in fighting back; the hands of a varsity athlete cannot be contested with the likes of an occasional charity player.

“I’m voting Finland…” Beomgyu huffed, rolling his eyes in your direction.

“Gyu, you literally listened to nothing but Carpe Diem last night,” Heeseung retorted in languid, heavy breaths. If one could guess the lightness of his lids, it would be comparable to a bodybuilder’s daily dumbbell perched on top of his eyes.

“Shut up. I vote for whoever I want, and my money goes to Finland,” Beomgyu replied, cracking a can of cherry seltzer open with his hand. You followed suit, prompting the boy to roll his eyes once again.

“He’s voting for Finland because he wants to be oh so special like the rest of the world who’s basically riding Käärijä’s dick!”

This time, you gulped the can of seltzer down in a single sip, crushing the weak, malleable material between your fingers while raising a middle finger in Beomgyu’s direction. Instead of chugging his drink, he took a deep breath, pacing the amount of alcohol that entered and exited his throat. He knew what he was like when he was drunk, and even if the need to punch you into oblivion was there, he had to control himself—at least, for Jeongin.

“Shut the fuck up, you two! It’s starting!” You and Beomgyu immediately behaved accordingly, exchanging silent death glares while Jeongin ushered to the middle of the large, flat-screen television mounted on his wall. Even if you knew how serious Jeongin was about anything Eurovision related, you didn’t know that he could exude a level of anger that outmatched you and Beomgyu’s squabbles.

The introduction to the Eurovision Song Contest lined up with the flurry of buzzes that attacked your back pocket. Upon seeing the caller ID, your fingers automatically hovered over the red button. However, the ringing didn’t stop. No matter how many times you’ve tried to dodge each call you got, it would only come back in waves, accompanied by a barrage of text messages that caught your eye,

Dad’s in the hospital.

To be fair, all your memories with your father had been non-existent at best. The only time you’ve ever seen him was in a pristine, neatly-ironed business suit, gallivanting around the meeting rooms of the law firm or taking the same behavior with him on the dinner table, only allowing everyone else to lift their forks once he was seated. Your father’s presence had a shroud of mist around it—mostly because you couldn’t remember a time when you genuinely bonded with him. To call your father a father only suited you best when you were writing your college application essays or passing interviews for internships and research opportunities. Outside of that, you addressed him with utmost formalities, keeping his power trips unbridled by addressing him as Sir or President. He used to like being called an attorney, but after he began to realize that everyone in the firm held the same occupation, he opted for something more. As such, the news of him being in the hospital was shocking, but it was the least of your current concerns. To you, he was just your lifelong boss, slipping you into the legal world with a guaranteed, secure career filled with success and everlasting wealth. The only reason you had to visit the hospital was to discuss the potential inheritance papers that might have to be negotiated on his deathbed, not because of a familial, patriarchal bond that was never even there to begin with.

“Hold on, I have to take this call,” You said, hastily getting up while balancing yourself on the carpet. You whispered a mute sorry in Heeseung’s direction, who was suddenly sober at the sight of his bong tipping over.

Once you were in the bathroom, you locked the door and turned on the lights, keeping your eyes away from the large vanity mirror that enhanced the brightness of the entire room. Closing your eyes, you allowed a mouthful of oxygen to enter your lungs, slowly breathing it out as you dialed your brother’s phone number. It didn’t take a single ring for him to pick up.

“Hey,”

There was always something about your brother’s voice that irritated you. It wasn’t too nasally, but it wasn’t the most clear-cut pitch either. There was a certain grating quality to it that made listening to an obese chain smoker for hours on end a better feat than hearing your brother in a firm meeting or a case discussion. This was probably the reason why you could tolerate Beomgyu, because you’ve lived with people you genuinely despised for as long as you could count numbers and read the alphabet.

“Why the fuck are you calling me?” You spat, anticipating the worst. You could hear your brother’s breath hitch on the other end of the line. Of course, a situation like this would stress him out.

“You know I only reach out if it’s important, so get your ass to the fucking hospital right now. Dad’s going through a hemorrhage, and it’s the worst one we’ve seen so far.”

“Oh,”

“So hurry the fuck up. I’ll write your uni up so you can take an academic leave. Shit’s pretty serious,”

Whenever your brother classified a situation as pretty serious, it usually had to do with money. Talks of a potential merger, a big case that’s worth billions of won, or the acquisition of smaller firms that soon became a part of your family’s legal empire. Anything that had to do with money was serious to your brother, and of course, anything that had to do with money was discussed between the family, beneath the nose of your father.

“What do you mean?”

“You know what this means, right? Dad’s dying, his fucking secretary had just been named the sole trust to the firm, and the entire family’s basically going to war over this fucking fiasco.”

“What the fuck do you mean he signed over the trust to her?”

This was the only time you agreed with your brother about the nature of serious situations. The entire firm and the family were aware of the affair he had with his secretary, but you didn’t know how bad of an impact his senility would have on the future and well-being of the firm and beyond. You kept the phone latched between your shoulders and your chin, taking a seat on the toilet cover while crossing your legs.

“Just come to the hospital. One of the Choi-owned clinics in Gangnam.”

“Okay, I’m on my way.” You curtly replied. “I’ll be there in twenty,”

Family ordeals were things that Geonu forgave when it came to skipping practice, but you weren’t sure about breaking the news to Jeongin. Perhaps if you simply told him about your father’s condition, he would let it slide. After all, he was the caring sort. Anything that tugged his heartstrings would render him in a thick, melted puddle of tears. All it took was a story of an old, dying man, and you were sure that Jeongin would let you go. Taking another deep breath, you counted to three and opened the door, slowly making your way from the kitchen and into the living room. Instead of taking your seat back next to Heeseung, you stood still, placing your hands on your waist. Despite Geonu’s current state, he managed to groggily sit upright, eyes peering straight into your soul. The rest of the people in the living room followed him as an example, eyes switched from the television screen to your leveled posture.

“Guys,”

“Look who’s back from her makeout session with the prof,”

“Beomgyu, not now.” You interrupted, clearing your throat as you mentally ran through the quick story you conjured up in your head. My dad’s bleeding out, and I have to go to the hospital to make sure he’s okay. I hope you guys understand.

“What, you can’t take a joke? Jesus, I never knew little miss perfect was a softie…”

You would usually let your temper subside and give Beomgyu the benefit of the doubt, but this time, he had crossed the line. It wasn’t to say you cared about your father, but it was still a dire situation that needed to be taken seriously. For all the intelligence that Beomgyu prided himself in, he was not the type to understand basic social cues. As if remaining still wasn’t enough of a message, you let the frustration you’ve built up for years wash over you, closing your eyes as you unleashed three years of pent-up irritation and vexation escape your lips in a shrill shriek. The only thing you felt sorry for at the moment was how this was directed at Beomgyu instead of your family, but you needed to release it all before you eventually exploded. Heeseung dropped his bong and alerted himself awake, leaving his mouth agape while his eyes quickly darted past your forehead. Even Sungchan, who was privy to your bursts of anger, lit up in static shock, rendered in a frozen state that made him glued to his seat. Everyone in the room now had their eyes on you—including Jeongin’s roommate who peeked his head out of his door.

“Seriously?! My dad’s dying, and this is how you react? Look, I don’t know what the fuck I did to make you hate me this much, but this isn’t a game anymore. I’m done, and I’m out of here!”

In a flash of a second, you were out the door, letting it swing before reclining into a loud thud. The entire room was now drowned in an ocean of silence, and Beomgyu was the only one who gasped for air. He tried to stand up and chase after you, but his legs were stuck to the cotton of Jeongin’s carpet, pulling him deeper and deeper until his entire body was one with the ground. Geonu exchanged glances with Heeseung and the rest of the band, taking a nearby glass of water and gulping it down in a single sitting. Sungchan quickly climbed up to the couch and sat beside him, patting gentle circles on the boy’s back before directing his attention to the sole, uninvited guest that ruined the watch party. All Jeongin could do at the moment was take the remote from the coffee table, lowering the volume of the television until the entire apartment was laced in another wave of deathly silence. Even if the living room was packed, it felt as if he was the only one in the room, stuck between the carpet and the technicolor screen that showed the first performer of the night. Glimpses of red, black, and white dyed the entire space in ominous colors, flashing images of Edgar Allan Poe in the empty, white walls that surrounded the entire group. The only time someone spoke up was when Jeongin’s roommate passed by to turn off the lights, quickly rushing back within the safety of his room as he locked the door shut.

“You fucked up,” Heeseung started after a few rounds of unspoken guilt. “Hard…”

“It’s not like I can tell her that I’m mad at her because I don’t know? My parents always yelled at me for not being like my brother?”

No, that’s not what I wanted to say, Beomgyu thought, but it was too late to take his words back inside his mouth. Now, the initial state of shock that occupied the room was replaced with pure, unbridled resentment.

This time, he was sure he fucked up.

“Why did you keep this up for so long, anyway? It’s not like it’s that hard to say sorry or something,” Geonu retorted, slowly sobering up.

“Look, whatever. I’ll get going now, because apparently, I’m always the bad guy,”

“Gyu!”

Jeongin tried to chase after Beomgyu’s silhouette, only for Sungchan to hold him back. With two silent nods, Jeongin let go of Sungchan’s sleeve, fiddling with the hems of his sweater while watching the tall, lanky boy jog out the door. He didn’t know if he should end the watch party then and there, or if all of them should continue from where they left off. By now, the second performance had started. Flashes of green and red brightly encompassed their eyes, and they remained seated. Geonu texted the band’s group chat and pinged your user to give them updates on your father’s situation, while Heeseung swiftly took his lighter and lit the stem of his bong, deeply inhaling the glass rim in what was going to be his biggest rip to date.

What was going on outside of Jeongin’s apartment was a different story on its own. You had called one of your drivers to pick you up from the nearest train station, and now, you were zooming past highways and fast cars, reaching your destination as soon as Beomgyu had stepped out of Jeongin’s apartment building. He tried to rush past the flurry of people during rush hour that crowded the station, but the only person he could see was Sungchan, who had managed to chase him by the tail of his jacket.

“Hey,” Sungchan uttered, never letting go of Beomgyu’s jacket.

“Here to defend your girlfriend?” Beomgyu spat. Sungchan was used to this by now,

“No, but I’m here to let you know that deep down inside, I know you’re not a bad person,”

The two were now in front of a vending machine behind the station, a place where drunken white-collared men would drink their sorrows away. It also happens to be the place for a rendezvous to hide under the neon lights of the city—high school couples that secretly meet after the academy for a kiss goodbye before going home, college kids that are too drunk to scan their passes at the gate, office workers that feel the need to have a drink or two before being welcomed back home by their kids, smokers who hide their vices under the surveillance system, and people that are waiting for their online saint to whisk them off their infinite suffering. The vending machine was witness to all facets of society, including Beomgyu and Sungchan’s conversations that would have never seen the light of day. Before the two began, it was a natural ritual for any that chose the vending machine as a meeting place to treat their interlocutors with a beverage or two. Sungchan chose a sizzling can of lemon cider, tossing a couple of loose change he had jingling in his pockets and inserting it in the machine. He tossed the can in Beomgyu’s direction, who accepted it with a meek, small bow. Then, Sungchan fished for the last few coins he could find in the deep trenches of his slacks, pressing the bright, green button that displayed a tall bottle of water. It didn’t occur to him that he had a half-filled water bottle that he took with him in his tote bag for baseball practice; the movement was as automatic as the vending machine dispensing a plastic water bottle in its hooded container. Once Sungchan had the water bottle in his hands, he twisted the cap and waited for Beomgyu to snap the can open. The two clinked their beverages and consummated a few sips.

