jellyzaces

[jellyzaces]

headcannon | manon x transmasc!reader

author's note: so so sorry for the delay, been busy working on under your spell and kinda forgot about the transmasc series, but already working on lara’s next so stay tuned! <3

warnings: pre transition!reader at the beginning, transmasc!reader, obvi. it kinda goes for both non-binary readers and transmen, too. hrt therapy & top surgery mentioned. nsfw at the end, MDNI.

🏷️: katseye, manon x reader, manon bannerman x reader, katseye x reader, katseye smut, manon smut, transmasc reader.

just like dani, girlie KNEW.

she had a slight gut feeling about it ever since she met you.

but when you came out to her.

ugh.

she would literally look at you like you hung the stars the moment you came out to her. no hesitation, no questions that made your stomach twist; just this slow, blooming smile that made you feel safe.

“that makes so much sense, baby… thank you for telling me.”

when you told her your name, she said it out loud like she was tasting it: soft and reverent.

“god, it suits you so much. i want to say it every day.”

immediately updated your name in her phone and added three hearts and the little 💥 emoji for flair.

also changed your contact photo to a random blurry selfie of you looking masc and confused.

“you look like a hot raccoon caught in the act. it’s perfect.”

you told her you were nervous about telling the rest of katseye and she went into camp counselor mode

“okay so we’re gonna plan this. i’m talking full powerpoint, snacks, safe space rules. or we just facetime them and see what happens. your choice.”

you ended up telling them over group facetime tho.

“my baby has something to say and i will literally mute everyone if i have to”

they were all so confused at first like “what do you mean boyfriend?? who???”

and manon just held up a little paper sign she made that said “🏳️‍⚧️ IT’S A BOY 💙” with glitter glue.

one of them (probably sophia) started crying. megan asked if they could still call you “bestie king.” while lara asked what your new skincare routine was because you looked “so glowy and masc now???”

manon sat there with her hand on your back the whole time, just rubbing slow circles and kissing your shoulder.

“you’re doing amazing. i’m so, so proud of you.”

her voice always lit up when she gendered you right.

“he said he’d pick me up later,” she’d casually tell dani, then grin like she’d won the lottery.

your pronouns rolled off her tongue like they’d always belonged to you.

her love language became learning how to love you right.

she would listen, ask gently.

and always, always wait for you to lead the way.

she would sit on the floor with you and help fold laundry, separating the clothes that didn’t feel like “you” anymore

“we’ll make space for the new you,” she would say. “you’re allowed to change. i’ll love every version.”

pookie would call you schätz* because you were indeed her treasure.

when you started binding, she helped you do it safely, but also nearly broke your ribs trying to “adjust it better” the first time.

“okay inhale. exhale. now STAND STILL I’M STRAPPING THE GENDER ON.”

and honeyyy.

and you started HRT, she filmed your first shot on her phone with little sparkly edits and the caption “my bf is growing facial hair and i’m so emotional wtf 🥹

also made memes out of your voice cracks and sent them to you.

“child this u?? 😭😭😭”

also made a playlist for your hormone journey called “balls incoming 🏆”

she made you listen to it every shot day. and yes, it had both eye of the tiger by survivor and macho man by village people.

during your top surgery consult, she brought a binder (pun intended) full of notes and a gel pen.

“i made a list of questions. also a backup list of questions. also a list of surgeons ranked by tiktok reviews.”

and after surgery? she was a full-time nurse graduated from 20 seasons of grey’s anatomy.

“you’re not allowed to lift anything heavier than 100 grams. so sit the fuck down. i’ll get your snack.”

cries while spoon-feeding you pudding and calling you the love of her life.

she would still brag to everyone tho.

“my boyfriend is not a waiter but he always serves, bitch.”

and anytime you felt unsure, quiet, dysphoric, or distant, she’d gently crawl next to you, holding you like you were her most precious possession in the world.

“you don’t have to be brave right now, härzli**… just be here with me. i’ve got you.”

*schätz: treasure.

**härzli: litte heart.

hehe.

manon is def a power bottom or a sub bottom, no in between.

and girlie is a sucker for dirty talking. or just talking in general.

she’s whimpery, praise-drunk, kinda dramatic with it.

“fuck, baby, how are you this good?”

“i need you inside me so bad it’s criminal…”

she’s obsessed with your voice when you’re turned on, especially after HRT.

it got raspier, deeper, growlier; she literally moans the second you say her name like that.

when you started using a packer or strap, she did a whole slideshow presentation titled “dick options for my hot boyfriend,” complete with cursed memes, diagrams, and one slide that just said “👀 give me the dick pls.”

pookie is devoted to foreplay.

she’ll spend hours kissing your scars, whispering how proud she is of you, sliding her hands under your binder like she’s touching something sacred.

“you’re everything i ever wanted. don’t even try to argue.”

if you are using a packer, she loves being on top, facing you, whining into your mouth as she sinks down onto it.

“oh my god. oh my god. you’re inside me, holy shit… you’re so fucking deep, baby…”

* if you’re not using a packer? oh she’s feral for it. she loves riding you while grinding against your thigh or stomach, whining in your ear,

“feels so good, baby, just like that—fuck, keep going—don’t stop, don’t stop—”

she loves being held down & manhandled by you, but also loves pretending she’s not into it.

has a high pain tolerance and a praise addiction. she wants you to spank the shit out of her until her thighs shake

when you say shit like “good girl. so fucking good. look at you… made for this.” she’ll whimper. eyes wet. hips grinding. no thoughts left.

when you call her “pretty girl” or “good girl,” she melts. like blushes instantly, hides her face in your neck, full-body trembles.

but the second you say, “my good girl takes it so well,” she’s gone. babbling, brain off, wet mess.

she makes jokes in the middle of sex sometimes, but you’ve learned it’s actually when she’s overwhelmed.

“is this how bella felt when edward broke the headboard?”

she calls you “sir” when she’s close. unprompted. breathless. like it slips out of her when her mind starts to go fuzzy.

“please, sir… please let me cum- i need it, i’ll be so good…”

to her aftercare is just as important and sexy as the sex itself.

she needs it soft and slow. bath drawn, body washed, forehead kisses. she’ll be quiet and floaty, arms wrapped around you while you whisper how proud you are.

also takes selfies the next morning with your hickeys on her neck and posts on her insta’s close friends.

“my bf rearranged my guts last night and now i crave soup 😩💘”

[jellyzaces]

— ✩♬ ₊˚. you get me so high ⭑ D.A

˚⟡˖⋆ synopsis during a livestream, dani plays it cool when a comment hints at something between you two, but later it’s clear things aren’t as simple as she lets on.

disclaimer daniela avanzini x 7th member!fem!reader, secret relationship (but there’s actually no relationship), closeted dani, slight angst

currently playing: you get me so high - the neighbourhood

it’s not a relationship, well, not officially. it’s not something either of you ever said out loud.

not when she kisses you in dressing rooms and pretends nothing happened two hours later. just reapplies her lip gloss in the mirror and smiles at the others like her mouth wasn’t just on yours.

not when you wake up with her legs tangled in yours, her head on your chest, and her voice sleepy and low as she mumbles, “this doesn’t count, right?” against your collarbone.

not when she lets you touch her like she belongs to you, but walks three feet ahead of you in the airport.

not when she tells you she thinks she’d fall apart without you, but won’t say a word if anyone else walks into the room.

but you know better.

you feel it. you feel it when her hand finds yours under the table, small and quiet like it means nothing, but her pinky always hooks with yours like it remembers the way your spine arches when she kisses you slow.

you feel it when she waits for everyone to fall asleep and then slips into your bed, curls into your side like it’s instinct.

you feel it when she watches you during rehearsals instead of the mirror.

you feel it when she smiles like she’s memorizing you, like it’s the last time. like she’s always afraid she’ll have to forget.

no one talks about it, but the others know.

manon figured it out first. of course she did. she watches everything. she caught the way daniela looks at you when she thinks no one’s paying attention. like she’s trying not to want something she already has.

lara picked up on it soon after. she doesn't say anything, but her eyes follow the way you shift when dani enters a room, how your shoulders ease when her laugh finds you.

you don’t bring it up. none of them do. you don’t want to ruin whatever it is that’s been building between you and dani. quiet. hidden. careful.

something sacred, maybe.

something no one else is supposed to see.

something that doesn’t survive daylight.

—

the livestream is meant to be fun. it's just the four of you tonight. manon, lara, daniela, and you. you’re on the hotel couch in sweats and oversized hoodies, bare-faced and glowing from the stage high.

the lights are warm. the mood is easy. a bowl of popcorn rests between crossed legs. dani’s thigh presses lightly against yours, like she doesn’t even realize it.

manon’s holding the phone. scrolling through comments. laughing. lara’s leaning into her side, chiming in with answers.

'who’s the messiest member?' “lara, 100%,” dani says immediately. lara shrugs like she can’t even deny it. “i contain multitudes.”

daniela leans into you a little more when she laughs, and you swear no one else notices the way her pinky curls around yours for just a second. it’s featherlight. subconscious. maybe. but it happens every time she’s near.

‘who’s the clingiest?’ manon reads. “oh, that’s you, dani.”

“shut up!” dani laughs, tossing a pillow at her. “i’m not clingy!”

"you literally follow her around like a puppy," lara says, tilting her chin toward you, her tone casual, like she’s talking about the weather.

daniela’s cheeks flush. rosy-pink. she glances at you, but doesn’t say anything. you try not to smile. try not to look too much like you want to press your mouth to her flushed skin.

and then, manon snorts, squinting at another comment. "wait, this one, ‘my favourite lesbians 🙏’"

you don’t even get the chance to smile. don’t get the chance to laugh it off or lean your head into dani’s shoulder like you want to.

daniela cuts in too fast. too sharp. “pause. pause, pause.”

she waves her hand, grinning like she’s playing around, like it’s lighthearted. "i’m straight."

silence.

it lands like a brick.

manon freezes mid-smile. lara’s shoulders stiffen. both of them glance between the two of you.

you can feel the blood drain from your face, but you don’t move. you blink too fast, like that’ll keep your eyes from shining. your throat dries up before you can even think of something to say.

daniela doesn’t look at you. not once.

she stays facing the camera, still wearing that half-smile like she didn’t just gut you with five small words. like she didn’t call your hands home last night.

you laugh, or something like it. a breath through your nose, short and fake. you don’t trust your voice. you don’t trust anything right now.

you shift just barely to the side. enough that your knees don’t touch anymore. you fold your hands in your lap so she can’t reach for them again.

you feel manon’s eyes on you. lara’s too.

they don’t say anything. but you can feel it, they know.

they all do.

but daniela keeps smiling for the camera like it never meant anything.

—

after the stream, you don’t speak. you get up first. slip away without a goodnight.

you go to your room and close the door. you press your forehead to it and breathe like you’re trying to hold the pieces of yourself together.

you don’t cry. you’re used to this. this game. this silence. this pretending it doesn’t hurt when she disappears the second someone’s watching.

twenty minutes later, there’s a knock.

soft. like she doesn’t want to be heard.

you open it just enough to see her standing there in her hoodie, sleeves covering her hands, eyes tired. guilty.

“you know i didn’t mean it like that,” she says quietly.

your heart clenches. “didn’t mean it, or didn’t mean to say it out loud?”

she flinches. your voice doesn’t even rise, but it hits like a slap.

“i panicked,” she whispers.

you stare at her. the girl who’s kissed you like you’re the only thing that makes her feel alive. the girl who touches your skin like she’s trying to stay on this earth. “you panicked and said that?”

her eyes drop to the floor. “i didn’t want it to become a thing. you know how people are.”

your voice sharpens. “yeah. i do.”

you pause and watch her. the hoodie sleeves. the hands fidgeting with the hem. the mouth that knows every inch of your neck, now too scared to even say your name.

she looks up finally. her eyes are soft. watery. she opens her mouth. closes it.

"you get me so high." her voice cracks. "no one else does that to me."

your heart stumbles. because you believe her.

you always believe her.

and maybe that’s the problem.

you close your eyes, grounding yourself. “you said you were straight.”

she breathes out slowly, like it hurts. “i have to be.”

you meet her eyes again. tired. aching. “no, you chose to be. right then. in front of everyone.”

the silence is louder than anything she could say.

you wait.

you wait for her to do something. reach out., pull you close, tell you she’s scared, but not enough to keep hurting you. tell you this means more.

but she doesn’t.

she never does.

and that’s what breaks you.

you shut the door. slow. soft. final.

you don’t cry. not yet. you just crawl into bed and stare up at the ceiling.

you try not to think about how many times she’s held you here. how many times she’s kissed your wrist and whispered things she never says with the lights on.

you try not to wonder if she’s still on the other side of the door, hands trembling, too afraid to love you where someone might see.

she gets you so high. but the fall,

the fall is always yours to survive alone.

a/n: ngl…i thought billie bossa nova or twenties would win…oh how i was wrong

[jellyzaces]

# MAMMA MIA — chapter forty-three!

there’s always been one rule in the group: don’t bring up y/n. no one really knows why, but it’s clear sophia would rather leave her ex-best friend in the past. once inseparable, their friendship dissolved after a summer camp that no one talks about, and y/n vanished, moving god-knows-where without so much as a goodbye. some say it was a fight. others say it was something more. only sophia knows the truth—or maybe not even she does. now, as the third year at dream academy begins, sophia is blindsided by y/n's unexpected return. gone is the familiar, easygoing childhood bestfriend she remembers. in her place is someone sharper, colder, and—unfortunately for sophia—hotter than ever. (who gave her the permission to look so fine?)

WOMEN SCARING WOMEN

masterlist ✮⋆｡˚📽️ next

yoonchae did summon a demon, js not the kind they were expecting

@gablmk @goofymickeyr @saysirhc @kathleenmikaelson @soobnotfound @iisayfa @magixpracticality @sed7ction @1luvkarina @linnnsworld @hotluvlet @bauzer @saranglasses @kkoga @chaesitonmyface @arihiu @peanutbutterlover05 @kristalag @bulgik @meiyaes @solentient @yuzeemin @reey0w @vrtualstar @justtluvrr @fruityg0rl @cyberbonesworld @haerinkisser @lafortezalover @cassiespoiler @skz-xii @ninguitar @kimminjswife @yeetaberry127 @p1hbrook @hazel-tanthamore22 @caitlynglazer @minjvers @tormaa1 @nwjnsloona @itzkatflixs @namojoon @falling-intoo-deep @waitsobs @blushmimi @cindergorge TAGLIST CLOSED

[jellyzaces]

losing my head (megan skiendiel x reader)

"baby, there will always be a space for you and me, right where you left it."

synopsis: the first words spoken to you by your soulmate is imprinted on your skin like a birthmark. people spend their entire lives trying to find their other half, keeping their ears open for those magical words. however, what do you do if your other half ignores destiny? what then? tags: angst, soulmate!au, idol!megan x collegestudent!reader an: this is not a REAL portrayal of the people mentioned in this fic. all events are fictional and are for entertainment purposes only. CW: swearing, alcohol + drug use (not graphic) wc: 9039

⏯ now playing: always - daniel caeser

“Are you… Are you breaking up with me?” The words you have been dreading come out of your mouth as a whisper. You stare at your girlfriend, your brows furrowed in disbelief. She stands in front of you with a tired look in her eyes, as if she has no fight left in her. The will to continue arguing about what has happened seems to have exhausted the other girl, but you, on the other hand, continued to stand your ground, eyes pleading as your lip trembled at the thought of the brunette slipping through your fingertips. 

You didn’t even consider this to be a possibility. She’s your soulmate– it’s literally written in destiny. The stars and planets aligned just at the right time, so that you can be in this space with her. 

And now, she wants to break up, despite what was already laid out for both of you. 

Megan takes a sharp breath and closes her eyes tightly, crossing her arms over her chest. Her eyes dart around your dorm room to avoid yours, and this frustrates you even more. You grip your arm tightly as you think about the words inscribed on it. You felt betrayed, not only by Megan but also by the universe itself. “You’re breaking up with me.” The finality in your words causes your voice to break. 

Your tears begin to stream down your cheeks as she slowly nods, still avoiding your eyes. “I just… Think it would be better for right now, you know?” 

But you don’t know. You don’t think you will ever know. 

You jump at the sound of Keeho slamming his hands down onto the table, leaning over it with his eyes wide after you give him the rundown of the events that occurred the night before. You lean back in your seat to look up at him, your heart beating loudly in your chest. “Are you fucking crazy?!” You hiss. Your eyes begin to dart around the library you’re both occupying in hopes you won’t find someone paying either one of you any attention.

He stands his ground, his eyes keeping the same amount of intensity (or insanity, whichever way you look at it). “I’m fucking crazy?! You just lost your soulmate! That’s fucking crazy!” You shush him quickly, getting up from your seat to grab his shoulders. You attempt to push him back into his chair, but he holds onto your arms, somehow getting the upper hand. “How are you not freaking out right now?!” His voice booms throughout the quiet library, and it makes you wince. 

You manage to push him back into his seat, and for a moment, you try catching your breath, still standing over the table. You look down at him and suddenly remember what you two were talking about in the first place. Your fists clench when it catches up to you, and your jaw tightens when the memory of losing Megan comes back at you with full force. Your heart twists painfully in your chest, and you want to scratch the words off of your arm, tear it easily off of your skin as if it were a band-aid. 

Suddenly, you fall back into your seat in defeat. “It just doesn’t feel real.” You quietly respond. Your shoulders slump, and you keep your eyes on your lap. 

Keeho stares at you and frowns, rubbing the back of his neck in slight embarrassment over his theatrical reaction. “I’m sorry, Y/n…” He sighs deeply. When you don’t respond, he leans forward once more and places his elbows on the table. He whispers, “Did she say why? I mean… This is a lot.” You can’t help but let out a bitter laugh in response to his words. 

You pick your head up and give him a slight, strained smile. “She said we’re young. And we should experience being young before committing to anything…” 

He furrows his brows. “What? Dude, if I found my soulmate, I wouldn’t even bother with dating anymore.” He leans back in his seat and crosses his arms over his chest, clicking his tongue in disapproval. “Like, that’s it. That person is all I’ll ever need.” 

You shrug at his words and look away again, your eyes scanning the library silently, observing the other college students who occupy the space. “I think it’s because I’m…” You run your hand through your hair, trying to find the words to explain the thought that has been haunting your mind since you started noticing the changes in your relationship with Megan. “I don’t know… I think it’s because I’m, you know, me.” The last part comes out quietly, although loud enough to voice your insecurities. 

You attempt to avoid the conversation by staring at a group of students at one of the study tables. They loudly discuss one of their classes– you pick up on it being ‘Soulmate Theory 110.’ A required class for all students in the college. You took it freshman year, and you wish you had paid more attention, especially now. 

“What do you mean? You’re a catch, friend.” He tells you with a bewildered look in his eyes. His words cause you to let out a chuckle, shaking your head at his attempt at being lighthearted. You turn away from the group of students to look at Keeho with a slight smile tugging at your lips. 

“She’s a literal popstar. She’s probably in the studio right now while I’m sitting here with you.” You emphasize the last part, enjoying the way he rolls his eyes at your implications. 

Keeho huffs and keeps his arms crossed. He looks at you worriedly as he replies, “Do you… I mean, is there a chance for her to come back? I mean, it’s not like she has any other choice, right?” You bite your lip as you think about his question. Your eyes find your arm again, and a bit of hope resonates throughout your body.

“I’m sure we’ll figure it out.” 

‘You looked lonely over here.” 

You always found the inscription to be somewhat ironic. 

Before meeting Megan, you had always wondered what the situation would be like. You used to stay up past your bedtime when you were younger, fantasizing about the interaction you would have with your soulmate for the very first time. You used to practice how you would reply, taking guesses at what your own first words would be. The concept of soulmates has always fascinated you. The idea of someone being curated just for you seemed like a dream, and you found yourself always hopeless. 

When you do finally meet Megan, it is the farthest thing from magical. 

You were admittedly high out of your mind and sat outside the porch of someone’s house that you couldn’t for the life of you remember. You knew they were the host, and you knew it was one of Keeho’s famous influencer friends that he managed to make during his internship last summer with a big music company in Los Angeles. The moment you were told there would be a little weed and a little booze, it would have taken more to convince you not to go than not. 

However, after having more than a little weed and no booze at all, you begin to regret your life choices as you sit slumped on one of the patio chairs, staring up at the sky and creating your own constellations out of the stars that sit above you. 

Suddenly, the sliding door opened, but the obnoxious squeak it made still didn’t stir you from your current, mindless task. You continued to sit there, unmoving, not even noticing the intruder coming to sit next to you on the patio. 

After a few minutes of silence, the intruder cleared their throat. Her voice was so quiet that it didn’t quite register in your head what she said. “You looked lonely over here.” 

You turned your head toward the unfamiliar girl, your eyes hooded as if the lights were on, but no one was home. You squinted at her, whispering back, “Who do I look like?” 

Her eyes widened. You noticed how she suddenly froze, unable to respond to your question. You tried to rewind the interaction in your head, figuring out what could have been the source of her sudden shift in demeanor. Then suddenly, it registered. 

Her first words to you. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat and felt your body becoming hot with slight embarrassment over missing what had just happened. You whispered again, “Wait– What did you say?” 

She bit her lip, tucking a strand of her ginger hair behind her ear shyly. The girl in front of you lets out a nervous giggle– a sound that makes your heart flutter in your chest. She looked down at her arm and smiled. “I said, “You looked lonely over here.”” She then extends her arm out to you, displaying the words inscribed into her arm. You read every word, memorized every letter and syllable that stood out to you like it was code only you and her could decipher together. 

“Wait, I said that?” Is how you chose to respond. You look up at her, your cheeks red and a sheepish smile on your face. The sight of you made the girl, your soulmate, laugh loudly. She smiles widely through her laughter, and you can’t help but join her. It felt ridiculous. You pictured this moment for so long, just for it to be messy, nothing short of a disaster. 

But as you take another glance at her, seeing her whiskered dimples in her cheeks, you knew the moment was perfect in its own right. 

When her laughter subsides, she continues grinning and scoots her chair closer to you. “It’s you.” She whispered as if declaring to the universe that they’d done their job. She looks at you, her eyes brown and gentle, providing you with a warmth that only a soulmate could provide. 

You whispered back, “It’s me.” 

It’s been a month since Megan broke up with you, and all the videos you’ve been seeing of her on different social media outlets have made you almost deactivate every single one of your accounts. 

In all of them, she looked so happy, so carefree. There was one of her recently at WeHo Pride that made you stare for far too long. But then, you remembered you were no longer together, and you ended up throwing your phone across the room. 

Now, with no more Megan and $800 down the drain, you feel rather discouraged. 

You trudge to class tiredly after pulling another all-nighter. To avoid thinking about your ex, you’ve had your nose buried in textbook after textbook, completing assignments quickly as they come. You never had an interest in the inevitable economic collapse in the United States. Still, you’re confident that if you were given an exam right now, you’d ace it in ten minutes flat. Your coping mechanism could have been worse– Honestly, you could have tried a Schedule 2 drug at this point just to feel something again. 

But hard drugs have always scared you, and you’ve always been too afraid to try new things. 

There’s an ache in your back as you step inside the classroom, letting your legs guide you to the seat you claimed earlier in the quarter. However, you stop in your tracks when you see a girl you haven’t seen before sitting there. You notice how she has already unpacked all of her belongings, ready for the lecture that awaits. A migraine begins to settle inside your head as you take a sharp breath, opting to take an open seat in the back of the room instead of fighting a new battle. You drop your stuff onto the ground and plop into the seat, immediately letting your head fall onto the unfamiliar desk with a thud. 

The words on your arm burn with every image of Megan that flashes through your mind. 

You lay on Chaewon’s floor, your eyes focused on her ceiling fan as you air out the one and only grievance you’ve had on your mind all day. 

“Someone stole my fucking seat in class today.” You suddenly blurt out. Chaewon hums in acknowledgment, letting you know she is listening but doesn’t want to turn around to pay you attention. You turn your head toward Keeho, who sits criss-crossed on Chaewon’s bed, hugging one of her Squishmallows in his lap. 

He raises an eyebrow at you, a slight smile tugging at his lips over your dramatics. “Is it assigned seating?” He snickers, resting his chin on top of the Squishmallows’ head.

You sigh, shaking your head. “No… But it’s like. University 101 Etiquette. The seat you picked at the beginning of the semester is your seat forever.” You’re aware you’re whining, but after everything you’ve already lost, to lose something else feels like a low blow. 

Chaewon looks at you through the vanity mirror that she sits at, pausing her makeup routine just to give you a look of disbelief. “Did you… Tell her that was your seat?” You turn your head toward the girl and pout. Before you can respond, Chaewon looks away from you and continues curling her lashes. “So, you didn’t. Therefore, that is the consequence of your own actions.” 

You groan, rubbing your face with your hands. “Chae, stop being mean, I’m sensitive right now.” Your words are slightly muffled, but it doesn’t stop the smirk that spreads across Keeho’s lips. 

“Exactly. You have bigger problems than some random girl stealing your seat.” He claims, shaking his head at the way you continue to pout. 

Under your breath, you murmur, “Seat snatcher,” as you prop yourself up on your elbows to get a better look at Keeho, who continues staring at you with amusement. Your eyes fall onto his arm, and you raise an eyebrow. “What does your arm say again?” He lights up at your question, extending his arm out for you to see the words more clearly. 

“That was really brave of you.” 

Chaewon snorts, which grabs your attention, snapping your head toward the girl who has moved onto the lip part of her routine. Keeho tilts his head at the brunette. “Now, why are you laughing?” He asks, even though he knows the answer. Chaewon caps her lipstick and finally turns around in her seat to look at you and the boy. 

She smiles softly before replying, “All your soulmate is asking for is for you to stop being a pussy all the time.” The moment the words leave her mouth, Keeho starts to defend himself, making excuses for the reason as to why he hasn’t met his person. Chaewon engages in this argument more so to continue rage-baiting the poor boy. As they bicker, you observe the characters on Chaewon’s arm. 

It’s in Korean. In English, it’s, “Is this seat taken?” You found hers to be so beautiful. The concept of soulmates being able to transcend a language barrier despite the existence of thousands. The fact that there are people out there who learn an entire language just to communicate with the love of their life, just to understand them, fills you with an adoration toward humanity. It makes you believe, for a brief moment, that love really is enough. 

As the bickering between Chaewon and Keeho begins to subside, her eyes wander over to you, widening when she realizes you’ve been crying. She gets up from her seat and quickly walks over to you. “Y/n? What the hell?” Chaewon kneels and pulls you into a tight hug, allowing you to cry in her arms. 

Keeho jumps off the bed and kneels on the floor beside you. “Y/n… It’s okay…” He whispers gently, placing a comforting hand on your back. You don’t know how it happened or what caused you to break down suddenly, but at some point, it just became too difficult for you to hide. 

“I don’t– I don’t get it.” You manage to say through your broken sobs. Your head falls against Chaewon’s chest, and you try desperately to control your breathing, but it’s as if the walls have finally closed in on you. It’s been a month since Megan broke up with you, but it also means you would have spent seven months together. It would have been seven months since finding her, and in theory, it should have been an infinite amount more. 

It’s what the fairy tales talked about. All the stories passed down from one generation to the next taught you. You’re born as half of a whole, and one day, you’ll find that other half. Their first words to you are engraved on your skin like a promise. It’s what the prophets call destiny– the poets call it a human’s life purpose. 

But there isn’t a crash course for what to do when your other half ignores the universe. 

Unfortunately, an instruction manual isn’t available to your disposal to get through this.

Megan loved you loudly. She loved you so much that you believed it would be difficult for her to do otherwise. 

When it came to her being a rising global popstar sensation, (the group’s words, not yours. An inside joke, they told you through a fit of laughter), it was only natural that her schedule would be all over the place. 

But she made the time to be with you. Against all odds, she somehow managed to attach herself to your hip even on her busiest days. Megan loving you meant taking you on drives to her secret places, the windows down with your shared playlist blasting through the speakers. It meant even though Geffen told her to keep your relationship on the down low, she still wore the matching necklaces you bought together. She’d wear the bracelet you got her in public; the photos taken with fans would have her displaying it proudly. Instagram posts would have you in the background, or you were her photographer for the day. 

Megan’s love for you was vivid. It was better than anything else you could have conjured up in your head. 

But then, without warning, the love felt quieter. Inside jokes would go unheard, tired eyes not meeting yours across the table, her hands not reaching for you even if you were only inches apart. It went from never having time in a day to never having it during an entire week. It was an unwelcomed change, but you told yourself not to worry so much. It was her first comeback with you, and you knew the work it required would be overbearing. 

However, when Gnarly finally dropped and its promotions began, the love felt almost silent. It became dead air, especially when she was in Korea. 

In her past travels, Megan loved to send you update after update. She would tell you everything on her mind, both before and after the chaos, like clockwork. Megan often told you stories about what might have happened before an interview or performance, even telling you her coffee order from that morning, even if it’s the same every single time. 

But this time, she didn’t respond as much, and when she did, her texts were short and to the point. The regular FaceTime calls after her performances never came, and the one time she finally reached out, it was a five-minute conversation about your classes until she had to leave again.

You rationalized it was the time difference. Maybe her service was spotty, and she couldn’t call and text as much as she would’ve liked. 

Then she came back, though. And nothing felt the same. 

Your breaking point was a photo of her at a bar with a couple of her friends from Dream Academy and other influencers in the area. It circulated all over the internet, and for the first time since being with Megan, you felt jealous. An ugly feeling that crawled up your throat with its claws dug deep into your skin. You try to avoid this feeling at all costs. It felt stupid, why feel jealous when she’s your soulmate?

But she told you she was staying home that night. You were supposed to meet for dinner, but she changed plans at the last minute. 

And then you found out through Twitter where she actually was.

This discovery led to that night in your dorm. It began as a quiet discussion that quickly turned into an argument. It was a blur as if you were looking at her through red-stained glass, cracking at every word that was said. 

“I can’t do this anymore!” She shouted. “I wasn’t even ready to meet you this early!” 

Then it shattered. 

The sun was rising at this point. Its light spilled onto the floor to tell you it’s a brand new day. How unkind for the world to continue its existence when a part of you left without another word. Not even a whisper to fill the silence that followed after. 

Now, Megan lives her life loudly. It’s a life that you can’t be a part of, and you wonder, if you weren’t some random person she met at a party, if things would go differently. Maybe, if you had something to your name, loving you would be worth the schedules. There would be no need to hide from the public eye because you would be a somebody. 

You sit at your desk in class, writing notes as if your life depended on it. Because it’s a brand new day. You write the date at the top of your paper. 

Two months. You wonder how you would have spent eight months together. 

And then after three months without contact, Megan texts you out of the blue. 

After your mental breakdown in Chaewon’s room, you knew it would be in your best interest to at least try moving forward in your life despite the curveball Megan decided to throw in your direction. It wasn’t easy, but you’ve been making more of an effort to take care of yourself. The conversations you’ve been having with your friends have become less about what has happened and more about what will happen, such as plans for dinner, plans for going out, and so forth. 

Three months have gone by, and you’re starting to feel like a human again. 

The moment Megan’s name lights up across your phone, you feel a lump form in your throat. The feelings you’ve tried so hard to bury beneath your feet slowly start to resurface as you begin to hypothesize what the girl could possibly want at 2 in the morning. Your phone shakes in your hands as you unlock it, revealing the contents of the message. 

Megan: Hey, have you been okay? 

You bite your lip, your fingers ghosting over the keyboard as you think about your response. Begging for her to come back didn’t feel like an option, so you opted for honesty.

You: I’ve been getting better 

You: You? 

You wait. The homework you were working on becomes ignored as you stare at your phone. A picture of you and Megan sits on your desk, and it stares at you until you fall asleep. You waited until 6 AM, until the drowsiness that consumed you finally took over. 

When you wake up, it’s 11 AM. You don’t even notice the fact that you missed your 9:30 AM class because the only thing you see when you check your phone is the three new messages from Megan. You check them embarrassingly fast, getting your passcode wrong again and again as your heart beats rapidly in your chest. 

Megan: I’m good. 

Megan: I’m glad to hear you’ve been getting better. 

Megan: Just wanted to check in. I’ll talk to you soon. 

You raise your hand, ready to chuck your phone again across the room. But you manage to stop yourself, placing it face-first onto your desk. You look at the picture of you and Megan. She still had her ginger hair, and she still loved you unconditionally, without a weight on her shoulders. 

Unfortunately, you don’t have another $800 to drop, and you still don’t have Megan in your life. 

So, you store the photo in the bottom drawer of your dresser. It’s better to have it haunt you when you need a new pair of socks. 

“Have you talked to the rest of the group?” Chaewon asks during lunch one day. After the brief interaction you had with Megan two nights ago, you called your friends for an emergency pick-me-up (unfortunately, the meeting had to be postponed to today because, college has been kicking your ass). 

You continue gnawing at your straw absentmindedly, your brain not registering the question she presented to you. Chaewon notices this and snaps her fingers in your face, causing you to jump away from your drink. You place it back down onto the table sheepishly before responding, “Sorry, what?” 

Keeho snorts beside you, eyeing you both as he continues eating his fries. Chaewon just sighs and shakes her head. “I asked if you talked to any of the other girls.” 

You nod, your mouth forming an ‘o’ shape. “Right. um… Lara reaches out here and there, the other girls, though, not so much.” You tap your chin, trying to remember if anyone else has spoken to you since your breakup, and then your eyes light up. “Wait! Yoonchae sometimes sends me game invites…” 

Keeho laughs at this, covering his mouth due to the amount of food he stuffed in his face. “That checks out,” he says, although a bit muffled. 

Chaewon gives the boy a disgusted look before looking back at you with a nod. “What do you and Lara talk about?” She steals one of Keeho’s fries as she speaks, popping it into her mouth with a smirk. Keeho rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest with a huff. 

“Just about how I’m doing and stuff… Nothing that crazy.” You place your elbow on the table and rest your chin against the palm of your hand. “Sometimes she’ll tell me about how Megan is doing.” 

Keeho raises his eyebrow and pops another fry in his mouth. “And how is Megan?” 

You bite your lip, your eyes finding the table more interesting to look at. “She’s good.” You say flatly. A silence follows your words, and you want to make another comment that’s more lighthearted, wishing to avoid any really serious conversations about the situation. But you keep your mouth shut. Knowing your friends, they’ll see right through your actions and make it harder for you to hide behind your facade. 

“Have you thought about, you know, dating casually?” Keeho suddenly asks. You turn toward him with narrowed eyes, and he raises his hands in defense. 

Chaewon looks at him incredulously and leans over the table to swat at his arm. “Not everyone can be like you and just date whoever we want. Some of us get attached too easily…” She sits back in her seat, looking away from him with flushed cheeks. You glance at the girl and frown, remembering Chaewon’s last attempt at casual dating. It ended with you both having to take the girl back home and rub her back as she hunched over a toilet, sobbing her eyes out. 

You shiver at the memory. Not just at what occurred, but the person who broke her heart. She’s at the top of your hit list. 

“Okay, I get it. But it might help a little. Get some of that frustration out, you know?” It’s your turn to swat Keeho’s shoulder, and he winces, rubbing the area that will most likely bruise later. You slump down in your seat, the thought of Megan seeing other people making your brain go into overdrive. For it to be a possibility never registered in your head, but then people like Keeho exist. 

The people who won’t wait until they find their person. The people who will love until the one comes in and sweeps them off their feet. 

You glance at Keeho with pursed lips. You steal one of his fries before replying, “Maybe I’m just not as brave as you.” 

The end of the semester is close to its end, and the reminder makes you grimace. The passage of time has always bothered you, and you hate that you’re now keeping track of it through the number of months it has been since Megan left. 

It’s been four if anyone is wondering. 

The task for today’s class is to complete a packet full of the things that you’ve learned throughout the semester. It’s a review of the material, most likely to help students in the class prepare for the final exam. Usually, you’re nervous about exams. But with how hard you’ve been working this semester (against your will, you want to add), it doesn’t seem all that bad. Your professor allowed the class to work either in groups or alone, and as you look around the room, you figure it would be easier to let this be a solo assignment. 

As you’re filling your name out at the top of the paper, you notice someone’s presence towering over you. You can’t help the sigh that escapes your lips at the intrusion, but you still pick your head up, recognizing the person in front of you to be the seat snatcher. 

You came to learn her actual name is Huh Yunjin. But seat snatcher is fitting. 

You can’t help the way you squint at the redhead, feeling a slight irritation at the way she smiles at you. “Yes?” You ask, looking back down at your paper, so you could force yourself to stop glaring daggers at the seat snatcher. 

Your eyes begin to skim through the questions, not even bothering to look up at the sound of her voice. “You looked lonely over here.” 

You freeze. The words knock the wind out of you, and you wonder if you heard her right. You snap your head up to meet her eyes once more, and she continues to look at you softly, tilting her head as if intrigued by your reaction. “Are you–?”

“What words are on your arm?” You cut her off, furrowing your brows in slight confusion. You can’t even remember what you said to her previously; you were too petty to give her a chance at redemption. 

Your question causes her to widen her eyes, and you watch as she tugs at the sleeve of her sweater as if anxious to show you what could be the answers to an unsolved equation. The reaction makes you frown at the realization that you might have been a bit harsh with Yunjin. If you were being honest, you would much rather have her still be considered a seat snatcher than a soulmate; It wouldn’t make sense for the latter. 

You found your soulmate already. This would be impossible. 

The grip on her sleeve tightens, and your eyes flicker from her face to her arm multiple times before deciding to take matters into your own hands. You quickly push yourself away from your desk, clumsily pulling the hoodie you wear off your body. The hoodie falls onto the floor as you extend your arm toward Yunjin. She looks down, grabbing your wrist gently to get a closer look. The small physical contact makes you blush slightly, but you ignore it, keeping close attention to the Korean girl’s reaction. 

The way she covers her mouth with her hand worries you. No, no, no, you think. This can’t be happening.  

When she lets go of your wrist, she finally decides to show you what’s been written on her arm. She slowly pulls her sleeve up her arm, and for a moment, you’re confused. You see nothing on her arm.

That is, until you do. 

Unlike others you’ve seen, Yunjin only had one word, three letters, and a question mark. 

“Holy shit,” You breathe out. 

Megan is cozy sweaters, a vanilla scented candle lit during a thunderstorm, with the fairy lights turned on to illuminate the darkness. She’s jumping in puddles, running through the rain with a wide smile on her face because life is too short to allow the rain ruin a date. She’s pinky promises, practicing a handshake until it’s perfect, and lips pressed against the back of your hand as if to tell you, “I’m here.” 

You remember one night in your dorm, your backs against your headboard, shoulders touching as you both watched a movie on your laptop. She had her head resting on your shoulder and held your hand, tracing letters into your hand with her thumb that seemed to spell out the words on your arm. 

Megan also loved you softly. She loved you so warmly that it always felt like Spring when you were around her. You often took subtle glances at your girlfriend, loving the way the brightness of the screen lit up her face. She would crinkle her nose at the funny scenes, cuddling into your side impossibly closer. 

“I love you,” She says suddenly in one single breath. Your eyes widen, your head snapping toward your girlfriend. Surprisingly, it’s the first time you’ve heard those words come out of her mouth, and although you knew it was inevitable, it still makes your heart stutter in your chest. 

She turns to look at you, a shy smile on her face with a bright twinkle in her eyes. “I love you.” She says again, this time a little louder, more confident. 

Megan is the plane finally landing in the last destination, the knock on the door, being home at last. 

“I love you, too.” You whisper. It lingers in the space you both occupy, with the universe dancing in celebration above your heads. 

“You’re nervous,” Yunjin says, observing your tightly clasped hands on the table as she takes a sip of her Matcha. She tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear and smiles a bit shyly. “I get that.” 

A chuckle escapes your lips. You feel a bit sheepish, but you promised Keeho and Chaewon that you’d try. “Yeah… I don’t know. I just feel kind of weird, I guess.” Yunjin sets her cup down onto the table and nods, looking back at you with a tilt of her head. You notice a twinkle in her eyes as if she’s daydreaming about what this would mean moving forward. 

Yunjin places her elbows on the table and leans forward, resting her chin in her palms. She keeps her head tilted as she replies, “Why weird?” You bite your lip to try and hide the smile that wants to form. For some reason, it feels disloyal to Megan to meet another girl like this. Even if this is what she wanted, for you, it feels different. 

Huh Yunjin could be your real soulmate. The way she looks at you reminds you of that night you met Megan. 

The memory makes you dig your nails into the back of your hands. Your eyes narrow slightly, and Yunjin notices, reaching out to place her hand on top of yours. You almost slip your hands away on instinct, but her touch doesn’t burn like you thought it would. You bite your lip and stare at your hands, silently pleading with your heart to stop beating so fast. 

Yunjin squeezes your clasped hands gently, rubbing her thumb against the crescent-shaped scars that will soon form on your skin. “You can be honest, I’m a good listener…” She pauses suddenly, letting out a shaky laugh. “Well. My friends tell me I’m a yapper, but I can also be a really good listener, honest!” 

You laugh at her words– a genuine, loud laugh. For the first time since your breakup with Megan, it feels a bit easier to breathe. You shake your head and look up at Yunjin, your expression turning serious. “Can I be real?” You ask shakily. Yunjin nods quickly, squeezing your hands again. 

You nod and take a deep breath. Your throat feels tight as you force the words to leave your lips, “I already met… My soulmate.” 

Yunjin widens her eyes in surprise. You feel her remove the hand that sat on top of yours, but you quickly react, grabbing onto it before she can take it back completely. You furrow your brows at her before looking down at her arm, carefully turning it to reveal the “Yes?” on her forearm. The sight of it makes your breath hitch as if it hits you all over again. “But. She broke up with me… And now I’m just really confused.” You tilt your head, keeping your eyes on the birthmark. Tears spring to your eyes as you continue, “And now I’m even more confused because, how am I going through this the second time?” 

The grip on Yunjin’s hand tightens– not painfully, but tight enough to make sure that she’s real. You tear your gaze away from her arm to look at her face. She looks at you tentatively, her complete and undivided attention on you. You look at each other in silence, unsure of what to say next. You can’t help but feel bad for the redhead, knowing she came into this expecting a happily ever after. But as fate would have it, of course, it wouldn’t be that simple. 

It’s such a shame they would do this to someone who seemed as sweet as Yunjin. Even if she did steal your seat at the beginning of the semester, you’re here now, supposedly soulmates. 

Yunjin then holds onto your hand, her grip loose yet firm at the same time. The twinkle in her eyes comes back as she looks at you and says, “We can figure it out together, then.” 

Her warm tone ignites something in you. You stare at Yunjin, her brown eyes containing a safe space for you to jump into. It’s right there in front of you, and there’s nothing that could stop you from making that leap. 

It’s been four months without Megan. But you continue holding Yunjin’s hand and nod. 

Without even realizing it, you start to familiarize yourself with the freckles on her cheeks. The small mole on her nose.

Maybe there’s an entire universe in her eyes, waiting patiently to be discovered.

When you arrive at the party with Keeho, you don’t know what to expect. 

Keeho told you that Megan would be here, and that was enough for you to pull away from the conversation, not wanting to put yourself through more emotional trauma. It was already enough to lose your soulmate once, but then finding someone else who could actually be the one has sent you down a deep, never-ending spiral. Nonetheless, you decided to man up last minute, throwing together an outfit for the occasion and texting Keeho to come pick you up, now. 

But now, you are back in the house where you first met Megan, and you can’t help but regret your decisions all over again. 

Keeho notices the sullen look in your eyes and pats you on the back, smiling reassuringly. “I’ll stick by you all night, don’t worry. I’ll fight her, if anything.” 

That gets a laugh out of you. You look at your friend with amusement in your eyes. “Please don’t fight my ex.” 

“She might not even be your soulmate, so I think I have every right to do it,” He scoffs, and the reminder causes you to wince. Even if he is right, it still hurts to think about. 

As you continue navigating the party with Keeho by your side, you feel it becoming easier to feel looser. Albeit it’s definitely due to the alcohol you’ve been consuming, you start to feel lighter, maybe even a little happier. At some point, you found yourself in a conversation with Keeho and one of his friends from his internship. You listen tentatively to one of their stories from the summer time, an amused gleam in your eyes as you take another sip from your cup. 

And then, ‘Gnarly’ begins to play loudly over the speakers.

You down your drink completely before looking at Keeho, who is already giving you a knowing look. Your lips form a straight line when you hear familiar laughter coming from behind you. It’s a mixture of Megan’s laugh along with her other members’. They must have decided to take their escapades to the dance floor, which makes sense— it’s their song, for god’s sake. 

