#AND BLESS HIS HEART OUR TEACHER IS DOING EVERYTHING HE CAN BUT ITS NOT ENOUGH | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

peaches-writes · 3 years

Text

heart attack!

description: han jisung can charm any heart if he wants to but he just wants one, whether he admits it to your face or not.

member: jisung / han

genre: fluff, fantasy, rivals to lovers au, childhood friends to lovers au, witch / wizard au (sugar sugar rune-inspired), royal au, college au, roommates / housemates au, slice of life format, a side of hwang siblings, sunshine twins, cousin chan, and minchan (!!)

word count: 25.1k i’m so sorry

warnings: explicit language, alcohol, some mentions of injuries, a brief episode of someone getting abducted, mentions of a creep being,,,well a creep at public transportation, self-indulgent tooth-rotting cheesiness, idk if i should put a warning for unconscious emotional manipulation but im gonna write that in here anw

note: idk if i want to write little drabbles w this same pairing again since it ended up being so long but i kinda lost the plot halfway lmao lmk if u guys want additional lil drabbles for this hehe + again happy 1k yay!

You don’t always get along with Han Jisung, crown prince of the Eastern Kingdom, for reasons you simply can't limit to the number of fingers and toes that you have. He loves annoying you for the sake of getting a reaction, bratty as far as a wizard prince goes, and prideful among many traits that you were forced to grow up alongside with.

These days, however, you hate the way that he is the only other candidate alongside yourself for the High Crown of the magical world. As if fate didn't just want the two of you to butt heads in school and at royal social functions all the time, suddenly you're pushed to compete with him for something much greater.

For the record, though, it's tradition that all firstborn heirs of the 4 major kingdoms are considered eligible for the highest throne that unites all of your domains. You were going to compete with him either way, just with other people initially involved. However, with prince Hyunjin of the Southern kingdom mysteriously disappearing over a month ago and princess Lia of the Western kingdom subsequently refusing the candidacy, suddenly there was only you and the Eastern prince for the high jury to challenge in their Crown Candidacy exam. Fate and circumstance clearly love you with the way Jisung is always in your line of sight when all you want for yourself is to not be on the receiving end of his teasings and competititve streak all the time.

Though you yourself didn't desire the High Crown at first, the elders continuously pressuring you eventually pushed you into accepting the task. Plus, knowing that it's Jisung—the brat who pulled on your hair during those silly etiquette lessons the high jury made you and the other royals take as kids and embarrassed you when you once confessed your past crush to him in middle school—who would be automatically crowned without a test if Hyunjin isn't found in time and you also refuse made you go forward with it. After all, as much as you personally don't want to answer to Jisung as the next High King, you also think that entrusting the entire magical realm to him is simply not right. You would know, you had to grow up with him.

So, here you are on the night that the Crown Candidacy exam begins, receiving the final blessing from your mother and the high jury with Jisung who has been sneakily trying to poke on your side and get a reaction out of you since the ceremony began. If 15 elders and your mentors aren't surrounding the two of you with their scrutinizing eyes right this very moment, you would've easily snapped on the first poke and blasted the blue-haired boy.

"Stop that," You instead gritted your teeth next to him with the 17th poke to your waist, lowering your voice that only he can hear. "Ji, I swear to the gods—"

Among the circle of witches and wizards chanting ritual protection spells over the two of you, your mentor Younghyun glares at you and Jisung as if in a non-verbal scolding that the two of you should stop "playing around" as he would usually word it. You simply roll your eyes at this in response, earning you more quizzical looks from the other elders.

You also hate the way that Han Jisung keeps stringing you into his antics as his favourite person to mess with. If anything, you're most often in trouble with the elders because of him.

"This part of the ceremony is so unnecessary. I'm bored" He murmurs tiredly under his breath, bringing his hands back inside his black cape and pushing his shoulders back as he stands up straighter once more. "It's not like humans can hurt us. We're the magical ones, hello? Besides, the jury’s already cut the one-year exam by half. What could even happen in that time?”

"Stray monsters can still hunt you there if you don’t stand still." You correct immediately, earning you a look from your own mother this time as she finishes leading the last of the spells. At this point in your unwanted association with him, you don't even care much anymore that you get in trouble because you entertain his antics. You just want him to shut up. "Whatever. It's done."