“Sure, you’re insufferable and bratty as fuck, but I know you have the heart in you to listen,” Sungchan said, after he was finished with his water bottle. Beomgyu took the can back to the side of his arms, holding it tightly to make sure its fizzy contents didn’t spill out into the streets.

“She’s been going through a lot, so you should probably cut all of this and apologize if you still want to go to our shows,”

Beomgyu slowly nodded, taking the can of lemon cider up to his lips once again. For a big city like Seoul, his bright, neon yellow can stood out from the masses of commuters that passed the duo to get to their destination. Sungchan kept his water bottle under his arm, tapping on the plastic cap twice to make sure that he sealed it properly. With a satisfied hum, he cleared his throat and eyed the boy who couldn’t take his can off his lips.

“I know you’ve been sneaking out in your really shitty disguise, but for my sake, hers, and yours, you should talk it out and hopefully fix whatever you got going on,” He continued. His fingers found themselves at the edges of his pocket again, and an exasperated sigh escaped his lips upon failing to feel through a small, rectangular carton that eased all of his woes with a single huff of smoke. What he found instead was a small, cheap plastic lighter that he didn’t remember purchasing. Granted, he probably stole it off Heeseung’s collection or took it with him when he helped Geonu light his joint. Whatever the case, he found no use for it now.

“If not, I’m gonna have to ban you from ever showing up again,”

Beomgyu finally took the can off his lips, wiping his mouth with the thick decor of his jacket’s sleeve. Considering the weather, he should’ve probably opted for a lighter cardigan that didn’t graze his lips with leather. Nonetheless, he ignored all feelings of discomfort. He should be used to it by now.

“Whatever,”

“It’s not whatever, and I’m sure you know that too,”

Beomgyu watched Sungchan’s tall, lanky frame stand upright from his slouched posture, waving his transit card in his face as he started to walk towards the station. He didn’t know if Sungchan was going to go back to his place or if he would pay a visit to the hospital. The only way he would find out is if he bumped into him in the white, putrid halls of a place he’d been avoiding since he left home to attend university.

Beomgyu had always hated hospitals. For as long as he could remember, the smell of antiseptic and rubbing alcohol would always overwhelm his nose, rendering him in a trance-like state that made everything around him a blurry haze of fragmented memories. He could try to recollect the countless hours he’s spent waiting for his father to get off his shift, but all he could gather was the car ride home, sitting silently beside his brother while the driver played an old rockabilly tune from his time. His father wasn’t even in the car with them, and he was probably doing another late shift in the operations room with his mother on standby. When Seungchol was old enough to shadow their father’s sessions, he would be on these car rides alone, carrying the same, putrid odor that reminded him of a distant family that never had dinner together once. When Beomgyu would get home from the hospital, he made it a habit to call his maids or helpers to set up a dinner table with him, each member of the cleaning team acting as his father, his mother, and eventually, his brother. This was the only way he could sleep at night, because the scent of antiseptic would be replaced with dish soap, cleaning tools, and remnants of flower-scented detergent. If the cooks were available, they would also join Beomgyu at the large, family dining table of the Choi household acting as external relatives that he would only see in family functions.

Now that he was back at the hospital, the memories of a lonesome dinner came flooding back to him in tidal waves. First, his father’s tall silhouette would come into full view, for he was never the type of person to turn his head towards his second son. Then, he could see his mother’s side profile, eyebrows knitted in a constant frown as she would scan through each clipboard and envelope with a mixture of confusion and exhaustion. When he was in high school, his brother had already begun shadowing for one of the several hospitals that were under the Choi name. He would initially tag along, but opted to stay home once he realized that this wasn’t a game of doctors that he would play with his brother in one of the many playrooms they were granted as children. Seungchol had patients to attend to, and he was a mere nuisance to the inner workings of his family’s craft.

This was also the point where he figured he would try his hand at the humanities, shifting from an interest in stock brokers and the financial sector to settling for the legal field. In earnest, he never found an affinity for anything political. The newspaper was one of many things that made it so difficult for Beomgyu to remember his parents’ faces, since they would spend their mornings jeering at the headlines in disgust before rushing out to work. Seungchol started doing the same once he was old enough to understand the weary woes of the world outside of their wealthy life, and at that point, Beomgyu had already resented the news enough to block it off his phone and other devices.

If his lifelong grudge had taught him one thing, it was tenacity. It was a trait his parents exhibited when they went from performing surgeries to managing hospitals, and it was the same trait that Seungchol inherited when he began his own medical career. For Beomgyu, tenacity meant suffering through a lot of the things he disliked—whether it was politics, the news, or medicine. To him, tenacity came in subtle ripples. At first, it was the several scandals that he would hear about at the academy regarding big pharmaceutical companies patenting life-saving medication and selling it at a higher markup. He didn’t even know what a markup meant, but he did know that it was something he could use to destroy his family once and for all. When he entered university and applied for the law program, he used his tenacity to climb to the top, even when the humanities weren’t the strongest set of subjects in his CSAT exam. He didn’t understand how money worked, and he certainly couldn’t care less about the politicians he would see campaigning on the streets during election season. The only thing that mattered to him ever since he was a child was to do whatever it takes to get his family back in a single piece—even if it meant destroying the legacy and generational prestige that the Chois had built for themselves since the Occupation period.

Places like the hospital were what made Beomgyu’s tenacity disappear into thin air, replacing it with irresolute shakiness. It didn’t occur to him that a single whiff of the hospital’s chemicals immediately turned him into mush—a walking, wandering blob that’s place was always behind his parents or his brother. Here, he didn’t feel human at all. He felt like a visual display—a name tag that bore his family name in shame. It was for this reason that Beomgyu refused to call an ambulance or take himself to the hospital no matter how hurt he was. Every episode of alcohol poisoning would always end in several over-the-counter drugs that would end up in the toilet with the remnants of bile that trickled up to his mouth, coughing up every stint of regret that failed to leave his system. No matter how drunk he would get, he would always berate Heeseung for threatening to dial 119, constantly reassuring him that he could cure whatever he could on his own.

Now, he was back in the very place that he spent his entire life avoiding, hiding behind the metal railings of a hospital bed once his eyes caught a familiar, white coat sported by the outline of someone he hasn’t seen in years.

Apparently, years of playing doctors with Seungchol worked against him, and now, he was faced to face with someone he had the displeasure of calling his brother.

“Hyung,” The word used to come out naturally, but now, it felt too foreign to him. At this rate, he was more comfortable calling his own brother “Doctor Choi” than by any other name that he used to call him. He tapped his tongue twice inside his mouth to feel its insides squirm, then, he restfully let his eyes sit at the crown of Seungchol’s jet-black head, watching the luster of his healthy hair shine under the bright, fluorescent lights of the hospital that always managed to invoke a certain nausea within him.

“Beomgyu-yah,” Seungchol replied, his voice barely a weak whisper. “It’s been a while,”

“Are you in charge of him?” Beomgyu asked, jutting his chin towards the emergency room. Seungchol looked back and shrugged his shoulders, resting the clipboard on the hilt of his belt as he longingly stared at his younger brother.

“Who?”

“Him,” Beomgyu asked again, pointing to the patient’s profile on his clipboard. Seungchol adjusted the thick, rectangular frames that slid down his nose, squinting his eyes at the tiny fragments of characters that he could barely read. Beomgyu didn’t know that his older brother’s eyes had degraded past his early problems with astigmatism.

“Ah, you mean Kim & Lee LLC’s current head?” Seungchol asked.

“Yeah,”

“Yes, I’m in charge of him. My department assigned me to him since our family sort of owes them in some ways,”

Beomgyu didn’t question the Choi’s relations with yours. None of that concerned him in the slightest, and he was aware of the magnetism that many rich families often exhibited—birds of a feather flock together, especially when feathers were made of gold.

“How’s school?” He asked. He began walking towards the emergency room and stood outside of the door, peeking his head inside the tinted windows while he vigorously tapped his pen on his clipboard. Beomgyu kept his hands in his pockets and followed suit, peering at whatever he could read in Seungchol’s report.

“Alright,”

“I’ve heard his daughter’s faring better than you at school,”

Speak of the devil, and she shall arrive.

By now, a single sliver of your presence was hard for Beomgyu to miss. If tenacity was one thing he had, then perseverance was the other. Throughout the three years he had known you, he’s learned one, giant lesson: to persevere. No matter how much he dreaded the preparations for the bar exam, no matter how worn he was over countless hours of dedicating himself to reading pages upon pages of ancient Roman law, a part of him embraced the sheer hard work that he dedicated to each and every aspect of his academic career.

Then again, none of that mattered when he was always second best when it came to you. Even if the number of hours both of you had put into a project or an essay was the same, he would always fall short of a mark or two, forever trailing behind your shadow the same way he had always trailed behind the success of his ancestors, then his parents, and now, his brother.

“This is why I’ve always hated you, hyung,”

“I know, I know,”

That was another thing that Beomgyu noticed about the people that managed to do better than him in every facet of his life. From stories he would hear from his mother, the Choi ancestry was filled with quiet, blasé doctors whose first and only priority was to tend to each patient that required assistance. The same trait was replicated tenfold in the way his parents would berate him; both of them would shrug their heads in blatant displays of disappointment instead of yelling at him. He was sure he was never hit as a child, but the string of pain that came from the sheer looks of despondency was imprinted on his shattered ego, forever sinking their sharp fragments into the throes of his heart. When his brother reached the age of twenty, he had mastered the same, cold look that his parents would often give him, doing the same whenever Beomgyu interrupted him at the hospital.

How did it all come to this?

Beomgyu wished he knew the answer to a question he had been pondering since he was old enough to think for himself.

“So you’re not even gonna say sorry? Apologize? Admit that what you and our entire family’s put me through is wrong?”

“Beomgyu, that’s just how it’s always been. I don’t really know what to say other than how lucky you should be right now,”

Luck. Being born a Choi meant a lifetime of financial security and a plethora of career options knocking at the foot of his door, and yet, Beomgyu couldn’t see how this luck was worth the feelings of inferiority that plagued him to no end.

“How the fuck am I lucky, Hyung? How the fuck am I lucky?! Because from what I know, I’ve been the one that just so happened to be born with the inability to do math and science!”