You know you should move somewhere else. For your sanity, it’s a good decision. But sometimes when you drink, you don’t usually pick what’s best for you. 

So, that’s why you turn around instead. The urge to see Megan again in real life consumes you. It’s been a very long six months without her, and even if you’re only able to catch a glimpse of your ex, you’d like to think it would be enough. 

You watch as she dances with her friends. Unashamed, so full of life. The sight of her happy and well brings a bittersweet smile to your face. For months, you had been wanting a sign that she missed you. You’d look closely at her pictures on Instagram, the photos posted by fans, just to see if she wears the bracelet you gave her. Maybe the matching necklace.

But it’s nowhere to be found, most likely collecting dust in her jewelry box. 

You continue to stare at Megan, getting lost in a sea of memories inside your head. It plays like a montage: Megan pulling you onto the dance floor, Megan picking random flowers and sticking them behind your ear, Megan stealing your hoodies, Megan looking at you as if you were everything she ever needed in this world. 

You blink a few times, the tears in your eyes threatening to fall as the tape in your head continues to roll back. You feel Keeho place a hand on your shoulder, but you stay where you are, eyes locked on Megan.

But then, she spots you across the room, and your breath hitches. 

You lie with Megan on the couch, her back against you as she plays a round of Mario Kart with Yoonchae and Sophia. Your girlfriend has a competitive spirit that you’ve always found amusing, especially with the other girls. You watch her take first place, and you take it as an opportunity to poke her sides, jabbing your fingers into the spots you know are her most ticklish. 

She squeals loudly and tries to jump away from your touch. However, you wrap your arms around Megan, pulling her back against you. “Y/n! Look! Now I’m in 6th place, what the fuck!” Yoonchae giggles at Megan’s reaction, and Sophia only shakes her head, keeping her focus on the screen. 

Lara watches you two in amusement from the loveseat. Megan continues to try to wriggle out of your arms, but it’s no use; you intend to never let the girl go, no matter what. 

“You guys are so lucky, you know?” The Indian girl sighs dreamily, her eyes returning to the TV as the game continues. “You met each other so young… Like, I don’t think my parents met until their late 20s.” 

Daniela sits on the floor in front of Lara and looks up at her, nodding frantically, popping a chip into her mouth. “Mine too!” She says behind her hand as she chews. The Latina looks at you and Megan with a gleam in her eyes. “And it happened so like… what’s the word?” 

Lara chimes in, taking a glance at Daniela before looking back at the TV. “Organically?” 

“Yeah! That one.” Daniela confirms, looking at the TV just in time to see Sophia get hit with a blue shell, allowing Yoonchae to take first place. The Latina laughs loudly when Sophia lets out an aggravated groan. 

Manon snatches a chip from the bowl on Daniela’s lap and quickly puts it in her mouth before the girl can notice. She turns her head to you and Megan to make it seem like nothing happened. “I can’t wait to meet my soulmate. We’re gonna be just as disgusting as you guys.” She says while she’s chewing. 

Daniels scoffs and looks at Manon with a raised brow. “I can’t even imagine how your love story is gonna go,” She points at Manon’s arm and lets out a giggle. “No offense, but can you guys keep it down?” Like, excuse me?” 

“And they probably said what they had to say!” Manon exclaims, rolling her eyes playfully at her best friend. The exchanges between everyone make you smile, happy that they’ve welcomed you into their tight-knit family. 

You lean forward and press a quick kiss to Megan’s cheek. “We feel really lucky.” You announce, resting your chin on her shoulder as you continue watching the round. 

But what you don’t notice is the uncertainty in Megan’s eyes. The smile on her face doesn’t reach her eyes. You comment that Megan is now in last place, but unbeknownst to you, she sits deep in thought over the words of her members. She can’t help but wonder if there’s more to life than what she shares with you.

It feels like one of those movies. The ones where the main character meets eyes with their love interest, and in that moment, they just know, it was always meant to be. The love interest was always right there in front of them, this entire time. 

You continue looking at each other, eyes locked in a staring contest. It’s as if you both wait to see who would look away first, who would give up. 

Surprisingly, you tear your gaze away before she does, walking with Keeho to another part of the house. You don’t look back as you follow him toward the kitchen. A part of you screams to look, to check if she’s still there with her eyes on you. The feeling reminds you of a story you read in your Mythology class. 

“To love someone is to look back, despite the risk.” 

You excuse yourself from Keeho as you step inside the kitchen, telling him you needed a breath of fresh air. 

Your legs guide you outside to the back patio. The breeze kisses your skin as you close the sliding door, and a slight chuckle escapes your lips as you remember the last time you were out here. It was warmer, and you had nothing to lose. 

You sit in the patio chair, and a sense of déjà vu overcomes you as you stare up at the sky. There aren’t as many stars as last time, and you allow them to be as they are. 

Suddenly, the sliding door opens, the obnoxious squeak snapping you out of your daze. You turn around and see Megan standing there, a sheepish smile on her lips. Your throat tightens at the words that come out of her mouth: “You looked lonely over here.” 

You turn away, your cheeks flush as you hear her walk closer to you. She sits in the chair next to you, and you clasp your hands together tightly in your lap as you avoid her eyes on you. 

She speaks up again, her tone lighthearted. “You look like you’ve been doing okay. Is school still beating you to death?” Megan laughs through her words, but you only force a smile in response, your eyes still in your lap. You’re unsure on what to say, on how to feel. It has always been easy with Megan, but after your discovery two months ago, you aren’t entirely sure how to move forward with your ex. 

From the corner of your eyes, you notice how she looks down at her drink and swirls the liquid in the cup around. “Our comeback has been so crazy! But, we’ve been getting so much love for it and I’ve been so-” 

“I met someone,” You suddenly blurt out, picking your head up to look at her, finally. Megan looks up at you, her brown eyes wide at the sudden interruption. She opens her mouth but closes it, her lips forming a thin line. You watch as she puts her empty cup down on the side table next to her, and you notice how her hand shakes. 

When she looks back at you, she smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. It’s fake and deceiving, unlike all the videos that have been trending all over social media that portray her happiness. The pictures you’ve seen of her have her smiling, laughing, and, most importantly, enjoying her life. 

That’s what she wanted, to be free. To live in her 20s without a weight on her shoulders. 

And against your wishes, you allowed it. It’s because you love her. It’s because, despite everything, there was a chance she’d come back. 

Megan clears her throat and leans against the chair. “That’s good. I mean, Emily was telling me how it’s actually really healthy to date other people for a little bit before meeting your soulmate– I mean, I know we met, but I just think we’re so young and we have the rest of our lives to–”

“Megan.” You cut her off again, avoiding her eyes. You sigh deeply, looking up at the stars again, silently begging them for a sign. “I met someone and she… The first words she ever said to me are the ones on my arm…” You say quietly, turning your head to look at your ex. 

A flash of hurt crosses her eyes. Her bottom lip trembles as she replies, “That’s not possible, Y/n.” 

But you ignore her claim, continuing, “And my first word to her is on her arm.” You watch as the brunette crosses her arms over her chest and narrows her eyes at you. 

“I don’t believe you.” She breathes out, a shakiness in her voice. Your heart breaks at the way she looks at you. The vulnerability in her eyes was exposed, despite her attempts to guard herself. She shakes her head and scoffs. “If you’re fucking with me right now, I’ll seriously lose my shit.” 

There’s bite to her words, but there’s not enough fight in you to feed it. You just look down at your hands with a bitter smile. “Why would I lie, Megan?” You bite your lip before sighing in defeat. “I don’t have a reason to.” 

Megan suddenly stands to her feet. The action surprises you, causing you to look up at the girl. She looks at you with tears in her eyes, brows furrowed in disbelief. “But we’re soulmates. We already figured that out!” She shouts, the volume of her voice making you jump in your seat. 

You stand up as well, driven by your emotions. “But what if we were wrong? What if it actually isn’t us?” You say breathlessly. Megan shakes her head frantically and grabs your arms. Her grip is especially tight on the arm that contains the words that supposedly belonged to her. She looks up at you, her eyes shining under the moonlight. 

Megan’s lip trembles as she speaks, “No, no. Don’t say that…” She reaches up, cupping your cheek with her hand. Her thumb grazes your skin gently as if she were familiarizing herself with the feeling against her fingertips. “Don’t say that. It’s not true…” 

You place your hand on top of hers and squeeze it gently, leaning into her touch. You look at her with surrender in your eyes, silently telling her that you’ve given up. Slowly, you remove her hand from your face, and you notice the panic starting to settle in her expression. “Megan…” You whisper but she doesn’t let you finish. 

“Fuck what I said a few months ago, okay?” She pleads, her hands waving around wildly before grabbing her hair in frustration. “Fuck everything I said. I don’t care about any of that shit, I don’t. I–” She chokes on her words, tears streaming down her face as she looks at you in desperation. “It’s you. Okay? It’s always going to be you, and I know it is.” 

You turn your head away from Megan and take a step back, not wanting to continue listening to her words. However, she reaches up again and cups your cheeks, turning your head back toward her. You want to cry, but there’s no more tears to shed. You’ve fought this battle for six months.

And then it dawns on you. Six months. 

“I want to be with you. Now and forever, okay? It’s us…” Megan whispers, her voice breaking as she rests her head against your chest. Her hands move down to your arms, and you feel her fingertips trace the letters on your skin. 

You wrap your arms around Megan, pulling her closer. Your chin rests on top of her head as you whisper, “It would’ve been a year together by now.” 

You wonder if the universe is listening. You wonder if they planned this all along. 

“I love you, Y/n,” She whispers into your chest. Megan holds you tightly, and you can feel her tears staining through your shirt. She holds you as if you’d disappear, as if this would be the last time she’d ever be able to. “I love you so much. I know it’s you.” She pulls away slightly to look at you.

You wonder if there’s a life where you don’t have to miss Megan. Maybe somewhere, you don’t have to wrap your arms around a memory you called home. 

“I’m glad you get to live your life.” You tilt your head, a strained smile on your lips as you look back at her. There’s a warmth in her eyes. A glimmer of hope. 

But as the planets align, as the stars watch your every move, and as your birthmark continues to burn on your skin, there’s one thing you do know: Love is enough. 

“Continue doing it, without me, okay?” 

And if it’s meant to be, Megan would still be at the airport, waiting for you to come home.

a/n: before yall ask, yes there will be a pt. 2! it wont come quickly but do not fear, i wont let yall think it ends like this. or does it? >:) lmk what u guys think!!!! i hope yall arent too mad or upset

requests are closed

[jellyzaces]

𝓑𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑩𝒂𝒅, 𝓢.𝓛.

♱ 𝒚𝒕 𝒗𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒐; 4 times sophia laforteza couldn’t stake her claim, and 1 time she proves just who you belong to

♱ 𝒄𝒘; 7th member au!r, jealous!s, possessive!s, touchy!s

𝑪𝒂𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒖𝒆, pt. one, two, three

𝓢𝒐𝒑𝒉𝒊𝒂’𝒔 𝟓 𝑨𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒎𝒑𝒕𝒔 𝒂𝒕 𝑴𝒂𝒓𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑯𝒆𝒓 𝑻𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚

˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆ clip one: [ weverse live ] gnarly eats w/ katseye

“oh, come on, you’re saying you didn’t think about it like that? not once?” lara asked, gaze trained on you with a teasing glint flickering in her eyes. you rolled your eyes at her insistence, like you hadn’t denied the same question twice already--when you had first joined dream academy’s training camp, you and lara were roommates. it wasn’t quite as obvious then as it was now, but she loved flirting with you. and she wasn’t shy about it.

“oh, please, like you don’t flirt with every pretty face you see.” you bit back, lips quirking into a coy smile. like the tease you were, you couldn’t resist an arising challenge. “i know you. and i know you love a good chase, raja.”

and like the stud she was, lara couldn’t back down. she let out a sultry laugh, her head tilting down briefly, her eyes fluttering shut. when she glanced back up at you, she was beyond ready to play your game. “so you know you got a pretty face, huh?”

user01 it almost feels like i’m interrupting something

user02 “dinner’s ready” i yell as i lay on the dinner table

user03 rock paper these two definitely scissor

daniela let out a loud whistle, fanning herself. you sat near the right end of the table, and sat between you and the indian singer was the fan-favourite roommate pair.

manon waved her hands, swallowing the bite she had swirling in her mouth before gently shoving the two of you back into your seats. you giggled at the unsubtle twist of disgust in her expression, but fall back away from the two anyways.

“ya’ll better back up before i call hr.” she threatened lightly.

at the other end, the far right, of the table, those assigned comments duty had their attention torn away from the screens cradled in their hands, necks craned to watch the two members absolutely taking the fandom by the neck right then.

megan, though a little lost in the conversation droning on on top of the flooding comments on the livestream, laughed along with whatever joke or antic she barely made out. she peered down at the ipad, words speeding much too fast for her dyslexic mind, but it was hard to miss some repetitive replies:

user04 do they know it’s legal now (it’s pride month too)

user05 i knew there was sth off about you… YOU’RE GAY

user06 like we’re all surprised they’re always flirting bro

“haha--someone said, ‘these lesbians’.” megan read aloud, her eyes widened as she passed yoonchae the ipad.

sitting at the end of that side, sophia was awfully quiet. she hadn’t touched her food in a while, and who was supposed to be the loud, present leader, was now a mysteriously silent observer. she bit back whatever shit she wanted to say, to yell, at an unsuspecting, but nevertheless guilty, lara raj.

it wasn’t the first time she had made her attraction to you known, despite your apparent disinterest in pursuing anything with one of your best friends. still, she persisted. and god, there was nothing in the world that pissed sophia off more.

“‘lara shooting her shot for all of us’,” megan continued reciting, “‘the way they’d make the hottest fucking couple is absolutely gnarly’--oh my god, it’s like a thirst box in here.”

sophia sulked, unwilling to take the ipad when yoonchae offered. she crossed her arms, leaning back into her seat as you all raged on about the intense support a hypothetical relationship between you and lara had managed to gather. every comment read aloud fuelled her irritant more. it was almost out of character, for somebody as vibrant a spirit as sophia, and a blind person could have noticed it.

user07 holy fuck if looks could kill sophia’s going on death row

user08 lara better wrap it up before she gets jumped

user09 when the loud ones go quiet yk shits hitting the fan

“what even happened back then?” daniela questioned, her fork hanging off her lips as she turned to you. mid-bite of the bowl of ramen in your mouth, you hummed. “i remember lara would like completely change her personality whenever y/n would come in a room or like join a conversation. it was so funny, like, everybody would make fun of her for it ‘cuz, like, what?”

“oh my god, when emily would give me the most obvious, unslick look when you would come up and talk to me. she was itching to say something every time,” lara groaned.

“really?” you giggled, “i hadn’t noticed… but now that you mention it, i do remember dani saying something about it.”

“yeah, she was so down bad, bro!” megan added, her infectious laughter tearing through the room. “so annoying.”

user10 i love the no pr training they just expose themselves

user11 we got lara’s love confession before a new comeback

user12 guys why is sophia so pressed this is sending me

upon a mindful nudge from daniela, you glanced to your left. sophia was sitting stiffly, her jaw drawn tight, trying to keep her smile from looking like a grimace. you knew that look. and you were praying she wouldn’t combust on live.

lara called your name softly. “no, but seriously. if i had made a move back then, who knows what would’ve happened?”

you shrugged, chuckling. who did know? perhaps way back during dream academy days, that version of you would have loved to shack it up with your indian bandmate. you rolled your eyes, flashing a tempting grin. you eased her subtle try at hitting on you. “oh please, you would’ve been rejected so fast.”

sophia leaned forward suddenly, her voice breaking the mold for the first time in what felt like eons. it came out a little sharp for her own taste, “yeah, well. good thing you didn’t.”

all eyes landed on their leader. the live silenced for a moment.

“sophia, you okay?” you asked, one brow raised. as bad as it sounded, you enjoyed lighting her fuse. it was entertaining.

“mhm,” sophia said, too quickly. “just... it’s super crazy.”

lara let out a low snort, jumping at the chance to poke fun at her usually composed leader. “what, jealous?”

sophia opened her mouth, then shut it. she reminded herself of the multiple cameras trained on her every move right then. she smiled, a sarcastically faux smile, but a smile nonetheless. you were familiar with her mannerisms well enough to know she was just itching to snap back, the slight twitch in her eye was more than enough of a hint for that. oblivious to the radiating vex from the filipina, you tilted your head, lost.

"please," she muttered, trying to sound unimpressed, laughing the jab off like a joke. "like i have anything to be jealous about."

user13 oh baby who is you this ain’t fooling nobody

user14 sophia try not to kill lara for being a dipshit challenge

user15 omg she’s feeding the n/nphinz agenda well

lara raised a brow in challenge. “possessive, much?”

“me? no,” sophia said curtly, exhaling deeply through her nose. she ran a hand through her hair, shaking her head. “see, i know y/n likes me better, i’m her… best friend. she’s mine, see?”

you wet your lips, catching sophia’s eye. you noticed the sharp, jagged edge of her smile. still, you couldn’t help the playful tug seeping through the smile that hung on your face. “you would have been shut down too. sorry, fi, no special treatment.”

user16 i would never socially recover from a public rejection

user17 she did NOT even stutter lmao poor sophia

user18 imagine having a face card so lethal you reject sophia

˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆ clip two: [ vlog ] angel city fc pride match w/ katseye

sporting the custom jersey, your name ironed across your back, you stood amongst your bandmates as seven pairs of feet stepped out onto the lush green field of angel city fc’s stadium. clutching your hand tightly, sophia lead you to stand sandwiched between all the other members. you waved and beamed up at the thousands of fans shrieking down at you.

your camera team followed you closely, documenting every little detail of this momentous occasion. sometime between the staged welcome and being lead to the stands where your seats were reserved, you had lost sophia’s clutch, and wound up in daniel’s instead. the latina, occupied by her surroundings, hadn’t even noticed when she grabbed your hand, tracing patterns over it as she added to megan’s story for the cameras.

you have never thought twice about it--daniela was a very affectionate person. but that didn’t mean others haven’t.

“mahal, come ‘ere,” sophia suddenly called from behind megan. your hand tugged away from daniela’s, who was still deeply engrossed in conversation about the double date story megan and lara had insisted on gate keeping from the fans.

her hands found your back, warm hands palming the soft skin of your hips, tucking your shirt into your bra the way it was.

then, her hands grabbed your hips firmly, pulling you down into her lap as her arms encircled your waist securely. her chin found your shoulder, her breath fanning your collarbone. you yelped, a little breathless as you ended up on her lap, legs entangled awkwardly, faces inches apart. you wondered what had gotten into the sweet, composed sophia you usually saw. like the eyekons have pointed out multiple times online, she had been acting awfully protective of you. it was odd.

“sophia,” daniela chuckled, “what’s going on there, hon?”

you felt her arms tighten around you when attention suddenly fell on the two of you. it squeezed a gasp from you, your hands finding hers clutching onto your stomach.

“nothing,” she grumbled, “just getting comfortable…”

daniela and megan shared a look, but upon seeing your dazed focus, they decided it wasn’t worth pissing off sophia.

throughout the game, you were engaging with fans and bringing a lively energy to the game. when sophia had eventually let you go, by the hand, megan dragged you over to some fans waving you over. she was entrapped by the labubu outstretched from the woman’s hand, cradling it as she squealed. you giggled, thanking the fan as megan picked and probed at the fanged creature on its keychain.

“y/n, i got one for you too!” she called, pulling a gold-furred (your assigned colour) one from her bag and holding it out.

“oh my goodness,” you gasped, taking it carefully. the corner of your lips pried from ear to ear as you glanced back up at the woman. “thank you, pretty girl. can i give you a hug?”

upon her very enthusiastic agreement, you stepped onto one of the seats in front of the stands, reaching up to wrap you arm around her neck tightly. the fan spared no time, encircling her own around your frame as she squealed into your ear.

just then, you heard a tsunami of fanfare plague the stadium.

megan’s hand continuously thrusted against the back of your shoulder. it took you a second to pull away from the hug, your head snapping back at the hawaiian at her persistent abuse. but she had her eyes set on something else, much further, and much higher. her arm hung high, finger erect and pointing high at a reflective, and very pink screen on the jumbotron.

mounted with animated hearts floating up the screen, pixelated frills lined the big heart. across the top sprawled big, bubbled letters: “KISS CAM!” framed in the centre of the heart was the fan and a familiar katseye member, your name on display as the screen delayed the shock on your face.

you glanced over at the younger for support, wordlessly pleading for a solution. but come on, it was megan.

“just do it.” megan encouraged, urging you towards the fan.

you cleared your throat, watching as the fan and her friend recorded the screen in excitement. you wagged a finger at her, cheekily tugging at your lip with your teeth as you stepped back onto the seat against the stands. you could see it took everything in her to contain the ecstasy coursing through her veins, but she digressed. you gently cupped her cheek, pursing your lips to plant a soft kiss against the other. the camera zoomed in on the mark staining her cheek, which was quickly masked by the faint shade flushing to her defined cheeks.

“oh my god, this is fucking crazy!” she slurred, drunk on you.

you laughed, clasping your hands together and blowing a kiss towards the cameras. and suddenly, soccer wasn’t the reason people were cheering throughout the crowd anymore.

you bid the fan farewell, thanking them once again for the gifts as you made your way back towards the seats assigned just for you. the kiss cam went to another few people in the stands, but none as captivating as yours.

“looks like you’ve made someone’s day,” manon chuckled when the two of you got back to the group. she pointed at the stands, where the fan had fallen back, her friend fanning her.

“or ruined someone else’s.” daniela mumbled, nudging your elbow. you could feel sophia’s sour expression from there.

a possessive hand grabbed you by the waist, pulling you back down into a warm lap. she didn’t say a word, not even a sound, but you could feel her through her grappling fingertips. she was silently praying the kiss cam would land on your group just so she could get a piece of you for herself. alas, no such luck.

˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆ clip three: [ vlog ] lounging w the laforteza’s | katseye

it was no surprise when somebody would make their affections for you apparent, sophia had grown accustomed to it. could she blame them? you were katseye’s golden girl, everybody’s favourite in one way or another. though she liked having you under her arm, she knew she had to share. it wouldn’t be fair for people to not be able to enjoy the pleasure that was you.

when katseye were in the philippines for showcase week, the laforteza’s generously offered to host the girls for dinner the very first night. the week leading up to your flight, sophia was absolutely buzzing, eager to jump at the opportunity to go home and see her family. it made your heart swell.

“my mom’s going all out, y’know, she’s got so much food, i think we’re all about to implode.” sophia said to the camera, “man, i can’t believe you guys are all gonna be in my house, with my pets, my brothers… that’s insane.”

“yeah, yoonchae squared.” the maknae giggled.

“wait, didn’t bailey have a massive thing for y/n?” megan snorted, nudging the filipina with her elbow. you chuckled, beside megan, who was wedged between you and sophia in the middle row of the van. behind you, lara poked her head through the gap between you and megan’s, humming. “oh, yeah, and he’d come drop things off for sophia during dream academy all the time when your family visited.”

sophia had nearly forgotten about that. her eyes narrowed, reminiscing back to watching her brother become a flustered mess when y/n would come around during their da days.

“yeah, maybe he’s still into you.” manon teased, reaching back and poking you from the passenger seat up front.

“i’m sure he’s moved on from it,” sophia interjected, slicing through the playful atmosphere in the car. “it’s been months.”

“guess we’ll find out,” lara mouthed to the camera.

each of you got a suffocatingly tight embrace the moment you got out of the car. sophia’s parents spared no time ushering you all inside, the camera crew trailing closely behind. the boys stood, holding onto the pets by the front door, greeting and welcoming you all as you entered. as you stepped inside, you saw bailey’s demeanour change. he straightened his back, and held his head higher. he gave you a polite smile, offering a hand to help you through the doorway.

“oh! thanks, bailey,” you said, “it’s nice to see you again.”

his cheeks flush a darker shade, leaving his position by the door to walk you towards the kitchen. “it’s nice to see you.”

“thanks for having us, we’re super excited to be here and get our filipino friends together.” you joked, earning a tight chortle from the boy. the cameraman filming you two shot you a cheeky grin, which seemed to blow right past bailey’s head.

“yo, bails, mama’s asking for you to help with the food.”

the two of your heads snapped towards the doorway, sophia’s stern expression on her face. which was odd, considering the filipina had always had a soft spot for her brothers. which you wouldn’t have been able to tell, from the way her stern gaze was burning holes in the older boy’s head.

he gave you a smile, “i’ll talk to you later then. excuse me.”

when he stopped in front of his sister, expecting her to moved, she didn’t. he awkwardly squeezed past the slim gap.

“come on, fia, bullying your brother already? it’s been five minutes since we got here.” you shook your head, rubbing the sides of her arms teasingly. “the poor guy looked so scared.”

“i’m not bullying him. he’s being a creepy weirdo.”

something about the way sophia seemed to have to ward her own brother off was very jarring to fans. the vlog seemed to do wonders as clips of sophia’s undying possessive energy over you throughout the entirety of the dinner were posted. still, like the polite, game-loving gal you were, you refused to stay away from the boy. he was just being nice… and you could never be as mean to a friend as sophia wanted. world 3 - sophia 0.

˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆ clip four: [ tiktok ] keeping up w katseye (@katseye)

(inspired by eve and clara reading bet fanfics on tiktok)

“okay, the good thing is, i think we won’t get flagged as easily if we do it here.” you explained to lara, who scrolled through the wattpad catalogue on her ipad hesitantly. you skimmed the comments eyekons were making, ushering you to read them by affirming your suspicions. “yeah, see? as long as we don’t show any porn up in here, we should be totally fine.”

user01 NO WHY THE FUCK WOULD YALL DO THIS

user02 yeah we ain’t ever getting another comeback after this

user03 fuck save yourselves we cooked fr lmao

user04 someone hide the kinky shit from them please lord

you and lara settled on a story eventually, which, you were much more interested in reading the ones with ridiculous descriptions, but by popular recommendations in the comment section, you decided on a “katseye x ceo trope” one instead. and with a theatric clear of her throat, lara was ready to start you guys off. and you couldn’t help but smirk.

“--‘she walked across the room with a certain confidence to her. a certain authority. it was almost… intoxicating.’” lara read, her voice dropping to a low, sensual tone. she gave the phone a narrow-eyed glance, “okay, they’re saying you’re serving an intoxicating aura. i mean, not lore accurate, but okay.” you swatted her in the arm, clicking your tongue. she snickered, holding up the ipad. “stop! i need to get into this, okay?” she cleared her throat again. “okay, wait, i think you should play yourself. i’ll tell you when to speak.”

user05 omg there’s no way they’re reading xxx

user06 LARA CHOSE A FUCKING LAFORL/N FIC WTF

user07 it was nice knowing ya’ll i’m kms after this

“--‘if there was one thing y/n couldn’t tolerate in her office, it was an arrogant attitude. lucky for her, her boss was cockiness strapped in tight purple stilettos--sophia laforteza.’ oh my god, wait, what? i didn’t know this was a you and sophia one.” the indian said. “hold on, ya’ll told me this was a katseye fic.”

you tilted your head, a small smile crept onto your lips. as lara scolded the fans in the chat, you skimmed ahead of the book.

user08 omg the smirk… this is it for me… i need it tattooed

user09 laforl/n deniers been real quiet in here huh

user10 THE SMIRK???? Y/N L/N YOU’RE A FREAKY MOFO

“okay, stop yelling at eyekons and keep reading!” you urged, clinging onto lara’s arm. you pursed your lips, feigning irritant as the older sighed, adjusting the ipad in her hands.

“--‘her employees would say y/n ran kats co. like a military unit. she was the hard-hitting strict boss. just the mere mention of her name could have the water boys quivering in their shoes.’” lara couldn’t contain her loud laughter at this inaccurate description of you. rolling your eyes at her amusement, you grabbed the tablet from her. “wha--hey!”

“you’re getting distracted! we’ve barely gotten through two paragraphs.” you shrugged, “i’m going to speed this up. i’ll be myself and when i tell you, you do sophia’s parts.”

user11 really channeling that strict boss energy rn babe

user12 omg i’ve read xxx they’re abt to be so traumatized bro

user13 WHAT THE FUCK SOPHIA’S IN HERE

“--‘y/n grabbed the stack of files sitting before her in the conference room. she dismissed her subordinates. i was so sick of incompetent men running the company to the ground. most times she was glad they had to report to her, if it were up to them, kats co. would’ve gone bankrupt already.’” lara couldn’t help but shake her head at how immersed in the story you were, not even sparing the live a glance. “‘they answer to her, but there was only one person y/n answered to.’”

you pointed at lara, who leant over to catch where you stopped. quickly, she pulled her voice higher, imitating the seductive edge sophia carried in her quieter tone.

“‘where’s my eea report for this month, l/n?’” the indian purred in your ear, an exaggerated smoulder on her face.

“‘the idiots in finance fucked the numbers up.’ i replied,” you continued, you switched to a grumpier tone, “‘i swear, i’m going to fire that excuse of a man sitting in that executive chair.’ sophia sported a smug smirk on her face, strolling over to the head of the table, where y/n sat. she leant against the table, crossing her arms. she looked down at her, like she always did, but this time, with a playful glint in her eyes.”

“wait, should i act this out?” lara asked. you agreed, and she propped herself up to rest on her knees, before leaning against the wall behind you. she looks down at you, imitating every action described in the story. you giggled at her getting immersed in her role. “‘i don’t like playing games, ms. l/n. if you keep messing up, i’ll assume you’re doing it on purpose.’”

your nose scrunched in light cringe at lara’s faux ‘sexy sophia’ voice. nevertheless, you continued.

“‘why, laforteza? do you think that little of me?’ y/n says, but like she had anticipated what she was going to say, sophia scoffs, smirk still evident on her face.” per your instruction, lara’s lips spread into a smirk. “grabbing her chin, sophia bit her lip, like she was craving more than just that little bit of contact. but she had to remind herself that they were sat in the conference room, where anybody could walk in.”

lara grabbed your chin gently with her hands, and you nearly double over in hysteria as the two of your gazes met.

user14 i can’t keep doing this my fingers are cramping

user15 they’re really taking advantage of the no pr rule

user16 wetter than ever or whatever billie said

“oh my god, you guys are freaky bitches.” lara chuckled, fingers still around your chin. you were oddly comfortable where you sat, unwilling to tear your chin away. your eyes rolled to read the comments, hooded and blinking slow.

user17 not ya’ll ignoring sophia’s crash out comments lmao

sophia<3 yo back up doing this on live is crazy

user18 the unbothered energy for their leader is so n/nlarz

sophia<3 don’t make me ban you guys from going live

you couldn’t help but smirk wider at the filipina’s words, knowing this must’ve gotten her blood boiling. you turned your head, glancing up at lara with glossy eyes and fluttering lashes. “should we ask eyekons if we should keep reading? or should we leave some of this to their wild imagination?”

the older chuckled, “well, it sounds like sophia doesn’t exactly approve. i don’t think we can read the next part aloud anyway.”

#n/nlarz was trending on tiktok for a bit after that live. with edits to clips of the two of you going viral one after another. it was safe to say your marketing team couldn’t be more grateful for the unhinged method of promotion, but it was bringing incredibly attraction to gnarly’s comeback schedule.

still, perhaps not everybody was as happy with your actions.

sophia<3 oh you guys are getting house chores tn

sophia<3 lara raj don’t make me do something ill regret

sophia<3 why are you guys encouraging this i’m disappointed

sophia<3 y/n mahal stop testing me please

˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆ clip five: [ leaks ] coachella 2025 hard launch?

𝒔𝒐𝒇𝒕 𝒍𝒂𝒖𝒏𝒄𝒉 𝒐𝒓 𝒔𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒂𝒍? katseye’s y/n and sophia caught getting too close for comfort at jennie’s coachella set

by: lexi storm | tmz | april 20, 2025

amidst romance rumours, katseye bandmates, sophia and y/n, seemed to have taken on addressing the hearsay by getting touchy-feely at kpop star, jennie’s coachella set.

in a video posted early this morning to @popbase, the bandmates were caught on camera being extremely close and personal--and fans are spiralling into a frenzy as rumours of it all being “platonic affection” has been seemingly debunked.

*attached bad-quality video of you two*

the now-viral 30-second clip, allegedly taken after the group’s april 13th performance in chicago, shows sophia with her arms wrapped around your waist tightly from behind. the two of you were heavily accessorized, but fans could not miss the way you were whispering back and forth. sophia kissed up the back of your neck, and you threw your head back to rest it against her shoulder. an intimate gesture some were calling, “gf core”.

later in the video, you turned around to encircle your arms around sophia’s neck, and the filipina could be seen beaming from ear to ear as you mouthed the lyrics to slow motion.

just before the clip ends, sophia leant in to press a soft kiss against your lips. her ringed hands sliding across your heaving midsections as the two of you melted into each other. it was safe to say this was much better than any soft or hard launch you could ever post, and though the video quality might be just a little too low, it was hard to mistake your distinct visuals.

the hashtag #laforn/n has started trending within hours.

user01 girl wbk that ain’t no friendly pose who you fooling

user02 i fucking knew it since paris fashion week

user03 ogs have been on this train since their da days

user04 quick! everyone act surprised!

past clues? this isn’t the first time these two have been linked. in february, fans noted they wore identical “couple” rings during katseye’s press tour for their debut ep, soft is strong. and just last month, y/n posted a photo during their pit stop in new york fashion week of dinner with a city view, table set for two, captioned, “happy valentine’s day to all of you my loves <3”--and sophia liked the it within seconds, followed by a now-deleted comment that simply read: “happy valentine’s mahal”.

during katseye’s iheartradio feature in the philippines for their “touchdown in manila” fan showcase, when asked about their “onstage chemistry”, sophia laughed and replied with, “guess we just connect really well offstage… some people you don’t have to rehearse with to be in sync.” y/n turned bright read and sipped on her coffee in silence. suspicious much?

so far, there has been no official statement from either sophia, y/n, or katseye’s management. a source “close to the group” told tabloid today: “they’re just really close friends. everyone in katseye is like family… [sophia and y/n] just have a special bond. on whatever basis, please respect that its their privacy.”

sure, girl. way to make a pr statement sound more stupid.

meanwhile, fans continue dissecting old concert footage, looking for signs they missed. there has been a bundle of clips compiled into a series called, “subtle and secret”. one clip from a tokyo show in october shows y/n subtly wiping lipstick from sophia’s lips and cheek backstage.

whether it’s a deep “friendship” or the pop world’s next power couple, one thing’s clear: sophia and y/n are more than just bandmates. and if the video leak is any indication, katseye’s popular vocal duo share more than work behind the scenes.

got tea on the katseye girls? slide into our dms @tmzofficial

𝒂𝒏; low and behold… i’m back. i’m trying my best to write faster but i like quality over quantity. hope you guys enjoyed!

𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒙𝒙

[jellyzaces]

- the universe's cosmic joke | the real

w.c. 3.6k | megan's ending

Read the main story: here

You spent the whole day rotting.

Not in a poetic, metaphorical kind of way. In the very real, unshowered, face-down-on-your-pillow, phone-at-1-percent-and-you-still-won’t-plug-it-in kind of way.

It was one of those rare days off where no one expected anything from anyone. A gift, supposedly. But sometimes the absence of obligation felt more like a trap. Nothing to do, no one around. Just you and your thoughts, spinning in circles.

Daniela and Manon were gone, off visiting family for the day. The room was quiet, finally, like you always claimed you wanted it to be. But now the stillness felt less like peace and more like a vacuum. Like something essential had been pulled from the air.

You weren’t sure if Daniela had meant to leave you behind. If she’d sensed you pulling inward and decided to give you space. Or if she just didn’t want to risk a conversation she couldn’t control. Part of you wondered if she was running. If she’d seen too much in your eyes that morning and hadn’t known what to do with it.

It didn’t matter. The result was the same: silence. A slow, shapeless weight that settled on your chest and refused to leave. You tried to bury it in your blanket. Tried to out-scroll it. But it stayed anyway, soft and stubborn, curling around your ribs like smoke. Daniela’s perfume still clung to your shirt. Megan’s smile lingered in the corner of your mind. And between them was the ache of something unspoken. The tension between what you wanted, and what you were allowed to have.

Just when you were beginning to think you’d dissolve completely into the mattress, there was a knock.

Two sharp taps. A pause. Confident. Familiar.

You knew that knock.

You sat up slowly, blinking through the haze. Heart already fluttering. The door creaked open without waiting for permission.

“You’re alive,” Megan said as she stepped inside, letting it fall shut behind her with a quiet thud.

“Debatable,” you croaked. Your voice was gravel. Your hair was a mess. You hadn’t even washed your face. Megan, meanwhile, looked like the human equivalent of a particularly convincing argument.

She took in the state of your bed with one sweep of her gaze and raised a brow. “Jesus. How long have you been in there?”

“Time’s fake,” you muttered.

“Alright, Plato.” She nudged your ankle gently with her foot. “You wanna go to a party?”

You blinked up at her, disoriented. “What?”

“There’s a party. Music, lights, people. Probably terrible. You’re coming.”

You stared at her. And for a second, she didn’t look away. Her eyes held yours, buzzing, electric. She didn’t say the quiet part aloud—And maybe it’ll be enough to drown out whatever’s eating you alive in here.

You heard it anyway.

“Give me ten minutes.”

—

Getting ready felt strange. Like trying on a version of yourself you hadn’t worn in a while. You brushed your teeth. Washed your face. Tossed on makeup with a shaky hand, second-guessing every choice. 

You didn’t want to look like you were trying. But you didn’t want to look like you hadn’t tried, either.

When you stepped outside, Megan was waiting. She didn’t lean against the wall or scroll on her phone. She just stood there, arms crossed, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet like she was holding herself still for your sake. When you opened the door, she looked up and her face changed. Not dramatically. Not like in movies. Just a soft, quiet shift. Like she saw you and was grateful she did. 

“Ready?” she asked.

You nodded, something loosening in your chest.

—

The venue was louder than you expected. Lights and bass, people pressed close together, laughter tumbling from one side of the room to the other. The kind of place that could make you feel invisible if you weren’t careful.

But Megan stayed close. Not clinging. Not hovering. Just present. Like a constant you didn’t have to look for to know she was there. Her energy wrapped around you like a steady hum, quieting everything else. She didn’t say much at first, just danced near you with an ease that felt like muscle memory.

You watched her in the flash of colored lights, the way she moved without self-consciousness. The way she threw her head back when she laughed. The way her eyes flicked to yours every few minutes, like she was checking that you were still there. Still okay. And slowly, you were.

The music shifted. Less bass, more sway. You didn’t talk about it, but you moved closer. Megan’s hand slid naturally to your waist. Yours found the back of her neck. And there you were, breathing the same air, swaying in your own rhythm while the rest of the room blurred around you.

Her smile changed. It was smaller now, but steadier, touched by something careful and true.

You leaned in without planning to. “Thanks for coming to get me.”

She didn’t look away. “I wanted to.”

“You always do that,” you murmured. “Show up right when I need you.”

Megan’s smile tilted, a little crooked. “Not exactly a party trick. You were lying in a blanket cocoon like the world was ending.”

“Still, you didn’t have to.”

“I know.” Her voice softened, weight behind every word. “But I once promised I’d help you if you ever fell. I meant that.”

You stilled. The words sank deeper than they should have. Something flickered, half-formed in your chest. You tried to trace it back, to that first day, to whatever spark started all this between you. But the memory blurred at the edges, softened with time. And yet, right now, you wished you could reach for it. Not just to know, but to feel it. To hold it in your hands and say, this is where it began. Because suddenly, you wanted to remember. All of it.

Megan didn’t press. She didn’t seem to mind that you couldn’t. She just held your gaze like she already knew. Like it was simple. Like she wasn’t asking for anything but the truth of this moment.

“I don’t like leaving you in that kind of quiet,” she said, gently.

Your heart caught. Not from surprise. From recognition.

And then, softer still, like she couldn’t stop herself, maybe didn’t want to, “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to. You know that, right?”

You nodded. Barely. Your voice was almost lost in the music. Then, the question that had been sitting just beneath your ribs: “You’re not waiting for me to figure it out?”

Megan didn’t hesitate. Didn’t even ask what you meant. She already knew, “No. I’m not waiting. I’m here.”

“But you want it,” you whispered, like the words were fragile in your mouth. Maybe they were.

“I want you,” she answered, and then, just as clearly, “but I’m not asking for anything you’re not ready to give.”

It should’ve knocked the breath out of you. Maybe it did. But the impact didn’t feel like falling. It felt like something inside you straightening out. She looked at you like she’d said nothing unusual. Like wanting you wasn’t a risk; it was just the truth. 

You didn’t know what to say. But your hands didn’t leave her. Your body didn’t pull away. And in the space between your breaths, something inside you began to turn toward her like light.

You weren’t ready to say it. Not yet. But your silence didn’t scare her. Megan didn’t need promises. She just needed you to look back.

And you finally did.

—

You hadn’t even changed out of your clothes yet. Just kicked off your shoes and stood in the doorway for a second too long, blinking into the dark.

Manon was out cold, buried beneath her usual avalanche of blankets. Daniela wasn’t. She was sitting at her desk, half-turned toward the door like she’d been caught waiting up, her hoodie sleeves bunched at the wrists, phone dark on the desk beside her.

She startled as you walked in.

“Hey,” you said, trying for casual, but it came out thin.

Daniela brows pulled together, not out of anger or anything, just because, “Where were you?”

It wasn’t sharp. But it wasn’t soft, either. It landed somewhere in the middle, like maybe she hadn’t meant to ask so quickly. Like maybe she’d rehearsed a different opening line.

You toed off your socks. “Out.”

“With Megan?” she asked, and this time there was no mistaking it, something brittle in the way her voice dropped.

You looked up, slowly. “Yeah.”

She didn’t answer at first. Just nodded, once, like she was absorbing a hit and trying not to show it.

“I figured,” she said after a beat. “You didn’t answer my texts.”

You hadn’t checked your phone. You hadn’t wanted to.

“I didn’t mean to ignore you.”

“I know.” Her voice was too even now. “You were probably busy.”

The silence hung. You dropped your bag onto your bed, hesitated.

“I saw the clip,” Daniela added suddenly, words overlapping the quiet. “From the live. The thing I said. People are… being weird about it.”

“Yeah,” you said, cautious.

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” she said quickly. “It was just—it was supposed to be a joke.”

Your lips parted. And maybe still feeling the weight of the realness left by Megan, you found the words you usually kept to yourself tumbling out, “Was it?”

Daniela looked at you then. Really looked. And something in her face, open, raw for half a second, made your chest tighten. Because this was new. This was unexplored. 

“I mean, if I’d known people were going to freak out about it…”

“But you did say it,” you murmured. Not letting the fear get to you now. Not when you’ve already started opening the dam. 

“I was just teasing. You know how I get.”

“You were wearing my hoodie.”

Daniela blinked, like she knew. Like even she couldn’t pretend that the hoodie was just hoodie, and not something more, “I—yeah.”

Your voice was quieter now. “And you said we share a bed.”

Her smile flickered. “It’s not untrue.”

“Then what’s the joke?”

Daniela looked away. Her hands curled around the edge of the desk. You tried to ignore the way you saw her hand shaking in her lap. You didn’t know if you could stay strong if you acknowledged it. 

“I don’t know,” she finally said. “I just… it came out.”

You stepped forward, but it didn’t make you feel closer. It didn’t silence the noise. It didn't dull the ache, “Dani.”

Her name sounded heavier than usual. You weren’t sure what you wanted her to say. Maybe just something honest. Maybe just this once. 

“Do you feel something or not?”

Her head snapped up, and her eyes met yours. And you saw her. All of her. The parts she’s always been so careful to hide away. The parts she believed you never saw, so you pretended to not for her sake. But now—

“You don’t have to make it pretty. You don’t have to dress it in sarcasm. Just—tell me. Please.” You hated that it felt like begging, but you hated not knowing more. 

And for a second, Daniela looked like she might. Her lips parted. Her fingers twitched. Her expression crumpled, barely perceptible, like she was standing on the edge of something too high to see the bottom of.

“I care about you,” she whispered, almost breathless. “You know I do.”

“But do you want me?”

Daniela flinched like you’d hit her. She looked down at her hands, “Y/N, it’s not that simple.”

You shook your head, "But it is."

The quiet that followed wasn’t tense. Wasn’t angry. Just sad.

And in that quiet, you saw it clearly for the first time. Daniela could flirt, she could joke, she could stake her claim. But she couldn’t leap. Not when it mattered. Not even now.

You turned to your bed. Sat down slowly. Behind you, Daniela didn’t move. 

And that in itself was your answer.