The prince then giddily springs up in place once all of the spells are casted, suddenly looking more awake than the past 5 minutes of ceremony. "Finally! Okay, thanks for that! We'll be going now!"

"Wait." Your mother calmly interrupts him, perfectly hiding her slight annoyance over you and Jisung as she whips out her blue wand from the pockets of her ceremonial robes. "For the high jury to properly tally the ecure that you'll collect in the human world after this task, we'll be providing you with vessels to keep them."

As she mentions the vessels, a sapphire locket and an emerald ring materialize in front of you and Jisung respectively before settling at the palms of your hands. You're then quick to notice the way that the diamond-cut sapphire encrusted at the center of your locket emits warmth as you place it around your neck, indicating its magical properties.

"These vessels have been modified further to record everything that you collect and any spell or potion that you might use them on while undertaking in this task." Your mother then continues. Simultaneously, Younghyun gestures for you and Jisung to mount your brooms and prepare to fly off into the yellow crescent moon where the portal to the human world lies on its other side. "Though the ecure that you lose is not counted in the final tally, knowing how you used or lost them also contributes to the jury's examination of your magical skills and knowledge."

Jisung chuckles, bumping the bristle end of his broom with yours playfully. "And to see what kind of trouble we'll get ourselves into, right?"

In response, you simply roll your eyes. Your mother, on the other hand, purposely tunes out Jisung's usual antics and continues, "Remember, this exam will determine the next monarch that unites all of the 4 major domains. Collect as much ecure as you can from the humans in the 6 months that you're given with them and you will be rewarded greatly. Until then, have a safe journey to the human world, candidates."

With that, you and Jisung push yourselves off from the castle balcony, heading straight to the crescent moon.

"Last to the other side is a lousy flyer!" Jisung yells playfully into the quiet night, speeding ahead before you could even process his words. “And has to pay for a meal sometime!”

"Ya! Han Jisung!" You increase your speed yourself anyway despite knowing that his words don’t have any ill meaning, catching up to him with ease just as the two of you pass into the portal. “I paid for the meals last time!”

Han Jisung isn't always fond of you, the heir to the Northern Kingdom, for reasons he simply can't limit to the number of fingers and toes that he has. He thinks you're too uptight (especially in the presence of the high jury and the other elders of the bigger royal circle), easily irritable, and surprisingly a bit of a pushover to your kingdom's advisors ever since your cousin, Chan, renounced his royal title and settled in the human world.

These days, however, he hates the way that you've suddenly taken up an interest in competing for the high crown of the magical world alongside him even when you've made it clear countless times before that you only wanted to rule your own kingdom. You only started showing interest after Lia formally refused her candidacy and the elders pushed you more into changing your mind, clearly hinting that you don't want Jisung to automatically be crowned High King.

Do they really think that terribly of me? Jisung has resorted to thinking a lot about these days, even now as the two of you arrive at Chan’s place where you would be staying for the duration of the test. I make a good high king as much as I do the king of my own people! Hmp!

It shouldn't bother him this much, it's just you anyway. But at the same time, it bothers him for this very same reason: because it's you, the know-it-all who always busted his antics to the teachers back in school and embarrassed him to his friends when you confessed your past crush to him back in middle school. Jisung hates the way you challenge and compel him to be petty and competitive all the time, especially in the little things. Like right now, as the two of you argue on who gets the bigger bedroom in Chan's house right after you arrived.

"You know, I was just holding back a while ago because we were in front of the elders but I swear, I won't hesitate to blast you now that we're away." You warn as you try your best to stare him down while he blocks the bedroom door you both want. You have your hands raised to the side, sparks of a spell encircling our fingers and the space between your hands. "Move, Jisung!"

Still, Jisung stubbornly refuses. You two have bickered enough to last you all of your lifetimes and for him to know that you won't really do it. "I was here first! You go to the other room!"

The blue ball of energy in your hands begins to shape itself into a more tangible shape as your brows furrow even deeper in frustration. "But I called dibs on this room to Chan firs—!"

Before you could finish your words, however, Chan peeks his head out from the opposite end of the hallway with a pile of blankets in his hands. "You two still going at it? It's almost 2 AM." He teases in feigned disapproval, approaching the two of you to throw a blanket each of your way. "Come on, give it up, Sung. Y/N gets the big room."