Seungchol slid the pen he was tapping inside his breast pocket. He placed the clipboard on one of the empty, leather chairs that lined the entrance to the emergency room, adjusting the rims of his glasses in the process.

“All my life, I’ve studied so hard, went to the academy, and never complained about it—hell, I sucked it all up and gave up on getting friends, having fun, and basically being the best example of what mom and dad wanted. But no! Apparently Seungchol-hyung is always better! That law girl is always better! Inseong from fifth grade is always better! Everyone is always better than me! If they wanted someone better, then they probably shouldn’t have asked for another son!”

The only thing that Beomgyu could hear was his own voice bouncing back and forth between the walls of the vast hospital. Seungchol stood in silence, taking his glasses off and wiping the lens with the hems of his white coat—a pure semblance of their father.

“Beomgyu-yah,” He whispered with a lower voice. “Just know that I did all this because I wanted you to be free. I care about you, you know?”

He waved his younger brother goodbye, pushing the large doors to the emergency room where people dressed in blue scrubs awaited his command. Beomgyu tried to chase after him, but he stopped in his tracks. All his life, he was always behind his father, his mother, and his brother. Now, he was behind you. Through the small creaks of the door, he traced your sulking silhouette, seeing himself in the way you bowed down to your own brother, who stood upright with a phone and several envelopes in his hand. Maybe if he let his pride aside a long, long time ago, then he would’ve come to the conclusion that the two of you weren’t so different after all.

“This is Kim & Lee LLC’s associate speaking, and we would like to file an academic leave as soon as possible.”

Throughout knowing you, he had seen you cry for the first time, mimicking the exact same sorrows and anguish that plagued him since he was a child. There was nothing to be done, so he left the hospital, never turning back once.

III. VENUS PLAYS WITH MARS IN A GAME OF CHANCE

Nearly three months had passed, and you didn’t show up since. The band was aware of your periods of being a recluse, but none of them anticipated how bad it was until you stopped responding to their texts and calls altogether. The meeting place felt like a barren wasteland in your absence, and none of them could start practicing without you chanting the counts before every song. Heeseung would come by with a slice of pizza from time to time, and it has become a ritual for them to leave you a slice even when you’re gone. It didn’t matter to them that the offering would turn into mold in a few days—what mattered was how the last slice or two was always going to be meant for you, almost as if you’d come back in the crappy basement to devour your slice and complain about how it’s practically inedible.

The band wasn’t the only group of people that felt your absence, though. Beomgyu never realized how important you were in the law society until you gave him a passive-aggressive email that relinquish all your responsibilities as president to him. While a part of him felt happiness at the thought of finally taking over, there was an inkling of guilt within him that felt too unqualified to assume your role. Yes, he’s often lamented to Heeseung that he would’ve been a better president than you, and he even told his parents in a bitter argument that he was doing more as one of the vice presidents than you actually were as president, he had to admit that your absence caused an impending upheaval that practically caused the law society to implode. At first, it started with self-fulfilling prophecies stated by the other executives that were anxious about Beomgyu’s ascension as the de-facto president. Some said he wasn’t suited for the role based on academic performance alone, and others have already made predictions about his eventual impeachment from the board of executives. Your rivalry with Beomgyu was a well-known gag in the law society, but now, it didn’t feel like an inside joke anymore. In your absence, nobody knew what to do—and Beomgyu began to realize that perhaps he didn’t have it in him to be an effective leader and a prolific communicator.

In some ways, Beomgyu finally realized why you were so effective in a group setting. For one, your ability to make compromises with the rest of the team elevated your status and competence from a newbie to a reliable figure. The same could be said for your band. From what he’s heard from Heeseung, Geonu only recruited you because of your background in jazz. He never considered your dynamics with the group or if you were a difficult person to work with, and he chalked it up to luck that you were good at mitigating all sides of the argument whenever he and Sungchan would bicker. Your effectiveness as a team player was further highlighted in the dashing performances that you and your band would deliver as Joker In. Despite all the arguments and horror stories he’d hear from Heeseung, the Joker In he saw on stage didn’t evoke a single ounce of disagreement or discord. Once the four of you were on stage, it was as if you were a single unit with the rest of the band, seamlessly playing melodies as a natural instinct more so than hours of relentless practice and infighting.

Rhythm is the pillar of music and poetry, he once heard you utter in your conversations with the band. Though he initially disagreed and tried to back up Sungchan’s lamentations of playing a bigger role in the group, your absence has instantly highlighted why you were a stable foundation in everything that you were involved in. Sure, you weren’t the flashiest of both the law society and Joker In, but your absence placed a large dent in the operations of both. Even if you were a quiet figure in the law society, often staying on the sidelines to approve or reject event proposals while everyone was fighting for credit, everyone would always look to you as a final figure of approval. Once you either accepted or rejected an event and started dispatching the organization committee to plan and make these events come to fruition, all elements of disjuncture ceased to exist. It was the same with Joker In. Sure, you were often in the background trying to maintain stability while Geonu and Sungchan played the lead in each performance, but he was willing to admit that the band’s sound was nothing without your invisible hand guiding each melody and verse into perfection.

In a way that the band and the law society needed you, Beomgyu realized—albeit with denial and extreme hesitance—that he needed you as well. Without your presence, he couldn’t care less about his academic performance. Nothing mattered when the certainty of him being at the top was secured. The astonishing irony behind all this was that, in some ways, he did ask for this. He did ask to become number one in everything, and yet he failed to realize that perhaps being number one in itself was never something he could ever be.

The reason he got this far was because of his intense rivalry with his brother. For as long as he could remember, he was always vying for attention from his parents—practically pleading to be seen as anything but his brother’s shadow. Then, it was the several rivals he’d encountered in school once his brother was off to university. They were no match against your unyielding nature, but he would be lying to himself if they didn’t push him to further heights.

Competition was something that he was always surrounded with, and with you gone, he didn’t know where to start. Nothing mattered to him anymore, and he hated that feeling more than hating you.

For someone that prided himself in intelligence, he certainly fell short of common sense. Throughout all his years of trying to chase after your success and your achievements, he wasn’t ready for the loneliness and emptiness that would overtake him once he reached the top. Maybe that was why you decided to play in a band, even if doing so would result in parental disapproval. Sure, he didn’t know your life story, but that was at least what stopped him from starting his own band in high school.

What the fuck are you thinking, you bastard. Starting a band? In high school? This is why your brother was always better, Beomgyu-yah.

“Shut up, Dad,” He whispered, remembering all of the GPS trackers laced on his phone and the strict curfew he had to maintain in his teenage years. Even if he knew nothing about you, it was perhaps the freedom and carelessness you had in you that made him envious of everything you had. To him, you were the epitome of a life he could’ve lived had he not been born into his so-called family—a breath of fresh air that tempted him with the fruits of liberation and rebellion.

In some ways, he loathed you because he idolized you. He wanted to be you in any shape or form. That was, of course, until he rested his eyes on each news headline that managed to damage your reputation bit by bit.

KIM & LEE LLC’S GOLDEN HEIRESS DEMOTED AND DISOWNED FROM THE FAMILY TRADE: HER SECRETS ARE REVEALED

The news came out roughly three months ago, right after he caught a glimpse of your brother making a call to the university’s board of directors. A part of him wished that you would fight back the same way you did whenever Beomgyu would cuss you out or make your life a living hell—because to him, you were always a fighter.

He was aware that hospitals could change a person from the moment they entered into its sanitized walls, but he wanted to believe that you weren’t privy to its wicked curse. Above all the families that wept and got their morale weakened by an undesired diagnosis, an incurable disease, or an exorbitant bill that took a lifetime to pay back, he was sure you were immune to it all, keeping a headstrong demeanor in any situation.

But all rich children were doomed the moment they were born, and you were just like him, a victim of circumstance.

All he could do now was to continue dialing your phone number, even if the reply he got was the same, automated, female voice that told him your digital existence was erased from its archives.

I’m sorry, but your call cannot be completed at this time. Please try again later.

What if he gave you a chance? What if he got to know you instead of letting his bitterness get the best of him? Could things have been different between the two of you? Or would the rivalry persist in a different, more amiable form? Flashes of images were reflected in the large, bathroom mirror that he constantly gazed at, and in these times of automated mundanity between attending classes and fulfilling his new duties as the de facto president of the law society, all he could see was your smiling silhouette imprinted on the chair that he occupied, telling him again and again that he didn’t belong there.

He contemplated visiting your father, but the nurse at the reception would always get back to him about your absence. You hadn’t visited him since the day your family withdrew you from university, and now, he didn’t know where you were. The band refused to talk to him altogether, and Heeseung hadn’t been to the basement since he quit his job at the pizza place. Sungchan’s whereabouts were also unknown, and whenever he would bump into Geonu in the hallways, he was met with firm resistance.

“Don’t talk to me unless you’ve figured out a way to fix this entire mess.” The lead singer’s voice looped in his head.

Beomgyu didn’t believe in a lot of things, but now, he believed in one thing and one thing only: Pillars and foundations of a building can be broken, but they can also be repaired. If you were what kept everything from falling apart, then maybe it was his fate to be the carpenter that rebuilt all the things that he had managed to destroy. Donning the same, neon red hair dye and scuffed combat boots, he decided to live out his life as the boy who simply wanted to see his favorite band play one, final show in the place where he knew he could be himself, free of the shackles that bound him in a life of academic rigor, a lack of identity, and an endless battle of finally finding who he truly was.

“So you weren’t joking about Dad giving the trust to his secretary instead of us, his goddamn kids…” You remember saying to your brother when you saw your father laying unconscious in the hospital bed. To you, your father was a figure of utmost respect and order, someone who didn’t suit the strings and tubes of IV drips and an oxygen mask. He was an innovator, a natural leader that was always meant to stay seated right in the middle of everything—whether it was the dining table or the main meeting room of Kim & Lee LLC. It was your first time seeing him outside of his usual pristine, tidy suit, and you didn’t know what to feel about the sudden change in appearance. Sure, he has aged, but even in old age, you had at least expected him to live and fight for his life for ten more years, still donning a black, expensive suit with utmost pride.

“Isn’t this ridiculous?” Your brother replied, crossing his arms. The one thing that separated you from your brother was how difficult his expression was to read. Even in the face of adversary and doubt, he always managed to carry with him an aura of unyielding demonstration, refusing to display his woes on his sleeve.

“Yeah, I guess,”

“You know, I never wanted to consider you as a part of the family,”

“I know,”

“But this is a crucial time for all of us, and—”

“So what? Are you gonna create a fucking coalition of sorts within the family and try to sue Dad? The current owner and founder of the firm?”

It didn’t even scathe you one bit that your brother had, for the first time, openly shown his disdain towards you. It was always evident in the way he would avoid you around the house, never uttering a single word to you unless it had something to do with your academic achievements or the future of the firm. When your father announced that his solid line of succession had been broken by your existence, your brother moved out to America, only coming back when news broke that your father’s health was waning. It had always been that way since the two of you were children; the two of you were only siblings by family name and nothing more.