 —

You didn’t stay in the room after that. Couldn’t. The silence was too thick, the air too full of things unsaid. It pressed in at the edges, waiting for you to break first.

So you grabbed your phone and hoodie and slipped out, the door clicking shut behind you like punctuation on a thought you couldn’t finish. The hallway was dim, hushed in that particular way early mornings always are, like the world hadn’t quite made up its mind to wake. You didn’t have a plan, only the ache of movement. A pull in your chest that said go, even if you didn’t know where.

The dorm’s back exit creaked open with a familiar groan. Cool air kissed your skin. You stepped onto the narrow stoop and breathed it in. It was just past four, and the sky was softening around the edges, grey and pale and undecided.

Behind you, the door creaked again.

“You always do that when you’re upset.”

Lara’s voice. Soft. Almost amused.

You turned to see her barefoot in an oversized hoodie, mug cradled in both hands, steam curling around her face like a second thought. Whatever she was drinking smelled like chocolate and cinnamon.

“I wasn’t—” You started, then stopped. Even to you, it sounded hollow.

She raised an eyebrow. “Going somewhere? Thinking real hard? Trying not to cry but also kind of hoping someone will catch you and ask why you’re about to cry?”

You huffed, eyes narrowing. “Was just getting air.”

“Sure,” she said, stepping down beside you, warm and matter-of-fact.

You stood together in silence, no expectations between you. Just the concrete beneath your feet and the quiet hum of the world beginning again. A bird somewhere in the distance. The faint flick of a streetlamp timing out. The kind of stillness that felt almost sacred.

Then Lara spoke again, gently. Not to provoke. Just to offer you the option to listen.

“You spent so long waiting for Daniela to say it.”

You didn’t look at her. Didn’t have to. Lara always knew too much, and she never needed proof.

“I remember,” she went on. “Every time you stayed up past two. Every time you asked me if a certain look meant something. All those nights you tried to convince yourself you didn’t care that much. That it was fine. That she’d come around eventually.”

Your hands twisted in your sleeves. You stared straight ahead, toward the horizon. As if it might give you something easier to hold than the truth unraveling at your feet.

“She’s always been good at almost. Almost saying it. Almost choosing you.”

There was no judgment in her voice. Just quiet understanding. The kind that only came from someone who’d watched you hurt more times than they could count, and loved you anyway.

“She’s scared,” you said, your voice quieter than the wind. Still rationalizing. Still defending. 

“I know.” Lara’s tone softened further, like she could hear the way you were breaking, even if you didn’t show it. “And you’ve been brave for both of you, haven’t you? For a long time.”

That one landed. Low in your chest. Not sharp, just true.

You looked up, eyes tracing the soft line of sky where night bled into morning. The light was coming in slowly now, as if even the sun wasn’t sure how to greet this day.

“But Y/N,” Lara said, and there was something solid in it, something certain, “you don’t owe anyone the version of you that waits.”

You didn’t breathe. Not right away.

“Daniela had all this time to say it. To choose you. But she didn’t. And Megan? She already has.”

It wasn’t a push. Just perspective. A flashlight shone on something you were already beginning to see.

She gave you a half-smile and bumped your shoulder with hers, like she'd hit her daily quota of good advice. 

“I’ll save you some cereal,” she called over her shoulder as she turned to go back inside. “Don’t dawdle too long.” You huffed out a laugh at that.  

You stayed there, just a moment longer, still and steady, with the sky opening above you. Not with answers. Not with clarity. Just a feeling rising slowly, like something in you had finally made space to breathe.

—

You knocked on Lara’s door a little after eight.

You hadn’t really slept. But you’d showered. Put on real clothes. Stared in the mirror for fifteen minutes before finally whispering to your reflection, “Just don’t be weird about it.”

Lara opened the door still brushing her teeth. She paused mid-swipe, blinked at you once, then stepped aside and pointed down the hall toward their shared bedroom. You didn’t even have to ask.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, already moving.

Megan was sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by unfolded laundry, a mutilated piece of toast, and what looked like a doomed attempt to sew a sleeve back on with neon thread. Her head snapped up the second you walked in.

“Ohmygod,” she said in one breath, immediately scrambling to her feet, “Hey. Hi. Sorry. Lara said you might come by but I didn’t think—um—anyway—hi.”

You blinked, trying not to smile as she smacked her knee on the bed frame in the rush to stand, then immediately knocked over a full cup of coffee. She cursed quietly, then winced like maybe that had been uncool to say in front of you.

“Morning,” you said, doing your best not to glance at the slow-moving coffee puddle creeping toward your shoes. Megan, by some small miracle, avoided it.

She looked like she'd just rolled out of a bed, sweats, a wrinkled t-shirt two sizes too big, and hair sticking out in every direction like it had opinions. Which, in all honesty, she may have. But somehow, it suited her. She looked exactly like the Megan you had come to grow fond of.

“Hi,” she repeated, no more composed than the last, still a little breathless. She cleared her throat and tried to shift her weight like it might help ground her. “So. What are you doing here?”

“Came to see you,” you said. “Wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Something flickered in her expression: surprise first, then something brighter, more sure. Like the fact you’d shown up was enough to make her entire morning.

She nodded a little too hard. “Cool. I’m fine. Just doing great. Me and my laundry and my toast, thriving.”

You laughed, the sound escaping before you could stop it. It surprised you, how light it felt. How easy. For the first time in what felt like days, you weren’t holding your breath.

Megan’s smile twitched higher at the sound, but then faltered as she shifted again, clearly building to something.

“I um, I hope I didn’t say anything weird last night. Or like, make things uncomfortable. Or pressure you. Or—” she stopped herself, brow furrowing, then rushed forward, “Wait. No. Actually. I take that back. I meant it. All of it.”

You raised an eyebrow, curious now.

“I like you,” she said quickly. “That’s the main idea. I don’t remember how I got there, but I definitely said that part. And I still mean it. And I know it’s complicated right now, with Daniela, and I’m not trying to make it worse or weird or whatever, but I just—god, you’re really confusing sometimes.”

Your lips quirked, because truly, you did not know where she was going with this, “Thanks?”

“No, I mean—like, you’re not actually confusing. You’re just... confused. But in a totally normal way. Everyone gets confused. I was confused literally yesterday. There was this thing with a plug and a—wait, that’s not the point. The point is, I like you. And I really hope that doesn’t make you feel cornered or pressured or like you have to—"

You didn’t really know what came over you. One moment, Megan was rambling, hands fluttering uselessly at her sides, ears flushed pink, and the next—you just stepped forward and kissed her.

It wasn’t long. Barely a second. But it was soft, and warm, and just enough to feel the soft press of her lips, the warmth of her breath, the way her whole body seemed to still, like even her heartbeat had paused to catch up.

When you pulled back, Megan blinked. Slowly. Like her brain had lagged behind and was only now booting back up.

Oh,” she said, stunned and blinking.

You grinned. You hadn’t planned anything past that moment, but the words came out easily, “I like you too.”

She made a noise that was somewhere between a squeak and a wheeze, then attempted to cover it with a cough. Her ears darkened further. Her mouth opened, then closed, then opened again.

“Okay,” she eventually managed, voice wobbling just enough to make your smile widen. “Cool. This is… cool.”

“Yeah?” you teased, watching her come undone in real time. She was trying so hard to hold it together, but her grin kept creeping in, her eyes flitting to you and then away, like she couldn’t decide where to look. You found yourself loving that about her: all heart and no filter. She never played it cool, never tried to. And somehow that made you feel braver too.

You took a small step closer, letting the pause stretch, “So…”

Her eyes locked on yours.

“Would it be alright if I did that again?”

From somewhere behind you, Lara groaned loud enough for the entire house to hear, but you barely registered it.

Megan didn’t either. Her attention never wavered. “Yes,” she said immediately, then softer, steadier, “Yeah. If you want to.”

You did.

And this time, when you leaned in, Megan met you halfway. 

It wasn’t rushed. Wasn’t uncertain. Just warm, and close, and quiet in the way the world sometimes gets when everything important is finally right in front of you.

And maybe that had been the universe’s plan all along.

—

[jellyzaces]

- the universe's cosmic joke | the universe goes quiet

Pairing. Megan Skiendiel x Reader | Daniela Avanzini x Reader

w.c. 6.7k

The fans think Megan and Y/N are in love. But Y/N’s heart actually belongs to Daniela. And Daniela? Well… she’s straight.

Read: Part 1

You like to believe the universe has a plan.

Not in some big, cinematic way. Not fate with a capital F. But something smaller. Quieter. The belief that things move with purpose. That even when you feel lost or stuck, something will eventually shift. That the right thing, the right person, the right moment will arrive. Maybe not how you expect it, but exactly how you need it. 

That belief is how you’ve always made sense of your life. Trusting that something was nudging you forward, piece by piece.

You hadn’t always known you wanted to be an idol. That came with time. At first, you were just a quiet kid, too full of feelings and too short on ways to say them out loud. You tried everything, searching for something that would make you feel understood. Drawing. Piano. A brief, delusional summer where you were convinced you’d write a bestselling novel before high school (Spoiler alert: you did not). But nothing ever stuck.

Then one night, you crept out of bed past curfew, not even sure why. Just that you couldn’t sit still in your bedroom a second longer. The house was silent in that rare way it only could be when everyone else was asleep. The kind of quiet that made it feel like the world might finally let you breathe. You ended up in the living room without even realizing that’s where you’d been heading, already curled up on the couch with a blanket and your tablet in hand.

You clicked on a random video. Background noise, nothing more. Behind-the-scenes footage of some girl group you’d never heard of rehearsing. They weren’t polished. They weren’t glowing under stage lights. They were drenched in sweat, shouting counts over the music, laughing when they messed up, groaning when they had to restart. One of them tied another’s shoelaces mid-combo and nearly missed a beat.

And yet, something in you caught. Just caught.

You didn’t have the words for it then, but your chest had ached in a way that felt too specific to ignore. It wasn't admiration. It was recognition. Belonging. A rhythm that made sense for once: real and imperfect and alive. And that night, for the first time, you whispered to yourself, I want this. I don’t know how, but I want this. And somehow, that was enough to start.

Later, at Dream Academy, you found out what this really meant. Not just the music videos and stage lights and curated applause, but the other side. The exhaustion that seeped into your bones. The doubts that whispered louder than your instructors. The nights you cried quietly into your towel because that was the only way not to wake anyone.

And yet, every time you were ready to quit, something would happen. A rehearsal that finally clicked. A voice message from home that made you laugh. A warm hand finding yours during a major elimination. Small things. Quiet things. Things that they kept you going. That reminded you that maybe, just maybe, the universe hadn’t forgotten about you. 

All you had to do was trust it. Hold on. Wait for its plan. 

A rustle of sheets broke the stillness and startled you out of your thoughts. You glanced over your shoulder toward the movement. The soft glow of the rising sun washed gently across the dorm room. And there she was. Daniela shifted in her bed, her curls spilling across the pillow, one arm draped over her eyes to block the light. She was in a sweater, yours, you recognized. Something you had let her borrow ages ago, and she had simply never returned. Even in sleep, she looked composed. Like perfection was second nature to her. Like it had been stitched into her bones.

Your breath caught. 

It was stupid. You knew it was stupid, how soft your heart still went over Daniela Avanzini. Like it was all it knew how to do. And it wasn’t just that she was beautiful, though she was, in that frustrating, celestial way that never felt fair. It was how she remembered your coffee order without being asked. How she always saved you a seat, even if it meant sitting in the back. How she made you feel like the only person in the room when she smiled at you, even when you were surrounded by five other girls who were technically just as important.

She steadied you. When you were frantic, she was calm. When you crumbled, she helped you rebuild. And somewhere along the way, without meaning to, you had started orbiting her like she was a fixed star. Something to measure yourself against. Something to move toward.

And that was the problem now.

Because when everything felt too loud, Daniela had been the person you went to. The one who helped you make sense of things. But now, she was part of the confusion.

You sighed the kind of sigh that belonged seemingly anywhere else: long, dramatic, and almost entirely completely unnecessary. You weren’t even sure what you were feeling anymore. 

Your phone buzzed, and you reached towards the sound. 

Megan: good morning :)  we still on for breakfast?

You stared at the message longer than you needed to. Then read it again.

Simple. Straightforward. But it landed differently than it would have a month ago.

Because lately, Megan has started creeping into your thoughts too. Not like Daniela. Megan didn’t glow in the dark. She wasn’t soft or dreamy or made of whatever wistful magic you used to associate with love.

Megan was different. Sharper. Louder. Full of unexpected laughter and badly timed jokes that still made you smile even when you didn’t want to. She spoke in sarcasm and stubborn silences, her eyes always revealing more than she meant them. She wore her heart openly, never bothering to hide it, never seeming afraid of what it might cost her.

Being around her felt like being pulled out of your own head and dropped straight into the present. Like she could snap the world into focus just by being in it. With her, everything felt immediate. Urgent. Like the world stilled for a breath, and all that existed was now, now, now.

She wasn’t a star in the sky. She was real. 

And it was unsettling, how much it felt like betrayal. How Megan’s smile would slip into your thoughts when you least expected it, tugging at something bright and unfamiliar. How her laughter lingered like a song you couldn’t stop humming. How, little by little, she was settling into a space you’d once believed was meant for someone else.

And how, suddenly, the voice in your head started asking questions you weren’t ready to answer:

Had anyone ever really lived in that space?

Or had you only kept it open, hoping someday Daniela would?

With a sigh, you turned your phone face down on the mattress and rubbed your palms over your eyes, hard enough to see stars. You wanted the universe to send you a sign. Something obvious. Something that said, Here. This is the right path. This is who you’re supposed to love.

But the room stayed quiet. And your heart stayed loud.

You flipped the phone back over, knowing there would be no greater force intervening today.

You: yeah. still on. see you in 30

Sent.

Behind you, Daniela shifted in her sleep. Ahead of you, Megan waited.

And you? You were still somewhere in the middle, waiting for a sign that might never come. 

—

By the time you made it to the café, Megan was already there, tucked into a corner booth with two cups in front of her and a spoon sticking out of her mouth like she’d forgotten it was there. 

The irony wasn’t lost on you. A café again. You being late again. But Megan was always fifteen minutes early. It was practically part of her brand. Which meant even when you were on time, you were already late.

The place was busier than you had expected: small tables pressed too close together, conversations bubbling over the clatter of mugs, the hiss of one too many espresso machines pushed to their limit. People streamed in and out, jackets half-zipped, phones in hand, earbuds in. It was the kind of place you could disappear in if you weren’t careful.

You texted Megan and watched her glance at her phone. Then her head lifted. 

Her eyes swept the café slowly, scanning the crowd with a slight furrow in her brow. She looked over the tables, over the heads of strangers, not quite tense but focused, until her gaze finally landed on you, and her expression shifted instantly. The tension eased, her mouth curved up, and a smile bloomed across her face, bright and a little lopsided, like she hadn’t expected to be happy to see you, but was anyway.

And before you could stop yourself, the corners of your mouth tugged upward too. Small. Involuntary. Like her smile had reached across the room and pulled one out of you in return.

It wasn’t your fault that she had such a pretty smile. 

You made your way over and slid into the seat across from her, shrugging off your jacket and setting your phone facedown on the table. Megan was still smiling when she pushed one of the cups toward you.

“You finally made it,” Megan said, her tone easy, almost teasing. “What took you so long?”

You rubbed at your eyes and gave her a tired smile, as if you could communicate everything with just one look, “Daniela and I went on a late drive last night, and this morning she realized she’d misplaced the keys. I had to dig around before I could leave.”

Megan raised a brow, slow and deliberate. “Oh. Misplaced, huh?”

You blinked, unsure what else it could be, “Yeah?”

Megan picked up her drink, bringing it halfway to her mouth but not quite taking a sip. Her fingers lingered around the cup, tapping once, like she was buying time. Her voice came a second later, casual, a little dry. “No, totally. I’m sure it was a complete accident.”

You nodded like that had been a given, already distracted as you reached for your own cup and took a sip. The taste hit immediately, but not in a good way.

You made a face. “Ew. What is this?”

“Oh, right.” Megan winced, like she was only just remembering, “While I was waiting, I ordered. They were out of oat milk, so I panicked and got coconut.”

You took another sip, more out of hope than belief, and it somehow tasted worse the second time.

“This is like a crime against beverages,” you muttered, pushing the cup away with an exaggerated shudder. 

Megan laughed, quick and bright. It echoed off the rim of her cup, and settled somewhere beneath your ribs. “But…,” she added, straightening a little, “the real crime would’ve been standing in line during this morning rush. So really, I saved us both. Who knew how long you’d be?”

You smiled, amused. “Fair enough.”

Then, without thinking, you added, “She actually offered to give me a ride. Daniela, I mean. After I couldn’t find the keys.”

That… brought Megan’s smile down a notch. Her fingers paused against the cup. Then she set it down gently. 

“Good thing you found your keys then,” she said, a polite smile stretching across her face,  “Three would’ve been a crowd.”

You blinked, confused again. “Well. You did get us a booth, I’m sure we all could have fit.”

Megan let out a laugh, though it sounded more like a strained warning than amusement. You took the hint and clamped your mouth shut.

“Anyway,” she said after a beat, shifting gears so smoothly it barely felt like a change, “Lara was looking for you yesterday. Asked if I’d replaced her as your favorite.”

You raised a brow. “Lara said that?”

“She came back from training, threw her bag across the room, and went, ‘Has Y/N finally ditched me for you, or is she just hiding somewhere away again?’ Very calm. Very normal.”

You snorted, the image vivid and immediate. “That definitely sounds like her.”

“I told her it was only a matter of time before I took her place as number one,” Megan said, fingers tapping against the side of her drink like she was thinking about taking a sip, but never did.

You grinned. “And who said Lara was my favorite?”

Megan tilted her head, mock-offended but smiling. “Not me. Because I already know I am.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the smile that crept up anyway. “You’re lucky you are one of my favorites.”

She looked at you for a beat. Like she was waiting for something, maybe for you to take it back, or finish the sentence. But when she realized you that there was nothing more: she beamed, all sunlight and mischief, and proud, like she’d won something you didn’t know was a game.

She didn’t mention the one of part. Didn’t ask who else you meant. Didn’t press.

Just reached for her cup again, the one she hadn’t touched in minutes, and finally took a sip. Coconut milk and all.

“I’ll let Lara know you said that, then.”

Your smile faltered. “Wait — hold on—”

But Megan was already laughing into her cup, shoulders shaking as she tried to hide her grin behind the ceramic. And this time, even the coconut couldn’t ruin the taste.

—

After breakfast, the two of you left the café together, stepping out into the gentle swell of late morning traffic. The air had warmed up slightly, the sidewalks already filling with people heading somewhere or nowhere at all. 

Megan mentioned something about stopping by a few shops before heading back. Something about needing socks. Or maybe a candle. Or maybe socks that smelled like candles. You were never quite sure when she was joking, which probably meant she always was.

At the corner, just before your paths split, she pulled you into a hug. No warning, no lead-in. Just her arms looping around your shoulders and the brush of her cheek against your, close enough to catch the scent of her shampoo. 

You froze for half a second, surprised. Then you melted into it.

She always caught you off guard like that. With her timing. With her ease. You never saw her coming, but when she arrived, it was like the world made room for her. And lately, you’ve found yourself doing the same. 

The hug wasn’t long. Just a blink. But it stayed. Left behind a flutter in your chest, soft and sudden, the kind that had been growing more familiar around Megan. Her touch lingered like the burn after a spark, gentle but impossible to ignore. And you weren’t sure what unsettled you more: that it made you feel breathless, or that part of you didn’t really mind.

She pulled back with a crooked grin, all casual mischief, like she hadn’t just rewired your entire internal operating system. “Don’t be late to the interview,” she said, already turning to go. “I want to look prettier than you on camera.”

“You won’t,” you called after her, voice lighter than you felt. You already do, you thought. But you didn’t say that part out loud. You just stood there a second longer than you needed to, watching the space she left behind like it still held her shape.

Then you turned and headed home.

—

The front door creaked as you stepped back inside the house. The scent of dry shampoo and reheated dumplings greeted you faintly. Somewhere down the hall, a hairdryer roared to life. Music thumped behind a closed bathroom door. You padded upstairs, already familiar with the rhythm of this late-morning lull: half the house still getting ready, the other half pretending not to be awake yet.

Your room was cracked open. You nudged it wider with your foot.

Inside, Daniela and Manon were both perched on Manon’s bed, stretched out in lazy angles like they'd gotten halfway through the process of getting ready before collectively deciding to give up. Manon had her hoodie hood up, sleeves pulled over her hands, her sock-clad foot tapping lazily against the headboard as she scrolled through her phone. Daniela was cross-legged beside her, a half-zipped sweater shrugged off one shoulder, a notebook balanced on her thigh, and a highlighter uncapped and tucked behind her ear like she might actually use it at some point. She wouldn’t. You knew.

But what caught you first was the way Daniela was already looking up. Not startled. Not distracted. Just quietly watching the door, like she had known you were coming before you even stepped into the room. 

And suddenly, Megan’s hug came back to you. Not her arms, exactly, just the feeling. That flutter, too bright and too real, still tucked behind your ribs. It lingered in the space between you and Daniela. Not a comparison. Just a presence. Like your heart was trying to calibrate something without the right tools.

Daniela shifted, her thumb dragging absentmindedly over the spine of her notebook. You noticed it in passing, but it struck you wrong. Not bored. Not restless. Like she was trying to ground herself. Her eyes didn’t lift until you looked away, but you felt it anyway, the weight of her gaze, like she was trying to memorize you without permission.

“How was breakfast?” Daniela finally asked, her voice smooth. Light. But there was something in her eyes. Something that didn’t quite match her tone.

Before you could answer, Manon sat up like she’d been launched, tossing her phone aside with a gasp so dramatic it practically echoed.

"Breakfast? Without us?"

Daniela clicked her pen closed, eyes still on you. "Well. Apparently it was just Megan and Y/N’s exclusive little date."

Your stomach flipped. The word date hung heavier than it should’ve. Her tone was casual, even amused, but it landed like a stone skipping too close to the truth.

"One, it wasn’t a date. Two, you were invited," you said, stepping into the room and dropping your bag beside the dresser. "I just figured you’d want to sleep in after we stayed out so late."

"Another thing I wasn’t invited to?" Manon gasped, clutching her chest. “Fake ass friends. I can’t believe this.”

Daniela didn’t even blink. She just reached over and jabbed Manon in the shin with her foot. Quick, precise, and unmistakably deliberate.

Manon let out a shriek. "Did you just—Dani, did you just touch me with your hobbit toes?"

“Don’t complain,” Daniela muttered, not even looking at her. Her eyes were on you again, steady and unreadable. “You’re never here anyway.”

"Excuse you," Manon huffed, dramatically scrambling to her knees. "I am the emotional glue of this room. The people’s princess."

Daniela glanced at her, unimpressed. “You’re the noise pollution, maybe.”

“Y/N!” Manon whirled toward you, wild-eyed and genuinely scandalized. “Your girlfriend is being mean to me!”

You didn’t correct her. Not because it was true, but because it didn’t feel like something that needed correcting.

Daniela gave the blanket a slow, menacing sweep with her foot, brushing perilously close to Manon’s thigh.

“Y/N, do something before I end up with pinkeye!” Manon begged, scooting backward with the dramatics of well… Manon.

You crossed the room, laughter bubbling under your breath. “Alright. Truce. Let’s all take a breath and keep our toes to ourselves.”

“She started it,” Daniela said as you reached the edge of the mattress, voice low and unbothered. But the smile tugging at her lips made it clear she didn’t regret a single thing.

“I’m telling HYBE. No—I’m telling Sophia,” Manon declared, grabbing a pillow like it was her emotional support animal. “This is elder abuse. Also, Daniela took the last mochi and tried to blame it on me.”

That, apparently, was the real crime.

“I did not!” Daniela shot back, sitting upright now, indignant.

"You totally did."

"Liar. I’ll remove you from this bed."

"You’re in my bed."

“Then I’ll remove you from your own bed.”

You sighed. They were arguing over your mochi again. But your smile came anyway, easy and automatic. And before you could overthink it, you moved. Hooked your arms beneath Daniela’s and lifted her clean off the mattress.

She gasped in protest but didn’t fight it. Not even when Manon stuck her tongue out in triumph. She just folded into you like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like she had been waiting for it.  

“Traitor,” Daniela murmured, eyes locking with yours. Said like a joke. But feeling like it was more.

You set her down gently on the dresser, ignoring how cold the room suddenly felt without her close. She adjusted her hoodie with theatrical care, brushing off invisible lint like she hadn’t just been forcibly carried across the room. Then she looked at you again, and the space between you didn’t feel like space at all.

There wasn’t any fluttering. No sharp breath or nervous spark. Just something else. Heavier. Steadier. A softening. And you weren’t sure that was any better.

Brown eyes held your gaze. Like they were waiting for you to say something. Then like maybe they didn’t need you to at all. 

Then Daniela’s brow twitched, sharp and abrupt, like a flicker of awareness cutting through the quiet. She leaned forward, right past you, plucked something off the desk, and before you could move, spritzed you square in the chest.

The perfume hit instantly. Familiar. Floral. Snapping you out of your thoughts. A little sharp, then warm. Like memory in aerosol form.

You coughed, catching some of it in the back of your throat. “What was that for?”

Daniela leaned back, twirling the bottle between her fingers like she hadn’t just made a silent declaration. “Just fixing something.”

You opened your mouth. Then closed it again.

She gave you one last, self-satisfied smile — subtle, unreadable, and entirely too smug — before sliding off the dresser and wandering off like it hadn’t meant anything.

From the bed, Manon mumbled into her blanket, “God, you guys are so weird,” before vanishing under the covers like she couldn’t bear to witness another second.

You didn’t respond. Just stood there, the perfume clinging to your clothes, to your skin, and breathed in. Long. Deep. Letting the scent of Daniela fill your lungs. Letting it hush the noise in your head, the ache Megan had left behind, the tension threading through your chest. 

Your heart was getting a little too full. And your thoughts, a little too crowded.

But for now, you let yourself have the quiet. Just this. Just for a second.

—

By the time the group interview came, you’d mostly stopped smelling like Daniela’s perfume. Mostly.

The chairs were arranged in a semicircle, the kind designed for aesthetic rather than comfort. Too narrow, too upright. You ended up wedged between Megan and Manon, with Daniela two seats down. Close enough to see her if you turned your head. Not close enough to touch.

The interview started harmlessly enough. PR fluff. Training anecdotes. Someone asked about the outfits for the new comeback, and Lara launched into a play-by-play like it was her personal dissertation.  You smiled for the cameras. Laughed where expected. Let the rhythm carry you.

Then the interviewer glanced at the cue cards and brightened. “This one’s been trending lately,” she said, her eyes flicking between you and Megan. “Two halves of fan-favorite MegY/N — you’ve been seen together a lot recently. Fans are wondering if there’s something going on there.”

You exchanged a look with Megan, a smile playing at your lips. It was an expected question, practically scripted by your team. Megan leaned in just slightly, a quiet, “You want this one?” under her breath. You gave a small shake of your head, the tiniest nod after. Letting her take it.

Megan didn’t miss a beat. She turned to the host, voice smooth, practiced. “Yeah, we’ve been spending more time together lately. A lot of overlapping schedules. Press, rehearsals, the usual.”

Her tone was light, like she was stating something obvious, nothing worth reading into. But you could feel the edge beneath it. The careful choice of we’ve been instead of I’ve been. Just close enough to suggest something, without confirming anything at all.

“She’s fun,” Megan added, glancing at you then. “Terrible at arcade games. Even worse at directions. Makes it interesting.”

The host laughed. “Sounds like a good match.”

Megan just smiled, lips twitching like she could have said more, but didn’t. Her hand brushed lightly against your arm, the smallest shift. Like a tether. Like a question.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Daniela shift in her seat. Not much. Just enough to let her arm rest across the back of Lara’s chair, her posture suddenly, pointedly, relaxed. But her jaw was tight and her nails bit faint crescents into the side of her palm, tucked away where only you might’ve noticed.

The host’s gaze floated toward her. “And Daniela? You and Y/N trained together, right? Since the early days of Dream Academy?”

Daniela nodded once. “Yeah, we’ve known each other a long time.”

Her voice was calm. Even as always. No accusation. No claim. But her knuckles were white around the edge of the seat. You caught it, the way she seemed to be holding herself back. And when her gaze touched yours, it burned. Like she wanted to say something else and couldn’t. Like she was afraid of what might happen if she didn’t, too. 

Then, quieter, like she was saying it just to the air,  “She's... more important to me than I probably let her know.”

A pause. Barely a ripple on the surface. A soft “aww” from Sophia, sweet and oblivious. Like a bandage over a wound.

The host nodded cheerfully, moving to fill the space. “Sounds like you’ve all gotten really close as a group.”

Daniela smiled. “We’re like family.”

The words weren’t sharp. They weren’t even loaded. But they skipped just above something deeper, stirring it without breaking the surface.

Beside you, Megan gave a soft laugh. “Yeah. One big family.”

No one said anything else.

The conversation moved forward. Someone brought up snack preferences, and Manon launched into a passionate monologue about rice crackers. Everyone relaxed. The moment passed.

But your pulse didn’t.

You kept your eyes forward. Kept your hands still. Kept thinking about how Megan had let you answer the question first and how Daniela hadn’t answered at all until she had to.

And how even then, she hadn’t looked at Megan once. Only you.

—

The moment the cameras stopped rolling, the room shifted. Makeup artists swept in with cotton swabs and setting spray, staff called out wrap times, and the chairs were promptly abandoned like the PR torture devices they were. You stood slowly, stretching your back with a wince and the vague hope that your spine might forgive you by morning.

“That went well,” Sophia said, too cheerfully for how long you’d been smiling at lights. “No one said anything that’ll get us pulled into PR tomorrow.”

“Bold of you to assume,” Manon muttered, already peeling off her mic like it had personally betrayed her.

You were halfway toward the exit when Megan appeared beside you, keys swinging from one finger.

“Hey,” she said, nudging your arm. “Want a ride back? I parked across the lot.”

You opened your mouth, not quite sure what your answer would be—but it didn’t matter. Daniela’s voice cut in from the other side.

“I was going to drive her,” she said, calm and immediate. “I told her that this morning.”

You did not recall being told that.

Megan glanced over, tilting her head just slightly. “Don’t you have another press thing after this?”

“It’s five minutes away. I can take her first,” Daniela replied, not missing a beat.

Megan’s smile edged toward pleasant. “Right, but that’s out of your way. It makes more sense for me to take her straight back.”

Daniela’s eyes didn’t move. “Y/N doesn’t mind, do you?”

You blinked, caught in a crossfire you hadn’t realized you’d walked into. “Um… not really. I mean, it’s not like I have anything else to do.”

Daniela’s jaw twitched, just once. “It’s not always about what’s easiest.”

“Well,” Megan said, brushing hair out of her eyes, “it just feels unnecessarily complicated. That’s all.”

“I can catch a ride too, right?” Yoonchae chimed in from behind, tone too casual to be believable. “I left my headphones in the dorm and the van’s taking forever.”

Megan raised an eyebrow. “With me?”

Yoonchae gave her best innocent blink. “Unless… Daniela?”

Daniela looked at her. Then at Megan. Then at you.

You were very suddenly and deeply fascinated by the carpet.

“I’ll just go with Sophia,” Yoonchae announced, already turning away. “She’s nice when she’s not stressed.”

Daniela’s expression cracked just a little. “Wait—no. Sophia can’t even drive. Yoonchae, come back.”

But Yoonchae was already gone, fleeing like she’d just defused a bomb.

Lara passed by, sipping from a water bottle and watching the scene unfold like it was live theater. “It’s like watching divorced parents fight over weekend custody,” she muttered, loud enough for all three of you to hear.

“No one’s fighting,” Megan said as she pocketed her keys, already heading toward the lot.

“I’m not fighting,” Daniela said flatly.

You coughed into your sleeve. “Don’t you need a ride too?” you asked Lara.

Her expression shifted mid-sip. “Oh right. Yeah… can I come?”

And just like that, Megan’s victory was complete.

You ended up in her passenger seat, Lara in the back, the faint buzz of leftover tension still clinging to the air as Megan slid into traffic. She didn’t say anything at first, but her smile said plenty.

You stared out the window, a little too warm in your seat, and mumbled, “It’s not always about what’s easiest.”

Megan shrugged, flicking on the turn signal. “No. Sometimes it’s about winning.”

You didn’t respond. Mostly because you weren’t sure whether she meant the ride, or you.

—

Daniela’s live with Manon was not supposed to be a problem.

You were out running errands with your manager. Manon had decided to hop on Weverse for some light fanservice — a bit of fun, a few hearts, maybe a round of "which member would survive a zombie apocalypse" (Manon voted herself, obviously). Standard stuff.

What no one anticipated was Daniela showing up in your hoodie. 

“Hey, Dani,” Manon said, squinting at the camera. “Isn’t that Y/N’s sweatshirt?”

Daniela glanced down like she was just now noticing. “Oh. Yeah,” she said, casual. Shrugging. “It’s comfy.”  Like she hadn’t been wearing it for three days straight.

Manon hesitated, visibly processing. Her eyes flicked to the screen, scanning the comments, and you could see it hit, like she’d already done the math and didn’t love the answer. “Where’s Y/N?” she read aloud from the chat, clearly hoping to pivot the conversation before it took a turn.

“Busy,” she added quickly, flashing a PR-polished smile that looked dangerously close to panic. “We miss her very much though.”

Daniela leaned into the camera, all soft lashes and tragic exaggeration. “So much. My heart is empty.”

The comments immediately lit up:

“Y/N is probably with Megan rn.” “MegY/N supremacy.” “They were spotted out yesterday!” “Megan and Y/N are so cute!! Favorite ship.”

Daniela scrolled, then stopped.

A pause.

She read one back, slowly, sweetly, like she was letting it dissolve on her tongue:

“‘Megan and Y/N are so cute!! Favorite ship.’”

Then came the smile. Too even. Too sharp around the edges. And her laugh. The kind you don’t trust.

“Yeah,” she said, eyes flicking toward the screen. “So cute.”

And that was all it took. The chat flipped.

“Why is she smiling at us like that?” “Lowkey terrifying.” “Girl, blink twice if you’re okay.” “I think she lost connection.” “Daniela???”

Beside her, Manon shifted. Eyes darting. A nervous laugh teetered on her lips as she tried to reroute the moment before it spiraled any further, sensing danger, “Okay! Well, let’s—uh—maybe talk about music! We have our new album coming soon, and we would love to to—”

But Daniela just tilted her head. Still calm. Still effortless. Still not done. Pushed Manon out of frame. “You know,” she began, like she was commenting on the weather, “it’s funny that the whole Megan and Y/N bed thing went viral. Because Y/N and I actually do share a bed. All the time. And no one ever seems to think that’s weird.”

There was a beat of silence. The kind that felt like everyone watching just leaned in at the same time.

Manon blinked. Once. Twice, “Dani. People are going to think—"

“What? It’d be true.” Daniela smiled wider, radiant and dangerous in that particular way that meant she knew exactly what she was doing, then, “Y/N and I have been sharing beds since Dream Academy.”

And the internet lost its collective mind.

“YEAH BUT YOU’RE STRAIGHT.” “YOU CAN’T JUST SAY THAT.” “I AM SCREAMING WITHOUT THE S.” “WHY IS NO ONE TALKING ABOUT THE HOODIE.” “THIS IS INSANE BEHAVIOR.” “DANI WTF.” “I CAN’T BREATHE.” “Y/N WHERE ARE YOU.”

—

Megan had gone to bed early that night.

Not because she was tired. She just didn’t feel like being online.

You had left her room not long before, fresh from your shopping trip. She had been your first stop, and you’d held up your gift for her like it was a prize. Some weird little collectible toy. A Labubu or something. You’d said it had reminded you of her.

Lara had called it ugly. Megan was happy to call it hers.

After that, sleep came easy. Your laugh was still echoing in her head, your perfume still clinging to her blanket. She pulled the covers over her face, flipped her phone screen down, and fell asleep with a smile tugging at her mouth.

Quiet. Peaceful. Perfect.

Then she woke up to 162 unread notifications and a trending topic she really didn’t want to see.

#DanY/N.

Eyes still heavy, she opened her socials and tried to pretend the spike of dread in her chest was nothing.

But there it had been.

Daniela, on live. In your hoodie. Doe-eyed, innocent, and glowing. Like she hadn’t just set the internet on fire.

"…Because Y/N and I actually do share a bed."

"What? It’d be true.”

Silence.

Manon’s horrified face. The fandom’s collective meltdown.

Megan blinked at the screen, “What the hell,” she muttered.

She didn’t mean to scroll, but her thumb moved anyway.

"daniela is NOT slick i see you girl" "the way she’s wearing her hoodie oh she’s COOKED" "megy/n was cute but dany/n got the angst" "bedsharing >>> claw machine. sorry" "umm was she just talking about bedsharing or..." "daniela woke up and chose violence <3"

Comments. Memes. New edits. The fandom split down the middle like it was a custody battle.

Megan let out a slow, controlled exhale. Because the subtext was right there. In three little words. “It’d be true.” Just vague enough that the fans might not have noticed, but Megan did. And Y/N would surely too.

Daniela didn’t usually go public like this. Not with feelings, and definitely not with you. But lately, she’d been different. Megan had seen it. A little sharper around the edges. A little less polished. Like she’d finally stopped trying to be everyone's favorite and started trying to win something instead.

And that something was looking more and more like you.

So of course Daniela smiled like it meant nothing. And of course that meant everything.

Megan told herself she could be mature. She could rise above this. She had grown. Learned not to chase things that weren’t hers.

But then she opened her burner account.

@megYNsupremacy: ok but Megan would never go on live and air out personal info like that. just saying. #TeamMegY/N

She stared at it. Felt a little silly. Then hit post anyway.

Mature, she could be. Petty, she also was.

If Daniela was going to fire the first shot while wrapped in your hoodie like it was her birthright, Megan wasn’t about to take this lying down. She was settling in. And she wasn’t backing off.

—

You hadn’t even made it through your morning skincare routine before you started getting tagged.

At first, it was nothing. A couple of pings. A handful of comments under old posts. You figured maybe a new behind-the-scenes photo had dropped early. Maybe a clip from rehearsal leaked.

Then your phone buzzed three times in a row. Manon texted “I’m sorry in advance.” Lara sent a link with nothing but a skull emoji. And Sophia had left you a voicemail that just said your full government name. 

One of those was already scary, three in succession? Downright terrifying. It unsettled you just enough to check. You paused, brush still in your hand, something cold blooming low in your stomach as you blinked blearily at your screen.

#DanY/N. Live footage. Bedsharing.

Oh no. Oh no no no.

You frowned. Then frowned harder. And within seconds, you were on Twitter, your thumb moving on instinct. You tapped through to the livestream replay, the kind of account you never trusted but always checked anyway.

And there she was.

Daniela.

Hair soft from sleep, lashes dark against her cheekbones. Half-curled against Manon on a bed. Lit only by the crappy camera quality and even crappier dorm lights. A slow, lazy smile tugging at her lips.

She looked like someone caught mid-dream. Safe. Light. Untouchable. Wrapped in your hoodie. And though it was slouchy on her frame, faded and familiar, it still looked better on her than it ever had on you.

You didn’t even have time to process that before she spoke.

“Because Y/N and I actually do share a bed.”

You froze. Then blinked. Then let out a short, breathless laugh. “Wait. What?”

You rewound. Played it again.

“Because Y/N and I actually do share a bed.”

"Dani. People are going to think—"

“What? It’d be true.”

You stared at her. Then looked closer. Because it kind of sounded like Daniela was suggesting...

Your brain scrambled to file it under something safe. Easy. A bit. A joke. Maybe Manon had saying something offscreen and Daniela just running with it.

There was no way Daniela meant what it sounded like she meant.

“What? It’d be true.”

But Daniela didn’t just say things like that. She didn't make innuendo's like that. Not without PR clearance. Not without layers of giggles and winks to blur the meaning.

So, you looked for the tells. A smirk. A shrug. The soft nudge of humor you were used to. But it wasn’t there. Not really. Instead, Daniela’s smile stayed, but morphed... into something almost strange. Off. Too still. Not playful. Not bright.

You paused the video. Watched it again. Slower this time.

And you noticed new things. Small things. Easy to miss things if you weren’t looking, but not the kind that proved what you were hoping for. Instead, you caught the way her fingers curled tight in the sleeves of the hoodie. The way her voice didn’t quite lift at the end of the sentence, like it wasn’t a joke. The way she didn’t glance at Manon or the chat or anything else as she spoke.

Just forward. Just through the lens. At you.

And suddenly something in your chest shifted. Slowly. Heavily. Like the first tilt of a room before the floor drops out.

It was absurd. Almost surreal. The kind of reckless stunt Lara would do, the kind she would pull you in on too, just so the two of you could both get lectured by Sophia the next day. It wasn't like Daniela to ever act like this. 

No. No, that wasn’t—

You rewound again. And again. And again. Like you could someone make the truth of the situation. 

Her hands. Her shoulders. Her mouth.

Her eyes.

That was what stopped you.

Because for all her smiles, all her laughter, Daniela’s eyes weren’t amused. They were steady, quiet, unblinking, but not amused.

You recognized the look in them. Had seen them before, but never like this.

Only in quiet hours, when the dorm was still. When Daniela sat beside you on dusty floors and leaned her head against your shoulder and forgot to keep her guard up. When she laughed too softly and looked too long and said nothing at all.

Only ever when it was late. When she was tired enough to be honest. 

You had never let yourself believe it meant anything. Choosing instead to keep it close. Keep it like a secret. And yet here she was, not tired, not unguarded, not alone with you in the dark. 

Here she was saying it on livestream. Confessing without confessing, and knocking the breath clean out of your lungs. 

It’d be true.

You thought of the interview. How her fingers dug into her lap. How she looked at you and not Megan. How her voice sounded just a little too even.

You thought of the perfume. The hoodie. The way she spritzed you like she was leaving her mark.

You thought of the way she lingered in doorways after you walked out, like maybe she was still waiting for something you never gave her.

And now this. Now this truth too large for three words, and somehow still crammed inside them. 

"People are going to think—"

"It'd be true.”

You tried to rationalize it. 

She’s straight. That should be the end of it.

But it wasn’t. Because you saw it now. All of it.

The weight she’d been carrying. The want she’d never named. The way she’d lived next to you instead of reaching for you. 

You didn’t feel dizzy. You felt sick. Like your insides had twisted into something you couldn’t undo. Like your body had registered the ache before your mind had caught up.

Because Daniela hadn’t said I love you. She had said It’d be true. And somehow, that was worse. Because it meant she always had. And you just hadn’t seen it. Or maybe you had, and you were too scared to look back again. 

Your phone buzzed again.

A new edit. A new meme. A message from Megan. 

And your heart clenched tighter.

Because of course there was a message from Megan. Of course it had to be her name glowing softly on your screen, arriving at the exact moment when everything inside you was starting to split open. But this mess hadn’t started here. Not with Daniela’s voice on a livestream, not even with the hoodie. It had started long before that.

Because Megan never made you guess. Never left you wondering where you stood. She wasn’t soft like Daniela, not in the same way. She was loud and sharp and impossible to predict, but never with her feelings. With her, everything was clear. Unapologetic. Real.

Her smile always hit a little too fast, a little too hard. Her laughter was a full-body sound, reckless and addictive. And every time she looked at you, it felt like the world stopped spinning just long enough for you to catch your breath.

Being around her was like holding a live wire. Not dangerous, exactly. Just impossible to ignore. She made the moment bigger than it was supposed to be. Brighter. Messier. Worth it.

And somewhere along the way, the butterflies came.

Not soft ones. Not gentle flutters. The kind that hit low in your stomach and climbed up your ribs. The kind that made your hands ache to reach for her before your mind could catch up. The kind that made you say her name even when you weren’t thinking about her. The kind you wanted to chase because they meant something was happening.

And now... you didn’t know what to do with that. Not when Daniela’s voice was still echoing in your ears. Not when the words it’d be true felt like they’d been waiting for years to break you open.

Because it wasn’t just about who made sense anymore. Or who knew you best. It was about who could still change everything.

You didn’t know what Daniela’s words meant, not really. If they were hope or regret or both. And you didn’t know what Megan’s message was either. Only that seeing her name lit something inside you that you didn’t know how to hold.

You sat on the edge of your bed, phone still buzzing in your hand. Your breath came uneven, too shallow. You stared at the floor for a moment, willing it to stop spinning. You could still hear both of their voices — one soft, one steady. Both trying to reach you in different ways.