Jisung's initial smug expression contorts into disbelief in an instant while you celebrate with a wide grin and a teasing tongue stuck out at him. "What?!"

"Ha! Thanks, Channie!" You clasp your hands together in satisfaction, the red sparks in your hands disappearing into thin air as you do so, before pushing the paralyzed Jisung out of the way and locking yourself in the bedroom. Once Jisung's pulled himself together at the betrayal, you then briefly peek your head out of the door, sticking your tongue out for the last time before greeting the two boys with a quick, "Goodnight!"

Jisung glares and purses his lips in front of Chan who chuckles at this. "Hyung!" He whines, grabbing the older boy by his biceps and shaking him wildly like how a child would throw a tantrum. "I don't see you for three years and when I do, I get treated like this?!"

"Exactly." Chan nods with an amused smile, tugging Jisung to his side and leading him to his room across from yours. "Y/N was kind enough to visit me here while you didn't even send a letter. I think that's enough to give them the big room."

"Aah, but you already know why I couldn't! I was busy with all the prince stuff!"

"Y/N was too, though? And they’re doing twice the work than you."

"But Y/N's more organized than me!"

"So you agree? My cousin earned the bigger room?"

"No, it’s not th—aish! Bang Chan!" When the older boy in question tries pushing Jisung back to the smaller bedroom, the latter childishly protests by gripping onto the doorframe. "I'm making it up to you now! I'm literally staying here for 6 months!"

"Yeah and I'll definitely treat you to lots of other things for that later. Seriously, Ji, give it a rest. It's just your temporary room for the exam." Chan sighs with a tired laugh, prying the younger wizard's hands off of the doorframe and shoving him inside the room. "Unpack your things and get some sleep. We're having a welcoming party for you two on the weekend."

"You're supposed to side with me here."

"Don't pull that face, you're not kids anymore." Chan chuckles, ruffling the younger boy's hair. "And I'm not siding with anyone. It’s just a room! Night, Sungie."

Jisung opens his mouth to protest, only for Chan to close the door on him and walk back to his own room. With a sigh, the boy defeatedly trudges to his new bed and, after taking out his expandable pouch from his pockets, jumps to the mattress with a muffled groan to the plush pillows.

Jisung also hates how one of his best friends favors you better just because you're cousins first. He's had enough of Chan coddling you before from when you were kids, always taking your side when the two of you bicker and offering you his extra food when the three of you are together, and he would much prefer it if he doesn't see it now that the two of you are undergoing an important exam.

"At least the view's nice." He pouts to himself once he's seated up once more, facing the window that overlooks the city. After just spending ten minutes flying over Seoul and exploring Chan's vast mansion, Jisung gets it a little now. Chan definitely didn't choose this realm over their home for no reason.

If I'm not in line to be king, Jisung thinks to himself, this life also seems nice.

Hovering his hands over the enchanted green pouch, its neatly packed contents of clothes and other personal belongings then emerge from its seemingly tiny space before levitating to their respective places. "Aish, that Y/N!" Jisung yells loudly on purpose, leaning on his side closer to the door to hear your reaction.

Across the hall, while you make a fuss out of unpacking and changing the appearance of some furniture, you yell back, "Shut up, Ji!"

Jisung has many reasons for disliking you at times but, if anything, he lives for your reactions when he purposely annoys you. Even when he knows you’re always a spell away from actually snapping at him, you never actually do and it never fails to amuse him. Scoffing, he lets it slide for now and quietly unpacks.

If attending social functions as a royal has taught you anything over the years, it's to avoid being within reach of Jisung at a party before, during, and after he makes a huge mess of things. You've had your own fair share of spilled drinks to your dress robes, purposely getting embarrassed in front of the elders and other important public officials, and even a huge fight over not wanting to be his dance partner to remind you of this at all times.

Of the places that you and Jisung have to be standing next to each other, it's the parties that you hate having to see him at the most because they bring you nothing but trouble. Chan's welcoming party for the two of you, with witches and wizards living in the human world as well as Chan's own human friends in attendance, is no exception.