“If it’s several against one, old man, I’m sure we’ll win,” He coldly stated, flipping through several documents that outlined the future of the firm. There were many things you hated about your family, and your brother was the best example of why that was the case. Even if you refused to believe it, the opportunistic trait that carried your family’s name for generations was a genetic plight that even you couldn’t escape.

“Don’t you even have a shred of humanity within you? That’s our Dad, and he’s dying!”

“You didn’t look like you cared enough to arrive at the hospital on time,”

I was spending time with my friends! The only people who cared about me! You kept your mouth closed, demonstrating a pensiveness that only the law society and Beomgyu have seen you perfected. As always, your brother’s lips were pressed in a firm, thin line, eyes never acknowledging your existence. To him, the papers were more important than whatever was in front of him.

“You didn’t look like you cared enough to even be there,” You retorted, mimicking the same nonchalance that soon became your family’s trademark.

“My point exactly,” He hummed. “You know how terrible he was to us when we were children, right?”

“That doesn’t excuse ousting him from his position, though,”

“If his so-called leadership and stubbornness is what’s bringing the firm down, then I think it’s about time he left his post,”

“And you’re telling me that you’re the better alternative?”

It was one thing to admit that your brother was right, but it was another to acknowledge him as the next best option in the line of succession. Despite your father’s rather tumultuous decisions that came as a result of senility and burgeoning egoism, he was a natural at micromanagement. Even in his old age, he still commanded an air of elitism that only leaders had. Your brother, on the other hand, lacked such charisma. For all his smarts and his efforts, he simply didn’t have it in him to wield the same charm and authority that your father did in his younger years. Even if he was a spitting image of him, there was no denying that the resemblance was only in the skin. For what your father had in terms of innate control and governance, your brother fell short of such defining qualities. While you had made a name for yourself as a promising air, he was forever tainted in the tabloids as your father’s shadow, forever chasing behind the outline of his pointed shoulders.

“Well, I mean—”

“Shut the fuck up,” You spat. “I got better grades than you when you were a kid. I was first place in everything, and you were second at best. I attend the best school in the country, and, as always, you got rejected, opting for inferior schools. I’m already getting offers to attend law school in Ivy League institutions, while you had to beg your professors for a recommendation letter to even try to get into Columbia or Yale. You had your first internship at our company? Motherfucker, I worked at Morgan & Stanley Korea when I was nineteen. You think you’re the only alternative? You think you’re the next best option? Grow the fuck up and sit down. You’re just lucky to be where you are right now because you’re Daddy’s first.”

Now, three months later, you wished you could say more—not to your brother, but to your unconscious father lying down on his eventual deathbed. You wanted to cuss him out; you wanted to tell him how horrible he was; you wanted to plug his life support off then and there; you wanted to maul him into pieces; you wanted to slap him the same way he did when you would do every little thing to disappoint him; you wanted to take all his money and run away; you wanted him to experience the same pain and suffering of being a bastard child that should have never been born in the first place.

But, by doing so, you were admitting defeat. You were succumbing to an ideal scenario of revenge that would leave you unsatisfied even when your father would die on the spot. As much as it tempted you to destroy him when he was chained by his disease, you were in the game long enough to know that there was a better life out there waiting for you—a life of a true winner. You’ve wasted your entire existence on being the perfect heiress, but now, it was time for change. Now that you were disowned, you were free, and in your eyes, this was a victory in disguise.

And luck would have it that your pleas for freedom would be answered in a single phone call that sealed the deal.

“We just got a deal from DooRooDooRoo, they got back to us about the record deal,” Geonu had called you a month later, when you were spending every single day under the comforts of your duvet. Back then, you couldn’t even tell that a month had passed, because everything had remained frozen in time. Each passing sunrise and sunset meant nothing to you when seeing your father’s bedridden image would always feel like yesterday. In a sense, time had been completely difficult to track, and you opted for stopping your clocks altogether, tearing off the calendar in your apartment, and replacing it with its original white walls. You didn’t think that the newfound sparseness of your apartment would worsen the lagging of time that hazed your entire being, but it didn’t matter to you. You were out of school, and you didn’t have a schedule to follow anymore. Why place a calendar on the wall when all the dates are merged into one?

“What do you mean record deal?” You replied, keeping the phone on speaker to hear his voice. “Geon, we’re a cover band, I doubt they’d even want to sign us because we didn’t send them an original demo,”

Truthfully, the only thing that made the time pass was when you were in front of the electric drum kit in your room, replaying the same songs that once brought you joy in the basement that you managed to call your sanctuary. You contemplated leaving your apartment to visit it once in a while, but there was something in you that didn’t allow you to face Geonu, Sungchan, and Jeongin. What were you going to say to them? They already knew everything the moment the tabloids embarked on a journey of defamation, bearing their voracious fangs on another opportunity—a good story that would destroy the stronghold of your family’s empire. All they needed to know were in the headlines of each news article that was displayed on their television screens and their phones. If Geonu was right about signing a record deal with one of Korea’s biggest indie labels, then it would be bad press to have a fallen heiress as its core member.

“I sent them the track you worked on,” He stated an amalgamation of static breaching your ears. He was definitely in the basement—most likely alone. The day you disappeared, Sungchan had also gone missing, turning off all his devices and blocking off any form of contact. The same could be said for Jeongin, sans the drastic effort to cut all ties with everyone else. You could still get a hold of him, but it would be in inconsistent lapses of time where he would either sound groggy or overtly happy—nothing in between, and especially nothing like his usual self when he was active in the band. Word had reached your ears from his roommate that Jeongin was admitted to the psychiatric ward a few weeks ago, the culprit being psychosis and his sudden relapse into the same, old habits that marred him in his younger years.

Ironically, the news you would get from the people that you usually surrounded yourself with when you were a student didn’t come from themselves, but rather, from Beomgyu. Even if you didn’t answer his incessant calls, he would always leave you a voice note every day, detailing his new life as the president of the law society, the current status of your bandmates, and even little tidbits of his life. Without fail, he would always send these in at around six in the evening, making that hour the only way you could tell time. Before you knew it, you kept your watch active, setting an alarm with your smart home monitor to alert you whenever the hour was coming. Then, you would hide under your covers, pressing your cheeks on the cool, glass surface of your phone to hear his voice. Sometimes, you would close your eyes, watching fleeting images of a life that could’ve stayed intact had your father not succumbed to old age. Beomgyu had the voice of a narrator, and each description and detail he provided painted a picture of fragmented memories that felt distant yet so far away.

“What?” You screeched. You didn’t know how to talk to Geonu, and it was a shame that someone you played music with every day suddenly felt like a total stranger. You were too used to Beomgyu’s soothing voice giving you a glimpse of the outside world, that it didn’t occur to you that the current phone call you were having wasn’t a product of one of Beomgyu’s scheduled voice messages.

“The track that was in our drafts like, before you went MIA,”

“You mean Carpe Diem? That’s just something I wrote when I was bored, though,”

There were too many sessions in the basement that led to unfinished songs and fragmented drafts, but there was one, concrete product out of all the practices you’ve had as Joker In that never left your head. You couldn’t pinpoint the exact date of writing and actively composing the song, but it was certainly around your sixth or seventh night as Joker In when you began to voice more of your creative inputs into the musical journey that Geonu commanded.

It was perhaps around the summer season when Jeongin had just replaced Felix as the new bassist of the band. You were sitting on a draft that you had carried with you since high school with your covert experimentations with the adolescent underground music scene. The song was obviously incomplete, but you had the drum track narrowed down to perfection after years of working on it and rearranging some of the fills and sections, experimenting with complex time signatures while retaining a certain sense of replayability that many radio-friendly songs had. At first, it was just a side project that you conjured up after Beomgyu had challenged you to write a song. It may have counted as cheating to repurpose a draft that you made before meeting him, but so long as you changed and updated the song, then it could’ve counted as a new song. By then, you were still on shaky terms with Sungchan, so you opted to ask Geonu to play both the rhythm and lead sections of the guitar. Felix had happily worked on the bass when he was still in Korea, changing a few things here and there to suit his rather intricate playing style. You had worked with Geonu for a few weekends to complete the lyrical bits of the song, but each draft left you in an uninspired mess. Being eloquent in your essays and your courses certainly didn’t translate well into poetry, and even Geonu’s longtime experience with writing lyrics couldn’t quell the dissatisfaction you had with the piece.

That was until you decided to write your frustrations about Beomgyu, matching up each word, rhyme, and cadence with the tune that you believed you had perfected. You showed Geonu the first draft, solidifying your efforts with his nod of approval. He worked on rearranging a few words to fit the bridge and the chorus, and then, the song was suddenly scrapped. You didn’t know if it was because the band got busy with a surge of live shows and activities, or if you just didn’t want to work on the song any longer. All you knew was that by the time you decided to let go of the song, Beomgyu had replaced your brother and the rest of your family as enemy number one, making the song a daily reminder of him and his deplorable antics.

“Well, Sungchan completed his bits and covered Jeongin’s bass parts. I sang through it with some of the lyrics I came up with when I was listening to the initial track,”

“Wait… you got a hold of Sungchan?”

Sungchan's whereabouts were kept under wraps since the day you left the hospital and your university for good. At first, you tried to call him, but his number was non-existent on the third ring. Text messages led to nowhere, and his account on Kakao had been defunct when you checked the band’s group chat. The only remnant of his identity was left in Beomgyu’s daily voice messages to you, where he speculated that he might have gone back home somewhere in Seoul.

“I saw someone who might have looked like Sungchan at the station near Mapo-gu today, but I could be wrong. These days, high schoolers are basically giants now, and it’s pretty hard to tell, but I’m still searching for him nonetheless. Did you know? He chased after me when I tried to go to the hospital to see you. We had a long conversation by the vending machine, and then, he just disappeared like that. I think I owe him a lot, really, and if it weren’t for him, then I doubt I’d have the conscience to make things right. Once again, I’m sorry for being a coward that could only apologize through these stupid voice messages. You deserve so much more than that, and even if you don’t wanna see me, the least I could do is try to make amends. You can forget about me after that, but I just wanted you to know that I never hated you—really. I did say that a lot, and Heeseung might disagree, but I don’t think I hated you. I think it was a bit of the opposite.”

You could vividly picture the outlines of Beomgyu and Sungchan by the vending machine near Jeongin’s apartment, sharing a drink or two as they talked about the sudden turn of events. Without Geonu, who often brought out the best and the worst in him, Sungchan was the diplomatic type who disliked conflict. You were aware of him giving warnings here and there to Beomgyu whenever you would storm off from a heated argument with him, but you didn’t know that he would go to such lengths to make things right—and now, the only trace you had of who you could finally call your best friend was in the images that Beomgyu would leave in his voice notes and an unknown text message that read I got rejected.