You were already unraveling. But for who?

You stared down at your phone, pulse hammering in your ears. The room felt too quiet. The air too thin. And for the first time, you realized: no matter what happened next, something would break.

But the universe suddenly had nothing to offer.

No neon signs. No sweeping score. Just a quiet choice, waiting to be made.

Real or Imperfect. But nevertheless, yours.

—

i'm sorry for taking so long guys, i hope it was worth the wait?

[jellyzaces]

「 Call Me Sirene 」

l. sophia x f reader ! ✎𓂃 You and Sophia are just from two completely different worlds. She's the rich, smart, and it girl on campus, while you're the kid no one really knows. Usually busy with work, you weren't aware that the two of you had been paired up on a project. When working on the project begins, feelings begin to go all over the place, and now you're mainly worried about Sophia getting involved in your world, especially when you start to fall for her.

word count ! 25.4 k

tags ! a tad bit of Manon x reader, tons of violence, blood, gore, drugs, underage drinking, alcohol, men being pigs, smut

author's note ! GUYS THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING SMUT AND POSTING IT, SO PLS BE NICE. I also locked in for ya'll on this one, so enjoy! This is also kind of inspired by Weak Hero on Netflix since that's what I watched on my small writing break last week, so... yea :3.

On screen, living in Los Angeles seemed like a paradise available in the States. The portrayal had always been a place where anyone could make it big. 

However, that is only if you have luck with it. 

Because to the average person, that was all just a fantasy — unfortunately, you seemed to be one of those ‘average’ people. Well, maybe even less than average.

In your own dictionary, an average person meant a decent house, proper food every night, and a loving family. Yet life always seemed to be against you, like a magical force of the universe kept kicking you while you were down, pummeling you.

You’d felt that for as long as you could remember. Those days in your adolescence almost felt like a dream now — something you still held onto, even if it lived somewhere in the back of your mind.

These thoughts always spiraled first thing in the morning. You stared at yourself in the bathroom mirror, the ringing in your ears dulling the rest of the loud noise echoing through the house.

Hair tied into a messy ponytail, you washed your face after spitting out the minty toothpaste. A deep breath in — eyes shut — then you rushed out of the bathroom, heading back to your bedroom, doing your best to avoid both your parents.

Well. Supposed to be parents.

They were only fosters, after all — and terrible ones. Your ‘father’ was a drunk who constantly laid his hands on you and your ‘sibling.’ Meanwhile, your ‘mother’ was okay, but she had Borderline Personality Disorder, which made the sudden shifts in her behavior hard to endure.

You weren’t a bad kid, either — even helped pay for your mom’s medication when you could. You had accolades to your name, a scholarship at the academy where you studied. Frankly, they had nothing to worry about. But none of that seemed to matter.

Frantically looking around, eyes scanning for your black zip-up hoodie. After rummaging through the stack of laundry on top of a computer chair, you slipped the hoodie on and ran out of the house.

Walking to school wasn’t ever eventful — hoodie covering your head with wired earphones in and your head down. It was your way of staying unbothered, making sure no one noticed you.

You had hoped — just hoped — for a normal day at school, at least. But then your phone buzzed, and you froze.

Pulling out the phone, you read the message you assumed was coming.

??? We need you right now

“Sophia?” the professor called, glancing up from their schedule as the Filipina raised her hand, a kind smile gracing her lips.

“Professor Hardin wants to talk to you about the assembly tomorrow, so see him after all your classes, please.”

Sophia nodded and continued organizing her notes and papers for Playwriting. As usual, the theater major kept her focus, taking her academics seriously. She heard rustling behind her, followed by a small gust of wind, and turned to see Lara settling into her chair, an iced matcha drink in hand.

“Did she call my name yet?” The younger whispered out of breath, and as Sophia shook her head, “Lara?” 

“Here!” She excitedly announced as she took off her purse and put it right behind her.

“You were late just because of a matcha latte?” Sophia asked, eyes flicking to her with a knowing look. Lara immediately looked offended.

“First off, I was almost late. Secondly, it’s an iced matcha latte. You know I can’t function without it on early mornings.”

Sophia let out a chuckle, going back to jotting down her notes.

“What class is that for now?” Lara looked over, a bit concerned that she didn’t recognize anything on Sophia’s paper.

“It’s Playwriting, so don’t worry.”

Lara sighs in relief and takes out her iPad, then sips on her drink as the Professor begins the lecture. “Heard Professor Ortiz is giving out pair projects, so fair warning during your last class,” now Sophia sighs at Lara’s whispered warning, hating anything other than solo projects since she did the majority of the work every time.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, but Sophia’s dread lingered — especially with the looming thought of finding out who her partner would be. By the time she sat down in the smaller lecture hall used for acting classes, her hands were clammy, clenched tightly in nervousness.

The Professor walked in and immediately put down his clipboard. 

“As you guys may have heard, you’ll be having a project that will be done in pairs. It’ll be due in a month, but it's for a thirty-minute mock play. How well your time is used, how much time is used, and the quality of the script will affect your grade.”

He moved in front of the desk and leaned against the table, listening as dramatic sighs filled the room. Sophia only shook her head, frustration bubbling beneath her calm demeanor. But the professor raised a hand to silence everyone.

“Now, now — I know some of you aren’t thrilled about the pairing, but I think you’ll enjoy this project. You’ll have creative freedom, with just a few limitations,” he continued, as papers were passed around outlining the project’s criteria.

“With all that being said, I’ll assign your partners now.”

Sophia sat straight, listening carefully while students around her reacted with either cheers or groans as their partners were announced.

She felt a glimmer of hope as the names of people she didn’t want to work with were called — maybe, just maybe, the universe would finally cut her a break?

“Sophia Laforteza and Y/n L/n.”

Her face reacted before her brain did — confusion and irritation flashing across her features.

Sophia was determined to at least talk to her professor about it. ‘Because who in the hell was that?’ She asked herself.

As if on cue, across town, you felt the burn in your knuckles as you stared down at an older man’s face. He looked shocked at your strength, clutching his aching jaw as he lay on the ground, propped up by one elbow.

“What the hell was that for!?” he shouted. You crouched down, wincing at the volume in his voice — your ears never did well with yelling.

“Shut up for a second,” you grunted as you gave him a forceful soccer kick to his abdomen. 

He let out a groan, curling over as you reached down and grabbed a fistful of his hair. You watched the fear settle into his eyes as he looked past you, desperate for help. His gaze landed on a woman leaning casually against the brick wall behind you, hands stuffed in her jacket pockets. The shades she wore hid the glint of amusement in her eyes.

“Can’t you help me?” He begged her.

Your grip tightened, yanking his head so he had no choice but to meet your gaze.

 “Didn’t we say you pay up when messaged?” You said calmly. He nodded quickly, looking like he was about to piss himself. 

“Then why has it been a week, and we still have nothing from you?”

He couldn’t respond, the panic taking over as you felt him shake. 

He couldn’t answer. His panic had taken over — you could feel the trembling in his body.  

“You know he gave you a chance to pay it back,” a husky voice chimed in beside you. You raised a brow at the woman stepping in — Manon, smirking like always. She hovered behind you and leaned in close, voice low. “But sadly, a week is our limit before we start terrorizing you.”

“Right?” Manon whispered in your ear, and your body nearly shuddered — but you stayed focused on the trembling man beneath you.

“This one’ll be visiting you every day until then,” she added, patting your shoulder. “But you wouldn’t want that, right?” He nodded frantically, eyes wide.

You were ready to throw in another punch, just to get it out of your system, but Manon pulled you back, steering you toward the car and practically shoving you into the driver’s seat of the ride you took care of like it was your own.

“Did you really have to push me in?” you muttered, exasperated. She slid into the passenger seat with that signature charming smile that always made it impossible to stay mad at her. “It was time to go before you started rocking his shit.”

“Isn’t that why you guys pretty much hired me for?”

She nodded, pulling a blunt from her bag and lighting it. After taking a long drag, she exhaled slowly out the window. “Yeah, but~” She turned to look at you, lowering her shades to the bridge of her nose. One hand reached over, her finger brushing lightly along your jaw.

“You know how you get when we meet clients like that. All hot and bothered.” Now, you rolled your eyes. Her ever-so-flirtatious actions never ceased, but it’s kind of why your friendship worked.

It was how you managed to find some kind of fun in your life.

She gave you a quick smooch on the cheek, then glanced down at her phone. “He said if you're finished, you can go.”

That was all you needed to hear before pulling off. You could feel Manon’s gaze lingering on you. “Make sure you at least remember to drop me off,” she teased, and you nod knowingly.

Falling into this lifestyle wasn’t something you planned. It just… happened. Not like you were proud of the job — but it paid way better than anything else you could get. It helped with saving money up for at least a small apartment, and your mom’s medication.

So what exactly was the job?

It’s a bunch of things, honestly, but your boss likes calling it being an ‘enforcer.’ Your boss was a businessman who sold many things, and it was your job to make sure those people paid up.

Thankfully, it never went beyond beating someone within an inch of their life — but the job did make you feel like someone else entirely. A double life, almost.

And even if you weren’t proud of it, you were guilty of enjoying it. That confession may sound crazy to the normal person, but with the environment you lived in, this was a way to release some steam.

Your whole life had been spent trapped in that shitty home, trying to survive as a perfect student. So when you were offered this gig in your second year of college, you were hesitant. But after shadowing another enforcer doing their job, there was a spark you felt.

After that, you never looked back.

You brought the car to a stop, double-parking in front of a run-down warehouse. Manon let out a relaxed sigh beside you. “You can take the car to school,” she said. “He’ll probably ask you to come back later anyway.” Before getting out, she leaned in and gave you a quick kiss on the lips, which didn’t even phase you — that was just her usual antics.

Rushing back to campus, your tires screeched slightly as you pulled into the nearest parking space on campus. You barely put the car into park before grabbing your bag and booking it across the lot and into the building, the wind breezing at your face, with Manon’s expensive scent lingering on you.

Reaching for your phone in your back pocket and glancing at the screen, you exhaled in relief — you’d make it to your last two classes at least. Your stomach growled, and you clutched it in embarrassment, but luckily, no one was around. The empty ache gnawing at you, so you made a beeline for the common area, weaving through multiple students and half-hearted conversations.

Inside, the faint smell of espresso and citrus snacks filled the air. You slid a few crumpled bills into the snack machine from your front pocket, buying a cold coffee and a small bag of chips. The annoyingly loud clink of coins echoed into the machine.

Meanwhile, across the lounge space, Sophia sat at the round couch near the window, her expression visibly irritated as she waved her hand in emphasis.

“I don’t understand why he grouped me with someone who barely even shows up to class,” she complained, arms folded across her chest. Her brows furrowed as she recounted the short conversation with her professor.

She had gone straight to him after class, hoping to reason her way out of the random pairing. But instead of hearing her out, he dismissed her concerns without so much as a second thought.

“You know we don’t prioritize attendance much,” he had said, “but Y/n does well in every single one of her classes.”

That answer didn’t sit right with her. Sure, professors didn’t assign much digitally — it was a performance-heavy major. Most of the work had to be done in person. Still, if you were barely there, how could your grades be that solid?

It didn’t matter, since she couldn’t trust his word for it, because she just couldn’t believe it at all. “This is so… UGH!” she groaned, throwing her head back in frustration.

Yoonchae, Lara, and Megan exchanged small giggles at her dramatics, clearly fond of the rare spirals Sophia has. “It shouldn’t be that bad,” Yoonchae offered with a soft shrug, the youngest of the four trying to ease the mood. 

She looked to the others for support. “She’s right,” Lara chimed in, crossing one leg over the other. “You’re Miss Sophia Laforteza — you’ll make it work.”

“Exactly,” Megan added, leaning back with a stretch, her elbows resting on the armrests of her seat. “Besides, Y/n can’t be that bad if she’s on a scholarship here, right?”

Sophia raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, but does anyone actually know anything about her?”

That question was met with synchronized shakes of the head. Sophia let out another groan, letting her head thunk softly against the back of the couch.

“Wait!” Megan suddenly perked up, her eyes darting across the room. “I think Daniella is friends with her. I’m pretty sure they hang out sometimes between classes.”

The group followed her gaze as she craned her neck, scanning the far end of the common room. Then her finger lifted and pointed subtly. “Bingo.”

Sophia followed the line of Megan’s finger and spotted a table tucked into the corner by the windows. You sat there, slouched slightly in your seat beside the Latina and, oddly enough, you looked like you hadn’t slept in days.

“Oh… she’s hot,” Lara blurted without shame. No one even flinched at the comment; Lara’s bluntness was the norm by now. But Sophia blinked, stunned by how not what she expected you were.

You had this quiet intensity about you — tired eyes that looked like they didn’t tolerate bullshit, with knuckles looking a bit pink in color. The hood of your zip-up hung loosely over your head, stray pieces of black hair framing your face. 

Your hoodie was unzipped low, revealing a plain white tank underneath, snug against your frame, and a tattoo of lilies peeked out across your right collarbone that reached toward your shoulder blades.

Your lips were plush, parted slightly in amusement at whatever your friend said beside you, and there was the faintest curl of a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. You looked like someone who didn’t ask for attention. Which is technically a success if Sophia didn’t know who you were until this project.

“Should you go intro—” Lara began, but Sophia was already ten steps ahead, her heels confidently clicking across the marble floor as she strutted toward your table. “Oh no,” Yoonchae muttered, watching the possible trainwreck about to unfold with a sense of secondhand embarrassment coming over her.

You took another slow sip of your strong, cold coffee, the flavor biting against your tongue as the sound of approaching heels pulled your attention away from whatever Daniella had just said. You looked up, brows pulling slightly together at the sight of the one and only Sophia standing in front of you.

Daniella blinked beside you, just as confused, her head tilting slightly as she asked, “Uhm… hello?” more out of instinct than anything welcoming.

In the back of Sophia’s mind, she had come in ready to make demands, set the tone, maybe even give you a strong few words. But standing in front of you, with your unreadable expression and calm aura, she instinctively knew that wouldn’t go over well. Something about your posture warned her not to try it.

Her expression shifted quickly, the stoic look changing into a practiced, polite smile.

“I don’t mean to interrupt, but are you Y/n?”

You didn’t answer immediately — just stared at her for a moment. You could feel Daniella’s curious gaze flicking between you two, waiting to see where this was going. You finally gave a short nod.

Sophia cleared her throat. “We’re partners for Professor Roland’s project in Playwriting. I’m So—”

“I know who you are,” you said plainly, cutting her off with no hesitation. Your voice wasn’t rude — just firm enough for Sophia to believe her intuition was correct about being smart with you. “I’ll talk to him about the project first thing in class tomorrow. Just give me your number, and I’ll reach out.”

You pulled a pen and a tiny pad of yellow Post-it notes from your bag and slid them across the table with the casualness of someone used to giving orders. Sophia hesitated, lips parting slightly in surprise, almost scoffing, but bit it back. Instead, she scribbled down her number, leaning forward and murmuring, “If you’re even coming into class tomorrow.”

You weren’t phased at the comment, just staring right back at her. “I’ll act like I didn’t hear that.”

Sophia’s brows lifted slightly, more in relief than defiance, as she clasped her hands together, putting on her smile again. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

You watched her walk away quickly, her posture a little stiffer than what you’d assume. Across the lounge, her friends immediately perked up like a pack of gossiping birds, leaning in as Sophia dropped back into her seat with an audible sigh.

“That didn’t look too bad,” Megan commented, eyeing her curiously. “How’d it go?” Yoonchae asked, genuinely curious.

“She’s a bitch,” Sophia muttered under her breath as she slumped into her chair, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I can change her,” Lara said dreamily, already gazing across the room like she was mapping out an entire future with you.

“Okay, so it did go bad,” Yoonchae concluded, but Sophia shook her head. “It’s not even that… she’s just bossy!” Her voice pitched up, nearly too loud, and the group hushed her immediately.

“Ohhh, what I’m hearing is… you’ve met your match,” Lara teased, already grinning. “Love a good top,” she added with a smirk, half-joking — but only half. Megan let out a stifled giggle, covering her mouth.

“Not the time,” Sophia muttered, shooting them a glare while Megan and Lara both raised their hands in mock surrender. “Copy that,” Megan mumbled through her smile. “So what now?” Yoonchae asked again, chin resting on her hand.

“She said to give her my number and she’ll talk to Roland tomorrow.”

“That’s if she even comes in tomorrow.”

“That’s what I said!” Sophia huffed, pointing at Yoonchae like they were in sync. She slumped back again with a sigh. “I guess I’ll see how it goes.”

“Don’t forget any details, babe,” Lara said, casually chomping into her sandwich, eyes still flickering toward your table.

“That was odd,” Daniella muttered beside you, her fork hovering in mid-air. You just shrugged, eyes still lingering in the direction Sophia had disappeared. “I’m guessing Miss Perfect isn’t too thrilled about being partnered with me.”

That made Daniella chuckle, nudging you lightly with her elbow as she poked toward Sophia’s group with her fork. “It did seem like she was holding back.”

“Then she made a good decision.”

Daniella tilted her head, one brow raised, giving you that don’t be a menace look. “Be a little nice, please.” You stared at her like she’d just spoken a foreign language. “Am I not nice?” She didn’t even hesitate, “You can be a bit bossy sometimes.” She took another bite of her chicken, chewing with zero shame. “And honestly, you don’t want to make her your enemy. All your brains won’t mean shit if she decides to make your life hell.”

A slow smirk tugged at your lips. “I can handle her.” Daniella hummed, not convinced. “Sure~ you can.” Even if you weren’t at school every day, you knew plenty about Sophia Laforteza. The Filipina was rich, driven, smart, popular — basically a walking main character, and people liked her… or at least pretended to. 

“Oh, are you coming over for dinner tonight? My mom’s cooking.”

“What’s tía making?” you asked, instantly more invested in the conversation. “Vaca Frita.”

You let out a soft, involuntary sound — almost a moan — just from hearing it. But then your shoulders slumped, the responsible part of your brain taking over. “I’ve got work later. Can’t tonight.”

Daniella knew well enough not to push. “Your loss then, girl.” She checked her phone and jolted slightly. “Crap, I gotta head out — class starts in five. I’ll text you tonight?”

You nodded, watching her grab her bag and head out. You opened your chips, the crinkling bag filling the air as you leaned back, letting the salt hit your tongue.

The rest of your day passed without issue. You sat through your classes, sped through the majority of your notes, and eventually made your way to the parking lot just as the sunset tinted the sky.

As you walked out, Sophia and her friends were standing at the campus entrance, waiting for her chauffeur. She glanced around absently until her eyes landed on you. You’d pulled something from your backpack, likely your keys, right before a sharp beep echoed across the lot. Her head turned automatically toward the sound.

And then she saw you slide smoothly into the driver’s seat of a Lexus, shutting the door. “She owns a Lexus?” Sophia asked, barely hiding her surprise. Lara leaned forward, eyes tracking you as if she were witnessing a twist ending. “Well… she’s now officially even hotter in my eyes.”

“I definitely agree,” Megan chimed in, while Yoonchae snorted softly, shaking her head at the chaos that was her friends.

Without a care in the world, you made it to the warehouse—the usual weathered, run-down building squatting between two abandoned lots. You pulled into the large garage, parking among a handful of high-end cars that didn’t fit the look of the building.

You took off your hoodie, the heat causing you to sweat, with tattoos peeking through your white tank, and the scars along your arms could be faintly seen from the multiple fights you’ve been in all the years of working your job. As you entered the building, you saw thick with smoke, smelled cheap liquor, the scent of weed, and whatever stale cologne some of your other coworkers practically drowned their bodies in.

People were scattered across the room: gambling, arguing over cards, drinking, flirting, and lounging around like a normal day.

You spotted Manon near the office door, legs crossed, poised as she sat in her favorite chair. Of course, she’d be waiting for you. It was pretty much her usual thing to do when you guys worked together for the day.

“Did he say anything to you?” you asked, stepping closer. Manon’s eyes swept over you — a slow, deliberate drag — taking in the tank top, the ink, the tough skin. “He said he just wants a report on that guy.”

“Donovan,” you corrected.

“Yeah… Donovan,” she echoed, distracted as she walked up to you. Her eyes flicked to your lips as she hooked her arms lazily around your neck, pulling herself closer with a practiced ease. You leaned your head back with a sigh, already over her antics. “Not now, Manon,” you muttered, slipping out of her hold with ease. 

As your hand reached for the office door, her voice trailed behind you, sounding innocent and sweet. “Then later?” You glanced back, lips curving just slightly. “Maybe.” She evidently lit up at your words, and you pushed through the door before she could say anything else.

Inside, the boss sat at his desk, flipping through a mess of paperwork with the focus of someone who’d seen too much. You stopped in the center of the room, hands instinctively clasped behind your back.

“How did it go with Donovan?” he asked without looking up. “He’ll pay by the end of the day tomorrow,” you said plainly.

“And if not?”

“Then he’ll have a broken arm before midnight.” Your voice didn’t waver, and the way you spoke came out with normalcy. That alone made him smile. “And if he still doesn’t—Y/n?”

“Then I’ll deliver him to you personally.” Each line came out as if a soldier were speaking to their commander. But he liked that about you the most — you were his most reliable enforcer. “Now that’s what I like to hear.”

You rolled your shoulders, neck cracking as you stretched, and asked, “Anything else you need, Rai?”

“No. You’re done for today,” he said, eyes back on the papers. “Stick around if you want.” You nodded once and slipped out. The air outside the office felt colder, and the multiple AC units were working overtime to cool the concrete-covered place. You walked back to where Manon was — in the same seat, more secluded than the rest of the room.

Everyone knew that was her spot. She is Rai’s favorite woman after all, and unlike most women in this place, she didn’t earn her power by flirting her way up. 

Some might think Rai favored you both for the same reasons, but they’d be wrong. It wasn’t about attraction for both of you. It was about the consistency in how much money you make for him, the unwavering loyalty you gave him, and the usual great results. He’s seen it in the weekly reports he had for each of his workers.

It’s why the two of you were usually grouped together, allowed to use any one of his cars, and could even ask for help whenever. Both of you assumed that was the reason he had both of you partnering up during jobs often.

Being an enforcer also didn’t just mean beating up people for their debt, but also protecting the woman who worked with Rai. None of the women did anything crazy, but if they did, Manon wasn’t one of them. She’s just a terrifyingly amazing actress with a face that most men couldn’t resist falling for. 

Yet you were lucky enough to clearly see that Manon had a thing for you instead. 

Although she made it clear that she wasn’t interested in a relationship, at least at this point in her life, that didn’t mean she wasn’t attracted to you. Never stopped her from showing how bad she wanted you, either.

Like now, in the way she’s currently straddling your lap, knees pinning you in place, her face dangerously close, and that signature smirk was slowly spreading across her lips.

“Think you’ll be around tomorrow?” she asked, her voice soft between the light kisses she pressed along your jaw, then to the corners of your mouth. Her weight settled fully into your lap, your hands gripping her thighs with ease. It was Manon’s usual thing, and it was only up to you if the two of you would go any further.

“Probably not. I’ve got things to do for school,” you muttered, feeling her lips stall at your words. Manon pulled back just enough to pout, her eyes softening into that look, the one that always made you sigh without meaning to.

“Will you come here for me then?” she asked, the tip of her finger lightly tracing your collarbone. You exhaled, already defeated. “Not until midnight. I’ve got a project I can’t skip.”

She inched in closer, just enough for her breath to ghost across your lips slowly. “Make sure to make time for me?”

You huffed a short laugh, head tilting back slightly as you looked at her. The absurdity of this woman who is so wanted by so many people, sitting in your lap like you were the only one who existed.

“I’d honestly rather be with you every day instead of working with my project partner, so…”

Her grin curled wickedly. “I’m not hearing a no, Y/n~”

You felt her body shift forward again, like she was daring you to stop her, and when her lips hovered over yours again, just close enough to taste, then whatever self-control you had cracked.

“I’ll make it work,” you whispered against her lips.

She kissed you then, soft at first. You felt her breath from her nose against your cheek as her lips melted into yours, the faint feeling of her lip gloss catching on your tongue when she deepened the kiss.

Her hands slid up your torso, nails grazing at your sides as you feel them through the thin fabric of your top, before curling around the back of your neck. She held you close, anchoring herself against you as her mouth moved with a slow rhythm. 

You wrapped your arms tight around her waist, pulling her flush against you with no space left. Her hips shifted a bit in your lap, “shit.” You could only whisper before locking lips again, and you swore you could feel her smirking.

Her tongue slipped past your lips, like she’d done it a hundred times — and yet, it always made your body heat up. The slow drag of it against yours had your fingers digging gently into the backs of her thighs, feeling every move, breath, and hum that vibrated from her throat into your mouth.

The kiss grew messy since Manon had a need for you, clearly less patient than when she first started. Her hands tangled in your tied-up hair as you tilted your head, kissing her deeper, harder. 

Eventually, she pulled back just a bit, breath shaky, her eyes still half-lidded as she looked down at you with a grin that showed her satisfaction. Her gloss was smudged, lips slightly swollen, and you knew you looked just as wrecked after all of it.

“Midnight, huh?” she whispered, fingertips tracing your jaw lazily. “I’ll be waiting.”

The comment had you chuckling as she slid off your lap. She grabbed her purse from the side of the chair, pulled out another blunt, and offered it to you with a lighter. You raised a brow, tempted since it had been a long day.

“For me?” you joked, and Manon tilted her head, her lips twitching at the corners. “Thought you might want a treat.”

“So what we just did wasn’t my treat?” you asked, more genuine this time, which had Manon giggling before pointing a warning finger at you.

“Don’t tempt me, Y/n. You know I’d take you right here, right now.”

You shrugged a shoulder in casual agreement—and yeah, you did know. She’d grinded on you during slow nights during jobs at the club, whispered filthy things in your ear just to see you react, and once even tried to convince you to fuck her in the back of one of Rai’s cars after literally beating two people up.

Now taking the blunt from her fingers, you perched it between your lips and sparked the lighter, letting the flame burn the edge. Manon watched, gaze hungry, as you took a pull, then grinned as you exhaled a thick cloud of smoke.

“Why are you so hot?” she asked, her voice sounding frustrated yet admiring.

You looked at her, the blunt resting soft on your bottom lip, a slow grin creeping across your face. In your head, the attraction people had toward you never quite made sense. Maybe it was some psychological bullshit. That’s what you liked to blame it on.

Sure, the tattoos and piercings screamed fuck-girl energy, and maybe the way you carried yourself didn’t help. But to you, you were just you. If that made any sense.

You took another drag, felt the burn in your lungs and the heat settle low in your gut, then puffed out a slow stream of smoke before handing the blunt off to Manon, who took it with a satisfied hum.

“So what about this project partner you clearly can’t stand?” she asked, taking a pull herself and letting the smoke drift lazily from her mouth.

“Just a prissy rich girl, honestly.”

“Is she hot?” she asked, deadpan. You cut her a look. “Of course you’d want to know.”

She just shrugged, unfazed. “It’s a valid question.” You rolled your eyes, but still, the question had you pondering. If you were being truly honest with yourself, she’s undeniably beautiful. That’s why people flocked around her and added the money, the intelligence, and the reputation into the equation; you aren’t stupid to not admit she’s hot.

“She isn’t ugly,” you muttered, finally admitting it. Manon cackled at that, familiar with your deflection. After working together for four years, she could read you like a damn book.

“So that’s a yes,” she teased, smug. “Fuck yeah, she is.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” You snatched the blunt from her fingers again, taking a deeper pull as she sat back, visibly entertained.

“You’re clearly about to have a rough few weeks, so good luck to you.”

‘...Yeah, good luck to me,’ you thought, watching the smoke swirl into the air as you took one last drag.

The next day, you walked into your Playwriting class wearing a black long-sleeve compression shirt tucked into your grey baggy sweats. Sophia’s eyes found you immediately as you strolled down the aisle of the small lecture hall, one hand gripping the strap of your book bag while you chatted with Professor Roland.

She watched from her seat, quietly observing the way he nodded along to nearly everything you said. He pulled out a paper, Sophia assuming it was the same one the class received the day prior, and handed it over without question. He was explaining a few things while you listened, head tilted in that way that made it look like you actually gave a damn.

Roland was one of the more chill professors anyway, so it didn’t surprise you when he let you off easy.

You glanced around the room, eyeing your seating options. It was still early, so only about half the seats were filled. That’s when you spotted Sophia, already looking at you, her lips pulled into a tight-lipped smile.

You chuckled under your breath at the expression and made your way over, figuring it’d be smart to sit next to your partner in case class time was given to work on the project. Sophia subtly shifted in her seat, leaning to her right like she was trying to physically distance herself from you.

“You’re here today,” she said, more sarcastic than she probably meant to sound. “I told you I would be,” you replied, setting your bag between your legs as you pulled out a notebook. “I don’t go back on my word.”

She didn’t respond, just glanced at you again—and this time, she didn’t stop. If she wasn’t going to talk to you, maybe she could get a read on who you were by just observing… It was also a good way of checking you out, but she wouldn’t say that out loud.

You gripped your pen, scribbling something down, and she caught sight of your handwriting, which, to her surprise, was actually rather neat. Her gaze then traveled to your hands, which looked strong. A little roughed up, your knuckles having gashes on them and looking a bit darker than the pink she saw the day before. She caught herself wondering what they’d been through to look like that.

You noticed and peeked over at her. “Am I distracting you?” you asked, amused. Sophia snapped her head away, clearly caught. “No, you aren’t.”

You scoffed quietly, fighting a smirk. “What do you want our play to be on?” she asked, tapping on her tablet like she hadn’t just been staring at you.

You shrugged. “You can pick. I’ll go with it.” That made her glance at you, brows slightly raised. “You sure you can handle it?”

You met her gaze with a certainty. “I know I can.”

Setting your pen down, you gave her your full attention. She hesitated, but then answered.

“Fine. A tragic love story.” You nodded once, lips slightly pursed. “I’m cool with that.”

Sophia went back to her tablet, and for the first time since she found out she was paired up with you, she didn’t seem so tense. She could already see the way you were scribbling ideas in your notebook, outlines of scenes, bits of dialogue, maybe even character notes. 

It surprised her how quickly she started to feel… not annoyed? Almost like she didn’t mind this. Then the realization hit her.

…You’d have to act this out… Together… Just the two of you.

She palmed her forehead, cursing herself under her breath. “Wait — how about—”

“No take backs,” you said smoothly, not even looking up from your notebook. Sophia gave you a side-eye, reluctantly amused. “I hate you.”

You grinned. “You don’t even know me yet.”

Yet, by the time class ended, Sophia had to admit that every idea you suggested was actually good. You worked fast and didn’t waste time, pretty much realizing that this was one of the reasons why you continuously passed your classes despite not coming into school. 

She still didn’t know what to make of you entirely, but she could work with this and maybe even enjoy it. “Hey,” she said as you both gathered your stuff. “Do you want to work on the project at my place after classes?”

You glanced over at her. “I can. But only for a few hours — I’ve got work later.”

“That’s fine,” she said quickly. “I’ll text you once all my classes end. Then send the address.” You tell her and she nods, slinging her purse around her arm.  You left her, making sure to meet up with Daniella off campus for the day since she texted you early enough about her many professors canceling classes.

With Sophia, back in the Common Area, she walked in to find her friends lounging in their spot. The second Lara spotted her, she raised her brows with a smirk. “Okay, details now,” Lara demanded.

Megan perked up, and even Yoonchae tilted her head in interest. Sophia rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smile creeping onto her lips.

“…It wasn’t awful,” she said, settling into the seat next to them.

“Ohhhh, not awful?” Lara teased, grinning. “We’re already making progress.” Sophia shook her head, reaching for her drink and hiding her face behind the straw.

“She actually does work!” Sophia cheered, throwing her hands up. Yoonchae giggled at the reaction, finding it dramatic for something so basic. “That’s one thing to be happy about,” she said, sipping from her bottle.

“Are you guys working on the project today?” Megan asked between slurps of her noodles. Sophia nodded. “Yeah, for like a couple of hours at my place. She’s got work, so I’m not sure how much we’ll get done.”

Lara leaned back with her iced tea, stirring it lazily with her straw. “I wonder what she even does for work?”

“Probably something with heavy labor,” Sophia replied absentmindedly. “It’s the only thing that makes sense, since her hands are so muscu—”

She froze when she caught the three of them staring at her with matching expressions. “What?” she asked, blinking.

“How long were you staring at her hands?” Megan asked bluntly, while Sophia felt the heat creeping up her neck. Lara squinted, a grin spreading across her face as she spotted the soft pink peeking beneath Sophia’s makeup. “You know, I don’t blame you,” she teased, “but it is kind of unexpected coming from you.”

Sophia rolled her eyes, but the smile tugging at her lips gave her away. While the girls were busy poking fun at her, across campus you were heading into the café near campus.

Your eyes scanned the tables and landed on Dani, who was sitting by the window, scrolling on her phone. Just before you reached her, you texted Sophia a simple ‘hey, it’s Y/n,’ so you wouldn’t forget to hit her up later for her address. She sent a quick thumbs-up reaction on the bubble before sliding into the seat across from Dani.

“You order yet?” you asked, dropping your bag onto the floor beside you. “I got garlic bread for us to split, iced chai for me, espresso for you.” You smiled, appreciative. “That works. Thanks.”

She waved you off like it was nothing. “So, how was work yesterday?”

“Easy,” you answered plainly. It had just been a chill check-in with Rai — nothing intense. “And Manon?” she asked, eyeing you over the rim of her cup. Your brow rose instantly. “What about her?”

The name had slipped out during one of those way-too-late conversations you and Dani tended to have. Which was the worst mistake ever since she didn’t even know what Manon looked like, but that hadn’t stopped her from being your number one shipper since.

“Did you guys… You know?” Her voice dropped like she was about to tell you a secret. Your eyes widened at the implication. “We didn’t do it yesterday,” you hissed, before you could accidentally announce it to the whole café.

“Right~” Dani smirked, all smug satisfaction, and you didn’t even have time to come up with a comeback before the server arrived with your order.

You grabbed a slice of garlic bread like it was your saving grace. “What about Sophia?” she asked after a few bites, but she was more curious this time.

“She’s gonna send me her address,” you replied, mouth still half full. “We’ll work on the project for, like, an hour or so. I’m not planning to overstay. Then I’ve got work later tonight.”

“Like… later later?”

“Yup~” you nodded, voice a little sing-songy.

Dani didn’t say anything, just leaving her knowledge of that again. She didn’t know everything about your job, not that you ever hid it from her, but she definitely knew what “later” meant. Someone was likely going to get hurt by you, she just didn’t know to what extent.

“Think working with her is gonna be a breeze, though?”

“Oh, not at fucking all. Have you met the girl?” you deadpan, and Dani bursts out laughing. “Hey, at least you get to experience the rich life for both of us,” she teases, and you just shrug, not entirely convinced that was a good way to think of it.

If anything, the idea of spending the next few weeks going between your job and someone else's luxury felt more suffocating. The anxiety had been bubbling beneath your skin all day, and getting Sophia’s address right after classes didn’t help. Her place was further than you expected, tucked away in some grand neighborhood that showed up on Google Maps.

If you tried commuting the whole way there and back, it’d be at least an hour each trip, more if traffic hit or the trains got backed up. And by the time you’d need to leave, buses would be packed with people going home from whatever crazy routine they had.

‘Shit,’ you muttered to yourself, slipping your phone into your back pocket. The only solution you could think of was borrowing one of Rai’s cars for the next couple of weeks. You didn’t love the idea since it felt like you were using his kindness, but you figured if you got the project mostly done ahead of time, maybe you wouldn’t need to use the car for a longer time.

After your last class, you texted Rai about taking the BMW, waiting by the edge of the warehouse until you got the simple text.

Rai Keys are in the box Don’t scratch her

You smirked, unlocked the silver car, and peeled out of the lot. What would've been an hour-long commute was shortened to about thirty minutes, the engine feeling more luxurious than expected, and low music from the stereo let your anxiety calm down a bit.

Then Google Maps made you pull up to the large gates. They were black and high—crowned by jagged tips cemented on top of a thick, pale concrete wall. The house behind them was humongous. Spanish-style architecture, with reddish roof tiles and tall windows that reflected the sun right through the dark-tinted windshield.

Your eyes flicked to the intercom. You pressed the button and leaned in, awkward and unsure. “How can I help you?” a woman’s voice asked through the speaker, calm and clipped.

“Uhm—yeah, I’m Sophia’s partner. For the project?”

“Full name?”

“Y/n L/n.”

A moment of silence, then a well-oiled gate started sliding open to your right. You drove in slowly, watching the path wind past perfectly cut hedges and a tiered fountain. Parking just in front of the entrance, killing the engine as the front door opened. An older woman in a maid uniform greeted you with a practiced smile.

“Please come in. Miss Laforteza should be down in a bit,” she said kindly, stepping aside to let you in.

The air inside was cool, air filled with a soft citrus scent and sparkling marble flooring that made you aware of every single scuff on your sneakers. The foyer was already the size of your entire house, and your gaze swept the curved staircase and twinkling chandelier.

Yeah, you were gonna need a minute to get used to this. Shifting in your stance, your fingers tighten around your bag strap as Sophia appears at the top of the stairs. Her hair was loosely tied back, and she was wearing lavender sweats and a snug white baby tee with ‘babygirl’ written in pale pink bubble letters.

The contrast from everyday polished heels and a designer outfit made your brows raise slightly.

“Didn’t think I’d see you in sweats,” you said, more amused than anything. Sophia rolled her eyes, but there was a small smile tugging at her lips. “I am home, so it makes sense to get comfy.”

She turned to the maid, politely asking for drinks and snacks to be brought to the library.

You blinked. “I mean... I’d say this is more than a house,” you muttered under your breath as she waved for you to follow.

“We can work in the library,” she said over her shoulder. You stared at her like she just said, ‘We can work on Mars.’

“Library?” you echoed, brows raised. “Yeah? Is that a problem?” Sophia glanced back, confused. “I guess not,” you replied quickly, trailing behind her. You weren’t really sure what the right response was. 

‘Oh, cool, I’ve got a library too. It’s called a public one, and I wait forty minutes just to use a computer over there.’ 

Every hallway turn just screamed wealth, and a little voice in your brain repeated poor over and over again.

When she opened the doors, the scent of paper greeted you instantly. Warm lighting glowed from sconces on the wall, giving the room a soft amber hue. Everything was dark mahogany—bookshelves stretching up the walls, thick wooden tables, chairs with cotton cushions, and old mirrors.

It didn’t feel warm temperature-wise, but it looked warm. You exhaled slowly, trying not to feel out of place. “All the books in here probably cost more than my entire scholarship fund,” you mumbled, shifting the strap of your bag.

Sophia giggled under her breath, then gestured toward one of the long tables. “Sit wherever. Do you have any ideas?” You nodded, already sliding into the chair and placing your notebook on the table, the exact same one she’d seen in class.

You flipped a few pages, landing on one that was scrawled with notes. Some scene concepts, bits of dialogue, and even sketched thumbnails of stage direction. 

Sophia glanced at the notebook, her brows lifting slightly as she skimmed the mess of notes. Only that it wasn’t a mess, the ideas just seemed to be scribbled and out of order. The lines were neatly sectioned, with little arrows pointing to rewritten ideas and stage cues. She blinked at a few of them, caught off guard.

“You wrote all this… already?” she asked, leaning in a bit more, her voice softer now.

You shrugged, tapping a corner of the book with the back of your pen. “Just what came to mind last night and in class. Didn’t know what kinda story you’d want, so I scribbled a couple of options. A revenge arc. A slow-burn. A dual-perspective thing. This one here’s more metaphorical, could be staged minimalistically since it’s just the two of us acting it out.”

Sophia didn’t answer right away. Instead, she reached out to scroll down on her own screen, silently clicking and pulling up a document. “Let’s… do the slow-burn one,” she murmured, still processing what you wrote down.

Your eyes stayed on her, noticing how she sat more relaxed. She wasn’t leaning away from you like she had in class. Instead, her eyes darted between your notes and her laptop as her fingers sped through each letter on the keyboard.

The door creaked open a few minutes later, and the soft clinking of glassware drew your attention. Her maid stepped in quietly, placing a polished silver tray on the end table. It had two tall glasses of mango juice, a porcelain bowl of salted crackers, and a plate of rigid potato chips. She nodded politely and stepped back out without a word.

“Thanks, Ate Mel,” Sophia called out, before glancing at you again. “In case you were gonna say you didn’t eat.” You smirked, reaching for a chip and flicking a brow. “Didn’t say that. Just wasn’t gonna ask for anything.”

She laughed, surprising herself with how natural it came out. “You’re not really what I expected,” she admitted, reaching for her own glass. The condensation already wet her fingertips.

“That makes two of us,” you quipped, then pointed to one of the sections in your notebook.

“So this—scene two—I imagined a turning point. There’s a moment where one of them is standing in a room full of people, but they only feel her. It’s crowded and loud, but everything dulls except the moment their hands touch. That kind of quiet tension.”

Sophia’s lips parted slightly, and she just blinked again, not quite sure how to respond to the imagery. She read over your note more carefully this time, mouthing a few of the lines. “This is… really good. Like, it’s layered. I didn’t expect you to be so detailed about it.”

You gave a short laugh, looking back at your notebook before murmuring, “Scholarship students kinda have to overcompensate, y’know? We don’t exactly get to breeze through.”

You didn’t sound bitter, but you did sound honest. Sophia studied you in the amber glow of the room’s lights, the way the light kissed the curve of your cheekbone, casting a soft shadow down your jaw. She thought of the way you walked into class like you didn’t care, only to show up with a notebook full of genius-level notes.

“I get it now,” she said quietly. You looked up. “Get what?” She tucked a leg beneath her and smiled, sincere this time. “Why you got into the school.”

You tilted your head but didn’t say anything. Just tapped your pen, smirking lightly under your breath.

Before you knew it, time went by quickly after she gave you such a generous comment. You filled up newer pages; she had opened and closed multiple tabs throughout the past few hours as well. The project, piece by piece, started shaping itself into something you both felt proud of.

Eventually, your eyes caught time on your phone, where it buzzed as a notification appeared from Rai. You started closing your notebook, brushing stray crumbs off your lap, and adjusting the waistband of your sweats.

Sophia noticed how your energy shifted from an easygoing project partner to this serious version of yourself. “You’re leaving?” she asked, watching as you slipped your notebook back into your bag.

“Yeah. Gotta bounce in like fifteen if I don’t wanna be late.”

“Work?” she guessed, leaning her elbow against the table, chin balanced on her knuckles.

You nodded. “Yeah. Late shift.”

Your voice lowered, in a tone that sounded more wary, like you weren’t happy about going, but you would anyway. Sophia stood with you as you slung your bag over one shoulder, following you out of the library. Neither of you said anything as you made your way down the long hallway, down the winding staircase again.

Outside, the early evening had cooled a bit, and the sky was a blend of lavender and gold. You headed for the car, and that’s when she saw the metallic silver BMW. Her brows twitched up subtly. 

It wasn’t judgment in her mind, but more like curiosity and surprise. You didn’t seem in need of money, but you also didn’t seem that rich to own two cars like that.

She didn’t say anything, though. Just walked with you out of the house with arms crossed loosely. You turned around before getting in. “Text me if you think of anything else, yeah?”

Sophia nodded, biting back the thought that was stuck on the BMW. Instead, she just asked, “Same time tomorrow?”

“Works for me,” you said, tugging the car door open. “Thanks for the juice, by the way.”

She smiled and leaned against the stone pillar door frame. “Don’t be late for work.”

You smirked at that and slid into the driver’s seat, the door shutting with a satisfying thud. As you pulled away, Sophia stood there a second longer, arms still folded as she waited for you to leave completely.

Almost hoping, any thought that lingered in her mind would go away as soon as you left her view. But you seemed to have a chokehold on many women’s minds.

While pulling up to a red light, your phone buzzed. Rai’s message popped up with an address attached. He added nothing else to it, but it didn’t take much to guess it was Donovan’s location. Your heart began beating rapidly as you turned onto the highway, weaving through traffic like muscle memory. The lines of each lane seemed blurry to your vision, and your grip on the wheel tightened.

You parked a block away, turned the car off, and walked slowly, realizing that you probably should’ve brought a hoodie for less attention. Hearing the asphalt scraping under your shoes, the faint sound of cars driving from the highway far behind you. 

You kept your head down, with eyes scanning each building as you walked down the sidewalk. Apartment complexes and ruined houses filled the street, and you were mentally making notes to start checking each door you passed—until he showed up first.

Donovan strolled into your view like he owned the block, a grin that made your skin crawl stretching across his face. His eyes locked on yours, noticing how smug he looked.

You stopped walking, arms folding across your chest. “What’s this?” you asked flatly, narrowing your gaze.

He let out a shrill, ugly laugh. “You know, it’s so~ sad that you’re such a pretty lady,” he said, and just as he spoke, three guys rounded the corner behind him. One was bulky, arms evidently thicker than your thigh. Another looked like a gym bro in his ‘off’ season. The last was leaner, but that may work in his favor. Assuming that he brought them here to scare and jump you.

“Maybe in another universe, this could’ve been different,” Donovan added, his voice dropping into something slimy. His tone and the way he implied something more, and the way his eyes stared at you for far too long. Your face showed pure disgust, head pulling back slightly like you could physically distance yourself from whatever the hell he thought that was.

That reaction was enough to piss him off. He licked his teeth, like it’d help his ego. “Have a good time with my friends.”

The three men spaced out, walking toward you with caution. You were standing dead center now, their footsteps echoing faintly off the pavement as they boxed you in.

You blinked, unimpressed. “What kind of movie are we filming right now?” you muttered, then gesturing lazily toward Donovan. “You really pulled a goon trio on me? What, Craigslist wasn’t hiring?”

He just smirked like he knew this was going to work in his favor. “A petite girl like you can’t do anything against them.”

You tilted your head, eyes sharp now. “Yeah? Well, this ‘petite girl’ also kicked the shit out of you yesterday.”

The lean guy twitched. He was losing patience, and you figured he’d be the one to start. He had a crazy look in his eyes, and he… licked his lips in an icky way.

His steps closed in quicker than the others, and before you could even sigh at the predictability of it all, his fist swung wide toward your face. He was clearly excited for a ‘beat down.’

It connected, which had your head snapping slightly to the side. You blinked, let the sting settle for half a second, then turned back to face him slowly. You licked the inside of your cheek and gave a smirk.

“I wanted you to hit me first,” you said calmly, voice flat. “If we get caught here, at least I can say it was self-defense.”

Your hand snapped forward, fingers wrapping around the lean guy’s wrist, pulling him forward just enough to slam your knee into his ribs. The second knee had him grunting, as he almost staggered away from your hold, and you stepped in closer to elbow him square in the temple. He dropped, his body thudding on the sidewalk.

You weren’t sure why people never just went in at the same time; that could be a way to win, but no one ever did. The biggest of the three hesitated, giving you a window. You went low, kicking one shin hard enough that he fell. You hear a tiny crack from his back hitting the pavement, but he caught himself with one hand, scrambling back up quicker than expected.

Maybe he didn’t stretch?

But you backed up, your breathing regulated as your chest rose and fell. Experience would be on your side every time. Being in multiple fights will have you bleeding, sobbing, and clawing for survival, especially as a woman in this job.

He lunged at you again, aiming for your waist this time, trying to lift you up, maybe slam you against a concrete wall. But your body twisted, and you slammed your elbow down into the base of his neck. His arms dropped enough for you to shove him off, and you followed it up with a sharp kick to his stomach. The heel of your sneakers is digging into his navel. He leaned over, holding onto his lower stomach.

You turned just in time to dodge a right hook from the burly one.

He was the real problem for you here. Having thick arms, bulky shoulders, and the kind of weight that could crack bone if hit in the right place. You ducked, using your smaller frame to slide around him and catch him off balance. You went for his knees, aiming a kick to the back of one. He faltered and gave you the opening to jump onto his back and wrap your arm around his neck in a tight hold. 

His hand shot back, trying to grab you, and he managed to elbow your side hard enough to make you gasp for air. But your grip held, wrapping your legs around his waist to keep you on. You counted seconds, about fifteen seconds, until his legs finally gave, and you released just before he blacked out completely. He just slumped onto the ground, looking like a drunk man after a crazy Saturday night party.

The second guy tried to sneak you from behind, but you turned around just in time. Gripping the front of his shirt, and headbutted him right to his nose, breaking, blood spurting instantly as you hear a gnarly crack. He staggered backward with a groan, hands covering his face, and you ended it with a kick to the side of his knee that buckled him flat to the ground.

All three were down, and you were breathing heavy, knuckles sore, the ache from that first punch settling into your jaw. You wiped the blood at the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand, turning your head slowly.

Donovan hadn’t moved, just standing there as he watched his plan fail within three minutes. Probably expected them to jump you fast and leave you crying for help.

“You fucking idiot,” you muttered under your breath, walking toward him. His cocky expression faltered as he tried acting all friendly now. He still thought he could talk his way out of it. “Hey, listen—”

You weren’t hearing any of it as your hand grabbed his wrist and twisted fast, too fast for him to register what was happening until you heard the pop out of its socket. He screamed and began panicking like the first time you met him.

You stepped in closer, inches away from his face, while fury coated your voice.

“You really thought that was gonna work?” you asked, twisting again just enough to make his knees buckle lower. “Three guys, on the sidewalk, taking me on? That’s your plan?”

“I—wait—Y/n, c’mon—”

You heard another crack as you took his other arm, faced his palms up, and punched his elbow with enough force that broke his arm. He dropped to the ground with a sharp sob, curling around the pain. His legs trembled beneath him.

“I should’ve done that yesterday,” you spat.

A few passing cars honked in the distance, someone muttered something on the opposite sidewalk, but no one stopped. No one was dumb enough to involve themselves in this area, but some people would be smart enough to call the cops. So you had to get out of the area as fast as possible.

Dragging him up by his shirt collar, you pulled his limp body to the passenger side of Rai’s BMW, opened the door, and shoved him inside like garbage. He moaned, trying to clutch his arm, but the two broken limbs made it impossible. You didn’t even care about any blood coating you… Or him, in all honesty, but you warned him, yet Rai wouldn’t be happy with his little stunt either way.

“Don’t bleed on the seats,” you warned.

You drove straight to the warehouse. The sound of your foot against the pedal and Donovan groaning quietly in the seat beside you, every bump had him sounding like a soundboard noise in pain.

When you pulled up and parked, you got out and walked to the other side. Ripped the door open and grabbed him by the collar again, hauling him out.

Rai stood near the entrance, cigarette between his fingers, already waiting. You tossed Donovan forward like trash day came early. “Here’s your boy,” you said, dusting your hands off. “He’ll need a doctor. Or don’t. Up to you.”

Rai blinked, exhaled smoke through his nose. “Broken wrist?”

“And both arms.”

“…Damn.” You just rolled your eyes. “Next time he pulls this shit, I’ll break his legs too.”

You spit right beside him, the metallic taste of blood leaving your mouth as you went over to the car to get your bag and walk home.

Two weeks went by, and Sophia could admit that everything had been going smoothly. You were both down to the final stretch of your project, with only the acting portion left to do at the end of the month.

And safe to say… she’d started liking having you around. Maybe not in a head-over-heels romantic way, but there was definitely something there. That she even believed to be mutual, especially in the way she would catch you staring sometimes.

She even caught herself changing in a way she wasn’t expecting.

Every time you came over, Sophia found herself preparing like she was about to go on a date instead of a project. She’d hop in the shower the second she got home, scrubbing her skin like she needed to get rid of every spec of dirt she felt on her body. Then she’d do her hair, careful to make it look effortless, like it was naturally that way, but still stylish. 

Her regular routine makeup would then follow next making her look much fresher rather than looking like the school air attacked her throughout the day. A touch more gloss, a little more highlight on her cheekbones. She’d make sure her lips looked much more plump to the point they were kissable.

And the comfy clothes got... comfier. Sweatpants were replaced with booty shorts that clung onto her thighs, tank tops cropped shorter with thinner fabric, just enough to maybe catch her bra peeking through.

Still, even with all that effort, seducing you wasn’t exactly the priority. That wasn’t what was on her mind when you were around.

Because during those late-night sessions and snacks in her house library, Sophia started noticing small things. The kind most people wouldn’t catch unless they were looking too closely.

Like the faint bruises, hidden under a layer of foundation, where a bluish shadow near your jaw could be seen. The purplish-yellow spots that faded around your knuckles. Tiny cuts near the corners of your lips, sometimes barely noticeable unless you stare blatantly at your lips.

She wasn’t stupid; you were clearly getting into fights. Multiple at that, and from the way you moved, you didn’t want her to notice.

Sophia knew better than to ask anyways. You weren’t close enough for her to pry, and she wasn’t sure what answer she’d even want from you if she did.

She wasn’t even sure if she should be concerned… because you being roughed up was the reason why this sexual attraction came up in the first place. Like Lara said, you were ten times hotter, and it almost made her feel guilty.

Sophia should act like a normal human being and care, maybe even ask if you were okay, but it just never came out.

While you sat cross-legged on the chair, scribbling down notes for the script, Sophia’s mind had drifted somewhere else. Once you glanced up, you caught her staring blankly at her laptop screen, eyebrows lightly pinched like she was deep in thought, but definitely not about the project.

Leaning forward slightly, you tilted your head to get closer to her line of sight. “Miss Sophia the First?” you asked, your voice teasing, just inches from her face.

She jolted in her seat, eyes growing wide. “Jesus,” she muttered, trying to play it off while she raked her fingers through her hair, smoothing it down even if it didn’t even need fixing.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” you chuckled, watching her fiddle around longer than anticipated. “You didn’t,” she insisted, brushing it off way too quickly.

You tilted your head, unconvinced but amused. “Right. Totally.”

She kept her eyes on the screen, but you could feel something looming in the back of her mind. You weren’t sure if she wanted to talk about it, but you didn’t see the harm in asking.

“What were you thinking about?” you asked, leaning back, casually counting off the instances in your head. “This is what? The fifth time you’ve spaced out today?”

“It’s nothing,” she said with a quick shake of her head, though you could see whatever was still weighing in her mind through her hardened face.

“Nothing, in girl code,” you said, tapping your pen against your knee, “means there’s absolutely something. So spit it out, Lafortezza.”

She sighed like she didn’t want to ask. “What do you do for work?” she finally said, voice a bit too quick, the question had been rehearsed in her head several times before she just spat it out of her system.

You blinked at the sudden change. It wasn’t a surprise to normal people. You hadn’t exactly been subtle with the bruises. The makeup was there mainly for professors, so Sophia wasn’t who you were hiding it from.

“Just some dangerous stuff,” you answered vaguely, offering a shrug like it was no big deal.

“Is it boxing?”

“No.”

“Wrestling?”

“No.”

“Are you selling drugs?”

You snorted, caught so off guard by that one, you nearly gave yourself whiplash trying to look at her. “What—? No, Sophia. I’m not selling drugs.”

She frowned, her concern written all over her face. “Then why are you hurt every day?”

Her voice was softer this time, in a more careful tone. You felt your heartbeat quickening as her eyes searched yours. That worry she voiced was real as her eyes pleaded.

“I just work in a dangerous environment, Sophia. I promise, it’s nothing you need to worry about.”

“But what if you get hurt… like really hurt next time?” she asked, rubbing at her arm like she was comforting herself as much as she was asking the question. You smiled gently, touched by the concern. “Then I’ll deal with it,” you said. “This is the work I chose to do. So whatever happens, I have to handle it.”

She nodded slowly, her eyes dropping. She knew you were old enough to make your own decisions, but still, seeing the aftermath of whatever life you were living made her stomach twist a little more each time.

The secret was how it also riled her up, the vibe causing her to find you even sexier than the first time her eyes laid on you.

“I get it,” she murmured, backing off, letting it settle.

There was a pause before she cleared her throat, trying to move on. “Uhm, Lara’s having a party this weekend.”

You raised a brow. “Are you just telling me… or are you inviting me?”

She immediately started waving her hands in a panic, the words tumbling out fast. “I was gonna ask if you wanted to come!” You burst out laughing at her reaction, watching her release a huff into a pout. “I’d love to go. Just text me the details.”

A soft little “yeah” slipped from her lips, her face still slightly pink as she turned her attention back to the script, trying to bury her fluster in the keyboard.

You scooted your chair closer, peering over her shoulder to read what she was typing. The chair let out a small creak, and you leaned in without thinking, voice near her ear.

“Are all the stage directions written down?”

Sophia froze, her fingers pausing mid-keystroke. You were so close, like a literal inch from her face. Close enough that she could smell your perfume, which smelled of citrus, and feel the faint brush of your breath against her shoulder.

“Yeah,” she managed, voice shaky as her hands started fumbling across the keys. So much typing, backspacing, retyping again.

“And all the notes are in?”

“Mhm.”

“Cool. Email it in, then we’re done.”

There was a lightness in your voice that she hadn’t heard before. A kind of happiness she had never realized you were capable of expressing.

But then a thought hit her, this was almost over. The project, the only way to see you every day, the shared late nights, the quiet moments, and the banter were all about to end. After this, you’d go back to your usual schedule. Showing up in school only when it was necessary, and seeing you every now and then in the school’s common area instead of sitting next to you in class.

Sophia didn’t want that, and inviting you to Lara’s party was only a step into seeing you more often out of a serious setting. It was a way to keep you around, but only for one night, and that wasn’t enough.

She had to find another way. A way that made it clear she wanted to see you more, and hoped that maybe you wanted to see her more, too.

The two of you kept working, in silence, as you reached the final stretch. Luckily, just before the clock hit 10 PM, the document was attached to a quick email, your name typed on the subject line, and sent off to your professor for the night.

You started packing up your things in a slow manner, your hands moving absentmindedly as your attention drifted to Sophia. She closed her laptop and let out a quiet sigh, sliding down in her chair until her head leaned back and lightly touched the backrest.

“So, what are your plans for tonight?” you asked, the words slipping out without thinking.

She turned to look at you, caught off guard for a second. You couldn’t see her struggling not to say something like ‘oh, just lying in bed and texting the group chat about you.’

“I might watch a movie?” she finally spoke. “I’m not too tired yet.” You nodded, slinging a strap of your bag over your shoulder. “It is Friday. I’ll probably knock out later than usual anyway.”

“What are you planning on watching?” you asked, finishing up the last zipper of your bag. Sophia, not prepared for a follow-up question, blurted out the first movie that popped into her mind. “Train to Busan.”

You raised an eyebrow as you looked at her. “Train to Busan?”

She gave a half-shrug, trying to play it cool. You thought it seemed a little out of character for her, not seeing her as the horror type, but you did love that movie.

“That’s actually one of my favorite zombie movies,” you said with a hint of surprise in your tone. She perked up instantly, straightening in her chair. “You like zombie movies?” You nodded, sliding your phone into your pocket. “It’s one of my favorite genres for movies and shows. Like ‘Kingdom?’ Top tier.”

Her whole face lit up at the mention of the show. “I love ‘Kingdom’ too!”

You smile at her enthusiasm. “Well, maybe we can rewatch it together sometime.” She paused. Then, immediately asks, “Are you busy tonight?”

You shook your head, brow furrowing slightly at the sudden question. “Not really. Why?”

“Then why don’t you stay for a while?” she offered. “We can watch ‘Train to Busan’ tonight. ‘Kingdom’ can be for another day.”

You could tell she was trying not to sound too excited, but there was a look in her eyes that told you she really hoped you'd say yes. And honestly, you were pleased with the invite. You didn’t have any work tonight, so a quiet night in didn’t sound bad at all.

You gave her a small smile. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

Sophia stood up, stretching her arms up, and began to exit the library. Without hesitation, she cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled down the quiet hallway. "Can someone bring up ramen and mango juice again?!" she called out.

Her voice echoed down the hall before you heard a muffled ‘okay’ from the lower level of the house. Sophia turned back to you with a smirk. "Hope you can handle spice."

You scoffed, raising a brow. "I can." There was a tone of confidence that just made her grin wider. "Alright then! Add the whole packet of spicy sauce to both!" she shouted once more.

Then she led you to her room, walking further down the corridor. You trailed behind her, and the faint sounds of your footsteps could be heard until she opened a large white door. "Come on in."

The moment you stepped inside, you were hit with the soft scent of… jasmine? It’s subtle enough that taking a deep breath wouldn’t hurt your head. Your eyes begin to scan the room, seeing a minimalist aesthetic to it. The walls were a pure white, not a speck of dirt in sight. Some greenery in grey stone pots added some color to the room. 

Against one wall was a large vanity with a bunch of bulbs surrounding the mirror, its table full of high-end makeup brands and gold-handled brushes that were organized. It looked like a luxurious beauty store. A plush light pink egg chair is placed in front of it, and it looks extremely comfy.

Across the entrance of the room, her bed stands out from the entire space. It was king-sized, with a modern bedframe in white. Champagne-colored satin sheets shining due to the lights. Lying over the top was a massive, fluffy comforter in a baby blue that looked like it could swallow. The pillows were fluffed, unlike your wilting, lifeless pillows at home.

Facing the bed directly was a large flat-screen TV that was mounted on the wall. It legit looked like a Pinterest picture in real life. You couldn’t help but wonder if this room was purely for sleep or if she actually hung out in it like a normal person.

"Take a seat. Get comfy," she said, already sliding into the bed. She sank beneath her comforter with her head slightly peeking out while her hands reached for the remote like muscle memory.

She looked cute, but that wasn’t something that would come out of your mouth. Not to Sophia at least… yet.

You hesitated for a second before sitting on the edge of the bed, rigid and upright, looking stiff as a board. You didn’t know how to relax in a space this expensive. You were JUST getting used to the library after coming around for two weeks. Maybe you should’ve assumed every room you walked into would feel like a different dimension in the large house.

Sophia didn’t notice at first as she scrolled through the variety of movies and shows, finally clicking on Train to Busan. The lights had already been turned off before the movie started with the use of a damn remote, the only light now beaming from the large screen.

You stayed sitting like that for a good ten minutes, which you were somewhat used to since you would stand in front of Rai that way during reports to him. 

The room was quiet except for the movie, and you watched, but it wasn’t really registering. Because your focus kept drifting to how warm and soft the bed was under you. Meanwhile, Sophia was already snuggling in the comforter. 

Eventually, she side-eyed you and sighed. Your tense posture was physically stressing her out. You looked like you were about to fall off her bed and march out of the room.

"You look like you’re about to fall off," she said, deadpan.

You looked over at her, meeting her gaze briefly before looking back at the TV. "I’m good." She raised a brow, “You’re sitting like I’m gonna bite you.”

"I’m fine," you repeat, but your tone didn’t help you at all.

“Lie back,” she told you, her soft voice sounding like she’s coaxing you, and it was working. You hesitated because something about getting comfortable in her space felt... weird. Like the moment you let your guard down, it would change whatever dynamic you and Sophia had going on.

But you leaned back slowly after taking off your shoes, back finally pressing into the fluffy comforter. Your body feels like it melted straight into the bed. Your legs stretched out beside hers, your brain hyper-aware of where her body was, like a foot away from you under the covers.

Across both your faces, flashes flickered, in what felt like every scene of the movie, as the tensions began rising. People were starting to notice things were off as screams began to come from the back of the train. You could hear the sound of glass breaking and the frantic thump of feet as people ran. The moment always entertained you, no matter how many times it was watched.

You loved it because to you, this was ‘pure cinema.’

Sophia hadn’t moved much, but every now and then, you felt the comforter shift. What you didn’t know was her adjusting to get sneaky glances of you.

You stayed still, eyes glued on the screen, and didn’t say anything. Just as you got used to the position, the door cracked open, and one of the maids came in. She carried a large wooden tray in her hands, two steaming bowls of buldak noodles, and two glasses of mango juice with chopsticks beside them.

"Thank you," Sophia whispered as the tray was set beside the side table near her. She passed you one of the porcelain bowls with chopsticks. Both of you now sitting up as you ate, and the occasional sounds of slurping and coughing from Sophia could be heard.

She was the first to break the silence, reaching for her mango juice after her third bite, eyes watering slightly as she coughed some more into her elbow. “Okay, damn,” she muttered, fanning her mouth. “That spice isn’t playing around.”

You kept eating like it was nothing, taking pretty large bites, and the spice didn’t faze you. Your lips were a little red, but you weren’t huffing and puffing or asking for your glass of juice. Sophia stared, eyes narrowing. “How are you not dying right now?”

You looked at her mid-bite as the noodles drooped over your bottom lips and into the bowl, giving her a simple shrug. “This isn’t that bad.”

“Mild?!” she coughed again, immediately going for another sip of mango juice. “You’re not human.”

You chuckled, setting your bowl back on the tray and asking for your own drink, NOT because it was spicy but because the spice was making you thirsty. “I told you I could handle spice. Besides, this tastes like the pink one.”

Sophia groaned dramatically, setting her bowl down on her lap and leaning back into her mountain of pillows. “You said it so confidently, but I thought you were being cocky.”

You smirked, stretching your legs a bit further under the covers. “I was being for real.”

Her eyes were watery, but she was still adding humor while in slight pain. “I feel like my tongue’s been set on fire. I’m in physical pain right now.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, mixing with the low rumble of the movie’s background noise. Sophia grabbed her mango juice again while hissing to get cold air. “This better not be how I go out,” she said, taking a long sip. “Killed by ramen.”

You give a satisfied smirk, eyes flicking back to the screen. “Don’t worry. I’ll give you a eulogy.”

She threw a pillow at you, missing by a mile as it shot past your head and onto the floor. “You’re literally the worst.” But she was smiling, still with tears in her eyes and the slight sweat on her brow.

Time ticked by, and the silence was there again after both of you finished the ‘bowls of pain’ in Sophia’s words. While your attention stayed mostly glued to the movie of interest, Sophia just couldn’t stop looking at you. Her eyes would glance to the side every now and watch how the TV cast a glow across your features. Highlighting your cheekbones, casting shadows along your jawline, and each scene reflecting through your eyes.

But then, the movie reached that scene.

The one where the father, Seok-woo, held his daughter close as he sacrificed himself to save her. His face was bloody and broken after everything they’d been through on the train. Then cued the slow music, adding to the drama of the scene. You had watched the movie many times, to the point where you didn’t cry during the sad moments anymore. But as you watched, you heard a soft sniffle.

You turned your head slightly, finding a single tear streaming down Sophia’s cheek, a crystal-like path layered above her skin like glass. The light from the screen made it shimmer, and oddly enough, there was something heartbreakingly beautiful about it. Her lips trembled just a little. Her brows furrowed, her subtle expression twitching every time she hitched a breath.

You didn’t even think about anything, as your body moved on its own. You push yourself over to the right and carefully lean over the upper half of her body. Gently, your thumb grazed the tear off her cheek, as your other arm settled right beside her head as you hovered over her.

Sophia’s eyes widened, lashes fluttering as her lips parted like she wanted to say something, but nothing would come out properly.

Your hand, for some reason, caressed her cheek and kept its spot. Your fingers shifted slightly, brushing the side of her jaw now as neither of you looked away. Sophia was scared that if she did, none of this would be real.

The space between you felt thinner while the noise of the movie started becoming nothing but background sound as the two of you lay there, like time had paused.

Her breath was shallow, and yours wasn't much steadier. And in that quiet moment, her face leaned just a little closer. So did yours.

You couldn’t process pulling away, and instead, your body leaned in more comfortably as your hand lingered on her jaw, heart thudding loudly in your ears.

Then your lips connected, the soft bond of the kiss. Her lips were warm, pillowy, still tasting like a hint of mango and spice. There was a second where neither of you moved, just letting it all happen.

She tilted her head slightly, deepening it as her hand grasped your wrist, not wanting you to move away. You exhaled into the kiss, pressing in a little more as you let your body rest on top of hers, chest brushing against each other. The comforter shifted between your bodies as the two of you kept tilting heads wanting more, the flicker of the movie dancing across your closed lids and warm skin.

There felt like a shared illusion that time was holding still. Sophia’s thumb grazed along the inside of your wrist, slowly trailing down to your waist. Her breath was warm against your skin when the kiss finally softened again, slowing but not stopping, like neither of you knew how to break away from each other.

But then the TV let out a scream, maybe a line of dialogue, and just like that, you pulled away. You were both catching your breath, lying back down into your original positions as you stared at the screen with heavy breaths filling each other's ears.

Neither of you said a word.

Sophia swallowed hard, eyes staring back at the screen as if nothing had happened, but her mind was clearly spinning. She wanted to ask or say something, like wanting to know what it meant, if anything. But she felt tongue-tied as her body remained still, as if she could pretend it didn’t just happen… or that it did, and she was still in it.

You couldn’t handle the silence or the weight that began to settle on your chest.

It felt like everything happened so fast. One moment you were watching, the next you were eating, then you were sucking each others faces off. For once, the confidence left your body, and you didn’t know how to function… and that in itself scared you more than any fight you had ever been in.

So, after a moment, you sat up. The warmth of the comforter was gone, and the shift in weight on the bed made Sophia subtly flinch as you stood up from your spot.

“I should head out,” you said, your voice trying to sound calm.

Sophia nodded, her expression unreadable. She wanted to say something to make you stay, or just talk about it, but nothing right came out. “Okay,” she said quietly, almost like it hurt to respond.

You grabbed your bag with unsure hands, walking toward the door like the air had turned thicker around you. You couldn’t even dare look back at her because you felt like a wuss for not speaking up for yourself.

Your thoughts were everywhere. Confusion and hope that almost made you start hyperventilating as you walked out of the room. Hope that Sophia feels it too, maybe of you not ruining something by crossing a line.

The hallway felt colder on the way out as your fingers clenched the strap of your bag tighter than usual, trying to stop thinking about it. But Sophia basically imprinted herself in your mind, her breath, her lips, the way she didn’t pull away.

Meanwhile, Sophia sat there long after you were gone, as the movie's ending credits began running. Her lips still tingled while admitting to herself that she wanted more. That much was obvious.

But she didn’t know what you wanted. And she was afraid to ask. Because rejection wasn’t scary. If anything, it was a part of life, but rejection from you made her assume it would crush her and take a long time to recover.

Her fingers brushed the spot you’d been just moments ago, where the warmth of your body still lingered even with a blasting AC in her room. It was stupid to hold onto it, because maybe the kiss was just a kiss.

Her thumb moved up toward her lips, pressing against the bottom softly—still able to feel the phantom weight of yours on them. 

She’d tried to make herself more noticeable, choosing risque ways like skimpier outfits at home, applying thick coats of gloss. But she hadn’t expected it to work, and had you kissed her in a way that felt so natural. Not how it somehow made her breath catch in her throat.

But what hit her harder than the kiss itself was how fast you left. The feeling was too much.

Sophia turned her head toward the TV again, only to realize the movie had ended and was now stuck on the menu. Her heart still beating quickly for her to even care, so she turns off the TV to let her thoughts simmer.

Maybe she’d misread everything. A heat-of-the-moment type of deal. But it didn’t feel that way when you wiped her tears and stayed hovering just inches over hers, gaze flicking between her lips and eyes like you couldn’t decide what part of her to focus on.

…Yeah, no matter what way Sophia tried to twist the narrative in her head, it just wasn’t helping her feelings. In fact, it was driving her mad in the way she tried denying her blooming crush for you.

She sighs, turning over to bury her face into the pillow that still smells faintly of you. Sophia knew she wasn’t going to sleep right away as she kept replaying the way you looked at her right before the kiss, and the way your breathing stuttered for half a second after your lips brushed hers.

You, on the other hand, speed walked without even thinking about what direction your legs were taking you at first. You weren’t the type to run away from your feelings. Especially, not when someone had just kissed you like that, and not when it felt that good.

Hell, you had made out with Manon multiple times, and that surely felt good. Even going way further than kisses, to her being completely undressed beside you.

But your head was spinning, and you didn’t know what to do with it. The chill of the night didn’t even bother you. Instead, it was waking you up, helping calm your body down before you could spiral any more.

You shoved your hands into your jacket pockets, heart still racing as you walked through the quieter streets of town and down the block toward your place.

The memory of her lips on yours wouldn’t go away, not even for a second. Yet you didn’t want it to.

Even stepping into your house didn’t do much. The usual clanking of your dad’s alcoholism would usually have you feeling irritated as your mother tried acting as if everything was normal, but you just walked upstairs to your room and shut your door.

Swinging your back against the wall, you took off your jacket and crashed onto your bed while your knees hung off the side. You were usually better at controlling yourself. It was quite literally part of your job to do so, or else you would go insane with the possibility of beating someone to death.

She didn’t know what kind of life you lived. Yeah, she was smart enough to figure out bits and pieces, but not the full scope of things. 

You were okay with being friends with her, but her getting involved with you could be dangerous. It made you think of the way you woke up sometimes with blood still under your nails, or how your ribs still ached if you pressed on them wrong. Even aspects of your life at home.

It was something you didn’t ever want to burden anyone with. The job and school were your escape for that reason.

So a kiss like that would scare the hell out of you. Because it felt too good and with a pristine person, which didn’t make you feel any better.

You hadn’t even said goodnight, and it made you want to punch yourself. 

‘What the hell am I gonna do?’

It had been five long days since you left Sophia’s room and shut the door. You couldn’t even fathom returning to school after that Friday. You did not want to avoid her, but also couldn’t fathom seeing her or saying anything.

Luckily, you were known to not show up on campus unless something important needed to be done, and there were two weeks before performances were happening. So, you stuck to what you knew best. Instead of staying home like a regular person, faking a sickness, or lying about classes to their parents, you buried yourself in work.

Rai didn’t question the sudden amounts of availability in your schedule. If anything, this was something that would work in his favor, giving you many of the dangerous jobs with your high success rates. It was basically back to normal, the late nights, money exchanges, and bloodied knuckles. One of the things on the list of priorities you’d have would be stopping by campus, and sliding assignments under the professor’s office doors in manila folders with your name neatly written across the top. 

You’d show up for about twenty minutes max, showing up to about six offices around the building, then go right back to the warehouse. Sometimes you’d sit around pretending to read, headphones in, jaw clenched tight enough to pop as your mind drifted to space.

Trying to get Sophia out of your head was literally mission impossible. It seemed like everywhere you looked or focused, on reminded you of her. Which made you want to scream at yourself because some things were just so far-fetched, your mind just clinging onto the idea of her.

Like when you saw a bunch of teens eating ice cream, one of them having a tall strawberry cone while walking home. THE COLOR PINK WAS MAKING YOU THINK OF HER.

So, you thought of distracting yourself in another way, and it was by doing what you were best at.

Hitting people, who deserve it, of course, extremely hard. And now with thoughts spiraling in your head, you lacked a tad bit of self-control, which was out of the norm for you.

But it seemed like out of the norm was the pattern for the past few weeks.

So when Thursday night hit the calendar, you and Manon had a drop scheduled at one of Rai’s partner clubs. These were clubs Rai did business with caution and the safety of his employees. This one in particular was one of those neon-lit places that always smelled like sweat, money, and a lot of perfume since women seemed to like the aesthetic of the place. 

It wasn’t your favorite location, preferring the clubs that took place on rooftops for fresh air, but this was a job that had to be done. It was all about business anyways.

Manon wore a black halter mini dress in the color black that looked sleek and showed enough skin, just the way Rai preferred her to wear during these meetings. You hated that part because even with the friends-with-benefits dynamic going on, she is still your friend. The men who bought from your boss rarely treated the transaction like it was purely business with you, now could you even imagine how Manon’s transactions would go with those kinds of men?

Your eyes were sharp the moment you walked in, trailing behind her so the customer wouldn’t notice, watching every movement of the client she was meeting. Rai had given you the rundown on this guy. He’s a new possible client and is trying out the product for the first time. Apparently, just a curious rich brat from uptown looking to "feel something real."

Well, you weren’t liking what he was beginning to feel. Although even if this place was one of Rai’s business partners, it was still open to the general public—no moves were made by you.

It started with him leaning in too close, whispering some things to her in her ear as she visibly shudders at the feeling of his breath, and not in a good way. He chuckled too much as he made obscure gestures with his hands.

Then he moved it to her hip, and you watched her shift uncomfortably. Manon gave a visibly forced laugh, eyes flicking up to you as she subtly took a step to the side to try and create some distance between them. The small look wouldn’t have been caught by him, but you noticed.

Your jaw locked as your knuckles twitched into a fist. She gave you the same look that she usually did when she figured a guy was gonna be a problem. So when you see her locking eyes with you, you give her the smallest nod and look over to the back. Manon received it well and knew what she had to do.

She played it perfectly by smiling sweetly, murmuring something about somewhere quieter. He followed, like the idiot you assumed he was. Guys like this were drunk on their own audacity instead of alcohol.

You followed behind them, and one of the club’s bouncers glanced your way, then looked away just as fast. Rai’s reputation was enough to keep people from asking questions. That and the fact that he paid the club well for instances like this.

Once Manon lured him into the narrow hallway near the back storage room, she stopped walking. He turned to face her, a tipsy grin on his face, thinking he was about to get lucky tonight.

That’s when you march past the two of them, grabbing him by the collar in the process as you walk further back.

Before he could get a word out, you slammed him into the wall. His head thudded hard enough to echo.

"Hey! What the—"

Your fist cut him off, a punch landing across his jaw. The second one then hit his nose hard, and it was too quick for him to even react properly. You didn’t stop, and without hesitation, your fists began a vicious beatdown on him. Like every thought about Sophia—the memory of her laugh, the way she looked at you before you kissed her, the sting of her silence after—was fueling each hit.

Blood began coating your knuckles, even staining your arm and the collar of your shirt as he jerked around after each hit. He tried to block it, tried to sputter out some sorrys, but you didn’t care to stop.

"Don’t ever—" You landed another punch. "—touch her—" And another. "—like that again."

It wasn’t even about Manon anymore. It was about every second of that kiss haunting you. The time that passed while pretending it didn’t mean anything when it meant so fucking much.

Eventually, Manon stepped forward, her voice cutting through the haze. "Okay. That’s enough."

You didn’t hear her.

"Hey—hey," she grabbed your wrist, firm but not rough. "It’s done. Come on." You were breathing hard, the man slumped on the floor, face engulfed in swollen flesh, with blood dripping from his nose and mouth. His groans were low, incoherent, and you looked down at your hand, bloodied and trembling slightly, then at Manon.

Her face wasn’t even angry, just worried.

You stayed silent, fists still balled, adrenaline pulsing as she led you through the back exit of the establishment. Manon looked over at you, eyebrows raised. "You good?" You exhaled through your nose, finally letting your muscles relax. "Yeah."

She tilted her head slightly. "You’ve been hitting harder lately."

"Just needed to let something out."

Her eyes lingered on you for a second too long. She knew you well by now and knew that even if someone touched her that way, you wouldn’t beat them almost half to death. This was about something completely different. 

You hated that even now, in the middle of blood and bruises, you still thought about Sophia. Because now, you were beginning to feel dirty when mixing those thoughts. She was too precious in comparison to the lifestyle you lived.

Manon did her best to lead you through the parking lot toward the car without anyone seeing you. If anyone did, they would call the cops at the slightest look at your hand. You willingly get into the driver's seat and start the car even before Manon takes a seat in the passenger seat.

Before moving, you get some baby wipes out of the center console, wiping all the fluid off your hands. Then you move the gear shift and begin reversing out of the spot before driving back to the warehouse.

The ride back was quiet, you had one hand on the wheel, the other still stained with dried blood, wrapped loosely in a towel, Manon kept in the glovebox. She was able to put it on during a red light, seeing your hands looking incredibly swollen as your veins popped through.

She waited a minute before speaking. "You gonna tell me what’s going on or do I have to guess?" You didn’t answer. "You don’t usually go that far… unless something’s seriously eating you." You gritted your teeth. Eyes locked on the road.

"It’s Sophia, isn’t it?"

Your fingers tightened around the steering wheel. She exhaled, not surprised at the name, but surprised at how much the woman affected you. "Did something happen?"

You didn’t say anything again. "Let me guess," she continued. "Something did. And now you’re pretending it didn’t." Your consistent silence was enough confirmation. Manon shifted in her seat to face you better, her voice softer this time.

"You don’t have to tell me the whole story. But whatever it is, bottling it up and using some poor bastard’s face as a punching bag isn’t gonna help."

You finally spoke, barely above a whisper. "I kissed her." Manon looked confused but tried to understand. "Okay."

"And then I left. Didn’t say anything. Haven’t talked to her since." She nodded slowly, processing. "Did she kiss you back?" You hesitated. Then nodded.

"Then why are you running from it like it’s a goddamn plague?"

Your jaw clenched. You didn’t have an answer you liked. "Because it felt like something," you admitted, voice tight. "And I wasn’t ready for that." Manon sighed, leaning back comfortably against the seat. "Life is all about never being ready for things like that, Y/n. You know that better than I do."

The rest of the drive passed in silence again. When you finally pulled into the lot outside the warehouse, Manon reached for the door but stopped.

"You should talk to her. Before it starts eating you alive, please. Miss Sophia may have won you over, but you're still my friend, and I care about you." You barely give her a nod, but she saw it.

“Good. Let me know when you do, because I want to hear all about the woman who was successful enough to have your heart in a bunch.”

She shuts the door, and you now begin sitting back, thinking about Manon’s advice. Seeing her likely was the best course of action, so you decide to face your problems head-on, like you usually do. You were going to talk to her at the party.

On Friday, you took the opportunity to give Rai a heads up, not be able to come in the next. You didn’t even have to tell him anything, you're still young and he knows the way ‘the youngins’ think, his words, not yours.

After work, you went home, just to lie in bed and think about everything that happened. Your thoughts were just a bunch of storms in your head, which almost got you to sleep for the night. But then you heard a loud crash of glass, followed by a woman’s voice yelling at the top of her lungs.

You jumped up immediately, mainly hoping your sister wasn’t anywhere near it since she would be home for the weekend. The second you cracked open your bedroom door, you saw Zaria, your seventeen-year-old sister, standing at the top of the steps, just listening to all the chaos coming from downstairs.

“Hey, why don’t you just wait in the room just in case?” you said gently, because yelling and making her do it wouldn’t help at all. She nodded without a word, already knowing the drill. If your dad saw her, she’d get dragged into it too, and you wanted to avoid that as much as possible.

You waited until her door shut, then crept down the stairs, trying to assess the situation. The crash was your dad falling straight onto the glass coffee table. Now it shattered beneath him, and he was clearly drunk as he lay there limp.

Meanwhile, your mother looked like she was in the middle of having an episode. It probably started as soon as he walked through the front door, triggering something from an old argument.

You rush back up and into their bedroom and grab her medication, your hands moving without even thinking due to muscle memory. When you ran back downstairs, she looked at you with eyes wide and on edge, but you gave her the softest smile you could manage.

“Mom, it’s time for your medicine, okay?”

At first, she shook her head no furiously, backing away slightly, but you’d been through this before. It was exhaustion and fear that made her uncooperative. In a gentle voice, you tell her, “Once you take these, you can go to bed. I’ll deal with Dad.”

You held out the pills in the palm of your hand, and after a long moment, she finally nodded.

“Alright,” she murmured, taking them and washing them down with water from the cup on the counter. Like a switch flipped in her head, she turned and headed upstairs, her movements a little shaky but steady enough.

You followed the walk under the archway that separated the kitchen from the living room and stood there, just staring at your father. Laid out across broken glass, out cold and acting like his useless self. At least there wouldn’t be yelling or any violence tonight. You sighed, rolled up your sleeves, and began fixing what you could.

It took all your strength to lift his heavy body and dump him onto the couch. He groaned at his landing, but you ignored it. Your only priority was to clean up the mess he made because it was going to be an eyesore.

You headed to a storage closet and pulled out a clear plastic trash bag. It was one of the unused ones for recycling plastic and metal. You picked up the larger shards of glass by hand, moving carefully, then grabbed the broom to sweep up the rest from the wooden floor.

You made a mental note to remind your mom and Zaria to wear slippers around the house until you could mop and vacuum again—just in case. After tossing the shards into the recycling bin outside, you finally trudged back upstairs and lay down, eyes wide open, trying your best to just breathe. 

You guessed it was enough to go to bed, because the next morning, you woke up abruptly from the sound of a large truck honking past your house.

Before realizing how much time had passed, you’d already taken a long shower, just relaxing your tense body against the hot water. You did some light makeup, mostly to cover the remnants of past fights still on your skin. The coverage is just enough to make you look more lively. Then you changed into something comfy but stylish enough not to look like your normal plain self.

Your phone buzzed just as you were tying your shoes.

Sophia see u there *location pin dropped*

You blinked at the message, no “hey,” or “r u still coming?” Her playful emojis weren’t there, causing the nerves to rack up as you stared at the address. Tapping on the pin she sent, you realize the party was happening just a few blocks from her place. You should’ve guessed that was the case since her friends are theeeeee rich girls on campus.

At least it’s a route you've come to be familiar with.

You walked down the warehouse to text Rai about borrowing a car again. Luckily, this man never cared due to the number of cars he owned, because he just gave you a thumbs up as a response. You chose the BMW you had used previously, and forty minutes later, you were pulling into the neighborhood, as you looked for the right house. You didn’t have to look hard, though.

Cars were already lined up along the front entrance of a house and even into the spacious lawn. Everyone parked like they were playing Tetris, and you knew it was going to be a pain to leave your spot, so you opted for a spot outside of the gate. Music was vibrating faintly through the pavement from the outside of the house. You then rolled up the windows all the way before parking, trying to psych yourself up while your stomach rolled with nerves.

The house itself reminded you of a modern version of Sophia’s home with the white, grey, and black colors spanning across the exterior of the house. Seemed like a rentable Airbnb for parties like this, but you could only assume this was actually Lara’s home.

A guard stood by the front door… of course, there was a guard. He didn’t move at first, just stared you down until you got closer. Then he glanced at his clipboard. “Name?”

You almost laughed, the moment feeling ridiculous like you were on a job at one of those nightclubs. But you said your name anyway, half-expecting to be turned away because this just wasn’t your kind of scene.

The parties you were used to were the ones at Rai’s warehouse, when all coworkers would become friends for the night.

Instead of being turned away, he gave a short nod and stepped aside. “You’re on the list.”

Of course you were. Sophia probably pulled some strings on that list. When stepping inside, immediately hit by the overwhelming bass of the loud music, scents of perfume, sweat, and weed mixing in the air. People were going in every direction, some teens doing shots in their little corner, guys doing way too much on the dance floor, and girls holding up their phones under the colorful lights to get the perfect angle for their stories. 

You had to blink a few times to adjust to everything happening.

Your job is probably much more chaotic, but it isn’t chaotic fun like this. This was much more anxiety-inducing than you expected. You took one step forward, and even before you could make any sensible movement, “Holy shit.” A blur of movement, as someone bumped into you, then paused. Sophia told you a bit about her friends for you to be able to recognize the younger girl, Megan.

Her wide eyes flicked over your face, a grin stretching across her lips. “Wait. Wait, Y/n?” You gave a half-smile. “Yeah.”

“I haven’t seen you for some time, Dani looks a bit lonely surrounded by all the dance majors,” she joked, nudging your shoulder lightly. “You clean up nice.”

“Thanks,” you said, chuckling once under your breath. She glanced around, then leaned in a bit. “Looking for Sophia?” You hesitated. “Sort of. But a drink would be nice first.”

“Kitchen’s through there,” she pointed down a hallway to your left. “Fridge is stocked with beers, seltzers, and everything.”

“Noted,” you nodded, already making your way through the crowd. You weave between people like until you reach the kitchen, which was still full, but not as packed as the main room. At least it had lighting that didn’t make you feel like you were in a music video. You tugged the fridge open, eyes skimming past lines of beers and hard seltzers.

None were for your taste, not exactly a big fan of the strong liquors. Then, rows of Buzzballs were near the bottom shelf. You grabbed one instantly, flipping the small blue ball-shaped can in your hand. Better than whatever beer and other options were in there. It was at least sweet to cut through the alcohol.

You cracked it open, letting the fizz rise, then took a long sip. It was helping the heavy feeling on your chest relieve itself, even if it was still there. You then begin looking around, realizing that somewhere in the crowd was the woman you came here for.

Sophia wasn’t the type to check her phone obsessively. At least, not until this past week.

When she sent you the text a few hours ago, she caught herself unlocking the screen just to stare at the “read” receipt under her last message, and she hated the feeling. Sophia Laforteza wasn’t someone who got nervous; if anything, she was headstrong.

But when she saw the little “read at 7:09 PM,” she clutched her cranberry vodka a little tighter. School should’ve been normal, she literally only met you recently. Yet every class was a blur, the corridors felt much emptier, and even her friends couldn’t get her out of the rut she was in. Sophia wasn’t able to focus on anything properly, and Miss Perfect was showing signs of cracking because of you.

Lara and Yoonchae were in their own little world beside her, laughing at something stupid, and for a second, Sophia managed a ghost of a smile. Then Megan appeared out of nowhere, swinging her drink around with so much energy as she leaned in.