“It’s a long story, but he signed the deal. You’re the only one that needs to sign it—of course, if you want to. I mean, I know how much your career and all that matters to you, so it’s no pressure. If you want, I can—”

“I’m signing it,”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I’m signing it,” You repeated without preamble. Back then, music was just a hobby for you—a way to escape the fast-paced, yet unchanging life of perfecting your image as the ideal candidate to lead your former family’s firm. In your younger years, the thought of pursuing music full-time and escaping the legal field to attend a music college in the heart of Seoul had plagued you, but you let the only thing you’ve known your entire life take over. Now that the foundations of your identity were shackled, you believed it was high time for you to rebuild everything you had lost in the process, facing forward to a newfound pursuit instead of constantly staying in the present.

“Damn…” You could hear Geonu slowly sniffle in the distance as if he were right next to you. The empty walls of your bedroom had suddenly transformed into the decrepit, unpainted cement that lined the basement. The scent of rotting, molding pizza and lukewarm beer wafted your nose, bringing you back to the sanctuary that you would now call your one, true home.

“What?”

“I just… You know… it’s been a while since we’ve last seen you, and I just didn’t expect you to sign the deal…”

Now, you could tell that Geonu was crying—something he never did in front of anyone unless he was drunk enough to let his tear ducts do the job. You took the phone away from your cheek, taking your comforter to dab a few splotches of wet tears that slowly trickled down your face.

“Well, a lot can happen in three months. I’m not in school anymore, I’ve been disowned, and I’m out of the line of succession. I’ve been given an apartment and some hush money to do whatever the fuck I want, and my so-called family has nothing to do with me anymore. I’m free to choose whatever I wanna do, and I think I’d like to tour with you guys for the rest of my life. I never thought I’d be saying this, but fuck, man. I need you guys.”

“I could say the same for you, asshole. Now quit moping around and get your ass in the studio. We’ll be recording and perfecting our debut album until we can all get a house in Europe and live with fast cars, big houses, and a nice life on the hillside.”

“Sounds like a cult or something,”

“Joker In is basically a cult, and we’re nothing without our founding member, so hurry up and get your ass to the studio. Now.” Before you ended the call, you could hear Geonu’s wide smile welcoming you back to the studio. You ended the call and tossed your phone on your bed, taking your bag of weary drum sticks with you. The map that led to the basement was entrenched in your head, and for the first time, you kicked your sneakers back onto the soles of your feet, jingling the keys to your apartment between your fingers as you heard the click that confirmed the safety of your house. You didn’t even check to see if the door was fully locked. None of that mattered when you were finally coming home.

Sungchan had told you personally that Geonu rejected him in the most “Geonu” way possible. A few days after the band’s reunion in the basement, he had invited you for coffee in one of the cafes near campus. At first, you wanted to change the location of your meeting. After all, being seen as a dropout was the last thing you wanted in your gradual return to life. However, the curiosity within you didn’t seem to die down when you breathed in the air of young adulthood and fast-paced trains. The cafe had always been there since you were a first year, and yet it had only occurred to you now to visit it and see what it had to offer.

It was a quick, heartfelt conversation between slices of apple crumble and hot cups of warm, camomile tea. He didn’t even give you a greeting; he just sat you down and told you that Geonu didn’t like him back.

“He said it was to keep the band intact, but I’m sure that’s just his way of telling me that he still wanted me in his life—you know? Even if he didn’t like me that way,”

You would’ve expected an underlying tension in the room during your first few practice sessions with the band, but the moment you entered the basement, everything was left as it was. The rotting boxes of pizza continued to collect mold and mildew, dyeing everything in a murky shade of green. All of the instruments collected dust—a remnant of a time when everything was actively used. Curled ends of guitar strings were strewn on the floor, uncleaned and unscathed since the moment everyone decided to take a break from the basement’s security. The only thing that struck you as a testament to time was how clean the abandoned house looked, perhaps due to a lack of usage. Conversations persisted the way they usually did, and before you knew it, everything was back to normal. Jeongin looked thinner than usual, but he had the same, bright aura of joy and the same passion for Eurovision that he did as before. Sungchan and Geonu continued to bicker in the same manner that they always did, letting the elephant in the room stay dormant. There was no awkward tension or uncomfortable silence that engulfed the entire band, and before you knew it, Joker In was coming closer and closer to perfecting their debut album.

Today was a different story. There was an announcement by Geonu that practice would commence as usual, and it was granted that there would be a couple of sleepovers in the basement since the deadline to pitch your demo to the label was coming to a close. Being one of the more punctual bandmates out of the rest, you decided to show up an hour earlier, carrying several backpacks filled with toiletries, instant food, and a comforter that held you in your worst breaks.

“Guys?” You called, only to hear your voice bounce back to you.

It was normal to hold pranks in the studio, but hide and seek wasn’t the band’s forte. Even if Geonu used his height to his advantage and crept behind small cracks of furniture and large amplifiers, you would always manage to find his mop of hair sticking out in the distance. Sungchan’s footsteps were too loud to ignore, and Jeongin was terrible at keeping his laughter at bay. None of those remnants of your bandmates was present in the studio, and all you could do was heave a sigh at the fact that they might be late.

Then, there was an eerie feeling that began to consume you. No matter how many times you’ve run up and down the entire house to see if anyone was there, you were left with an empty feeling of solitude, even if you were sure that you weren’t the only one in the building. There was an unshakable presence that made it too difficult for you to ignore, and after ceaselessly checking the same hiding spots again and again, you decided to halt your search altogether and give up. Heeseung often joked about the basement’s ideal location as a horror movie set, so maybe he was right about a few lost souls from the war that lurked in the corners of the basement.

“You know, this place could have been a burial ground or something, right?” You remembered him saying amidst a flurry of smoke from his bong. Perhaps he was right, and it was about time that you coined yourself a believer of the paranormal. Dropping out of school and throwing away your potential degree was the last thing you imagined, so if the unpredictable managed to stir your life in a completely different direction, then maybe ghosts did exist. Right?

“Hey…” A voice that only existed within your phone’s voice messages popped up behind your ears. You managed to let out a shrill shriek, quickly turning around to see a man with bright, red hair. His black nails were chipped to the edges, and his dark, grey jeans were distressed to reveal his protruding knees. The scuff marks on his combat boots were accentuated by the dull luster of leather that shone in the sunlight that seeped into the basement.

“Oh, hi there,” You replied, clearing your throat as you collected yourself. It didn’t occur to you that three months could change anyone this drastically, but seeing your former rival in an outfit that didn’t suit him eased all of the apprehension that was built up in your system.

“I know I’m the last person you want to see right now,” Beomgyu whispered. You weren’t used to seeing him so solemn, and you certainly couldn’t shake the dissonance in the calmness that he exuded. Even if you hadn’t seen Beomgyu in a while, you always associated him with a ball of anger that threatened to explode at any second, and now, the only thing that resembled his fiery passion was the bright, poorly dyed red dye that stained his head.

“Well, not really. You’re up there, don’t get me wrong, but you’re definitely below my half-brother, my father, and basically every single person in my family.” You said with a small, awkward smile.

“Oh, well, that’s good to know, I guess?” Beomgyu asked. He expected you to question his disguise or his presence, but perhaps you weren’t as dense as he thought. Maybe you knew who he was right from the start, even in your drunken state when you decided to send him home from a gig that felt like ancient history.

“Did your brother tell you what happened?”

“No, but your face was all over the internet for a while. Some tabloids saying Kim & Lee LLC’s star daughter had been removed from the line of succession after it’s been exposed that you were in the underground music scene,”

“Jesus…” You couldn’t help but laugh. “Out of all the reasons that they could’ve chosen, they chose that,”

“Yeah…” His voice was barely a whisper now, and he stuffed his hands in his jean pockets, the same way he did when he nervously walked home with you from the bus stop. “I also heard that your band got signed.”

“Through Heeseung?”

“No, through Sungchan actually,”

“Wow, I never expected him to talk to you like that,”

“I know, right?”

The light in Beomgyu’s eyes had disappeared, mellowing him out into a completely different person. Now that you had the chance to think about it, his newfound rebellious look suited him more when he would incessantly curse at you and call you by all of the profanities that the Korean language had to offer. The clean-cut, professional air of arrogance that he carried was reserved for the silent meekness that Beomgyu now exuded.

“So, why are you here?” You asked.

“The boys told me you were coming,”

“Ah…”

You checked the group chat and saw a flurry of texts from the rest of your bandmates detailing their tardiness. Geonu never went to the music shop since he would usually borrow instruments and equipment from his vast network of student musicians, and Sungchan was never the type to be late over a visit to the record store. Jeongin was a bad liar, and it was evident in his texting patterns that he tried his best to cover everything up with a rather believable excuse of waking up late from a nap.

“They set us up, didn’t they?” You scoffed. Beomgyu slowly nodded—the confirmation that you needed to finally piece everything together.

“I mean, three-ish years of basically wanting to kill each other needs to come to an end at some point, right? And it’s not like I’m graduating since I’ve already dropped out of uni…”

Beomgyu continued to fidget with the edges of his pockets, whistling a low, barely audible tune as he lightly kicked the can of empty beer that landed on the sole of his combat boots. When the can rolled over to your feet, you returned it to him with a stronger kick, initiating a simple game of soccer that allowed Beomgyu to display his years of practice in the varsity team.

“I quit the Law Society, and I also quit the debates team.” Beomgyu interrupted, keeping the can to himself instead of kicking it back to you. He began to do a few tricks and keepy-ups, stopping at the fifth pass to kick the can back to you.

“Oh,”

“I’m off student clubs for a while, and I’m just focused on getting my degree,”

“What happened to the Choi Beomgyu who wanted to be the best at everything?” You retorted with a grin, turning the can into an impromptu volleyball.

“You get to a certain point where none of that even matters anymore, really.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah…”

Now, the can was on the ground. You kicked it into a nearby corner and used your bag as a seat, taking your comforter out to wrap yourself around its soft surface. Beomgyu hesitated before joining you on the floor, maintaining a sense of empty space between the two of you. Your eyes traced the thin, sheer curtains that flowed back and forth with the gust of wind that cooled the basement, tracing its trajectory until your eyes landed on Beomgyu’s lonesome outline.

“Wanna… you know? Talk about it?” You asked, wrapping the comforter tighter around your shoulders.

“I think we should talk about you first,” He replied with a smile that used to be reserved for everyone else apart from you.

“Right… Well, I’ve been disowned! Yay!”

“You’re a full-time musician now, though,”

“Another yay!”

The basement had always been a place where you would escape Beomgyu for the simple reason that people like him brought you back to the familial infighting that plagued your childhood. It was a place reserved for music and music only, not a place to recall the copious amounts of studying and perfectionism that you allowed yourself to suffer through in your three-year rivalry with him. You would’ve never imagined that one day, you would be able to share this place with someone like him, but something about having him sit a couple of spaces next to you as you caught up with him felt right, rendering the intensity and tension that you associated with him into an evaporating mist.

“Man, you’re actually funny,” He said behind a light chuckle.