“Guess who I just saw,” she grinned, her voice practically teasing. Lara was the first to bite. “Oh no. Who?” Megan swirled the cup, teasing the girls a bit. “Y/n.”

Sophia blinked, confused for a second until it hit her. Her heart did that annoying skip it always did when it came to you, and her eyes darted to Megan like they needed confirmation. “You saw her?” she asked, way too quickly.

Megan nodded, grinning widely. “She went to the kitchen and grabbed a Buzzball. Looked hot, by the way.”

Sophia couldn’t breathe for a second until Lara nudged her gently. Yoonchae, all sweet and too observant when it comes to the older, smiled knowingly. “I think someone’s happy.”

“I’m—” Sophia tried to speak, but her throat felt dry. She took another sip from her red solo cup, but it didn’t help.

What if you were just there for the party? To let loose, escape your job for the night. Meanwhile, you had just finished chugging the last of your first Buzzball, wiping the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand. Your shoulders are now less tense, making the haze of bodies and loud music less suffocating.

You reached back into the fridge and grabbed another. If you were gonna do this tonight, you needed all the liquid courage you could get. You popped it open and muttered to yourself, “Alright. You can do this. No big deal. Just a conversation.”

Just a conversation with the girl you kissed. Who hadn’t texted you anything else all week… Yeah, just a conversation. 

You stepped back into the crowd, scanning. Eyes weaving past couples who were grinding and suckin each other's faces off, people playing drinking games, someone hesitantly trying to do a backflip while people cushioned him. But then, just past the ‘dance floor,’ you saw her.

Sophia was in black jeans and a sleeveless cropped hoodie, holding a red cup while her hair was styled in that effortless, slightly messy ponytail that made your heart quicken because she looked that good without trying.

She looked up and saw you.

Just her eyes locking with yours, widening just a bit. Her eyes were so hopeful, and you could feel it from across the room. So you started walking before you could overthink anything. When you reached her, you didn’t waste time pretending, just blurting out the first thing that came to mind.

“Hey,” you said. “Can we talk? Somewhere quieter.”

Her voice caught a little, but she nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.” She grabbed your hand lightly, barely even touching you, and led you upstairs. You kept your eyes forward while she didn’t even look back, but her grip on your hand was telling enough.

Past the noise, the crowds of people, she opened a door to what looked like a spare bedroom. Unused with lights that were dim… a little moody actually, and once she stepped inside with you, she turned the lock behind her.

There wasn’t complete silence, but neither of you had spoken up yet. The bass of the music still vibrated through the floorboards, muffling everyone who yelled over the music. You could kind of hear her exhale. Hear the sounds of your drinks as you both sipped at the same time, nerves kicking all over again.

She stood near the dresser while you hovered near the edge of the bed. Neither of you moved an inch, but you wanted to get this over with. Manon was right, you were going to face the problem and end it, so you wouldn’t go crazy.

“I didn’t come here for the party,” you said, finally meeting her eyes. Sophia’s fingers tightened a bit around her cup. “I mean, technically I did,” you added. “But not for this party. I didn’t even plan on drinking.” You glanced at your half-empty Buzzball. “Clearly that didn’t last.”

A ghost of a smile tugged at her lips, but it faded quickly. “I came because of you,” you continued, heart pounding against your chest as you finally let out those words. “Because I’ve been trying not to think about that night. But that’s... not really working out for me.”

Sophia’s lips parted slightly, her breath shallow. She looked like she wanted to interrupt, but she held back her tongue, wanting to hear what you had to say for yourself. “I didn’t know if it meant something to you. I didn’t even know what it meant to me at first. But I keep replaying it in my head several times a day. And I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since—even with you right in front of me.”

You laughed a bit, sounding dry and nervous. “I guess I just... needed to know if I was the only one feeling that way.”

Sophia finally moved then, stepping a little closer. Her eyes searched your face like she was making sure this was all reality and not her dreams. “You’re not,” she whispered just loud enough for you to hear.

And for a second, the tension grew stronger as she came a bit closer to you. She placed her cup down on the dresser, then reached out, brushing her fingers against yours.

“You left,” she said. “After that night, I waited every day for something. Anything even, because I thought I did something wrong.”

“I was scared,” you admitted, your voice barely audible. “You make me nervous.” 

“Good,” she murmured, stepping even closer. “You drive me crazy, you know.”

And just like that, there wasn’t much distance between the two of you anymore. It felt nice, seeing that you were getting somewhere, but your heart did feel like it was about to burst with how fast it was going.

Whatever happened next might be the liquor doing its thing, but neither of you seemed to really care. Drunk thoughts are real thoughts, right? Not that you were drunk, but the Buzzball was definitely helping this go smoothly.

Sophia’s breath hitched when your fingers brushed over hers. Her voice came out a bit louder than the first time she spoke. “You make me nervous, too.”

The confession made your chest feel tight and your skin feel too warm. You tilted your head at her, letting your hand slowly turn to lace fingers with hers. “Good,” you murmured, echoing her from earlier. “Then we’re even.”

There was a flicker in her eyes in some amusement, even maybe some disbelief. Her hand squeezed yours like she needed to make sure this was happening, that you were here, saying this, standing in this room with her, not just rushing out and disappearing again. The space between you started to shorten.

Then her eyes dropped to your lips, and back to your eyes, which could only make you feel giddy. ‘What the hell was even happening at this point?’

Sophia stepped forward, and her body was warm. You could feel the heat of her skin even with clothes still separating you. Her hand moved to your jaw, thumb brushing over your cheek like she was trying to memorize your face by touch.

And then, this time, she leaned in and kissed you. This kiss wasn’t as soft as the first one; you felt that she wanted to make it worth it. After what she went through, well, what both of you went through this week, you owed it to yourselves.

You kissed her back roughly and didn't want to let her go as your hands found the sides of her waist and pulled her closer and closer, like it still wasn’t enough. Sophia moaned against your mouth, and something about the sound made you feel dizzy.

She broke the kiss only to speak against your lips, voice husky and uneven. “I thought about this. Ever since I started to get to know the real you.” You swallowed hard, forehead leaning into hers. “Yeah?”

She nodded, her hands sliding around the back of your neck, fingers playing with the hair at your nape. “The way you kissed me that night.”

You let out a shaky breath, pressing your body flush against hers until she backed into the edge of the dresser with her cup on it. Her hands tightened around you as her back hit the wood.

“I’ve thought about you, too.” You kissed her again, harder this time, teeth just slightly catching her bottom lip. Her nails grazed your shoulders through your clothes, and her breath hitched again.

The buildup of tension, frustration, and longing seemed to be catching up as you wanted more of her. You slowly trailed your lips to her jaw, then down to the hollow of her neck, where her skin was already warm. She gasped softly, tilting her head back against the wall. You took your time there, letting your lips graze just enough.

“Screw it,” Sophia whispered breathlessly, her voice ragged. The grin that pulled at your lips was confident. Now this was what you were known to do, but it was different. It was with someone you genuinely liked this time.

You grabbed her by the hips, lifting her onto the dresser effortlessly. She gasped again at the motion, legs parting subconsciously to make space for you between them. Her hands rested on your shoulders, and you could feel them twitching to restrain herself.

Your lips met hers again, much more heated, as one of her hands tangled in your silky hair and the other gripped your shirt like she was holding on for dear life. You let your hand travel up the outside of her thigh, tracing over the denim seam of her jeans, and felt her shiver beneath you.

Sophia’s head tilted to the side, her lips brushing over your jaw. “If you’re trying to drive me insane, congratulations,” she muttered. You chuckled low in your throat, letting your thumb slide just under the hem of her top, grazing the bare skin of her waist. “I haven’t even started yet, and you're already needy.”

She looked down at you then, breathless, eyes heavy, lips red and swollen from kissing. “Then what are you waiting for?”

That was the breaking point. You crashed your lips onto hers again with a groan, hands gripping her thighs as you pressed into her, both needing it right now.

"Can I?" you asked, voice husky, while Sophia looked messy, but she still looked gorgeous in your eyes. She nodded, but you paused with hands on her waist, "Words, baby. I need words."

As you spoke to her, she felt herself being lifted and wrapped her legs around your waist, tight as you settled her onto the large bed.

"You can," your gaze softened, lifting her arms to help her remove the cropped shirt. But there was a shift in your eyes, they darkened as you roamed over her exposed skin, taking in her tan figure that was only covered by a red lacey bra.

Now you weren’t expecting to see such a risque look, but you definitely weren’t going to ruin the moment by saying anything. "Beautiful," you whispered, fingers tracing the curve of her waist. "I can finally show you how much I need you."

You leaned in, pressing your lips on her exposed collarbone, then lower, following the lines of her abs with your mouth. She gave under your touch, the way your lips felt on her just had her melting, wanting to surrender to you completely.

"We can go as slow as you need," you mumbled against her skin, but Sophia seemed to have other plans. "I don't want slow," she admitted, pulling you closer. "I want you."

There was now a smile on your swollen lips—not a playful grin, but something much dirtier. "Then lie back on the bed and let me take care of you."

She complied, watching as you leaned back further to pull your own shirt over your head, revealing more of your tattoos scattered across your ribs and shoulders. Now crawling back onto the bed after throwing your shirt somewhere in the room, you straddle her with a confidence that made her groan at the sight of you on top of her.

"You're so fucking gorgeous," you said, leaning down to kiss her again. "I can't believe you're mine for tonight."

Your words had her shudder a bit as your hands tugged on the waistband of her jeans. Slowly, you unbutton and unzip them to undress her completely, pausing to appreciate her entire body with both your eyes and mouth. "Fucking hell," you quietly sighed as your eyes didn’t stop trailing all over her body. You lick your lips at the sight of her perky breasts.

"Tell me what you want, baby," you whispered with urgency, your breath growing heavier. "Tell me what you need." 

"You," she spat, much more controlling than intended. "Everything. Your hands. Your mouth." You smiled against her skin, "So demanding."

Your lips trailed down her body, every kiss placed softly with intention. The feeling of your fingers exploring her hips had her body feeling on fire. You would caress over every curve until you made your way to her thighs, and she gasped at the touch.

You were on her inner thighs and gave them a kiss before shifting down your entire body. Arms hook under her legs, and she feels your firm hands grip her around the thighs. You didn't even need to do much, and she already felt her core aching, "God, Y/n," she hums lowly.

"Does that feel nice?" you asked, voice breathy and teasing as your fingers traced patterns on her inner thigh. "You like it when I touch you here?"

"Yes," she whined, not even noticing how she squirmed at the feeling. "How about here?" Your fingers inched higher, feeling your fingers right beside her pussy. She whimpers again at the feeling, not being able to trust a word to come out of her mouth.

You laughed softly, "I'll take that as a yes." Mouth replacing your fingers, giving little kisses until you got to her cunt. She sighs at first, your actions having her body relax into the bed. That was until she felt your tongue flick her clit, her body jolting in shock and a sudden moan came out.

She feels you smile as you sucked on her pussy again, "god if I knew how good you tasted, I would've done this a lot sooner instead of thinking so hard."

"Can you shut up a-" she was about to say, but you cut her off as you lick a long strip up her wet core, making her groan. "You're not in control right now, baby. I am."

She feels your tongue go in, and she almost shrieks at the feeling, covering her mouth with both hands. Not even a second on her lips, your hand lifted them off her face. "I wanna hear you," you hummed against her, sending vibrations all over her body, and relentless moaning came about.

"Fuck, Y/n. Feels too good," her breath hitched at the pleasure as she feels her body heating up, sweat beginning to cling to her skin. Her hands found your hair, needing something to anchor herself. You then moved your mouth away, the cold air grazing her wet core.

She looks down, about to complain about the lonesome feeling, until she sees you. Gosh, you looked sexy, gaze droopy as your mouth glistened, covered in her own juices. "I'm not done yet, baby. Don't worry," you said as you felt her tensing at the emptiness.

Your hands went to her pussy, rubbing slow circles around and she can't help but lean her head back. "Shit," she moans, it was slow but it had her throbbing. "You look so good like this under me, Fia," you grunted, and she feels your fingers tease her entrance.

Slowly, you pushed in a finger, and she arched her body up, while feeling the pumping in and out. She crumbles when she hears you speak, "Look at you reacting so well to my fingers." She whimpers as you took your other thumb, rubbing her clit at the same time.

"Y/n," she gasped your name. "More baby, please," she whines, and you sit yourself up a bit. Hands make their way up to her breast, fondling her hard nipples. "How pretty these are," you mumbled, then dove down. Your mouth latched onto them, tongue playing as they flickered while being coated in your saliva. She moaned, wanting more than this.

"Faster, please," she calls out and when looking down, your eyes stuck on her as she sees your lips curving upward despite the continuous sucking. You come up to her mouth, smashing your lips against her. She feels your pace quicken between her legs as she tries to moan, but it was muffled by your needy kiss.

Your fingers slipped in and out, her wetness helping with the quickened pace. "Feel how wet you are for me?" You mumbled against her lips, and she couldn't help but just kiss back in response as her brows furrowed.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, Y/n," she begs, shifting her head to the side, the feeling becoming more overwhelming for her to resist. You knew exactly what that meant, moving back down to her pussy. Mouth returning to your spot, tongue sinking back into her core, tongue fucking her until she chokes up a moan. 

"This wet cunt, just for me, hm?" You hummed against her, the vibration adding another layer of sensation. "I've got you," you promised, two fingers joining her mouth in a rhythm that quickly had her cumming.

"Shit, Y/n," she came as your steady hands hold her while she trembled. Before she could fully recover, you moved up her body, capturing her mouth in a kiss that let Sophia taste herself on your lips.

Your eyes fix all over her face, a bit worried, “Feeling okay?” Sophia giggles at the newfound concern you have for her, finding it cute. “I’m more than okay,” she hears a sigh of relief as you lie down next to her, and she feels warm as you wrap an arm around her naked figure.

“What does this mean for us?” Sophia spoke up, unsure if that’s what she should’ve asked after the time you just spent together. You look at her as she stares at the dim ceiling, wanting to tell her the truth.

“I… I want this to be real. But my life is just completely different from yours, Sophia.”

You told her honestly, which made her turn towards you, shaking her head. You stop her from saying anything, “Involving you in my life could be dangerous for you.”

“Then teach me to fend for myself, trust me. Protect me, Y/n,” she told you with authority in her voice. You were slightly taken aback by her passion, but smiled at how badly she wanted this, just as much as you.

“Fine. I’ll do everything in my power, blood, sweat, and tears to make us work,” Sophia smiles at your words. Giving you another kiss before pulling away and just leaning on your frame, head resting on your chest.

“Can we stay like this for now?” She murmurs, and you nod, complying as both arms now wrap around her body, wanting this moment to never end.

“SO WHEN WERE YOU GONNA TELL US ALL OF THIS?” Lara yells a week later, sitting in the common room area of the building, as Sophia gives her friends the rundown of what happened at the party.

“I just wanted to see where this would all go before I told you guys, okay?” She confesses, gaze drifting toward you as you sat with Daniella again across the room. You laugh about Dani’s mom making fun of her again, which causes you to find Sophia’s eyes.

Smiling at her, you wave as her face goes bright pink. Since that night, you have been making an incredible effort for Sophia. Instead of focusing on your job, you had asked Rai to free up your schedule more. The excuse was that the semester was coming to an end and many exams would be approaching, not want to use Sophia just in case he would say no.

After the party, you had been in school every single day, sitting next to Sophia during classes you shared with her, sharing notes with each other, even bringing her mango juice you would buy every morning before school.

Life seemed to be heading in the right direction for you as well. You were extremely close to buying a good apartment that fit you, Zaria, and your mom with the money you had been saving for the past year.

Thankfully, Rai paid you well, and it wouldn’t take much longer. 

Wednesday night, you even visited the warehouse to report that a client handing over their payment properly, and told Manon about what happened on Saturday. You didn’t go into detail about it, feeling it would be a bit weird to explain how you slept with Sophia… with a person you had slept with in the past.

She was genuinely happy for you, joking a bit, “Well, now that you're off the market, can you introduce me to that Daniella friend of yours?” You nudged her arm and laughed, then talked more about how you felt about Sophia. Manon clearly saw how smitten you are with the Filipina.

She was also a girl’s girl and respected what was happening, so she wasn’t planning on pushing anymore boundaries.

On Thursday, you went over to Sophia’s house, and while spending time with her as she cuddled against your chest, you had told her everything about your life that you possibly could in that moment.

Your job, who you worked for, your situation at home, how you planned on moving out, Daniella being a childhood best friend of yours, and, yes, even about Manon. She stared up at you as you explained each thing, carefully listening to each topic. Sophia didn’t care so much about Manon after learning how emotionally unavailable you were with each other.

It also did help that she was asking soooo many questions about your feelings for her. She would ask when you first started liking her, what kinds of dates you would take her on, and how you would protect her at any moment. Each answer made her heart swell even more for you.

Now the two of you were in school on Friday, and Sophia now had to deal with her friends bombarding her about everything.

“How was it?” Megan asked excitedly as Lara calmed down in her seat. “It was amazing-”

“Are the two of you together now?” Lara butted in, leaning closer to Sophia as the older answered, “Not yet but we’re working on it.”

Megan and Lara were about to ask something again, but Yoonchae beat them both to it first. “Are you happy?”

Now that was a legitimate question that actually made the older smile, just nodding as she kept her head down, a bit embarrassed. Lara and Megan squeal at the reaction while Yoonchae sways in a rhythm, happy that Sophia wasn’t worrying about only being perfect in school anymore.

She now had to think about her feelings for you. If she loved you, when she had to worry about you, the memories she was going to make with you. They were all feelings that made love real and a beautiful thing.

Sophia wouldn’t jump the fence and say she did it out of right love for you, but she was sure that the feeling was close. Because, despite finding the roughed up version of you all hot, she was pleased to see you less hurt in the past few days and just healing up.

“Fia?” She heard to her left, and she looked up to find you. You had this goofy grin on your face, and all she wanted to do was squeeze your cheeks. “Ready for our next class?”

Sophia nodded and got up, collecting her belongings in the process as her friends watched the two of them. You held her hand and waved at her friends, while Sophia told them she’ll be going and how she’ll text them later tonight. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Lara tells the two, and you chuckle as Sophia walks with her head down while you whisk her away to your last class.

Like the past couple of days, you sat down right beside her once you entered the classroom, getting comfortable as you got out your trusty notebook.

“Should we run lines tonight?” You whispered in her ear, and Sophia shuddered at the feeling. “Yeah, my place right after this?” You nodded as you gave her a small peck on the side of your forehead, making her smile like a high schooler who talked to their crush for the first time.

The class was pretty boring, you and Sophia focusing on taking down notes like the studious students you are. The hour passed by quickly, the professor already dismissing everyone and reminding them about the dates of their exams the following week.

Sophia dragged you to the entrance of the school, waving off the attention of random people trying to greet her, only glancing back to make sure you were keeping up before heading toward the parking lot. 

Luckily, her driver was already in front with the big black SUV, standing at the back passenger side like always. Loid, her driver, was dressed in his usual tuxedo and stayed quiet while giving you a polite nod as he opened the door for you both.

“Hey, Loid,” you greeted him with a small smile, sliding into the backseat after Sophia.

He bowed slightly. “Miss L/n.”

The car was comfortable, like usual, since you had been going to Sophia’s place time to time after school. The leather is light brown, the temperature is cool inside, and both of you stayed quiet, just soaking in the silence of the drive after the tons of yapping each professor did in school today.

Your hand found hers instinctively, and Sophia glanced at you, then down at your intertwined hands. Instead of saying anything, she just smiled softly to herself, eyes flicking back out the window. Without warning, Sophia pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek and rested her head on your shoulder.

You tried to play it cool, not wanting her to see the way your cheeks were heating up or how much you suddenly couldn’t stop smiling like an idiot. You were kind of obsessed with her at this point. And the fact that she hadn’t let go of your hand the whole ride only made you feel all warm inside.

By the time the car pulled up to her house, you had to mentally shake yourself out of your lovesick brain. The school play was already on Monday, and the two of you had to focus and make sure everything was perfect.

Because let’s be real, even when you called Sophia Miss Perfect, you were as well when it came to school, if you removed the fact that you didn’t show up much.

You played Aria, the daughter of a harsh politician, while Sophia played Gina, a girl from a poor family. Think Romeo and Juliet, but make it sapphic and kind of switching your roles in real life.

Gina and Aria weren’t supposed to love each other, and they weren’t even supposed to meet.

But of course, fate would do the exact opposite to them… and of course it ended badly.

You both went into Sophia’s room without saying much, the comfort between you two becoming natural now. She handed you a printed script with notes scribbled in pink pen, then plopped on the edge of her bed with her own marked-up copy that had purple ink instead of pink. The sunset streamed through her window, casting an orange hue on the white walls and floors of the room.

You ran through scenes quickly at first, blocking, line emphasis, and pacing. Sometimes she’d accidentally mix up her lines or stare at you for a little too long and get distracted, but it wasn’t like you were any better. You weren’t exactly immune to her entire existence, and the way she acted almost had you in awe.

Just almost, though, because you also had a slightly massive ego when it came to your own acting, but you wouldn’t even admit that to yourself. Things stayed lighthearted until the final scene.

You barely had to flip to the last page to know the dreaded ending came next. The final confrontation at the pier between Gina and Aria. You, standing behind her, acted torn between staying and finally choosing the life her family expected of her.

Sophia cleared her throat, sitting up straighter while you followed her actions, adjusting yourself because of how serious this was about to be. Sophia then said her lines, “If love is a curse, then I guess I was damned the second I met you.”

Her voice wavered slightly, but she did her best to keep going. “You’ve made my life so much better. Made me feel strong through everything that I was going though.”

You stepped forward slowly, moving according to the light blocking your scripts had assigned, and said your own lines. “Gina… I won't ever stop loving you. This is just the only way to keep you safe, away from my father.”

Sophia’s eyes flicked up at you, already glassy, the scene hitting harder than she expected, even if you two were the ones who wrote it. Her lower lip quivered, but her voice stayed strong.  “Then you might as well kill me. Because I’ll never feel safe without you.”

You exhaled slowly, stepping closer, watching her eyes closely as you delivered the final blow. “This is it for us, Gina. I’m sorry.”

That was the line that shattered her. Sophia’s breath hitched as a tear slipped down her cheek. Then another and another as tears just kept falling. Her chest rose and fell like she wasn’t getting air fast enough. 

“Fia,” you said softly, script falling to your side as you set it down on the bed. She sniffled, eyes squeezing shut for a second before she wiped at them quickly. You take a step toward her, reaching out for her hand. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” she whispered, but the way her voice broke at the end said otherwise. “No, that was… honestly? That was incredible.” You swept away one of the tears, giving her a soft, crooked smile. “You just made me emotional with a line I’ve heard fifty times.”

Sophia laughed wetly, leaning into your palm, her body finally relaxing as she let her shoulders drop. “It’s just… I don’t know. Something about it hit harder this time.”

“Maybe it’s because you’re too good at this,” you teased lightly, trying to ease her emotions. “You practically made me forget we’re not actually Aria and Gina.”

You didn’t say anything at first to let her calm down, then you smiled once she stopped hitching her breath and leaned in. “Want to run it one more time?” you whispered. Sophia shook her head.

“No,” she whispered, pulling you a little closer. “I want something else.” She kissed you slowly as your lips helped her calm down. You wrapped your hand around her nape, softly caressing her as you moved back a bit. “We’re gonna do great, so we won't have to act that or more times than we have to.”

That actually made her laugh, and you guys decided that it was enough practice until the day of the pay. The weekend passed by quickly with the help of errands and cash drops for Rai. Surprisingly, there wasn’t any violence, and it was honestly manageable, calm for two days.

But Monday rolled around much more quickly because of that. By the time you got to school that morning, you were practically glued to Sophia’s side like a lost puppy. The nerves were kind of getting to you, not knowing what to expect during that period of class, and yet you weren’t scared. Sophia made you feel ready for what’s to come.

That comfort lasted until your playwriting professor walked in, a clipboard in hand and a too-early smile on his face.

"Alright, we’re on the fifth play today," he announced to the room, already eyeing the two of you. "Which means... Miss Lafoerteza and Miss Y/L/N, you’re up."

You felt Sophia go stiff beside you, then squeezed her hand for a bit of comfort. He continued, “Head backstage. We’ll give you five to get settled before curtain.”

You both stood up, her fingers briefly grazing yours before she tucked her script against her chest. The class watched you two shuffle toward the back with way too much interest in comparison to the previous plays for some reason. I mean, it was likely because of Sophia and her being popular.

Backstage, Sophia was already pacing in small circles, whispering lines under her breath so they would be stuck in her brain. You reached for her hand gently, “Hey.”

She turned, eyes wide, lips parted slightly. “You’re gonna kill it,” you said, squeezing her hand. “We’re gonna kill it. You know this. You could even do this in your sleep.” Her shoulders dropped slightly, but she was still tense.

“Sophia, look at me,” you said.

When she did, you gave her a soft smile and leaned in, wrapping your arms around her in a long hug, and you felt her heart slow down against your chest. She melted into it after a second, exhaling every nerve she felt out of her body.

Then, from the front of the curtain, you heard your professor shout, “On my count — five, four...!”

The show finally began with everyone else having printed out scripts to follow along. Like you said, everything moved smoothly once you were on stage. The lights were hot as they blasted both of your bodies, the silence from the audience was a bit eerie, and somehow every line sounded better while standing on stage. You barely had to act at certain points. The story of Aria and Gina hits a bit close to home for the two of you.

And then came the ending. You swallowed thickly as you stepped forward, the final lines leaving your mouth as your voice cracked just enough to sting.

“This is it for us, Gina. I’m sorry.” You didn’t even realize you were crying until your line finished and your vision blurred. As the script had directed, you turned and went behind the curtains, and once you hit backstage, you wiped the tears off your face in frantic swipes.

Meanwhile, Sophia stayed on stage as planned. She stood there, center spotlight, with her expression wrecked, even in its silence. She stayed in character until the very end, even when she became shocked at the sight of tears rolling down your face for the first time.

Then the lights dropped and the class erupted in applause, even the professor too. She had barely made it back behind the curtain when he called both of you back out. “Miss Y/L/N, Miss Lafoerteza — stay a moment,” he said, staying seated behind the table with his clipboard and the most pleased expression you’d ever seen on his face.

“I have to say,” he continued, looking between the two of you, “this might be the most powerful performance I’ve seen for this project in years. Well-written characters. A plot with a lot of angst. Dialogue that hurt.”

The class nodded in agreement, still clapping. “And based on your script, commitment, and the full delivery of the story…” he paused, then smiling, “I’m giving both of you an A. No notes.”

You turned to Sophia, heart still pounding, and pulled her into a hug before anything else could happen. She was crying again from how much pressure she’d been holding in all month until now. Her arms wrapped around you tightly, face pressed against your chest, and you smiled through your own exhausted breath.

You pulled her backstage after the Professor told the next pair to prepare. Leaning back just slightly to cup her cheeks as her arms were wrapped around you, and kissed her softly. When you pulled back, her smile finally peeked through her tears. “We did it,” she whispered.

You laughed. “Yeah. We really did.” She sniffled, her makeup slightly smudged, and you grabbed the corner of your sleeve to gently pat under her eyes. “Don’t worry,” you murmured. “You still look perfect.”

She bit her lip at that, eyes fluttering a bit because of your touch. Then, before you could overthink it, you looked her dead in the eyes and asked, quietly, “Sophia… will you be my girlfriend?”

For a moment, her face went still. Then the smallest smile crept across her lips, one that slowly grew wider as her eyes looked glossier than normal.

“Yes,” she said softly. “Of course I will.”

[jellyzaces]

# MAMMA MIA — chapter fourty-two!

there’s always been one rule in the group: don’t bring up y/n. no one really knows why, but it’s clear sophia would rather leave her ex-best friend in the past. once inseparable, their friendship dissolved after a summer camp that no one talks about, and y/n vanished, moving god-knows-where without so much as a goodbye. some say it was a fight. others say it was something more. only sophia knows the truth—or maybe not even she does. now, as the third year at dream academy begins, sophia is blindsided by y/n's unexpected return. gone is the familiar, easygoing childhood bestfriend she remembers. in her place is someone sharper, colder, and—unfortunately for sophia—hotter than ever. (who gave her the permission to look so fine?)

CLOCKED

masterlist ✮⋆｡˚📽️ next

concerning behaviours...

@gablmk @goofymickeyr @saysirhc @kathleenmikaelson @soobnotfound @iisayfa @magixpracticality @sed7ction @1luvkarina @linnnsworld @hotluvlet @bauzer @saranglasses @kkoga @chaesitonmyface @arihiu @peanutbutterlover05 @kristalag @bulgik @meiyaes @solentient @yuzeemin @reey0w @vrtualstar @justtluvrr @fruityg0rl @cyberbonesworld @haerinkisser @lafortezalover @cassiespoiler @skz-xii @ninguitar @kimminjswife @yeetaberry127 @p1hbrook @hazel-tanthamore22 @caitlynglazer @minjvers @tormaa1 @nwjnsloona @itzkatflixs @namojoon @falling-intoo-deep @waitsobs @blushmimi @cindergorge TAGLIST CLOSED

[jellyzaces]

˖ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ OFF THE RECORD

˚. ᵎᵎˎˊ˗ TWO. Do you like sunsets?

A/N -> okay so— longer chapters in the future 🤞

### [ TAGLIST ] — @fruityg0rl @skz-xii @yeetaberry127 @reey0w @yoursweetdeception @kristalag @oishiiiz @iluvyuandme @bbykaixx @meoriapeuda99 @academiq @hydrardz @aijunbi

PREVIOUS | MASTERLIST | NEXT

[jellyzaces]

# MAMMA MIA — chapter thirty-nine!

there’s always been one rule in the group: don’t bring up y/n. no one really knows why, but it’s clear sophia would rather leave her ex-best friend in the past. once inseparable, their friendship dissolved after a summer camp that no one talks about, and y/n vanished, moving god-knows-where without so much as a goodbye. some say it was a fight. others say it was something more. only sophia knows the truth—or maybe not even she does. now, as the third year at dream academy begins, sophia is blindsided by y/n's unexpected return. gone is the familiar, easygoing childhood bestfriend she remembers. in her place is someone sharper, colder, and—unfortunately for sophia—hotter than ever. (who gave her the permission to look so fine?)

OH FUCK NO

masterlist ✮⋆｡˚📽️ next

@gablmk @goofymickeyr @saysirhc @kathleenmikaelson @soobnotfound @iisayfa @magixpracticality @sed7ction @1luvkarina @linnnsworld @hotluvlet @bauzer @saranglasses @kkoga @chaesitonmyface @arihiu @peanutbutterlover05 @kristalag @bulgik @meiyaes @solentient @yuzeemin @reey0w @vrtualstar @justtluvrr @fruityg0rl @cyberbonesworld @haerinkisser @lafortezalover @cassiespoiler @skz-xii @ninguitar @kimminjswife @yeetaberry127 @p1hbrook @hazel-tanthamore22 @caitlynglazer @minjvers @tormaa1 @nwjnsloona @itzkatflixs @namojoon @falling-intoo-deep @waitsobs @blushmimi @cindergorge TAGLIST CLOSED

[jellyzaces]

# MAMMA MIA — chapter thirty-seven!

there’s always been one rule in the group: don’t bring up y/n. no one really knows why, but it’s clear sophia would rather leave her ex-best friend in the past. once inseparable, their friendship dissolved after a summer camp that no one talks about, and y/n vanished, moving god-knows-where without so much as a goodbye. some say it was a fight. others say it was something more. only sophia knows the truth—or maybe not even she does. now, as the third year at dream academy begins, sophia is blindsided by y/n's unexpected return. gone is the familiar, easygoing childhood bestfriend she remembers. in her place is someone sharper, colder, and—unfortunately for sophia—hotter than ever. (who gave her the permission to look so fine?)

THEY HIT THE PENTAGON

masterlist ✮⋆｡˚📽️ next

crashout final bosses

@gablmk @goofymickeyr @saysirhc @kathleenmikaelson @soobnotfound @iisayfa @magixpracticality @sed7ction @1luvkarina @linnnsworld @hotluvlet @bauzer @saranglasses @kkoga @chaesitonmyface @arihiu @peanutbutterlover05 @kristalag @bulgik @meiyaes @solentient @yuzeemin @reey0w @vrtualstar @justtluvrr @fruityg0rl @cyberbonesworld @haerinkisser @lafortezalover @cassiespoiler @skz-xii @ninguitar @kimminjswife @yeetaberry127 @p1hbrook @hazel-tanthamore22 @caitlynglazer @minjvers @tormaa1 @nwjnsloona @itzkatflixs @namojoon @falling-intoo-deep @waitsobs @blushmimi @cindergorge TAGLIST CLOSED

[jellyzaces]

your song

synopsis: after years apart, y/n, now a successful chef running her own restaurant in makati, finds her life briefly interrupted when sophia laforteza, her childhood best friend turned global pop star, returns home.

w/c: 15k+

warnings: swearing, slowburn, angst

a/n: heaps of filipino words and dishes used; this is an ode to home! also, my future restaurant’s name is concave so…

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the night air in your grandmother’s backyard was thick with smoke and laughter. anthony was sitting in the corner, half-cross-legged on a cracked monobloc chair, his old ibañez propped over his knee as he strummed through a chord progression he never quite finished. his fingers moved like habit, a little drunk and careless, but familiar in the way things were when you’ve known someone since you were nine.

diana had claimed the role of drink master again — her term, not anyone else’s. she poured red horse into mismatched glasses like she was tending bar at a family wake, wrist flicking slightly each time she tipped the bottle. kyle was by the plastic table, already halfway through the pulutan, a lazy grin on his face as he picked at the sisig you made earlier.

“this shit’s good, y/n,” he mumbled, mouth half-full. “you should serve this at concave.”

you shrugged, one leg drawn up against your chest as you nursed your drink. “too much prep. and people in makati want it artisanal now like, ‘elevated street food,’ whatever the fuck that means.”

someone snorted. you think it was anthony. maybe diana. the laughter came in waves tonight, a rhythm of remembering and forgetting, pausing just enough for something real to slip through before it got drowned again in the next joke.

the group had thinned out over the years; some moved abroad, a few married, one had a kid — but all four of you were still here.

even though diana was getting married.

“speaking of elevated,” she wiggled her eyebrows, wiping her fingers on a paper napkin before reaching for the bottle. “did you guys see sophia’s post last week? they were at some awards show in america. full glam, backless dress, the whole thing.”

there was a short silence; just enough for the name to settle in.

“she really made it, huh?” anthony strummed a few soft notes, like background music for the weight of it. “used to sit on that same stool you’re on, y/n, crying over her trigonometry homework.”

you smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “yeah…she would act like it was the end of the world if she got anything below ninety.”

“remember her driver?” kyle grinned. “the old one who always got lost in pasay? guy called her ten times a day like he was in a hostage situation.”

“well, remember when sophia tried to say kwek-kwek in that american accent?” diana added, slurring a little but still sharp, still loud. “kwek-kwAAAK,” she mocked, holding her nose and puffing her lips like a bad parody.

the group cracked up. even anthony barked a laugh, though he kept plucking at a loose tune; probably something from a parokya song, low and familiar.

kyle choked a little on the spoonful of sisig he scooped straight from the serving dish.

your head tilted back as you laughed, really laughed, and it sounds like it came from somewhere buried.

sophia has always been different in so many ways, but you were close. painfully so. you still remembered the softness of her voice when she would call your name, the smell of her mum’s perfume on her school jumper when you hugged goodbye after visits. she used to send you voice notes even after she transferred schools, even when you couldn’t relate to her stories about cafeteria fights and international school problems, you would still reply.

“what a time,” anthony murmured.

no one said anything, the silence that followed wasn’t loud; instead, it was thick.

everyone knew it was coming, that someone was going to bring her up eventually. it was inevitable — like how you could you not talk of your childhood without mentioning the girl who made it out?

“katseye,” kyle broke the quiet, rolling the name in his mouth like he was still getting used to it. “my niece has her face on a pencil case, she won’t believe that i knew sophia.”

knew.

anthony chuckled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “i saw her in an ad. some korean skincare thing, couldn’t tell if it was her at first. she looks different now.”

your fingers tightened slightly around your bottle. the condensation had already soaked into the tablecloth, leaving a pale ring where your drink sat.

“did she ever…reach out to you?” diana asked, careful this time. her voice softer. “you were pretty close.”

you shrugged. “once or twice. birthdays. new years. the usual.”

you didn’t say more, didn’t say how the last time she messaged was two years ago. how it was just a short, clean: happy birthday, hope you’re well. no warmth to it.

and it’s not like she owed you anything than that…but you thought you were more important than a short sentence.

but sophia, she was always looking past the gate; over the rooftops, past the wires strung like spiderwebs in the sky.

and you — well, you looked at her.

then, like someone flicked a switch, the memory passed. kyle reached for more sisig, diana lit a mosquito coil under the table and conversation shifted without ceremony.

she turned to you, refilling your jar before you could decline. “you working tomorrow, chef?”

“nah,” you replied, voice low, eyes still on your lap. “sunday crew’s got it.”

“concave’s always packed, huh?” anthony grinned, adjusting his grip on the guitar. “saw someone post about the wagyu kare-kare last week.”

“that’s leo’s recipe,” you said, leaning back and finally meeting their gazes. “i just plated it.”

“bullshit,” diana shot back. “kristoff says you make everything in your head.”

you shrugged; it didn’t feel like bossing.

it was more like waking up too early and going home too late, keeping inventory on your phone while waiting in line for rice deliveries and never having time for yourself, let alone anyone else — but they didn’t need to hear that.

not tonight.

they laughed at something stupid anthony had said, but your eyes had drifted to the bamboo fence, where the light from your grandma’s kitchen filtered through in weak slices. you could still hear them talking: about kyle’s ex who showed up at his gym, about some basketball game, about whether anyone wanted to go to tagaytay next weekend…but it blurred around the edges.

you took a sip of beer and leaned back in your chair as you thought about the last time you really saw her — before the debut, the contracts and when she stopped replying. she had red-stained lips from a street barbecue and her hand around your wrist, tugging you toward her car, saying you had to try the new taylor swift song on her aux.

she said she’d always write. that she wouldn’t become one of those people.

and just like that, sophia laforteza faded from the conversation. but not from your mind, not really, not in the way you hoped.

the red horse was beginning to settle in your chest, warm and heavy. the buzz in your ears had dulled the voices around you, just a little, like a layer of gauze had been pressed over the moment.

then kyle, mouth full of sisig, glanced your way. “hey.”

you looked up, startled by how gently he had said it. “yeah?”

“you got quiet,” he said, eyes narrowing in a mock squint. “what, are you still in love with her or something?”

you scoffed, too quickly. shook your head like it was reflex.

all eyes were on you. anthony had stopped playing and now your song by parokya ni edgar was spilling out into the yard, a little tinny through the old speaker. the intro played soft, like a memory you didn’t know you still knew.

and somehow it fit like it always did.

“come on,” anthony teased you in that tone. “it’s just us.”

you wiped the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand, heart thudding quietly. the air was thick again, the kind that stuck to your skin and made your shirt cling slightly to your back.

“it’s nothing,” you murmured, but your voice caught in your throat. “i mean — it was a long time ago.”

“that doesn’t make it nothing,” diana said, not unkindly. “i think deep down, we all knew. she was always fucking holding your hand and you chased her around.”

you stared down at your lap, fingers playing with the frayed edge of your shorts. you hadn’t thought about this in a while. not like this; with witnesses.

“when we were kids,” you started, voice quiet. “it was just easier to…watch her from afar. you know?”

the group went still in the way only close friends could. not exactly dramatic, they were just present.

“she was always…hard to reach. not because she was trying to be. she just was. always got picked up early, going to dance classes, international school. she’d come around in the summers and hang out like nothing changed, but each year…it did.”

you paused, scratching at a mosquito bite on your ankle, feeling the dull sting of it.

“i knew there was no point, not really. there were always boys, older ones, cooler ones. and i was just — me; just a girl in boy clothes who made her laugh sometimes, i carried her backpack when she’d forget it. told her which vendors had the best mangga’t bagoong.”

you shrugged, trying to bury something under the motion before continuing.

“i never said anything. what was the point? she’d never look at me like that. she was the kind of person you tell stories about, not someone who stays. even now…she’s like a ghost. just — shows up on my screen sometimes; all glammed up, perfect hair, perfect lighting. and then she disappears again.”

you felt the words dig into you on their way out. they didn’t sting exactly. they were just real in a way you’ve been avoiding.

“these days, i don’t think about her much. i’ve got the restaurant, i’ve got bills and staff to worry about. my back hurts from standing too long — real life’s really fucking loud.”

you took a breath. slow and steady.

“but every now and then — she shows up. and it’s like nothing ever happened, like i’m fifteen again and i still don’t know what to do with the way she smiles at me.”

the words sat there. no one moved to fill the silence. the night buzzed around you: cicadas in the tree, a distant karaoke machine somewhere down the street, the faint rustle of the neighbour’s curtains.

anthony strummed a slow chord again, soft and out of tune. it lingered.

“that’s some indie film shit,” kyle muttered finally, rubbing his chest like he didn’t know what else to do. “damn, red horse does that to you nowadays? you’re getting old.”

you laughed through your nose. “shut up.”

you leaned back in your chair again, glass cool against your palm. the love you had for her, it was all still there. not overwhelming, maybe a little suffocating.

and that was okay. maybe it didn’t need to go anywhere.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

five years ago

the rain had started somewhere along españa. one of those annoying late afternoon drizzles that came without thunder, just a quiet soaking that crept into your shoes and made the air feel heavier than it needed to.

the jeep you were riding moved in fits — start, honk, pause, inch forward, then brake again. the kind of crawl that made you check your watch three times a minute, even though you already knew you were running late.

by the time you got to the lafortezas’ house in forbes park, your hair had dried in uneven patches, your uniform smelled faintly of garlic and onions from lunch lab and your lanyard with your university ID stuck awkwardly to your chest.

the guard let you in without a fuss, he remembered you from before, gave you a small nod like he felt bad about how out of place you looked.

the house was alive with sound too and not just the sharp clang of glasses or the soft bass of music vibrating through expensive outdoor speakers — but voices; loud ones.

laughter that rang out from the pool area, old relatives talking over each other inside, the kind of family gathering that reminded you that sophia’s world was always louder, always busier, always somehow more than yours.

you stood near the archway for a second, unsure if you should walk in like you used to, back when you didn’t need an invitation, back when you were just there, all the time.

there was a part of you that waited for someone to stop you, they didn’t. one of the servers walking by gave you a polite nod.

you spotted her dad, godfrey, first. he was manning the grill like always, even with his button-down shirt slightly open and a cigar resting in a glass tray nearby. he looked up and grinned.

“look who finally showed up,” he said, flipping a skewer. “traffic?”

you nodded, stepping into the light as you bowed, the back of his hand briefly touching your forehead. “yeah, sorry tito.”

“no worries, kid. you hungry?”

“a little,” you admitted and he just laughed.

“you came straight from school?”

you glanced down at your stained shirt, your scuffed shoes. “yeah.”

“hardworking as ever,” he teased, not unkindly. “you’re doing good over there at ust, huh?”

“really trying to.”

he nodded, like that was enough; trying meant something. “she’s out back. by the pond. look after her!”

you chuckled, heels turning away from him. “i always do, tito.”

you knew exactly where he meant as you followed the path to their enormous backyard.

and there she was.

sophia sat on the edge of the stone walkway, her legs tucked beneath her, a nearly-empty flute of champagne in her hand. her hair was longer than you remembered.

she turned when she heard you, her face lighting up in the same way it always had, as if you were the only person she had been waiting for.”

“i thought you weren’t coming.”

you dropped your bag to the grass and sat beside her. “i was stuck on the road for hours. i left early but the jeepney broke down somewhere in quiapo — i’m sorry, piya.”

“classic, but still late,” she teased, nudging your knee with hers. “i’m glad you’re here.”

you looked at her profile, soft and strange in the warm light. she was beautiful without even trying.

“you look like a celebrity already,” you mumbled, brows furrowing.

she laughed quietly, sipping the last of her drink. “it’s the makeup.”

“nah, you’ve always looked like this; maganda.”

she glanced sideways at you then, her expression unreadable. you looked away first.

the koi stirred beneath your feet, rippling the water. you could hear the faint clink of cutlery behind you, the celebration continuing without her. or maybe without the both of you.

she leaned forward and fixed your collar, not even hesitating, her fingers brushed your neck and it made your breath hitch.