“And you’re actually pretty nice behind all your stupid dick jokes,” You retorted with the same, gentle sentiment. You took a can of lemon seltzer out of your bag and tossed it in his direction. He caught it mid-air and gave you an even brighter smile, glassy eyes scanning through the can with awe and nostalgia as he opened it and took its nectarine contents between his lips.

“Anyway, what about you? What’s going on?” You asked, taking a water bottle out and twisting the cap open.

“I think I’m gonna stick to being a lawyer, but I’m definitely staying out of the family drama,” Beomgyu replied. The can of lemon seltzer was now on the ground.

“I thought big pharma and the medical industry didn’t have as much fun as we do in the private sector,”

“After I kind of got over my brother being cut out for the job more than I did, I just felt the need to stop being bitter. I mean, it’s whatever. I don’t really care anymore about my parents telling me that I’m basically a disgrace to the Choi name. I overcomplicated my entire life by focusing on that the moment I started breathing, and I think it’s about damn time I act like a fucking lawyer and defend myself from them instead of constantly looking to them for approval.”

“That’s not a very Choi Beomgyu thing to say,” You laughed, rolling the water bottle until it knocked over his can of lemon seltzer. Its contents began pouring out into the wooden floorboards, and you knew Geonu was going to scold you about it later.

“Well, the Choi Beomgyu now is not the same as the Choi Beomgyu three months ago,” He replied with a smile, as if to tell you that he’d stick around to help you clean up the mess once everyone else arrived.

“I still don’t get why you hated me so much though,”

If Beomgyu were to apologize to you at the hospital or right after the Eurovision watch party, you weren’t sure if you had it in you to forgive him. This wasn’t out of the bitterness and pent-up grudges that you managed to hold onto for so long, but rather, it was more so out of your own pride. You were sure that you would take his apology as is and never speak to him again out of a failure to admit that you, too, had crossed the line when you brought out the same traumas surrounding his own family and his brother.

Three months of silence was all it took for you to admit that a three-year rivalry felt like a childish game. In essence, the two of you were one and the same, both marred by the heavy expectations of generational wealth and status. Even if there were slight differences in your respective stories, perhaps the intense hostility that characterized the two of you came from the same place—one that made it rather difficult to see each other as equals or separate people. You didn’t know if Beomgyu felt the same, but the peak of your aggression with him certainly came from a hidden, inner dilemma that came from seeing yourself in Beomgyu’s glassy, beady eyes.

“I actually came down here to explain all that, to be honest—then again, I already feel like I did it pretty well when I talked about my brother and whatnot.”

“Some sort of innate, deep-seated inferiority complex since you were always compared to everyone around you?” You retorted and whistled, prompting Beomgyu to muster a dejected nod in your direction.

“Yeah, that.”

You know, I had the same thing with my own brother too. Crazy, right? You thought but kept those words to yourself. Words weren’t needed between the two of you anymore; you knew him long enough to understand that he could probably guess what was on your mind.

“Can I be honest?” You interrupted, taking your comforter and tossing it between his lap. You shuffled closer until the space between the two of you ceased to exist. Beomgyu reluctantly nodded again and took your blanket in his palms, feeling through its seams as he stared at the setting sun.

“I thought you already were,”

“Well, I mean, really honest.”

“Shoot,”

“I actually knew you were sneaking into our gigs.”

A part of Beomgyu wanted to get up and run out of the basement, but another part of him knew that he should’ve trusted his gut from the start. Though he was aware of socially dense, book-smart academics, he was sure you weren’t of the sort. From managing the law society with impeccable leadership down to being a core member of a band, he knew deep down that adept communication and management skills came with social awareness. Nonetheless, he took the confession with ease, admiring the events at the night bus with a newfound perspective.

“I played dumb because I didn’t wanna ruin things for you, you know? Music is something that brings people together, and I can understand that in some ways, being in this basement was a safe space for you—some sort of escape from all the bullshit that your parents put you through,” You explained, heaving a sigh as you kicked the now empty can of lemon seltzer towards the same corner where the crushed, dented beer can had landed.

“And at first, I thought you weren’t so bad. I mean, you actively came to our shows even if, for whatever reason, you hated me at school. I think my thing about the entire ordeal is how I can’t wrap my head around you being so mean to me.”

He always knew you were honest, but he didn’t think you would be honest in such a raw, authentic way—especially with him.

“Like I’ve said, the Beomgyu three months ago is a different Beomgyu. I didn’t really know how to process the grudges I’d held against my parents since I was kid, so I guess I took it out on the people I’ve been compared to,” He replied, after a few seconds of silent pondering.

“Is that really it?” You asked, repeating his pensiveness with your own rendition of a long, drawn-out pause.

“Yeah, that’s it, I guess,”

“Are you sure?”

“What are you trying to say?”

You grabbed your comforter and tossed it into his face, running behind the drum kit in anticipation of an attack. Instead of seeing your comforter fly across the studio, however, Beomgyu remained still, slowly taking off the cotton blanket and neatly folding it into a pile beside your backpack.

“That you were obsessed with me,” You finally joked. The sun had completely set, and there were no signs of your bandmates coming into the basement anytime soon. Heaving a sigh of relief, you took a seat on the stool that saw the best of your musical abilities, grabbing a thin, 7A drum stick that was worn down in an amalgamation of splinters and cracks. You twirled each stick around your fingers, humming a light, jazzy beat on your head before hitting the ride cymbal and placing your feet on the hi-hat pedal.

“You’re not entirely wrong,” Beomgyu retorted, taking a seat on one of the amplifiers as he watched you perform a small solo that reminded him of the bossa nova records that would often leak out of his maid’s earphones. “I did find you pretty cute, I just wished you didn’t show your cards as a teacher’s pet in our first classes together,”

“Little boy couldn’t handle being bested by a girl?”

“No, more like little boy couldn’t handle being bested by a nepo baby,”

The crash cymbals rang in Beomgyu’s ears, but he didn’t step away from the noise. After hearing your band’s studio sessions on several online music streaming platforms for so long, he couldn’t resist the opportunity of watching you play live in such close proximity. To him, you were surely a one-of-a-kind musician, one that managed to turn senseless beats and fills into a melodic journey.

“Not anymore!” You yelled, tapping your sticks to the side of the snare drum while kicking the bass drum’s pedal to accentuate each rhythmic interval with timed, yet deeply dispersed vibrations.

“Ex-nepo baby,” Beomgyu corrected. He wanted to pick the acoustic guitar beside one of the larger amplifiers in the basement, but he resisted the temptation to play alongside you.

“That’s more like it,” You said with a smile, halting your drum solo and slipping your sticks back into a small, slender bag. Pushing your weight off your stool, you leaned backward until you could reach the hilt of the acoustic guitar, gently handing it over to Beomgyu as you readjusted the towel that lined the entire snare drum. He took it and admired the woodwork, recalling the chords that he had taught himself when he was a teenager that had the ability to dream.

“So, what do you wanna do?” He asked, bitterly scrunching his nose as the dissonance of untuned strings reverberated in his ears. You tilted your head to the side, but Beomgyu took his palm up in the air to stop you from getting up from your stool again.

Thom Yorke was right, everyone can play the guitar.

“Can you sing?” You asked, leaning your chin onto your palm while keeping your elbows leveled onto the cotton surface of the towel on top of the snare drum.

“Sorta?” Beomgyu replied with a shrug.

“Can you set up the mic on your own?”

“I think so?”

“Great, show me what you’ve got. I’m sure being a big fan also means belting out notes like Geonu, right?” Once Beomgyu was confident enough about the tuning of the guitar, he started to strum the chords that lined each stanza to the song you wrote. Instead of playing along, you deepened your trance and kept your eyes on his slouched figure, watching a man that could’ve been a musician with you in a different world. The basement had always been a sanctuary for the two of you, and now, free of all the ills of wealth and familial obligations, you openly shared your secure liberation with him, watching him play a song that was written for him.

EPILOGUE: CARPE DIEM

Wе'll play our love against your hate

Don't you count on us to let you win today

Today

Through the corners of your eyes, you could see Beomgyu in his so-called disguise: bright, long, red hair sprayed on with less than perfect agility and accuracy, torn sleeves that revealed his stick-and-poke tattoos across his arms and chest, ripped jeans to match his long legs, and a pair of combat boots that made his walk turn into awkward waddles between the dance floor and the bar. God forbid you found him attractive in the daylight, but the nighttime brought out a different beast in him. He wasn’t the snobbish, prideful boy that you would bicker with during your law modules; he wasn’t the sharp-tongued asshole you wanted to fight in the middle of the hallways; he wasn’t the man that made you feel less than a woman whenever he unluckily graced you with his presence; he was just Choi Beomgyu—a lost boy under the dark, neon lights of the disco ball of fate that spun the two of you together in a distorted, complicated mosaic of trials and tribulations.

You wouldn’t dare admit it, but you found him rather attractive from the start. That was the reason why you wanted to catch his attention when you first met him in your first-year orientation. Back then, he had sleek, black hair, trimmed to perfection to explicitly embody his status with a single look. While you presented yourself as the exact opposite of who he used to look like, there was no harm in trying, right?

Who knew that your lack of courage to speak to him and befriend him from the start would spur a three—almost four-year—rivalry of academic battles and hurt? You certainly didn’t predict it, but perhaps fate worked in wonderful ways, as he was now doing two-steps to a song that you wrote, composed, and poured all your heart into.

A song about Choi Beomgyu.

We danced and played until the sun came

Writing a story using our names

About a generation not afraid to seize the day

Geonu’s voice was the perfect touch to the lyrical prose and intricacies you communicated through the song. It was sweet, yet packed a pang of pain in each syllable—something that you always applauded him for. What made his performance better was how it made Beomgyu’s wasted presence look like an angel—as if Geonu’s voice was the spell you needed to finally see the man as a divine, untouchable being in your eyes. The test lights of all different colors glowed like a halo on the crown of Beomgyu’s head, and with the last cymbal to end the song, you immediately got up and dove to the crowd, throwing your drum sticks behind as your lips grazed the man you’ve hated for the past three years.

Beomgyu couldn’t tell if he was too drunk or if he’s waited for this moment since he saw you on the edge of the row at an introductory elective he chose to fill his schedule, but he took your arms in his in one, fell swoop, catching you in your fall with the sturdiness of his grip. In an instant, all of the feelings he had for you blended into a single word: love.

Who knew that hate was not the opposite of love? He certainly didn’t. In a sense, he should’ve listened to Heeseung from the start and swallowed his stubborn pride—then again, he also knew that life didn’t work that way. At this moment, he thanked his unyielding nature for allowing him to be with you for three, long years. Even if there was an incessant voice within him that complained about the prospects of being with you earlier had he not been so difficult, there was an equal part of happiness within him that was completely satisfied with the way things were. Chance worked in wonderful, albeit unpredictable ways, and maybe if he didn’t hate you so much, he wouldn’t even know of your existence from the start.