“you smell like garlic.”

you gave her a look. “you’re welcome.”

she laughed. then — without warning — she pulled you into a hug. and it wasn’t for show. not like earlier with her titas or the camera flashes or the formal poses. it was just her, warm and tight and real.

“i thought you really weren’t gonna make it,” she murmured. “i needed to see you.”

you didn’t answer.

there was a long pause when she pulled away; a silence where you could feel everything pressing up against the surface, but no one was brave enough to say it first.

“so…dream academy,” you said eventually, trying to keep your voice light. “sounds fake.”

she snorted. “i know, it feels fake to me but i’m going — i have the ticket and all that jazz. y/n, i’m really going.”

you nodded, a fond smile plastered on your face. “i know.”

and you did. and it was exciting. and you were proud.

but at the same time, something inside you folded a little. it felt like something had creased your chest without permission because this was it.

this was the before. and everything after this would be new and distant.

she looked at you then, like she could feel the same thing.

“i’m scared,” she admitted, voice low.

you swallowed the lump rising in your throat. “piya, you’ll be fine. you were born to do this.”

“promise me something,” she bit her lip, nudging her knee against yours.

you glanced at her, waiting.

“don’t forget me, y/n.”

you blinked, surprised by the way it stung, it was getting too real. “piya —”

“i mean it,” she cut you off. “when i come back…you know. if i come back…i don’t want it to be weird. i don’t want us to be strangers.”

you wanted to say something honest: that you were already strangers in some ways. that you had spent the last few years slowly drifting, seeing each other less, learning how to fill your lives with other people, other stories. yet, she was looking at you like the girl who used to cry over algebra and make you listen to her sing in secret, like the friend who once stood outside your house with a stolen umbrella just so you wouldn’t walk home in the rain.

so, you nodded. “i won’t forget you.”

and you meant it, too. because how could you?

and then she reached up and tugged your lanyard over your head.

“hey —”

“i’m keeping it.”

“soph.”

“souvenir.”

“i’m gonna get in trouble.”

“worth it.”

you stared at her as she smiled, lanyard in hand, your face on the ID still as awkward as ever. and you let her have it because it felt like something small you could give. something real. a piece of this version of you, before everything bent into something else.

someone called her name from across the lawn. tita carla, probably. there was cake to be cut and photos to take.

she looked at you one last time. “i’ll see you soon, yeah?”

you nodded again, even though you didn’t believe it. even though you already knew — you would never see her quite like this again.

and then she was gone; taken by the crowd. and you were left standing under those lanterns, hands in your pockets, garlic on your clothes and a phantom weight where your lanyard used to be.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

makati at 4am was quieter than most people would believe. the usual heat had not yet risen from the pavement and the sky still held onto its last shades of dark blue as if it didn’t want to let go of the night.

the air smelled cleaner somehow: fewer cars, fewer cigarettes, less of everything. you liked this version of the city. no sharp edges, just soft engine rumbles and the occasional flick of a lighter from a security guard somewhere down the block.

you lived just a few minutes away from your restaurant, on the second floor of a quiet building tucked between a shuttered nail salon and a law office that hadn’t opened since the pandemic. your apartment was two bedrooms — too much space for one person, but you needed it. one room was mostly office and storage. the other was yours and in the living area sat your aquarium, humming low in the corner. a slow, glowing square of water filled with plants and one stubborn betta fish named pansit who outlived all the others. he swam lazy laps as you passed by, grabbing your apron off the back of the couch.

concave sat in one of those narrow alleys just off the high street, in between a luxury flower shop and a tailoring studio that catered to wedding clients and politicians. it was a location most restaurateurs dreamed of: central, walkable and expensive as hell.

the rent made your head spin sometimes.

the district lights always flickered too bright, and the kind of people who walked by at night never looked like they worried about money.

still, you liked being there, becoming a part of something that looked clean from the outside even if your hands smelled like vinegar and fish guts most days.

the delivery truck arrived a little after five like it always did.

the driver, tonio, though you weren’t sure if that was really his name — nodded in your direction. he never said anything more than what was necessary, same as he had every morning for the past three years.

there was a rhythm to it now, something almost respectful in the silence.

you opened the metal back door and started unloading: kangkong, eggplants, calamansi by the kilo, three trays of bangus on ice, a bag of frozen ube, half a sack of garlic, pork belly in clear packaging and two boxes of duck eggs, stacked and tied with orange twine.

no lemongrass — you stared into the crate where it should’ve been and let out a quiet curse.

“tangina,” you muttered, rubbing the back of your neck. “of fucking course.”

but you didn’t panic, you and leo would have to figure something out. one of you (was always him) would run to the market before it got too hot, haggle a bit, text the other something dumb about how god’s testing them again.

you started prepping before the sun had fully risen; chopped onions, boiled pork bones for broth, mixed vinegar and soy into plastic tubs for later. your body moved on memory.

your brain stayed somewhere else — thoughts mostly quiet, save for a dull reminder that you had only slept four hours again.

by the time the sun hit the windows, the others started trickling in. leo was first, as usual — his hair still wet from the shower, plastic bags in one hand and an old insulated mug in the other.

“guess what,” he said, holding up the lemongrass like a trophy.

you raised your eyebrows and gave him a tired thumbs up. “legend.”

kristoff came next, with his usual coffee order in one hand and a tray of eggs in the other. aira followed soon after, lipstick already on, humming something that sounded like ligaya as she unpacked tupperware full of garlic rice from home.

the playlist kicked in around 6:45, old eraserheads at first before bleeding into rivermaya. the speakers crackled a little when the volume was too high, but no one minded. leo started singing along without meaning to.

lunch service opened at eleven-thirty sharp.

you barely looked up from the grill when yohan came in, there’s a burn on your forearm from last week that hasn’t scabbed properly but you had no time to worry about it. tickets rolled in and stacked fast.

people asked for things that weren’t on the menu, pointed at photos on their phones, laughed too loud over iced tea. you worked through it, answered questions and nodded when you needed to. instructions were yelled at when something started to burn.

the kitchen was a flurry of heat and noise and movement. and through it all, you stayed planted. solid and sweating.

by two, the noise thinned, tables cleared and the room exhaled.

the team ate standing, as always — no time to sit, they reckoned. kristoff scraped the last of the kare-kare straight from the pot. aira found a pack of chocnut near the register and handed them out like party favours before leaving to see her boyfriend. leo held up the receipt from one of the tables.

“make sure yohan gets a thousand from that,” you sighed, shaking your head at thought of the shy kitchenhand as everyone else cheered for him.

“thanks boss,” yohan gratefully tapped your shoulder.

“five thousand pesos,” leo grinned, waving it. “cash. no note, just pure vibes.”

“well shit,” kristoff said. “guess we didn’t fuck up today.”

you watched from the doorway of your office, legs folded beneath you as you sat on an upturned crate, still wearing your apron, your ma’s pancit bihon in a container beside you. untouched. your hands were resting in your lap, wrists sore, fingers stained slightly orange from atsuete.

you heard the chime of the front door open, kristoff went out to check as your eyes curiously followed him.

after a second, he came back, hesitated before walking over to you.

“chef,” he said softly. “there’s someone here. umm, i think it’s chef godfrey.”

you looked up real fast; it took a second to register “what? seriously?”

“yeah.”

you got to your feet slowly, wiped your hands on a rag that didn’t help much and stepped into the dining area.

he stood near the window, wearing a button-down and linen trousers. same gold watch. in his hands, a small box. he smiled like he was surprised to be there too.

“tito,” you greeted. “you didn’t text.”

“didn’t want to give you a chance to say no.”

you walked over and gestured toward a table. “want anything? we’ve got some sinigang left. or i can get you something from the bar.”

he placed the box on the table, pulled out a chair. “red horse is fine, if you have any.”

you raised a brow. “oh? at this time of day? does tita carla know you’re here?”

“brought pulutan,” he added with a laugh, opening the box. “and she won’t know if you keep your mouth shut.”

you leaned over and laughed, he brought cheese rolls. the ones from that bakery in greenhills, the same ones sophia used to beg for after school like she didn’t have a fridge full of imported snacks.

“they’ve gotten smaller,” he frowned. “but more expensive like everything else in this damn country.”

you sat down across from him, both of you cracking open bottles like you had done this before, though you hadn’t for a while really.

you talked about concave, mostly. the insane rent. the stress of keeping a small team happy. your hope to maybe move it someday, maybe somewhere a little quieter; in quezon city, just somewhere with better parking.

he nodded through it all. sipped his beer and listened. then, halfway through the second bottle, he said it.

“sophia’s coming back.”

your shoulders stiffened before you could hide it. “yeah?”

“just for a few days. there’s a brand deal, promo rounds and she’s filming something at home — she was asking about you.”

“that’s good,” you stared at your bottle, the condensation on your fingertips.

“i told her i didn’t know if you’d want to see her. after all these years.”

you said nothing.

“i figured it was better to say this in person,” he continued. “there’s an intimate dinner at the end of the week. family, mostly. i think you should come. her team’s going to film it.”

you reached for another cheese roll, tearing a piece slowly between your fingers. “i don’t think she even remembers me.”

“you’re wrong about that.”

you looked up. “tito…i doubt it. we haven’t spoken in years.”

“and yet, she still asked.”

you didn’t reply. just took a bite. let the silence rest between you.

“just think about it,” he said gently.

you both sat like that a while longer. the beer was warm now, the box half-empty, the afternoon light softening into gold. you didn’t say yes and you didn’t say no either.

and neither of you rushed to leave.

some things were easier that way.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the next morning, the kitchen still smelled faintly of fried oil and last night’s vinegar, clinging to the walls like a memory that refused to clear. you opened earlier than usual. the silence helped. your hands moved on muscle memory, chopping onions into uniform pieces, brow furrowed, mouth set in that same neutral line you wore when something was stuck in your chest but you didn’t want to talk about it yet.

leo was already there and he was peeling garlic, badly. half the cloves still had skin on them and you were trying not to notice. or crash out over it.

“you’re unusually quiet,” he began, not looking up. “like…extra quiet.”

“you yap enough for both of us.”

he let out a soft cackle. “true, but you usually complain about something by now.”

you didn’t answer, just kept chopping carefully as your hands moved automatically. there was a pot simmering behind you and a container of cleaned bangus on the counter. you could feel leo watching you now.

“did you get laid or something?”

“leo,” you groaned, voice flat.

he whistled. “not a no.”

before you could respond, aira burst through the back door, her hair already up in a messy bun, eyeliner on point like always. she dumped her tote on the bench and grabbed a spoon from the drying rack, immediately dipping into one of the sauces without checking what it was.

“oh my god,” she muttered, licking her finger. “what is that? it’s like…happiness in liquid form.”

“sinamak,” you replied. “don’t drink it.”

“you didn’t eat your ma’s pancit yesterday,” leo pointed out, not leaving the topic alone.

“wasn’t hungry.”

he made a face and returned to peeling garlic, slower this time. you felt his eyes flick toward you again but he didn’t push it.

“so, uh…” he started, deliberately casual. “that guy yesterday.”

you paused for a moment. your knife hovered above a clove of garlic as you waited for him to finish the thought.

“older, gold watch, smelled like old money and dental appointments.”

you huffed out a quiet laugh despite yourself, but refused to say anything.

“was that chef godfrey?” he added, and this time he turned properly to face aira, who was unloading vegetables from the delivery crate. “as in godfrey laforteza.”

aira froze mid-crouch, holding a bundle of kangkong like she had just discovered fire. “wait, sophia laforteza’s dad?!”

you sighed; there it was.

“oh my god, oh my god,” she stood up straight, practically vibrating. “are you telling me that the godfrey laforteza was here and no one told me? you let me go see my stupid boyfriend?”

leo shrugged, grinning now. “i didn’t realise until he left — his back was facing the kitchen so we couldn’t see and kristoff didn’t say anything.”

aira placed the kangkong down like it was sacred. “do you know who his daughter is? she’s literally the reason i started contouring. i watched one fancam and it changed the shape of my face. oh my god. oh my god.”

you wiped your hands on a towel and leaned against the counter like it was no big deal. “we used to be friends.”

she blinked at you in disbelief. “you…what?!”

“me and sophia,” you repeated, voice flat like you were talking about the weather. “we sort of grew up together…but like different tax brackets and all that.”

she made a noise somewhere between a squeal and a choke, placing both hands on the edge of the counter. “i need you to repeat that sentence. slowly. with emotion.”

you raised an eyebrow. “we. used. to be. friends.”

“holy shit,” she whispered. “like, close friends? or like…you-commented-on-each-other’s-posts kind of friends?”

you reached for a pot behind you, pretending to focus on something else. “close like her snotty ass was over at mine all the time and the guards at forbes park knew me.”

leo leaned in now, voice teasing. “she stole her college ID too, as souvenir.”

“leo,” you muttered, warning him because she was definitely going to flip out.

she gasped so hard she nearly dropped the carrots. “wait — are you being serious? like she physically stole it? like in a cute way?”

“she asked if she could keep it,” you mumbled, smiling shyly. “i let her.”

her jaw dropped and she looked physically pained.

“why are you still here?” she asked, scandalised. “why aren’t you in an airport chasing her down with a bouquet?”

leo let out a laugh. “i’ve been asking myself the same thing.”

you felt heat rise to your neck and busied yourself with lighting the stove. the gas hissed, caught the flame and you stirred oil into a pan without thinking.

“it’s been years,” you said finally, voice quieter now. “we haven’t spoken since she left.”

that sobered the room a little. aira glanced at leo, then lowered herself onto a bench, the excitement in her face softening into something else.

“but…she’s back?” she asked.

“for a few days. a brand thing, plus her dad said there’s a dinner.”

no one said anything for a while. its been way too long now and you began to wonder what her voice sounded like these days.

“you thinking of going?” leo asked again.

you stared into the pan and watched the garlic start to colour. “i don’t know.”

she tilted her head. “you want to?”

you didn’t answer right away because you didn’t know how to explain the weird ache that came and went whenever you heard her name. how some days it barely registered, and others it clung to you like heat in the back of your shirt.

how you weren’t sure what was worse — seeing her again or not seeing her at all.

“i’m busy,” you muttered, not quite meeting their eyes. “we have a business to run.”

leo snorted. “cop out.”

“maybe.”

aira leaned her chin into her hand. “just wear something nice. you don’t even have to say anything, go see her.”

you stirred the garlic again, let it brown.

“just think about it,” she added, softer now. “you owe yourself that much, yeah?”

the smell of burnt garlic filled the room.

“shit,” you muttered, turning off the heat. you scraped the pan out into the compost bin and started again, slower this time.

no one pressed further. they didn’t have to.

the kitchen was loud again within minutes —spoons clinking, water running, someone restarting the playlist. rivermaya this time. hinahanap-hanap kita played low beneath the noise, as if the speakers knew something you weren’t ready to say yet.

and you let the thought of her linger, unspoken, like the smell of something once sweet still hanging in the air.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

five years ago

the weekend after sophia graduated, the sky above manila looked unusually clean - cloudless, wide, almost smug in how blue it was. your lola, alongside your parents, had left for the province earlier that day, which meant the house was yours for the weekend.

the family house in quezon had the kind of roof that wasn’t really meant for lounging, just concrete and rusting rebar poking from the corners, but you claimed it years ago with foldable chairs and old blankets, a spot to sit when the house felt too full or the night too quiet.

sophia had arrived just after seven, wearing shorts and a loose t-shirt that hung slightly off her shoulder. her driver had dropped her off at the corner because she insisted on walking.

she came bearing gifts: one large jollibee bag, four smirnoff mules sticking out the top and a plastic container of gravy she insisted was worth the spill in her bag.

“you told your lola?” she asked, stepping out of her shoes by the back door.

“that you’re crashing the night?” you returned a question, reaching for the bag of fries. “nope.”

“perfect,” she grinned.

you both carried the food and drinks up the narrow stairs to the roof, a towel tucked under your arm, a blanket you pulled from the cabinet smelling faintly of mothballs. the rooftop was still warm underfoot, the cement holding onto the last heat of the day. your neighbours’ radio played something low — maybe kitchie nadal, the echoes of someone else’s happiness.

“we’re celebrating,” she announced, grinning as she pulled the food out one by one on the roof, the stars above just starting to show. “high honours. second highest in the whole school. can you believe it?”

you shook your head and passed her a spoon. “i would’ve believed it if you passed math without crying.”

“that was character development, asshole,” she shot back. “besides, crying builds humility.”

you laid the blanket down between the water tank and the clothesline as you laughed at her, surrounded by rusting steel bars and old satellite dishes.

“cheers,” sophia said once you’ve settled down, cracking her bottle open against the metal pipe and raising it toward you.

you tapped yours against hers and took a swig. it was sweeter than you remembered. “this shit’s nasty.”

“well, can’t be picky, i brought the gifts and your only job is to consume them,” she snarked.

you both ate like you hadn’t had fast food in weeks, spooning rice straight from the paper containers, sitting side by side on an old blanket with faded cartoon characters printed across it.

the drinks were warm, but they still fizzed when opened and you continued clinking bottles like you were pretending to be older than you were.

“what now?” you asked, wiping gravy off your chin with your sleeve. “what’s next?”

she leaned back on her elbows, looking up. her hair spread out against the blanket like ink in water. “i don’t know. maybe take a break.”

“from what? being pretty and smart?”

“exactly.” she laughed, then glanced over. “i’m thinking of trying something…different.”

you raised a brow. “like what?”

she hesitated and you noticed it — not nervous, exactly, but something quieter. something still forming.

“i dunno yet,” she hummed. “something big.”

“whatever it is, you’d be good.”

“i might suck.”

“you won’t.”

she tilted her head toward you, her ponytail brushing the blanket. “you’re always sure about me.”

“someone has to be.”

you lay side by side on the blanket, her legs brushing against yours occasionally. the stars weren’t as sharp as they were in the province, but they were enough. the city around you still hummed: buses in the distance and a dog barking.

you didn’t talk much; not at first. your arms were close, then closer. and then her fingers found yours and didn’t let go.

her hand was warm and a little clammy from the bottle, but you didn’t mind. you didn’t even breathe too hard, afraid it might ruin the moment. she didn’t say anything either. just let the space fill with sound and the night stretch over both of you like a quiet promise.

you could feel her thumb moving in soft circles against yours.

“i still can’t believe i graduated with medals,” she murmured after a while.

“you say that like you were failing all year.”

“i mean, i wasn’t trying that hard. they just like me.”

you turned your head to look at her. her eyes were fixed on the sky, lashes catching the light of the nearest streetlamp. she looked older than she did last summer, but still had that same uneven tan on her arms from volleyball tryouts, nails still painted light pink and chipped at the edges.

she turned her face toward you now, the stars catching in her eyes.

“do you ever feel like you’re standing at the edge of something?” she asked. “like something big is about to happen and you can’t tell if it’s good or bad, just that everything’s going to change?”

“yeah,” you said. “i do.”

sophia smiled, slow and real. “good. then we’ll be scared together.”

you wanted to kiss her right then, but you didn’t - couldn’t. all you could do was squeeze her hand a little tighter and memorise the way she looked with the city lights flickering below her and the whole night sky above.

neither of you moved.

you finished your drinks and shared the last peach mango pie. one of your neighbours yelled for their kid to come inside, the air cooling down. you stayed on the roof until you both started to shiver, until the stars faded behind the first pale streaks of morning, until sophia fell asleep with her head on your shoulder, fingers still loosely laced with yours.

you didn’t sleep, just watched the sky change and wondered how long before you would lose this version of her.

before whatever was coming finally arrived.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the team had just settled into their usual late-morning rhythm when anthony showed up, slouched and sunburnt, with a guitar strapped to his back like it was a medical condition he refused to treat.

“oi,” he called out as he pushed through the front door, sweat already glistening along his hairline. “you still feeding stray musicians or what?”

you glanced up from where you were marinating pork belly, salt crusted on your fingertips, elbow-deep in prep bowls. “what time’s your gig?”

“twelve and nearby. rooftop bar in legazpi. they said there’s free iced tea, which means it’s gonna be a nightmare.”

you smirked and went back to massaging vinegar into the pork. “you just want free food.”

he gave you his best impression of innocence. “nooo, i want your company.”

“you wanna scab off my company,” you corrected.

“and your company.”

aira, who had been julienning carrots with the intensity of someone seeking vengeance, glanced over and groaned. “for fuck’s sake, him again?”

“hello to you too,” he grinned, leaning against the counter like he owned the place. “still can’t cook eggs without burning them?”

“still can’t sing without pretending it’s 2007?” she bit back, raising an eyebrow. “get the hell out of my kitchen.”

“i came for peace and nourishment.”

“you came to freeload.”

leo, somewhere behind the fridge door, coughed out a laugh. kristoff didn’t look up from stirring the adobo, but his shoulders shook with quiet amusement.

you shook your head and went back to slicing, but you were smiling now. there was something about anthony that always shifted the air when he arrived — like someone had opened a window and let in a breeze that was equal parts annoying and familiar.

aira sighed dramatically and reached for the leftover chorizo in the cooler. “you’re getting fried rice. no substitutions. no complaints. and i’m adding egg even though i know you hate egg.”

“can’t wait,” anthony chuckled. “truly, this is a restaurant built on spite.”

“you’re welcome.”

he slid into the bar stool by the pass and began unloading the contents of his pockets: a capo, his wallet, half a cigarette in foil. the guitar remained slung across his chest, awkward but somehow fitting.

you rinsed your hands and leaned against the sink, watching the chaos unfold with a quiet sort of fondness.

then, mid-moan about a previous gig that involved a flooded stage and a broken amp, anthony looked at you and went suddenly quiet.

“hey…umm, piya messaged me on facebook last night.”

your chest didn’t tighten immediately. it moved slow, like something thick dragging its way through water.

“piya?” you asked, like you hadn’t said that name aloud in years. which, technically, you hadn’t.

“sophia,” he clarified, more careful now. “she asked if i’ve heard from you because apparently…she hasn’t.”

silence fell like a dropped plate. even the pan aira had been rattling on the stove went still.

yohan emerged from the walk-in cooler with a crate of eggs and a raised brow. “who’s sophia?”

kristoff, ever the bearer of pop culture, didn’t even blink. “sophia laforteza.”

yohan stared. “as in katseye sophia?”

“yep,” he replied, flipping a slab of meat in the pan.

aira dropped the spatula. you didn’t say anything, your mouth had gone dry.

he was still looking at you, not accusatory, just curious. and maybe - maybe a little worried. “you haven’t checked your phone, have you.”

you looked down at your apron, then your hands. the faint cuts on your knuckles, the turmeric stain beneath your thumb nail. you hadn’t brought your phone, again.

it’d been three days now. you kept leaving it in the same place, on the corner of your dresser under a half-folded shirt, turned face down.

“i haven’t,” you admitted.

“y/n,” anthony winced, voice a little firmer now. “come on.”

you shrugged. “i didn’t feel like it.”

“she’s looking for you — she’s trying.”

“yeah, well.” you ran a hand through your hair. “she knows where to find me.”

aira leaned back against the counter, arms crossed. “babe, i know you’re mysterious and deep and have a whole torpe heart thing going on — but that’s sophia laforteza. why are you trying to fumble so bad?”

leo chimed in from behind the fryer. “what if she’s standing outside the restaurant right now? what if this is like, her kilig moment?”

“don’t be weird,” you muttered, though the thought twisted somewhere low in your stomach.

she wouldn’t show up, would she?

anthony slid the plate of chorizo fried rice toward himself, but didn’t touch it yet.

“listen,” he said, more gently this time. “you don’t have to talk to her. or see her, but you should at least know what she’s trying to say.”

you nodded slowly, not agreeing; more like acknowledging. kristoff turned the stove off, someone turned the playlist down.

the kitchen didn’t resume its usual volume right away. everyone hovered in that pocket of quiet, watching you in the way people do when they’re not sure if you’re okay.

you looked out toward the front window, where the morning light was already starting to glare off the tiles.

sophia’s name sat in your chest like a coin pressed flat under your ribs.

maybe the message was nothing; maybe it was too late to matter; maybe it mattered anyway.

you stepped back toward the sink and turned the tap on, cold water rushing over your hands, grounding. you closed your eyes for a moment and let the sound fill the room.

behind you, anthony finally took a bite of the fried rice.

“aira,” he called through a mouthful. “this is surprisingly edible. are you okay?”

aira launched a spoon at his head.

the kitchen laughed once again, tension cracked open just enough for the morning to keep going. you dried your hands and walked back to the prep table.

you still weren’t ready to check your phone.

but maybe you were getting close.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

it was just after eight in the morning and the kitchen was already hot and humming, the scent of garlic and bagoong thick in the air. kristoff was slicing tomatoes at the speed of a man who had nowhere else to be, while yohan fiddled with the fan in the corner that never pointed in the right direction.

you were leaning against the sink, phone pressed between your shoulder and cheek, stirring sinigang broth while staring at nothing in particular.

the line rang twice before godfrey picked up.

he answered on the second ring. “hello?”

“tito,” you began, voice still scratchy from sleep. “hi, it’s y/n.”

a pause, then the warmth you expected. “anak, good morning. i was just about to call you to confirm.”

you cleared your throat. leaned against the bench. “i, uh…i just wanted to say thank you again for the invite.”

he waited because he knew there was more to come. “everything alright?”

“yeah, yeah - nothing serious. one of my chefs, aira, is down with something. food poisoning, maybe. someone needs to cover service so i can’t make it tomorrow night.”

you heard a chair scrape in the background, faint clinking of glasses — probably preparations for the dinner you were bailing out on. he didn’t say anything at first, just let out a slow breath.

“that’s…a shame,” he replied eventually, voice still gentle. “i was hoping she’d get to see you.”

you looked down at the broth, watched the thin film of oil ripple as you stirred it slowly.

“thank you for letting me know,” he added. “you should see her this week, if you can. i think…it would mean a lot to both of you if you talked.”

his tone stayed polite, but you could feel the weight shift. something a little sad.

“yeah,” you muttered like a promise. “i will.”

you weren’t planning to, not really. the thought alone made your pulse skip and your stomach knot. not in a sweet way, not in a maybe-it-could-work way — just fucking tight and heavy.

like too much time had passed and the wiring inside you didn’t know what to do with her anymore.

still, you said yes because it was easier. and because godfrey sounded like he still believed in whatever you and sophia used to be.

you hung up after a few more words: safe, formal ones — and stood there in the kitchen, staring at the phone like it owed you something.

you didn’t feel relieved. just…stalled.

aira stood directly behind you, holding a bag of spinach. you turned just in time to get hit in the chest with a plastic bag. it bounced off harmlessly, but she looked like she meant it to hurt.

“you absolute fucking liar!” she hissed as she hit you once more.

you turned, blinking. “what the hell —“

“food poisoning?” she narrowed her eyes. “from what, y/n? the rice i cooked myself this morning and ate in front of you?”

you opened your mouth to speak, she smacked your shoulder again with the spinach bag.

“i didn’t think you’d hear me!” you put your hands up in defeat.”

“you used me,” she said, dramatically. “like a prop. like a false witness.”

“aira —”

“to lie to sophia laforteza’s dad. you’re going to hell.”

you put the ladle down and started laughing. “you’re being ridiculous.”

“you used me?” she gaped. “me? your innocent, hardworking, full-of-life staff member?”

you raised a brow. “you’re the one who took a three-hour break yesterday to go get lash extensions.”

“irrelevant,” she snapped, pointing at you dramatically. “you really lied to sophia laforteza’s dad and dragged my good name into it. that’s a sin, y/n. a literal sin.”

you pressed your lips together, trying not to laugh again.

“you’re going to hell,” she continued. “straight to the deepest, hottest level — no aircon. and i hope they only serve watered-down matcha.”

you let out a quiet snort. “i wasn’t planning on going to heaven anyway.”

she placed a hand over her heart. “you don’t deserve nice things.”

you rolled your eyes and went to the fridge, pulling out the tub of leftover atchara. “he said i should see her sometime this week.”

aira’s voice jumped an octave. “then can i go? text him! say your loyal, honest employee is free to represent you.”

you ignored her, opening the lid and giving the contents a stir.

“seriously,” she said, planting herself beside you. “i have an outfit picked out already. it’s tasteful but flirty. i’ll call him ‘tito’ and everything; maybe he’ll adopt me.”

“aira.”

“yes, ma’am?”

“i have a lot to do today.”

“you’re hiding,” she pointed out, softer now. “you’ve been hiding.”

you didn’t say anything, just closed the tub and placed it back in the fridge.

from the other side of the kitchen, kristoff called out: “what’s happening?”

she spun around. “chef y/n lied to god.”

“which god?”

“godfrey.”

the kitchen erupted into laughter as you let the noise fill the space again. it was warm and familiar — just loud enough to cover whatever it was you were still trying not to feel.

even yohan peeked around the shelves, smiling behind the fan he was still pretending to fix.

“god,” aira muttered, turning back to you, hand over her heart. “i would’ve died to go. you should’ve asked him if i could take your place. my body is ready.”

“you don’t even own a blazer.”

“i have a linen vest,” she feigned offense, insulted. “and a perfectly respectable skirt.”

you shook your head, trying not to smile. “i’ve got things to do, aira. it’s payroll day. i need to sort everything by lunch.”

she sighed, deflating, then threw the spinach onto the prep bench. “you’re a coward,” she yelled out. “and i say that with love.”

the rest of the boys chuckled, the tension melting back into the usual mess of clanging pots and overlapping instructions.

everyone moved around you again, the rhythm of the morning returning. you leaned back against the counter for a second, letting the noise swirl around you.

for a second you had opened your phone last night just to check your email, you told yourself. but there they were; texts from an unknown number…short ones.

“heard from dad you’re still in makati. didn’t know if you’d want to see me, but i’d really like to see you.”

“even just for coffee. no pressure.”

“there’s a lot i probably don’t have the right to say. but i hope you’re okay.”

the first message had come four days ago. you hadn’t answered any of them.

every time you read her name, your chest did that same thing: tightened, skipped, clenched. it was stupid. you weren’t sixteen anymore — you had rice to steam and salaries to divide, but still.

aira nudged your hip with her elbow as she passed by. “hell,” she mumbled under her breath. “straight to hell.”

you laughed again, low and dry, and reached for the spinach she’d abandoned.

“then at least i won’t be cold.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

seven years ago

it was too bright inside newport world resorts. you hadn’t known a mall could shine like that; every floor glossy, every piece of light somehow staged to make everything look more expensive.

sophia walked ahead of you, her arm looped through leon’s, her heels clicking softly against the marble. you trailed just behind them next to sophia’s mum, carla, close enough to hear snatches of their conversation but far enough not to be in it.

leon was one of sophia’s best friends, tall and confident in that quiet, magnetic way. he had that hair that always looked good no matter how humid it got and a voice that sounded like he had grown up near a mic. when he smiled, people looked.

you hated that you noticed.

“you alright?” carla asked, reaching a hand to your back. her voice was gentle, but her bracelets clinked as she moved, always sounding like she was about to announce something.

“yes po,” you answer, even though your knees felt a little weird and you kept adjusting the strap of your shoulder bag like it was a nervous tic.

she gave you a kind smile, one that felt different from most adults. it was like she noticed you. “you can drop the po, y/n. we’re not at school.”

“we’re going to the steak place upstairs,” sophia said over her shoulder, her voice light. “dad booked the private room.”

you nodded; didn’t say much. you’ve never been to a place with private rooms before. most of your lunches were in food courts or karinderyas, you almost wore your school shoes today out of instinct.

“we’re early,” carla murmured to sophia as you reached the escalators.

“he’ll make us wait anyway,” sophia replied, pulling her sunglasses up onto her head. “he always says twelve and then shows up at twelve-thirty.”

you didn’t know if she was annoyed or just amused. it was hard to tell with her; always had been.

leon waited for you as you reached the top of the escalator. “he’s a chef, you know that? her dad?”

you nodded. “yeah, godfrey laforteza.”

“have you met him?”

you smiled. “only at their house.”

he grinned. “this’ll be interesting then, i’m stoked to try the food.”

the restaurant was tucked into the corner of the resort’s ground floor, behind a set of frosted doors and a name you couldn’t pronounce. a host greeted you all in english, bowing slightly before gesturing toward the private dining room.

it was dim and warm inside, golden light spilling from above like syrup.

godfrey stood as you entered; gold watch catching the light. he smiled wide when he saw sophia, then clapped leon on the back with a kind of easy affection that told you this wasn’t the first time they’d met.

then he looked at you.

“y/n,” he said, more warmly than you expected. “you look taller.”

your ears went hot. “hi po, tito.”

“come, sit next to me,” he patted the seat next to him. “we’re trying the new lunch menu. i want to hear what you think.”

you didn’t move until carla gently nudged your back. “go on, love.”

you sat between godfrey and carla, across from sophia and leon. she looked at you briefly, smiled; her teeth were perfect.

the waitstaff came in like a small parade — trays of soup poured from porcelain teapots, vegetables arranged like ikebana, fish so delicate you hesitated before touching it.

godfrey talked about everything. the plating, the temperature, the timing. he said things like mouthfeel and balance of acidity, and you tried to keep up but mostly, you watched his hands as he sliced through a duck breast with practiced ease.

“you like food, don’t you?” carla asked beside you.

you nodded, wiped your mouth before answering. “yes po.”

“she makes mean pancit at home,” sophia added. “and mango float.”

godfrey leaned in slightly. “you wanna learn how to cook?”

“a bit,” you looked around, unsure. “not like this, i don’t think i could ever be this good.”

“this is all technique,” he waved a hand. “the heart’s what matters. you’ve either got it or you don’t.”

you didn’t say anything. but you felt something click quietly into place, right behind your ribs.

you looked at him. then at your plate. then at your hands. and just like that, without drama or realisation or applause — you knew.

you wanted to cook.

“you’d do well in a kitchen,” he mentioned, sipping his wine. “smart hands and curious eyes.”

carla beamed at you like she had already decided this could be your life if you wanted it.

you were still thinking about it: about the feel of the fork in your hand, the way the food made your chest open up — when sophia leaned into leon and whispered something that made him laugh. she touched his arm lightly, leaned her cheek against his shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world.

you blinked.

something tight twisted in your stomach, sharp and unfamiliar. it wasn’t anger. not quite. it wasn’t sadness either. just a kind of…displacement. like you lost something before you even knew you were holding it.

you stabbed your fork into the plate a little harder than you meant to.

“y/n?” sophia turned to you, concerned. “you okay?”

you nodded. “yeah. just hot.”

leon passed you a napkin, still grinning. you took it, barely looking at him.

she turned back and you felt the moment leave you.

the rest of the lunch passed in a blur; you listened when they talked, laughed when you had to, but your mind had split. half of you sat at the table. the other half had already started picturing a kitchen of your own: the heat, the knives, the smell of onions hitting butter. the fire.

and somewhere deep inside that heat, you imagined sophia again. her hand not on leon’s shoulder, but yours.

you didn’t know what that meant. not yet.

but the ache stayed with you. it still does.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

saturday nights at concave always felt like a controlled collapse. the kind of exhaustion that made your fingers ache and your lower back throb with every step, but somehow still left you wired from the chaos.

tonight had been one of the busiest yet—valet queues doubling up, someone asking for a private dining room that didn’t exist, and a family of seven who insisted they were promised a window seat by ‘the guy who owns the restaurant’ despite not having a reservation at all.

it was past ten when the last table finally cleared.

aira was singing off-key into her phone, facetime angled towards the ceiling while she wiped down the counters with rhythmic aggression. her boyfriend’s laugh filtered faintly through the screen, followed by a dramatic “babe, i’m working!” which none of you believed for a second.

the rest of you sat on plastic crates near the back door outside, backs against the wall, the night air heavy with heat and frying oil. kristoff lit the last cigarette and passed it around, all of you taking slow drags like it was communion. there was a quiet bond that came with being this tired at the same time as other people.

“i still can’t believe she dropped that bottle,” leo began laughing, his voice hoarse from yelling over the pass earlier.

“ten thousand pesos,” yohan added, exhaling smoke through his nose. “and she cried like her dog died.”

you winced, leaning your head back against the concrete. “i felt bad. she was shaking.”

leo nudged your foot. “you told her it wasn’t coming out of her pay.”

“of course i did.”

he grinned. “see, that’s why you’re a terrible boss.”

“wow, thanks.”

“you care too much,” he continued, flicking ash off the side. “it’s gross.”

“good bosses don’t cry in the dry storage,” you muttered.

“you cried?”

“it was humid.”

they all laughed.

kristoff took a final drag from his cigarette, then flicked it into the old tin can near the door. “you know what’s worse?” he shook his head. “diana and i fighting last night.”

that got everyone’s attention as you all turned your heads slightly.

“about what now?” yohan asked.

he dragged a hand down his face. “i put her water bottle in the freezer. just the regular way. and apparently that’s…how you destroy the lining? or the metal? or our future children? i don’t even know.”

leo blinked. “damn.”

“she said it’s proof i don’t respect her stuff. then she said we should do separate laundry from now on.”

“over a bottle?”

“over a bottle.”

the sound of tyres crunching against gravel pulled everyone’s attention. it wasn’t loud — but sharp enough to cut through the rhythm of the moment. you all turned your heads in unison, squinting toward the end of the alleyway where the staff parking lot sat mostly empty.

“customer coming back for vengeance,” yohan muttered, flicking his cigarette over the side rail. “you know that lady who said the bangus was too bony?”

“lock the doors,” leo added. “she’s probably got a weapon.”

“the gun’s in the safe,” kristoff mumbled carefully, not missing a beat.

you were about to say something — something dumb, something to diffuse the rising tension when the driver’s door opened.

and godfrey stepped out, casual as ever in slacks and a light button-down, waving toward you like this was the most normal thing in the world.

but you weren’t looking at him.

your eyes were fixed on the passenger door: on the way it opened slowly, deliberately. on the figure that stepped out and stood for a moment, as if she was letting her eyes adjust to the light.

the yankees cap, the face mask, the black hoodie pulled tight around her. but the way she stood, slightly tilted to one side, one foot angled out like she might run at any second — it was all her.

you knew those eyes.

no one could hide that shade of brown from you. the way they scanned, half-expectant, like they were always waiting for a sign.

your stomach dropped, hard and low like it had missed a step.

“holy shit,” leo whispered, nearly dropping the cigarette.

“is that —“

what the fuck, you thought.

“yeah,” kristoff breathed. “the hell?”

yohan stood up so fast his crate tipped over. “i’m not ready for this, bye!”

then, like a well-rehearsed act, all three of them turned and made a mad dash for the back door; grown men scattering like roaches.

a bunch of traitors.

kristoff stumbled on his way in but still managed to shout, “aira!” and a split second later, you heard her scream. then the door slammed shut, the metal rattling in the frame, leaving you alone with her outside.

you were still sitting on your crate, legs suddenly unsure if they remembered how to work.

she started walking to you.

slow, steady steps that felt too loud in your ears. she lifted a hand and gave a small wave, a little awkward, like she didn’t know if it would be received.

you stood, finally, your knees feeling loose and unreliable. the heat from the kitchen behind you met the cool of the alleyway and it made your skin prickle.

the world shrank.

you could hear your own heartbeat now, thudding somewhere in your neck. the sharp scent of garlic still clung to your shirt; your hands, stained with soy and calamansi, hung at your sides.

and there she was.

sophia stopped a few steps in front of you. not close enough to touch, but enough to undo you completely — you saw it in her eyes.

the softness; the nerves; the weight.

neither of you spoke.

the streetlight buzzed above you. someone’s stereo played a slow opm song in the next building over. back inside, you could hear aira saying something very loud and incoherent, followed by someone — probably kristoff —shushing her in vain.

but none of it mattered.

you stood in front of each other, the past folded neatly between your bodies like a letter you had never opened.

she stepped closer, and in the light, harsh and flickering from the mounted alley lamp above the staff door — she looked older. more refined around the jaw, a little sharper in the cheekbones. the years had carved something into her face, but

it wasn’t unkindness, but time. it was a life you hadn’t been part of, filled with late flights and green rooms and a thousand versions of her you would never get to meet.

a breeze pushed through the alley and caught the edge of her shirt. her hat dipped slightly forward as she pulled her mask down with careful fingers, revealing a soft, tired smile.

“hi,” she spoke, her voice small and steady.

you swallowed as you nodded once, your throat felt dry.

she glanced behind her toward the street, then back at you. “i didn’t mean to show up like this. i kind of forced dad to bring me, he said you didn’t want to see me yet,” she scratched the back of her neck, then added. “we had a whole argument about it in the car. like, full-on telenovela volume.”

her laugh was breathless, a little shy. “i hope you’re not mad at him.”

you shook your head, though your voice hadn’t found you yet. it felt like all your thoughts were stuck behind glass: still moving, but quiet.

“i just needed to see you,” she continued, taking a step closer. “i needed to hear your voice.”

the words landed hard. not cruelly, just…directly. she always had that way of talking — like if something sat on her chest long enough, it had no choice but to escape.

you felt like you were eighteen again, standing in a doorway too narrow for everything you wanted to say.

“how’ve you been?” she asked, her voice a little uncertain now, as if startled herself with the silence that followed.

that pulled you out of it.

“i’ve been good,” you managed to answer, though the word felt strange coming out. “busy, tired. you know, kitchen stuff.”

she smiled, nodded quickly, hands playing with the hem of her shirt.

you pointed to the stack of crates near the door. “you wanna sit?”

“yeah,” she exhaled like she has been holding her breath the whole time.

you both sat side by side on one crate, knees brushing slightly. her hands were in her lap. yours were still trembling faintly, so you pressed them into your thighs, grounding yourself in something solid.

you talked, slowly at first. about small things. safe things.

anthony still came by to steal food. she laughed, really laughed and said she wasn’t surprised. you told her about kyle, still waiting on his contract so he could go back out on the ships. she asked if he still sang backstreet boys during karaoke.

he still did.

you told her kristoff worked here now. “he’s marrying diana,” you added and her eyes lit up.

“no way,” she breathed out in disbelief. “they actually made it?”

“somehow.”

“who’s managing who?”

“depends on the day.”

she laughed again, covering her mouth. you watched her and felt something shift in your chest. not new, not really — it’s familiar in a way that made you ache a little.

your feelings for her weren’t coming back, they truly just hadn’t left.

they had gone quiet, buried themselves beneath years of busyness and the slow accumulation of adult life. but sitting here beside her, the memories began resurfacing — old pages being turned back over, softer with age.

sophia looked down at her hands. her voice was quiet when she spoke again.

“i cried when i saw the photos from your opening,” she continued. “i saw your mum. your lola. some of the old neighbours. even my parents. it looked like home.”

you didn’t speak.

“i’m sorry,” she added. “for not looking back.”

the silence stretched between you.

you looked at her, and the guilt in her eyes was real. it was…honest like she finally let herself feel it.

you nodded in quick understanding. “life happens sometimes.”

she turned her face toward you, brows furrowed like she didn’t expect you to let her off that easily.

“no, really,” you pushed. “you were chasing something; something big and real. and you got it. i don’t think you could’ve looked back even if you wanted to.”

her eyes glossed, just a little.

“i’ve always been proud of you,” you said, voice steady now. “even if we’re no longer a part of each other’s lives.”

she let out a breath, shaky and soft.

you leaned back against the wall, looking up at the empty stretch of sky.

“you’re everywhere now,” you added, smiling faintly. “can’t even get away from you if i tried. the billboards alone are stalking me.”

sophia laughed through her nose, wiping at her cheek. “those were terrible photos.”

“your face is literally flawless.”

“you’re delusional.”

“you’re still annoying.”

she grinned as reached her eyes and lingered.

neither of you spoke after that. you just listened to the low rattle of a tricycle turning into the alley, the soft clatter of dishes being washed somewhere inside, the low hum of the world continuing just beyond the corner of this moment.

you shifted slightly, looked at her. “you want a mule?”

her face broke into another smile. “yes.”

you stood slowly, legs stiff from the day. the city didn’t feel as loud anymore. the ache in your chest had settled — not gone, but softer. more in the lines of something remembered than lost.

then, you motioned toward the kitchen doors with a nod. she looked at you with curious eyes.

“you want to meet the team?” you asked, dusting your hands off on your apron. “if you don’t mind…they’re scared of you.”

she laughed, light and surprised. “i saw them run inside.”

you grinned despite yourself and pushed open the kitchen door, holding it open for her as she followed. and you felt it…that part of you that had never really closed the door on her.

the second you stepped in, everyone suddenly became very busy. kristoff was wiping down a perfectly clean shelf, leo had mysteriously found a clipboard to stare at like it held the secrets of the universe, yohan, as expected, remained hidden in the washing station, clanking plates like his life depended on it.

and aira - bless her soul - stood frozen in the middle of the room holding a bag of mangoes.

you looked around, unimpressed. “really?”

they all avoided your gaze, except aira. who continued to stand like a train was about to hit her at full speed.

“everyone, this is sophia, or piya, like i used to call her,” you introduced, voice dry.

sophia raised a hand, smile soft. “hi, sorry for barging in at the last minute.”

aira still didn’t move, the mangoes swaying in her hand.

thankfully, kristoff recovered first and stepped forward quickly. “it’s so nice to see you again, soph. been years, no?”

“way too long,” she responded, smiling at him. “i think the last time was…diana’s birthday party? the one where you both got food poisoning?”

“yes,” he nodded, grinning. “bonding through suffering.”

you caught a glance at aira, jaw slightly slack and eyes suspiciously glassy.

leo wiped his hand on a towel before offering it to her. “it’s nice to finally meet the legend,” he said, which earned a quiet groan from you. “i’m leo.”

sophia chuckled as she shook his hand. “you guys run a tight ship back here.”

“depends on the day,” he laughed. “today we survived.”

she turned to aira next, who hadn’t spoken or blinked. she approached slowly, like one might approach a deer in a clearing.

“hi,” she said gently. “i’m sophia.”

aira’s mouth opened but no sound came out. just a small, strange breath. she nodded once, violently, like she has been programmed under poor wi-fi.

“aira,” you winced in embarrassment. “say something.”

“is this real life?” she finally croaked.

sophia laughed again and, to everyone’s horror and delight, pulled her into a hug. aira’s arms hung limp for a moment, then she clutched her like they had known each other for a decade. over sophia’s shoulder, she mouthed oh my god at you.

“i love you,” she blurted.

you groaned. please no. “don’t be fucking weird.”

everyone laughed. sophia pulled back, still grinning. “and i love you too.”

aira looked over at you and added, “y/n loves you too.”

“aira!” you barked, already turning away. your whole body flushed hot, ears burning.

“i love y/n too,” sophia was trying not to laugh, her head bowed, lips pressed together in a losing battle.

you muttered something incomprehensible and walked off to grab the mules, still mentally screaming. your hands were shaking slightly as you popped the bottles open. you weren’t even sure from what — embarrassment, maybe. or something deeper. like your chest had been cracked open and every feeling you buried decided that tonight was the night to come home.

from the kitchen, you heard sophia’s laugh, low and warm. then her voice, teasing: “aira’s not sick.”

“she lied to you!” aira shrieked. “she was just too nervous to come.”

“you absolute snakes,” you muttered to the mules, then carried the bottles back out, just in time to see kristoff and sophia mid-conversation.

“so how’s diana really?” sophia asked.

“terrifying. but in a hot way,” he responded. “we’ve already got the wedding date. she’s in full planner mode, i just show up.”

“you guys are really getting married, that’s huge.”

“yeah, diana and i are doing the civil wedding first, we don’t have time to plan a big thing with all the restaurant shit going on.”

“i’m so happy for you guys!” she squealed, clapping her hands together.

“you’re next,” he said, looking past sophia, then directly at you.

fuck off, you mouthed.

sophia raised an eyebrow. “i’d need a girlfriend for that. at least.”

“head chef is single!” aira yelled out, a little bit too keen. and so much for promising yourself you wouldn’t go red.

you looked up. then immediately looked away, the bottle nearly slipped out of your hand.

“you good?” leo asked, grinning.

“chef hands,” you wheezed. “tired hands.”

it was a dumb joke, maybe. or maybe it wasn’t. you never really asked, never dared her. the memories of your hands touching hers, of sleeping shoulder to shoulder, of quiet moments on rooftops — those were things you kept somewhere safe, under glass, labelled friendship.

it never occurred to you that maybe…she saw it differently.

you took a slow sip from your bottle, unsure whether to laugh or pretend you lost hearing altogether.

the rest of the team had found their courage again. kristoff pulled out his phone and suggested selfies, to which sophia nodded without hesitation. they huddled in tight near the prep bench, yohan even emerging from the dish area —though he refused to make eye contact, hovering awkwardly in the background like he was summoned against his will, which she found charming and weird in equal measure.

then leo said: “okay, now just you two.”

you blinked. “what?”

“just you and sophia,” aira repeated, already motioning with her phone. “hurry up, chef, i got places to be.”

“i reek,” you mumbled. “i’ve been over a stove for twelve hours.”

kristoff frowned. “just put your damn arm around her and smile; be respectful.”

“i’m literally a health hazard.”

before you could argue further, sophia stepped in beside you, her body warm and familiar. without warning, she reached for your wrist and guided your arm around her shoulder like it had always belonged there.

you didn’t breathe, just smiled the most awkward smile you could ever let out.

your hand rested there: awkward, hesitant, too aware of her warmth. sophia’s body leaned just slightly into yours like it was the most natural thing in the world.

snap. the photo was taken.

you stepped back so quickly you nearly dropped the bottle.

the team took a few more photos, then began to peel off one by one. kristoff was the first to wave goodnight, followed by yohan who mumbled something and disappeared again. aira said goodbye three times before finally leaving, and leo, as always, made sure the lights were off in the storage before stepping out with a tired salute.

you walked them out, flipped the sign to closed, and turned the lock.

the kitchen felt impossibly still after they left. the kind of quiet that only came after a long shift and a longer night. your muscles ached and your heart hadn’t stopped racing.

“i’m just gonna get changed,” you cleared your throat. “these clothes have seen horrible things.”

“okay,” she replied, voice soft now. like it was only meant for you.

you slipped into the staff bathroom, peeling off your apron and tossing it into the laundry basket. your shirt clung damp to your back. you washed your face with the cheap peppermint cleanser you kept in the drawer and stared at yourself in the mirror.

she was here.

sitting in your restaurant.

laughing with your friends.

you were halfway through drying your hands when the thought hit you full force: this wasn’t a dream. and you had no idea what it meant, for you.

you pulled on a clean white shirt, ran fingers through your hair and stepped out.

the kitchen was dim now, lights off except for the soft glow spilling from the bar. sophia sat alone at the counter, her bottle in front of her, fingers tracing the label.

you moved quietly to the stool beside her.

the hum of the fridge, the soft buzz of the light overhead…everything felt so much louder in the quiet. she looked at you, then looked away. but her smile stayed.

something inside you; something buried and stubborn, stirred like it had been waiting for this. for her.

and now it’s just the two of you.

alone again.

you swirled what was left of your mule, the ice melting slow against the glass. it only tasted good because of who you were drinking it with.

“so how did this place happen?” she began, gesturing vaguely at the restaurant around you. “concave - when?”

you leaned back against the stool, exhaling slowly. “three years ago.”

“i always wondered,” she hummed, eyes watching you fondly. “how?”

“dad got a payout,” you replied, fingers tapping lightly on the bar. “he was working in australia, had injury on site. slipped, messed up his spine. they paid out this ridiculous sum. more than any of us expected. he didn’t want to keep it.”

she turned toward you, her chin resting against her hand. “i didn’t know that.”

“he asked me what i’d do with it if it were mine,” you said. “i didn’t even think about it. just said, i’d build a place where i could cook whatever i wanted. and he said okay.”

her brows furrowed, soft with concern. “is he okay now?”

“he’s alright. limps a bit and retired earlier than he wanted, but he likes it. spends most of his time annoying my mum,” you looked down into your drink. “i still don’t think i deserved it.”

“i do,” she said, voice low before sipping her drink. “you’re always working hard; even when we were kids.”

you smiled and it surprised you how much it meant to hear that from her.

“lola’s still the same,” you added, shifting the subject. “stubborn. refuses to let the kasambahay do the laundry. still insists she’s stronger than all of us combined.”

“she probably is,” sophia chuckled.

“she probably is.”

“and your mum?”

you shrugged, but it came with a warmth you couldn’t quite hide. “she still makes me lunch. insists i don’t eat enough. dropped off sinigang last tuesday and then took half of my pantry in her bag.”

“that’s so her,” she giggled, shaking her head. you could feel her shoulder brush lightly against yours now, whether from the way she leaned or the narrow space between the stools.

you watched her as she spoke, the way her eyes lit up when she remembered things, like they lived in her just as vividly. it made something inside you tug gently at its roots.

“she always liked me.”

“she still does,” you answered, taking another swig at your bottle. “she saw you in a tvc last week and said, ‘that girl used to steal our shampoo.’”

“i did,” she admitted, not even sorry. “your mum had the expensive kind.”

you tilted your head, smiling into the rim of your bottle. “she still does.”

“you kept all of them,” she said. “everyone that mattered.”

you didn’t know how to explain that they weren’t just yours to keep…that they stayed because something about the way you lived didn’t demand that they love you from afar. but instead, you smiled and said: “yeah. somehow.”

for a moment, the silence returned — soft, comfortable. you watched the way sophia’s fingers turned her bottle slowly, the condensation pooling beneath it, catching the light.

then she looked at you, eyes curious. “so…is there anyone?”

you blinked, letting the question sit for a second longer than it should’ve.

“not really,” you shook your head too fast. “i think i’m too emotionally unavailable for that.”

she laughed, a small puff of air. “you? you’re being dramatic now.”

“i’m bad at saying things out loud,” you explained. “i think too much, miss my moments. then think about them for five years straight. not exactly a dream package.”

she looked at you like she wanted to argue, but only said: “you can cook. you’re a chef. you own a restaurant with a good bar. what else could a girl want?”

you gave her a look. “a girl who’s not afraid of commitment?”

“minor detail,” she chuckled, raising the bottle to her mouth.

you shook your head, but it was hard to hide the way your chest buzzed. not nervous exactly, the air shifted and you weren’t quite sure what it meant yet.

“what about you?” you asked. “anyone?”

sophia leaned her arms on the bar; just like you, her fingers tapped lightly against the edge of the bottle. “there was someone for a while, but it didn’t work out.”

right.

the words stung in a quiet, unexpected way. not jealousy, but the faint ache of knowing someone else had been where you once wanted to be; that someone got to hold her in the ways you could only imagine and dismissed as daydreams.

it shouldn’t hurt, but it did.

you tried to mask it by swallowing another sip. the bottle was nearly empty.

your mind caught on the earlier moment — her casual joke about needing a girlfriend. the way she said it so easily. it hadn’t left you since. your thoughts kept replaying all the times you held hands when you were younger, how it never felt weird, but maybe it was always almost something.

maybe you were just too much of a coward back then to let yourself name it.

she was much closer now. not in an intentional way, but enough to feel it. your knees brushed and her arm warmed the air between you. the room was so quiet it felt like even the walls were listening.

“have you seen the letter?” she eventually spoke, voice softer.

you blinked, caught off-guard. “what letter?”

her fingers curled slightly around the base of the bottle. “before i left…i wrote you one. i didn’t know how to say everything, so i wrote it instead. tucked it in your recipe book with the red cover. the one you always carried.”

you paused.

the memory flooded back fast: the airport, that day. you remembered it in pieces; how you refused godfrey’s offer to drive you home, how you cried in the terminal bathroom and then boarded a jeep half-blind from tears. your hands trembling.

you groaned, running a hand through your face.

“i left the bag,” you said, burying your face in your hands. “soph, i left the fucking bag in the jeepney. i was crying like an idiot and i got off without it. my notes and my book with your letter.”

she went still beside you.

“i’m so sorry,” you added, looking at her. “i had no idea.”

her expression changed. not anger, not disappointment; something you couldn’t name. a bruise behind her eyes like she had just lost something all over again.

you wanted to reach for her.

“it’s fine,” she quickly dismissed. “it doesn’t matter anymore.”

but it did, you could see that it did. and you didn’t want to ask what the letter said, not tonight because her voice had gone fragile in that particular way people get when they’ve decided not to cry.

and you knew sophia — when she closed a door, she didn’t open it again unless she wanted to.

you both sipped the last of your drinks. the silence felt like it had weight to it; carefully holding something between you.

she began to talk again….about the summers you used to spend barefoot, catching dragonflies, the time she dared you to eat a siling labuyo straight and you cried for twenty minutes and your old teacher who threw chalk with military precision.

you laughed, reminiscing.

you didn’t say everything you wanted to say.

but she stayed and that had to mean something, too.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

part two

[jellyzaces]

- DANCE?

Yumeko Jabami x reader

"no matter what happened, you had to take Yumeko to the dance"

genre - fluff warnings - none

now playing - Love Shine, LEEHEESANG

"걱정하지 마 (don't worry) 우린 영원할 거잖아 (we will be forever)"

“YUMEKO!”

The two voices rang out through the room, the different tones of voice whipping through the walls of the school, only to reach the black-haired girl's ears at ease. Yumeko had that classic smile on her face as she directed her attention to the two people who had called out to her. Her hands positioned elegantly behind her back as she waited for the two of her friends to start talking.

Yumeko met Ryan on her first day at boarding school, she vaguely remembered how nervous the boy was - and still is - when he saw her. Yumeko also remembers very well the day she met you, she remembers how excited you were about betting and how you won - effortlessly - from a random boy. She remembers looking you in the eye and smiling at you, she remembers how you started following her around after that, almost like a pet.

The only thing Yumeko doesn't remember is when your rivalry with Ryan started. You were never exactly best friends, but she remembers the quiet coexistence you had changing drastically to a war of cold stares, interruptions in the middle of conversations and sarcastic jokes - mostly coming from you.

But she couldn't deny it and say that you and Ryan's little battle for her attention wasn't a little funny.

“So, Yumeko… did you hear about the dance?” Ryan asked, taking a seat at the table in front of Yumeko, cutting you off and trying to leave you behind.

Sitting down at the refectory table - next to Ryan - you purposely pushed the boy, but managed to make the movement smooth and almost imperceptible.

The girl let an excited giggle escape her lips as she nodded.

“Mary told me, it sounds like fun.” Smiling at Mary, who was sitting next to her, Yumeko lightly bumped shoulders with the curly-haired girl. That smile made your stomach turn, in the most pleasurable way you'd ever experienced.

“I was wondering if we…”

“We could go together!” You interrupted the boy. You're too tired of Ryan stalling for you to wait for him to get dumped.

The smile on Yumeko's face widened, making your heart beat faster. Her dimples appearing and her head tilting slightly to the right.

“Are you asking me to the dance?” The question was obvious, but for a moment, Yumeko was surprised and excited to see you finally making a move.

“Yes. Do you want to go with me, Yumeko?”

A hysterical scream burst from the lips of the girl in front of you, before she got up and walked around the table, only to leave a long kiss on your cheek.

“Of course I want to go to the dance with you.” Squeezing your shoulders, the girl left the cafeteria.

Your cheeks were red, your ears burned as if they had been thrown into the oven, and you couldn't contain the smile that came from your lips as you touched your fingertips to the spot Yumeko had kissed seconds ago.

“Yn 1, Ryan 0.”

“Shut up.”

You're sure you heard Mary and Ryan's conversation, but their voices were so far away that you couldn't even react.

You looked in the mirror for the thirteenth time, sighing and trying to tidy up anything you thought was out of place. It was almost time for you to pick Yumeko up from her dorm, taking her to the dance would be a big step and you certainly weren't going to let this night get out of hand.

Buttoning up your dress shirt once more, you fixed the little rose-shaped brooch that Yumeko had given you. The black-haired girl said it would make the two of you match, and if that's what she wanted, you'd be doing it.

Taking one last look in the mirror, you walked to the door, remembering to pick up the small box on the bed. A present. Sighing once more, you opened the bedroom door, only to run into Kira.

“ Jeez, Kira! Someone should put a bell on you…”

You had barely finished speaking before the girl with the blue lips pushed you into the room, quickly closing the door. Her hands went to the door key, turning it only to leave you and her locked inside the room.

“Hey, what are you doing?” You asked, stepping closer only to see Kira take the key from the door, dangling the object in front of your eyes.

“I thought you were going to ask me to the dance…” She began, looking at you with that look that gave you goosebumps. “But, no. You had to ask Yumeko.”

You and Kira were never officially a thing, but she always wanted exclusivity with you, even if it didn't apply to her. After a few months, you simply gave up on the boarding school queen, and a large part of that decision may or may not have been because of a certain girl who had recently joined the school.

“I thought you'd get your date. You always get invitations to these things.” You replied, approaching and trying to take the key from the girl's hand, only for her to quickly snatch it out of your grasp.

“Oh, no, no. Do you want the key, pet?” Smiling cruelly, Kira lifted the key once more, only to drop it down the neckline of the dress she was wearing. The object slid down her skin and disappeared between her breasts.

“Come and get it.”

The click of Yumeko's heels echoed through the hallways, the girl - now impatiently - waiting for you. The black-haired girl kept checking her phone every ten seconds, just to see if you had sent any messages. Anything at all.

“I'm on my way”

“Sorry, I won't be able to make it.”

“I can't, I'm an idiot.”

“I'm madly in love with you and I can't make it.”

Anything at all!

Snorting, the black-haired girl leaned against the wall in the hall. The light from the phone screen reflected on her face for the fortieth time in just five minutes. Closing her eyes tightly, Yumeko sighed. She really was excited about tonight. Not because of betting, not because of revenge, not for personal reasons.

Just because of you.

“Yumeko?”

Ryan's voice made the girl open her eyes immediately, straightening her posture and putting a smile on her face. She definitely didn't want him to see her like that, and she certainly didn't want him to know that it involved you. But knowing Ryan, he was probably there because he had missed you, just like Yumeko.

“You know, you're too pretty to not dance.” Ryan held out his hand, waiting anxiously for Yumeko to accept his offer to dance.

Laughing a little, the black-haired girl nodded, taking Ryan's hand and letting him lead her to where the dance was taking place. Sliding her fingers quickly across the phone, Yumeko was discreet enough, just to prove a point, her instinct screaming louder.

write and send.

“Michael, can you take a look at Yn for me?”

Sitting on the floor with your hands on your head, you gave up on anything you could do to get out of that room. You couldn't break down the door, you couldn't crack it, you couldn't convince Kira to give you the key and you didn't know how, but you were pretty sure she'd cut off your cell phone signal.

“You could get the key, you know…” Kira said. “Are you so afraid that you won't be able to resist me?”

Her words made your throat burn, screams trapped.

“I don't want to lay a finger on you, Kira.”

“But you've already done that…”

“Well, I was clearly out of my mind!”

A click.

A soft sound before the doorknob turned, and Michael appeared in the bedroom doorway in all his glory. Honestly, you've never been so happy to see a man in front of you in your entire life.

“MICHAEL!” You stood up quickly, heading towards the boy and hugging him around the shoulders. “Thank you!”

You didn't even wait for him to say anything, running down the halls as if your life depended on it. Well, at least your love life.

You arrived at the ballroom just in time to see Ryan trying to put his hands on Yumeko's waist. Hastening your steps, you made a smooth advance, twirling Yumeko in your arms just enough to make Ryan stay in the background.

“Hi. You look beautiful, Yumeko.” You said, losing yourself in her curves for a few seconds. Your hands came down on her hips, while her arms encircled your neck in a comforting hug.

“You came!” She said into your ear.

“I'd be crazy if I didn't.” You said, drawing a laugh from Yumeko's lips. Your eyes flicked over to Ryan, seeing the boy roll his eyes at you. “Thanks for taking care of her, but I'll take over from here.”

Yumeko laughed, before turning slightly in your arms, just enough for her eyes to meet Ryan's.

“Thanks Ryan, you're a good friend!”

With a tight-lipped smile, the boy left. Yumeko's arms tightened even more around your neck as she straightened her posture. She didn't even realize she was really dancing until she looked into your eyes.

“Wow, you did a miracle.” The kakeguriu girl laughed, resting her head on your chest. Really enjoying the moment.

It was as if it was just you and her in that room. The lights all on you, while the music played softly and Yumeko let you guide her body through the beats. Your hands fit perfectly around the girl's waist, and she could feel it so perfectly, it was almost as if she could melt in your fingertips.

“I'm sorry about what happened.” You began. Making Yumeko lift her head from your chest.

Giving you a sincere smile, the girl moved one of her hands up to your cheek. Standing on tiptoe, Yumeko looked into your eyes for a long second, only to close the gap between your mouths. Her lips were soft, and tasted like strawberries, and something spicy but sweet at the same time, something you knew you couldn't explain in even a million years.

You sighed into the kiss, opening your eyes to look into hers when the two of you broke apart. The smile on her face was purely genuine, and made your heart fill with love.

“I like you. Don't ruin it.”

I had to, I HAD TO!

I love Kakegurui, and even though I was a little hesitant about watching Bet, I loved it!

you know I fell in love with Miku, so you had to do it.

anyway, stay safe and drink water,

xoxo, spider.

[jellyzaces]

# MAMMA MIA — chapter thirty-four!

there’s always been one rule in the group: don’t bring up y/n. no one really knows why, but it’s clear sophia would rather leave her ex-best friend in the past. once inseparable, their friendship dissolved after a summer camp that no one talks about, and y/n vanished, moving god-knows-where without so much as a goodbye. some say it was a fight. others say it was something more. only sophia knows the truth—or maybe not even she does. now, as the third year at dream academy begins, sophia is blindsided by y/n's unexpected return. gone is the familiar, easygoing childhood bestfriend she remembers. in her place is someone sharper, colder, and—unfortunately for sophia—hotter than ever. (who gave her the permission to look so fine?)

GOOD DRIVER

masterlist ✮⋆｡˚📽️ next

@gablmk @goofymickeyr @saysirhc @kathleenmikaelson @soobnotfound @jjjaliyah @iisayfa @magixpracticality @phamapple @sed7ction @1luvkarina @linnnsworld @hotluvlet @bauzer @saranglasses @kkoga @chaesitonmyface @arihiu @peanutbutterlover05 @kristalag @bulgik @meiyaes @solentient @yuzeemin @reey0w @vrtualstar @justtluvrr @fruityg0rl @cyberbonesworld @haerinkisser @lafortezalover @cassiespoiler @skz-xii @ninguitar @kimminjswife @yeetaberry127 @p1hbrook @hazel-tanthamore22 @caitlynglazer @minjvers @tormaa1 @nwjnsloona @itzkatflixs @namojoon @falling-intoo-deep @waitsobs @blushmimi @cindergorge TAGLIST CLOSED

[jellyzaces]

# MAMMA MIA — chapter thirty-three!

there’s always been one rule in the group: don’t bring up y/n. no one really knows why, but it’s clear sophia would rather leave her ex-best friend in the past. once inseparable, their friendship dissolved after a summer camp that no one talks about, and y/n vanished, moving god-knows-where without so much as a goodbye. some say it was a fight. others say it was something more. only sophia knows the truth—or maybe not even she does. now, as the third year at dream academy begins, sophia is blindsided by y/n's unexpected return. gone is the familiar, easygoing childhood bestfriend she remembers. in her place is someone sharper, colder, and—unfortunately for sophia—hotter than ever. (who gave her the permission to look so fine?)

HOOKED UP

masterlist ✮⋆｡˚📽️ next

after days of planning ive finally managed to get mamma mia back on track so trust ive got the ideas jotted down on what im gna do w this next😈😈😈

@gablmk @goofymickeyr @saysirhc @kathleenmikaelson @soobnotfound @jjjaliyah @iisayfa @magixpracticality @phamapple @sed7ction @1luvkarina @linnnsworld @hotluvlet @bauzer @saranglasses @kkoga @chaesitonmyface @arihiu @peanutbutterlover05 @kristalag @bulgik @meiyaes @solentient @yuzeemin @reey0w @vrtualstar @justtluvrr @fruityg0rl @cyberbonesworld @haerinkisser @lafortezalover @cassiespoiler @skz-xii @ninguitar @kimminjswife @yeetaberry127 @p1hbrook @hazel-tanthamore22 @caitlynglazer @minjvers @tormaa1 @nwjnsloona @itzkatflixs @namojoon @falling-intoo-deep @waitsobs @blushmimi @cindergorge TAGLIST CLOSED

[jellyzaces]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝕰YES ON THEM

Manon Bannerman x fem!reader

summary: a compilation of bannern/n moments eyekons have turned into a video, katseye’s two visuals as a power couple? who can keep their eyes off them?

warnings: none, just fluffy moments

pt.2, pt.3

HYBE PLEASE NEVER PR TRAIN MANON (KATZ CRACK)

*Loud technical difficulty transition* On Manon and Daniela’s Weverse livestream in their bedroom, Daniela was doing dance moves in the background of the video while Manon read the comments and chatted with fans in the front

Manon was the worst at PR training. The woman had lips looser than an unbuckled belt. She was much more tame when they were surrounded by crew members, but when it’s just her and her phone on Weverse, you can expect a lot of slips.

Especially when she’s paired alone with Daniela.

“‘Where are the others?’” Manon read aloud, looking back at Daniela, who was finally settling to sit behind her roommate. “What, you sick of us already?”

Daniela swatted her arm at the tone she used, as if a silent warning as to be careful what people could take out of context. She toyed with her hood, listing what the girls were occupied with. “Well, Sophia’s on a zoom call downstairs with her family. I think Yoonchae went to bed… Lara and Megan went out to get something at the convenience store and Y/N is probably online shopping or something in her room.”

“Yeah, she better be getting me my Christmas gift.”

“Didn’t she already give you like three ‘pre-game’ gifts?” Daniela turned to the camera, “Oh my God, Y/N does this thing where she gets Manon a million things for the week leading up to Christmas. She only does it for Manon and I always feel like choking her out ‘cuz she’s spoiling her rotten.”

Manon rolled her eyes, “They’re gonna know we’re—!”

Daniela widened her eyes, shooting Manon a knowing glare before the older pursed her lips together. The both of them went silent for a moment, scared to look at the influx of questions and comments they were getting for the sudden cutoff, curious to know what the end of Manon’s sentence was.

user01 WE WHAT MANON WE WHAT

user02 Manon almost exposed their relationship

user03 is this what getting edged feels like

user04 WE BEEN KNEW GIRL COME ON OUT

user05 Y/N knows how to spoil her girl

“Anyway,” Daniela said, ignoring the nosh comments. “Yeah, we have the weekend off, so everybody’s just chilling, y’know.”

Manon, with a cheeky smile on her face, tried retieing her hair in attempts to distract the fans from what she had just nearly revealed. But for the next couple minutes, despite Daniela’s efforts to pull everybody’s attention away from that topic, the audience always seemed to circle back to it.

“No, I have to say my favourite hoodie has to be the black Ferrari one.” Manon argued, staring at a suspicious Daniela. “It used to be the one you just said but it’s not anymore.”

“You’re just making stuff up, I swear. You still wear the other one so much more than the Ferrari one.” Daniela scoffed, “You wore the blue one like five times this week, like you literally wore it to dinner yesterday.”

user06 the blue hoodie Y/N just posted on insta in??

user07 They wear each other’s clothes I’m dead

user08 Dani have you seen Y/N’s new bracelet???

Daniela squinted to read the comment when she saw her name was mentioned, “‘Dani, have you seen Y/N’s new bracelet?’ No, I can’t say I have. What is it?”

“Oh, is it this one?” Manon flashed her wrist to the camera, where a couple cuffs and bracelets hung. Her other hand picked out a thin silver chain with a “K” strung at the end of it. “This is the one Megan got us for Katseye’s first birthday.”

She flaunted her hand, fingers waving around as she showed off her accessories.

user09 Y/N’s new necklace looks nice Manon!

user10 oh yeah that would look really good around her neck

Daniela skimmed the comments, suddenly bursting into a fit of high-pitched giggles. Manon, her arm still up, in the middle of her accessory tour, leant back. Surprised by the Latina’s sudden change in attitude, she glanced between the camera and her roommate as if she was an insane person.

“Oh my God, they’re saying your hands would make a really good necklace for Y/N.” Daniela explained, still laughing.

Manon’s eyes widened, heat immediately flushing to her cheeks. She thanked all the Gods her smooth skin tone hid any hint of fluster, or she would have been beer red at the comment. She placed a hand over her eyes, her lips quirking into a small smile as she groaned.

“That’s good, that’s a good one. I like that.” Daniela sighed.

Next door, you could hear the two of them screaming and squabbling on live. You opened a new tab, sick of scrolling through the same catalogues on different websites. You were feeling lazy, didn’t really feel like getting up to join the two nextdoor, so you pulled up Weverse, clicking onto Manon’s live. Right off the bat, you were met with the Ghanaian woman showing off her bracelets and such, and you couldn’t help but giggle at the comments that followed.

Sometimes, this was your favourite part about having fans.

When Daniela’s laugh on the live had synced with the one next door, you couldn’t help but also giggle at Manon’s reaction when she was told what eyekons thought of her tour.

It was enough of a motivator to go nextdoor; to tease her.

“—Anyway! Can we please talk about anything else.”

A knock sounded through the room, both their heads turned to the door, watching Y/N’s head pop through the doorway. Daniela pounced to her feet, jogging over to jump into the older’s arms as Y/N carried her back in front of the camera.

Manon rolled her eyes, her tongue sticking against her inner cheek as she stared at the two goofing around in the back.

user11 Oh someone’s jealous…

used12 if looks could kill they’d be dead by now

“Dani’s so light, I can probably squat heavier than you.” Y/N teased, her arms still wrapped around the Latina’s waist as Daniela clung onto her with her legs. “Anyways, you guys were being so loud, I wanted to see what was up.”

Y/N finally sets Daniela down, who found her spot behind Manon again.

Y/N slung an arm over Manon, poking her head between the roommates. “Heard you have a new necklace for me, Meret. You feeling like letting me try it out?”

user13 the way i’d just moan in response

user14 NOBODY TALK TO ME

user15 Manon I’ll take Y/N if you don’t want her

user16 SHE CALLS HER MERET???

The Ghanaian woman didn’t turn to greet the younger member, instead, with her lips pursed in envy, she deliberately made sure her efforts to ignore Y/N were evident.

Y/N smiled, biting her lip. “Manon, are you mad at me?”

“Why would I be mad at you?” Manon huffed, her eyes still trained on the phone. “I’m just tryna talk to eyekons.”

Daniela hissed, making an “Oh, shit” expression and backing away so the other member could slide into where she sat. She eyed the phone from over Y/N’s shoulder, as if telling them she was unaware of what was about to unfold as well.

Y/N chuckled, shaking her head at the eldest’s sulking.

She slid an arm under Manon’s legs, the other securely held over her back. Kneeling, Y/N sprung to her feet, lifting Manon from the ground. The Ghanaian woman let out a bloodcurdling shriek, hands clutching onto Y/N’s hoodie for dear life.

“Did you feel left out, Manon? I was just joking around.”

Daniela watched in terror at the younger member flung Manon around the room in her arms. She slid forward to mouth “help me” into the camera, scared Manon’s feet might hit her head by accident.

“Oh my God, you ass—you bully, put me down.”

*Loud technical difficulty transition* Cut to being interviewed as promotion for the release of Touch, Y/N seemed to be the interviewer’s main foci.

“—Yes, thank you. My next question is for Y/N, uh, so we heard you like a tall, dark and handsome type.” The interviewer read off his card, a mic held up to his lips. The question immediately raised some red flags for the group, Sophia and Manon—as the eldest and the leader—shared a knowing look. They were ready for whatever the man had to throw at them. “You’ve posted a couple of instagram photos and been seen out with a certain singer that’s been on Euphoria, is this a new potential partner, or what’s going on there?”

Y/N was slightly taken aback by how blunt the question came out. Usually management did a good job keeping questions about their personal lives out of interviews when they approve them for the video, but this one must’ve snuck past them.

The woman raised her mic, flashing the cameras her signature smile. The other members could only sit and admire how well her composure was, despite being asked such an intrusive query. She chuckled, eyeing Manon, who didn’t bother hiding what she was feeling. Her eyebrows were furrowed and she looked to be ready to pounce out of her chair whenever. Y/N gave her a subtle nod, as if telling her to stand down.

“Well, he and I met through mutual friends in the industry and we all get together to hang out on my day offs.” Y/N explained, “We’re just good buddies, nothing more.”

The interviewer chuckled, naive to the searing glares he was receiving from all the girls.

“Shame, a lot of people think you’d look like a power couple, the both of you being very talented singers and all,” he scanned his card, the only one laughing in the room full of dozens of people. “Is there anybody special in your life then? Or is this a chance for me to shoot my shot.”

Oh, six pairs of eyes glared daggers at him.

[ Love that they all stand up for their girl ]

None of them were smiling anymore, not even out of courtesy. Daniela and Lara in the front had their arms crossed, their legs spread as they sneered at the man. Megan and Yoonchae were the better ones at concealing just how aghast they were at the unprofessionalism, their expressions stoic, but the aura around them growing cold. Sophia sat upright, ready to jump in when the man stopped talking, but Manon—Manon was sitting beside Y/N, and it took one look at the woman’s uncomfortable expression for her to want to break the man’s neck.

“—Actually, we’re all really focused on our journey as Katseye right now, so we don’t really have time for other kinds of commitment just yet. Even then, we try and keep our personal and professional lives separated because a healthy work-life balance is very important.” Manon answered passively, her smile immediately fading when she finished talking.

But by the way the man gulped and stopped chuckling, it was obvious he finally noticed the elephant in the room.

“I understand how people are very intrigued by that aspect of our lives though, it can be hard to know where to draw the line sometimes.” Y/N added in a smoother tone, hoping to soften the blow of loathing this man was hit with. “But, respectfully, we love talking about and sharing our experience with making music more than we do discussing our lives.”

The interviewer nodded, “Of course. We can move on.”

Throughout the rest of the interview, Manon had a hand on the younger member’s thighs. Their fingers laced together as they answered the rest of the questions. Later, Y/N would tease the Ghanaian woman with edits people have made of the moment Manon stood up for her.

A screenshot of a very popular one of those edits would be the wallpaper for the girls’ group chat the next few weeks,

*Loud technical difficulty transition* In Y/N’s Weverse live with Megan for a dance session, the older between the two was obviously distracted by constant chimes coming from her phone. Fans get a nice surprise all on live.

Megan and Y/N swayed their hips to the beat, thrusting in and pulling away as the song played. The comments would flood with praises for their undeniably talented skills, and by the end of their choreography, they were both panting and sweating.

user01 omg omg omg omg my dinner menu

user02 The difference in outfits is taking me out

user03 BOOM SHAKALAKA YES GAWD

Y/N ran a hand through her hair, dapping Megan up before the two of them approached Megan’s phone. It was resting on a chair against the wall, so it would stream everything they did.

In a sports bra and baggy jeans, Y/N had her hair down. She was sporting thick glasses, ones fans pointed out Daniela liked wearing in the series of tiktok’s they filmed last month. Megan on the other hand, had a more Adam Sandler type fit going on. The two of them devoured their individual styles.

[ Oh my god, it’s all over the screen ]

“That’s the choreo Megan and I have done so far.”

Y/N’s phone buzzed. She reached into her pocket, pulling it out to see a text from Manon asking if she was in her room.

Megan’s infectious cackle interrupted before she could reply.

“Someone said we’re not pregnant but we always deliver,” she managed to read out in between gasping for air amidst her fit of amusement. “Oh my God, that’s so iconic.”

Opening her mouth to retaliate, another buzz sounds.

Y/N pulled her phone back out from her pocket, seeing another text from Manon, urging for an answer. She chuckled, shaking her head at the woman’s impatience.

Megan skimmed the comments, before turning back.

“Somebody said, ‘Only one thing could have Y/N smiling at her phone like that’.” The Chinese dancer read out, “Another person added, ‘Manon’s probably missing her boo thang’.”

Y/N shook her head, deciding keeping up appearances with their fans was more important than replying right away.

“It was just our manager, guys. A reminder for what we need to do tomorrow.” Y/N lied, “Anyway, if anybody was wondering, we are working really hard for MAMA. Especially Meggers here.” She grabbed the redhead, yanking her close to knock their heads together. “She’s carrying the dancing with Dani right now.”

peanutbutterlover02 Bad girl

peanutbutterlover02 Y/N’s ignoring my texts :(

peanutbutterlover02 Guysss stop hogging Y/N

Y/N and Megan both silenced at the sudden pop of a verified user commenting, but after reading the handle, both of them shared a moment of faux annoyance.

“Manon, get out of our comment section!” Megan yelled, “Go do something, man!”

The meme reference squeezed a laugh from Y/N, who shook her head. But, still, it’s Katseye. Of course she couldn’t resist joining in on the teasing herself. Her voice dropped low, “News flash, Dwayne’s forehead isn’t real. It’s a prosthetic.”

Both of them giggle at their own joke.

user04 Oop- Manon’s coming to collect fr

user05 can’t even defend them anymore

user06 so we were right Y/N was giggling cuz of manon

user07 BAD GIRL IS CRAZY

“Sorry, Meret, we’re just about to wrap this session up and I’ll text you back immediately after, okay?”

Manon could only suck it up, leaving a couple more disappointed comments on their livestream as Megan and Y/N show eyekons another part of choreography.

peanutbutterlover02 I’m so boreddddddd

peanutbutterlover02 I’m still waiting >:(

peanutbutterlover02 Guys I need my best friend back

[ BEST FRIEND—sure ]

*Loud technical difficulty transition* A KATSEYE HOLIDAY STORY | KATSEYE; Secret Santa Portion

Y/N’s wrapping a gift set, a Fenty beauty make-up kit she specially assembled for Manon. She knew the woman had been complaining about her makeup supply running low, so what better chance than to get her what she needed?

“I know, I know, I went a little over budget,” Y/N chuckled, taping the edges of the wrapping paper together. “But Manon’s been really needing new stuff, and I wanted it.”

[ Ofc Y/N would go above and beyond for Manon ]

“Also, let me tell you guys a secret.” Y/N walked offscreen, coming back with a tiny box.

She motioned for the camera to zoom into the box, before popping it open. Inside, there was a gold necklace, a crown charm at the end of it. Y/N tucked it back into the box, holding a finger up to her lips.

“I got Manon an extra gift, but that’s for after work.”

[ That’s so cute I need me a Y/N ]

“Anyway, I’m glad I got Manon. I think either Daniela or Yoonchae might be my secret santa, ‘cuz I’m sure Megan got Lara and Lara got Sophia.” Y/N shrugged, standing in her cream coloured silky pj set. “Guess we’re about to find out.”

Sat around a table on a very festive set, Y/N was instructed to slot in between Megan and Manon.

One by one, the girls presented their gifts to their designated person. When Yoonchae presented Daniela her gift, a neatly wrapped book, it was the Latina’s turn to pull out her gift bag.

“And my secret santa is…” Drumrolls against the table followed, “Y/N!”

Cheers erupted amongst the girls as Daniela slid the bag across the table to Y/N.

“Hope you like it, babe.”

The wrapping paper was still being pulled off as Y/N let out a surprised gasp. Underneath the vibrant wrapping was a vinyl—Rumours, by Fleetwood Mac. Y/N’s eyes lit up instantly. It was one of their favorite albums, something she had been looking for on vinyl forever.

“No way…! Dani, how’d you find this?” Y/N exclaimed, holding it up to the group, her voice practically sparkling.

Dan smiled proudly, her hands still resting on her own wrapped gift. “Well, I know you’re all about that rock life,” she said with a wink, knowing how much this record meant to Y/N. “I had my ways. As long as you’re happy, it was worth it.”

As everyone cheered and clapped, Manon side-eyed the gift.

She had noticed the way Y/N's eyes practically glowed when Daniela handed her the vinyl. It wasn’t just about the gift itself—it was the way Y/N was so genuinely excited. She loved seeing her happy, but Manon herself would have been happier if she had been the reason for such a smile. The way Y/N laughed and praised Daniela, even going as to get out of her chair to tackle the Latina in a hug. The little things that made Manon feel... well, a little left out. She quickly shifted her attention to the other girls, pretending to focus on the conversation, but her mind lingered on the discomfort.

Y/N notices Manon's mood; she smirked.

“Okay, so, it’s my turn.” Y/N turned, grabbing her bag from the floor. The bag had been topped with a cute silver ribbon, the gift itself wrapped with the same paper as the others’ gifts. “And, there’s two people left who hasn’t gotten their secret santa gift yet, so, drumroll, please!”

The table once again rocked as they drummed their hands.

“I have… my favourite drama queen, Manon.”

The Ghanaian woman widened her eyes, hands taking in the present Y/N shimmied over to her. The younger slung her arm over Manon’s shoulders, rubbing it as she watched her open and unwrap the present. A loud yelp rung through the studio, startling the others before Manon fully unwrapped it.

Her face softened when she saw what was inside: a Fenty beauty set—lip glosses, a highlighter, and a few items she had been eyeing for weeks but hadn’t splurged on herself.

“Okay, now I know for a fact this is out of budget.” Lara crossed her arms, her eyebrow raised in question.

“Bro, can we do secret santa without Y/N next year?” Sophia chimed, earning a couple teasing agreements. “You’re making all of us look bad now, N/N.”

“Y/N...” Manon whispered, her heart fluttering. “You really did this for me? This was probably so expensive.”

Y/N waved a hand dismissively. “Best way to spend my money. The holidays are all about love, right? This is how I show you guys I love you.” She pulled Megan and Manon into her arms, squeezing them both as the others joined in for a big hug. “I got you all things you want, don’t worry.”

Manon’s smile returned, brighter than before. She leaned in to hug Y/N individually after, her voice quiet but sincere. “You didn’t have to, but I’m so glad you did.”

Their hug lasted a little long, even their editing team seemed to tease them a bit with the excessive exaggeration of how long it was with a time ticking effect over the other girls’ reactions.

The rest of the group watched, their smiles growing as they witnessed the little moment between the two. It was clear, despite the playful teasing and occasional misunderstandings, that Y/N and Manon were closer than anyone could imagine.

Manon held the box up to her chest, beaming.

“Okay, so, Manon, you’re doing yours—!”

[ Y/N really loves spoiling her bandmates, especially Manon… ]

*Loud technical difficulty transition* Cut to Lara and Yoonchae’s live. The two were sat on the floor of their hotel room, singing and joking around as Sophia occasionally shushed them to be a bit quieter.

“No, Yoonchae, if we were in the Hunger Games, the order we’d go from dying to surviving would be Manon, Sophia, Me, You, Megan, Dani and then Y/N. I feel like Dani’s like so wild and freaky she’d be able to survive better than you.” Lara argued, earning a loud whine of protest from Sophia across the room. “And Megan would be the type to like survive off the stupidest reason, like she’ll accidentally kill someone.”

Yoonchae pouted, “No, no! It’s you, Dani, me, then Y/N.”

“Yoonchae, I swear to God, I’m telling you.” Lara held a hand up, “It’s me, you, Megan, Dani and then Y/N.”

The youngest huffed, unwilling to argue.

user01 Lara any advice on how to flirt w a girl

Yoonchae pointed at the phone. Lara leant forward to read the comment she was pointing out, her lips curving into a smile immediately. “Oh, wow. That’s a question you should ask Y/N. Or Manon… Only ‘cuz the two of them are such flirty people.”

Lara looked offscreen, a guilty smile on her face as she glanced at Sophia for help.

[ Nice save Lara, definitely super slick ]

“Yes, Manon is very…” Yoonchae does a winky face into the camera, “And Y/N gets flirted with a lot when we go to dinner.”

Lara hummed, drawing attention away from what she almost exposed. “Yes. Y/N has a very fluid appearance, she gets a lot of guys and girls coming up to her in public.”

Sophia, voice faint, chimed, “Yeah, it’s a real problem.”

“So, I feel like that’s a good question to ask Y/N. She has the most aura, most unspoken rizz among all of us.”

user02 does manon get jealous when Y/N’s hit on?

[ Took me a while to find this comment! ]

Lara laughed aloud at a comment, momentarily confusing Yoonchae before the younger caught the statement as well. They shared a knowing look, and when their laughter died down, they just remained silent and moved on.

user03 Who’s the most jealous/possessive as a gf?

“Oh, I’ve been waiting for somebody to ask this.” Lara rubbed her hands together, “Yoonchae and I actually talked about this at some point. Okay, it goes, from least to most, Yoonchae, Y/N, Megan, Sophia, Me, Dani and then Manon.”

user04 match made in heaven

user05 They’re so jealous x comforting duo my heart

“Because Yoonchae, Y/N and Megan are much more relaxed and I feel like Sophia’s jealous, but she can hide it well. Me, Dani and Manon are definitely more fighters, because ain’t nobody coming near my bae if we dating.” Lara squared up to the camera, eyeing it up and down. “Manon is just lowkey a psycho, so she was at the top of the list.”

Yoonchae nodded, “I’m scared of Manon when she’s angry.”

“I’ve seen Manon mad over something, guys. It’s not pretty and I do not recommend.” Sophia yelled.

[ Since Y/N gets flirted with a lot and Sophia’s seen Manon angry… it’s so obvious ya’ll ]