The crowd around the two of you cheered as they watched you engulf Beomgyu in another, languid embrace. Their voices were mere whispers filtered with the booming sound of Geonu’s speech in the microphone and Sungchan’s own guitar solos; all you could see was Beomgyu’s angelic face between your soft, sweaty palms. The rush of adrenaline that usually came with playing shows was now replaced with the gentle hums that echoed across the cages of your chest, aching with a pulsating pain that threatened to implode inside of you.

“You’re such a loser,” Beomgyu whispered, taking the back of your hands in his as he caressed the surface of your knuckles with his thumb. You could feel his rapid pulse quicken by the amount of alcohol he consumed, but that didn’t matter. You didn’t need to be inebriated to feel a certain way.

“Shut up,” You retorted, touching the tip of your nose on his before climbing back up to the stage to finish the song one and for all.

With the band together, arm in arm, the four of you gave the crowd the last bow you’ll ever give them. Salty tears were shed, roaring claps and cries for an encore were heard in the distance, and the only person in your eyes was Beomgyu, who was sober enough to stand still and spill his drink in your face. In return, you blew him a kiss and threw a single drum stick in his direction, watching him effortlessly catch it and twirl it between his fingers. As the chants for an encore grew louder, you stared at each of your sweat-ridden bandmates—all of them nodding at the last request.

“Alright, assholes,” Geonu began, taking the mic stand apart and throwing it to the side. “You asked for it, so we’ll give you one more performance. One more, yeah?”

Sungchan didn’t even need to play the first chord to the song; Jeongin didn’t need to pluck the strings to his bass; you didn’t need to go back to your drum kit to strike the first beat; Geonu didn’t need a microphone to signal the first note of the song. Everyone knew what the next performance was going to be, and they crowded around the stage, forming a circle with Beomgyu at the center.

This one’s for you, prick. You mouthed with a wide, ear-to-ear grin on your face. You took a can of lukewarm beer and pierced it right in the middle with your teeth, watching the crowd gaud you to finish it all in one go. Then, you crushed the empty can in your fingers and threw it to the side, rushing back to your band as they all sat on the edge of the stage.

“You guys know the words to this one, right?” Geonu shouted. The crowd roared with approval and kept their feet still in anticipation despite the hazy inebriation that turned their vision into a mere collection of blurred movements. The alcohol had rushed past your bloodstream and circulated in your head, forming a telescope that pointed to Beomgyu as your one and only North Star.

Look me straight into the eyes,

When I truthfully lie to you

For a graduation gig, this was perhaps one of the best gifts you could ever ask for. No amount of material desire could replicate the sense of community felt within the tiny, decrepit basement that your band has called home. Now that you’ve thought about it, this basement didn’t seem to belong to your band anymore. It belonged to everyone in the room. Those who wanted to escape a life of mundanity and academic pressures, those who wanted to forget about the time they fucked up their jobs, those who wanted to remember their youths with rose-colored lenses and shagadelic sad boy music, and those who just wanted a place where they could be themselves. The basement was a home—no, a sanctuary—that welcomed everyone with open arms—even the likes of Choi Beomgyu.

Dreams are of your taste,

Mornings smell like you

You took control of the chorus and screamed to your heart’s content. Everyone’s voices blended into a harmonious blend of heartfelt solidarity. There were people making out in the corner of the bathroom, those that were too drunk to stand and yet muttered the lyrics in the best way they could, and the strongest soldiers of your long setlist remaining still, arm in arm with each other as they continued to sing the lyrics with you and your band. Beomgyu was still in the middle, eyes glued to your swaying figure as you slowly descended from the stage again with a microphone in your hand.

The compass fails to listen to me,

My lost soul’s wandering,

And searching for the path that leads to you

Geonu, Sungchan, and Jeongin descended the stage too and started interacting with the crowd. You could see Heeseung in the distance waving at you with two joints between his fingers and a girl clad in a bright green apron in his other arm. He gave you a thumbs up and bowed before going to the bar, and you returned his gesture with a fervent scream of gratitude. You then took Beomgyu’s head and ruffled his hair, letting the residue of his red dye stain your palms.

“So that’s what the song meant,” Beomgyu whispered right next to your ears, watching your panting figure gulp down an entire bottle of water in one go. He took the microphone from your hands and sang the last verse to the of his best abilities, letting his mind scavenge through all the times he’s secretly listened to your band’s discography on Soundcloud. There was no use in pretending he didn’t know any of the words when he’s spent every waking moment listening to Joker In on his commute to and from campus.

“Yeah, kind of funny, right?” You replied, tossing the empty bottle to a nearby trash can. Beomgyu tossed the microphone back to Geonu, who was now being nursed back to health by Sungchan. You gave the two a nod and took Beomgyu’s hand to leave the confines of the basement.

Now that the two of you were outside, you breathed in the fresh scent of grass and greeneries that surrounded the abandoned house. The night sky in hues of navy evoked divine iridescence with the hymns of the crickets and fireflies that sparked the outskirts of town into a bright, starlit grove of secrecy. You took another can of beer that you hid inside the pockets of your overalls and crushed it open, offering a sip to Beomgyu once you were finished taking a large gulp. He refused, leaning his tall frame on the unpainted walls of the house. The noise from the basement echoed into the vast, empty skies. Everyone’s voice seemed to repeat the chorus of the song in muffled hums, and you joined their choir with a quiet rendition of your own, humming the song that brought you to Beomgyu in a gentle lullaby.

The compass fails to listen to me,

My lost soul’s wandering

And searching for the path that leads to

You stared at Beomgyu before finishing the last line of the verse, twirling the cool can of beer between your fingers. It was impossible to hate him under the moonlight.

“Do you still think I’m that sexy stranger that you almost took home with you from the bus stop?” He asked, craning his neck to look at you with his glassy eyes.

“Dipshit, we went over this a long time ago. Did you really think I was that stupid?” You replied, returning the rhetoric while fishing for a pack of cigarettes in your pockets. Beomgyu scratched his head and cleared his throat, averting his gaze to meet the destroyed leather of his combat boots.

“Well, you’re still kind of dense…”

“A face like yours is difficult to hide, you know? Even with your dumb excuse of a disguise.”

A light chuckle escaped your lips. Beomgyu always wondered what you’d sound like if you laughed with him instead of laughing without him. Perhaps it was the remnants of alcohol that remained in his bloodstream, or perhaps it was the irresistible, honey-like tone in your voice that made him want to hear you laugh again.

“Can we start over again?” Beomgyu interrupted. This time, he positioned himself at an angle that made him face you regardless of where his neck was aching to go. You gave him a small smile, followed by a middle finger as you let the fizz of beer emulsify within the confines of your mouth.

“Seriously? I thought seeing your dumbass play guitar in the studio was already enough?” You replied, letting the embers from your lighter reflect its yellow flames in Beomgyu’s marble-like eyes.

You were not one to waste a cigarette, but a single puff engulfed you in a woozy feeling of nausea and turbulence. As you stubbed the light out of the long, white stick on the dying grass around it, you turned your attention back on Beomgyu—the most patient he’s been since the two of you first met. Everything with Beomgyu felt long and drawn out, but this time, you didn’t mind. The night was long, and you wanted all the time in the world to start over, even if it meant confessing some of your deepest, dirtiest thoughts to him.

Carpe diem. Seize the day.

And so, you did. Beomgyu’s cheeks felt like satin feathers ruffling and tickling each of your fingertips, electrifying you with a gentleness that lulled you closer to him. There was nothing to be afraid of from the start, and even if it took you three years to overcome that unbridled, irrational fear that is Choi Beomgyu, you were nonetheless glad that it was all over. Another day was about to come, and who knows? Maybe Beomgyu wouldn’t be an enemy anymore.

—CREDITS: @writingmochi @gyvhao @chocorenchin @michipan @hsgwrld (hi meg !! also tagging you on this because this is a eurovision fic lMAOO this is vivian on her txt blog btw !!)

#: to read 24'

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iveil · 8 months

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STUCK ON A PUZZLE | n.r

youtube

Part of the JIDAIGEKI anthology. ERA: Late Heisei

STARRING: Nishimura Riki x fem!reader

RUNTIME: 51.1k

SYNOPSIS: Riki is sixteen now, which means a lot for a boy his age. While he tries to get the girl he wants, he begins to dip his feet into the waters of life as everything changes around him.

GENRE: Coming of age, romance, drama

DIRECTOR’S CUT: hellooooooo it’s vivian/camille again, for the nth time. yes this is @/orpheyeux and please refer to the faq i pinned on my blog for potential answers. if you come from nctblr and notice that this is the same fic as the one you saw in @/dhoya, it’s because i’m her LOL. PLEASE triple check all the warnings; you are responsible for the content that you consume. heavily based off the book and film submarine (go watch it’s so good !!!)

Prologue: Stuck on a Puzzle

The boy’s name is Nishimura Riki. Riki Nishimura if one were to spell it with the Latin alphabet. Riki, if you were addressing him the way his parents did, and RIki-chan if you were his friend—but he didn’t really have a lot of those, so for now, just Riki was fine. He was currently at the ripe old age of sixteen years old, spending what felt like an eternity within the confines of his own bedroom.

To call himself old was a thought that always occurred to him. He wasn’t fifteen anymore, so that meant he was old. He didn’t have the liberties to hide under his previous age’s implications, such as remaining as young as he can be all his life—or better yet, getting a hot girlfriend with an added bonus of finally losing his virginity. He would think that turning a year older would immediately mature him into a bright, young adult—but quite frankly, the only thing that changed about him was his height. Last year, he could still pass through his door without ducking down. Now, he had to constantly slouch to stop his head from getting minor concussions all the time. In some ways, he thanks his growth spurt for acting as the main problem in his life. Without it, he’d have to be like the other boys, minds filled with nothing but girls and sex.

To be fair, he is guilty of such an insolent crime. The only reason he feels less guilty than the rest of the boys in his classroom is the added problem of worrying about his height complications. That way, there was some semblance of balance between his thoughts—a third for girls, a third for sex, and another third for the pedantic way he’d have to live out his life as a tall person.

Keep reading

#: to read 24'

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iveil · 9 months

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── masterlist 📂

The contents of this blog are intended for adult audiences only (18+). Minors and blogs without an age indicator should not interact.

I do not allow the copying, rewriting, reposting or translating of my works.

Thank you for reading & interacting with my works, it means a lot! ♡

⎯⎯ series

─ sharp edges { hyunjin, painter au, completed } 「 word count: 111,6k 」

─ a lullaby on his throat { hyunjin, mythology au, ongoing } latest update ↱ part two: gyokuro green tea

─ the taste of honey { hyunjin, non-modern au, arranged marriage au, ongoing } latest update ↱ chapter 3: whiskeyed darlings

─ super bored { hyunjin, college au, ongoing } latest update ↱ chapter 3: do you know what your heart wants?

─ playing with fire (remastered) { hyunjin, mafia au, ongoing }

─ four of wands { witch!hyunjin, romance, ongoing but not active } latest update ↱ part two: peach, saffron, vanilla

⎯⎯ one-shots & collections

the benefit of being friends { chan, miniseries, romance, ongoing } ↱ part one

─ windows { hyunjin, miniseries, strangers to lovers, on hold } ↱ latest update chapter one: carrot cake

─ 3racha roommates au universe | › american whiskey { chan } › soju { minho, jisung }

─ jury's still out { lawyer!hyunjin x reader, one-shot, smut } ─ teachers' lounge { teacher!hyun x milf reader, one-shot, smut } ─ pretty when you say it { hyunjin, one-shot, established relationship } ─ show me what's under that pillow { hyunjin, step-brother's roommate au ft. jisung } ─ want some help? { hyunjin, boyfriend au, non-idol au } ─ just stay with me { hyunjin, coworkers to friends to lovers } ─ careful { hyunjin, coworkers to lovers }

#2024 library ; pick a gem ♢#: to read

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iveil · 9 months

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cast: sunoo ✗ fem.reader (ft. itzy's yuna, cravity's taeyoung and serim, with a few ocs)

genre: horror, mystery, adventure, survival, dark comedy, high school au, a bit of fluff, angst

based on: video game series five nights at freddy’s (2014-present); set before five nights at freddy's 3 (2015)

word count: 17929 (17.9k)

message to the moon: remember that this story is fiction and do be careful and read the warnings at the top. all the idols mentioned here are not what they are in real life.

mini playlist: van halen's "jump"; toby fox's "amalgam"; lena raine's "scattered and lost" ; allen simpson's "d.j. music man"

now open

“what do you guys know about freddy fazbear’s pizza?”

“that pizzeria franchise? what about it?”

“what you’re getting from that?” sunoo asked beside you as you nod while raising your eyebrow. taeyoung is not stupid enough to be gaslighted by his older brother like that, isn’t he?

“and he said i can bring my friends so i want to bring you all.”

what?

“guys, please? (y/n)? you like true crime, right?” taeyoung asked, bringing your focus back to the table as your name is mentioned.

that is until five children went missing and the animatronics started to act weird, as people back then described. it all goes downhill from the incident.

“25% for each of us?” taeyoung sees all three of you nodding, a sneaky grin on all of your faces.

“fine by me.”

sunoo smiled as he replied, “we can get through it, all of us.”

“speaking of getting through it, what do you bring?” you nudge your shoulder toward his backpack beside yours.

“snacks, water bottles, blankets, medkit,” he replied as he closes his bag, his gaze now on you.

you hummed as a smile formed, “like a scout. nice!”

“you knew about me going camping before. so i packed the things i pack when camping, “ sunoo answered as he gently put his hand on his waist. “how about you?”

seeing the streetlights illuminate the road and trees forming around it, you trail your eyes off to yuna who is sitting next to you. she has a small backpack of her own on her lap.

“how are you, bestie?” you nudge her shoulder with your own.

“she doesn’t believe the roaming animatronics stuff.”

“shut the heck up.” taeyoung mumbles making serim lightly laugh as he grabs the steering wheel in front of him.

“see you at 6, losers,” serim said and then the car drove off. you can’t help but look at the time from your phone that you picked out from your pocket.

00:00

“do you want to stay here or stay outside?” you turned to your friends as you gently held it open.

“inside could work.” taeyoung voiced out as he settles his bag on the ground. “great access to see the outside if we see any animatronics roaming down the hall.”

“i’ve drawn the main entrance and reception, the hallway with the bathrooms, and the doorway to the dining room.” the others see your drawing as you let your fingers fidget with the pencil.

“security,” you murmured, letting your thumb fall from your face.

01:00

you felt your body being gently shaken inside the blanket that you are sleeping in.

“(y/n), please…” you hear yuna’s recognizable voice. feeling a tad bit safer, your eyes open and you sit your body up on the party room floor.

“what’s wrong? did you also h-“

“you can pee in the corne-“

“sunoo…” you whispered, seeing him stirring with his eyes open. his eyebrows are raised as he looks between you and yuna, who puts her hands on your shoulder.

“what are you doing?” he mumbled as he leans up.

that’s when you heard a music box playing, and it seems getting closer and closer.

you can finally recognize the color of the fur of its feet, brown.

“that’s a freddy fazbear animatronic,” you whispered under your breath.

“what th-“

y/n: SUNOO!

y/n: IT’S TRUEEE

y/n: IT’S REAL

someone types right after you.

sunoo: IK

sunoo: WE SAW A CHICKEN ONE COMING OUT OF THE DOOR ACROSS FROM THE BASE

sunoo: THE KITCHEN

the chicken one…

y/n: THAT’S CHICA

y/n: WE SAW FREDDYY

y/n: AND BONNIE

breathing rapidly, you notice yuna looking between you and the phone in your hand.

“what is it?” you whisper directly into her ear. the glint in her eyes letting you know she might found something helpful.

“see that open doorway?” she whispered back, pointing to the rectangle void compared to the greyish hue of the wall.

‘we have to crouch under the table three times.’

one…

two…

three.

“bad idea.” yuna mumbled beside you as you finally stare at the room and the things decorating the wall.

02.00

sunoo: you okay?

taeyoung: we’re so freaking worried

y/n: we’re alright

y/n: though we are stuck now

y/n: gonna tell you the next plan later

“hey…” yuna calls with a small voice, the rubbing sound present also coming from her.

“i found something.”

“blueprints…”

“so they have an endoskeleton with fur casing? that doesn’t explain the odor coming from them and how they’re ‘alive’.” her hands lift to make air quotes.

an epiphany comes into your mind even though you don’t want to presume it happened. but you can’t hold it in.

“i think it has something to do with the missing children.” you pivot to her, seeing her shake her head.

“that can’t be possible, right? are they… possessed?” the pitch of her speaking voice tells you everything about her working mind.

“no way…” you heard muttering coming from the other person in the room. a small hum as a reply to her, yuna pulled your phone from your hand and pointed it to the words on the blueprint.

“facial recognition…”

you shift your head as you see her open more blueprints—bonnie’s, foxy’s, and chica’s—and check the same area as the first blueprint.

you push the masks slipped onto your arm to her as she stares between the book and the items on you. her eyes enlarged as she leans closer, slipping your phone back onto your open palm.

now, your view is much more obscured with only the holes for the eyes and nostrils helping to get the air in clearer. trying your best to inform the others, you send out a message in the group chat.

y/n: if you can, search for character masks to wear in the party room. we can meet up at the arcade area.

taeyoung: what’s this? ^

y/n: they have facial recognition. we can disguise ourselves - yuna

“you ready?” she asked behind you.

“uh huh…” you said, with a tinge of worrisome you hope she didn’t figure it out. hand on the handle, the hinges creak as you pull the door open.

before it stiffs and turns its head towards both of you.

“how’d you know the masks work?” sunoo asked as they gave out both of your backpacks back to their rightful owners.

“we’re gonna get ou-“

rage.

the void embraces you as your body shuts down.

03.00

something drips out from your lips.

hushes and the rustle of paper is all around you.

your lips are chapped as you sense a tear come down from the corner of your eyes, becoming clearer after each and every drop has fallen.

“you’re okay!” they whispered to you, pressing their palm against your cheek—a barrier that doesn’t allow the skin to skin contact makes a vertical down from under your eye to your jaw.

“sun?” you speak, a hoarse voice coming out as you see sunoo’s face. his smile is still as wide as ever, even with a smudge of thick dust on his cheeks.

“time?” you questioned, holding the water bottle as it still trembles in your hold. the soothing sensation wets your dry cavern as the water rushes down inside your digestive system.

Police think that the suspect dressed as a company mascot to earn the children’s trust.

Four children reported missing in our town’s very own Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza. Investigators link the incident to other similar incidents occurring in the other franchises.

“a cheque...” the boy spoke as you scan the words.

mike schmidt. $120. valued employee.

the reflection of the flashlight shines more than the ink from the front side you are reading. flipping it around, you see a written note almost in cursive as you tried your best to read.

“no way...” he mumbled, skimming the web page as you lean in against him. his sturdy shoulder holding you one before stopping at one section.

michael is william afton’s son.

golden bunny suit.

missing children lured by an employee.

odor from the animatronics.

their unusual frantic acts with metal bodies.

bonnie being aggressive towards you, who was wearing a bonnie mask.

looking up, you gaze at sunoo who is tilting his head, watching you putting the puzzle pieces together.

“they’re dead. the missing children are dead...”

“uh- okay..? that is so grim.” sunoo lets out a reply before you hold his hand.

“so you’re saying the founder just commit a killing spree?” he questioned as you reply with a hum of agreement.

sunoo grips one end of the piece of paper, eyes trailing down the content before speaking, “william is on the run for revenge and michael is trying to find him...”

“what do you want to do?” sunoo asked. even with your glum eyes, he can still detect how your mind is thinking about something. pupils frantically move around as you gulp down your saliva.

you nodded your head, lifting and turning your head to him. a thin smile on your face as you stretch your wounded hand. “the security room is our best bet. right near all of us, correct?”

ducking out of the hole of the safe room hidden in the depths of the cleaning closet, sunoo pushed the shelf from the door as you glance at your phone one last time before tucking it in your pocket.

04.00

these are missing person reports from the police. all of them are children.

scanning through the report, all of them has the same information on the last seen part.

‘Last seen at the local Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza.’

“i’ve told them the summary of our deduction and our idea to set them free.” sunoo said as you stood in front of them who are sitting on the bed.

“and we agree. they’re kids that are treated freaking unfairly by the world and they should deserve a rest. even thinking about it makes me so angry.” taeyoung spoke as you let out a snicker.

“thanks, guys. how did you two even survive in the kitchen, especially if it’s chica’s ‘place’?” you give an air quote.

you give one of them for each of you as you let them read it through. you glance back at sunoo, his eyebrow folded from the information.

“they’re the children that possess this location’s animatronic,” you answered their unspoken question as you read the paper in your hand.

“what did you say about the girl?” you pointed towards yuna.

“hanako likes to eat-“

“right- wait. oh, shoot!” taeyoung’s face reflects yours as he also does the same gestures right at you.

“we could figure out which one of them is which...” sunoo cuts in as he stares at yuna’s shaken body by taeyoung before she then replied.

“taeyoung and i have been observing them so we can help with identifying their characteristics.”

“nice!” you emphasize the last syllable as you continue, “okay, about junhao being active-“

“foxy rounds around the room so much. he’s definitely the fox.” yuna jumps in as you see all of them nodding their head.

“he’s 11...” he muttered. “and he loves freddy’s fazbear pizza. i’m just shooting it, but based on his age and his love for the franchise, he must’ve had great memories with it.”

“what are you saying, sun?” taeyoung asked, head tilted with curiosity.

“bonnie became aggressive after it looked at (y/n) wearing a bonnie mask. at first, i thought it was because the soul recognized the character masks match the same as who they are now but i was wearing a foxy and foxy stared right at me and he didn't become aggressive. it’s definitely more on the soul that is connected to the animatronic, not its system.” sunoo stood up as he turned towards you. you felt something warm on your covered hand as you find his hand in yours.