"What do you think he's going to do this time?" Yeji snickers next to you on the makeshift dance floor of the house's backyard. Ever since her brother disappeared, she's been staying in the human world combing through every inch of Seoul and trying to retrace what is little known of the steps he took. Naturally, you've stuck to each other like glue since she arrived. "It's been two hours since this party started and all he's doing is—"

"Flirt with every human on the dance floor. I know, that's why I'm not looking over my shoulder. I think that's all he's planning to do in this party, given that we've started with the test." You frown, taking a sip of your beer as the song changes to a more lively one. "This guy's never taken any exam back in school seriously but now he suddenly wants to win this one exam. Weird, right?"

"Hm, maybe he really wants to win this exam and become high king. You can never really tell what goes on in that head of his." Yeji shrugs, blinking twice in quick succession to make her eyes turn red, an indication that she's scanning the venue for the humans' ecures. "Anyway, he's definitely working hard. I see a lot of orange hearts for him as much as there are for you."

Only then do you also turn your head around the place, your own eyes turning blue as you collect the orange hearts of infatuation and green hearts of friendship that people you've met tonight have for you with a non-verbal spell. As you catch these little crystal hearts into your locket, you briefly catch a glimpse of Jisung at one of the foldable tables chatting with three human girls. It somehow irritates you.

"He never lost that cringey fuckboy persona, huh?" Yeji points out once you're done with your collecting, shaking her now empty bottle and frowning once she realizes that it's already empty. "I guess I didn't miss out on much even after being away for a few weeks."

"You talk like you were gone for a year, not 3 weeks." You laugh. When she then asks you if you want to get new beer bottles, you follow her back to the coolers behind Chan's DJ set. "I hate how we'll be seeing more of those again when we start attending uni to collect more hearts."

"Oh, right! You're attending mine, right? You'll be with me, Seungmin, and Ryujin?" When you nod once more, she links her arms with yours and adds, “Gosh, I can just see it now, girls from the different departments flocking the two of you on the first day but especially Sung. A lot of girls I know from uni really dig that e-boy thing he has going on."

You pretend to gag, making her throw her head back in a cackle of laughs. "Humans and their weird tastes in men." You scrunch up your nose, the two of you briefly pausing to politely wave at Chan as you pass by his booth.

Your cousin doesn't hesitate to wave back at you both before going back to his spinning. You and Yeji then head to the back of his area where the coolers of different beverages have been placed.

"Oh shush, didn't you too also have a crush on him way back then?" Yeji teases the moment the two of you are alone again, opening the cooler with a simple flick of her hand. You follow along despite the glare you send her way, your empty beer bottles getting replaced by new ones. "Sometimes, Ryujin and I like to think that you still have a little bit of that."

"No way." You shake your head in denial, picking up a bottle opener from one of the closed coolers and using it over yours and Yeji's. "Middle school was a long time ago. Jisung just irritates the hell out of me now."

"Who irritates who now?" A voice behind you perks up almost immediately, causing you to jump and spill a little of your beer on the grass. When you glance over your shoulder, Jisung's white bucket hat comes into your vision, eventually uncovering his mischievous smile. "Ah, so clumsy. Look, you spilled a little beer on the grass.”

Next to you, Yeji giggles behind her hand while greeting Jisung. You glare at her in response.

"You're annoying." You point out with a pout, thrusting the bottle opener to his chest before linking arms with Yeji. "We're going."

Jisung only shrugs with a smirk, waving goodbye to Yeji as the two of you pass by him to go back to the dance floor. "It makes you look, doesn't it?"

"Uh-huh, keep telling yourself that." You roll your eyes before disappearing back into the crowd with Yeji.

Once Jisung is out of earshot, Yeji then nudges your side with your linked arms. "I'm telling you, there's still a little something. Deep, deep down there." She teases in a singsong. “That’s probably why the banter just won’t die out.”

"Nope, definitely not." You shake your head. "Have you been watching too much of those human dramas while you’re here? It’s playing with your judgement."

It comes even as a surprise to Jisung himself that he hasn't caused a major mishap in this welcoming party so far. Since the majority of the guests started arriving two hours ago, he hasn't done anything troubling besides losing to Ryujin at beer pong and finishing a whole red cup of Chan's jungle juice concoction as punishment almost an hour ago.

It doesn't bother his "instincts for mischief" that much—his mentor's words not his. It means that he's more focused on collecting ecures at the moment with the amount of humans he's mingled with at this party, especially the girls who have taken it upon themselves to flirt with him.

What does bother him slightly, however, is the way you occasionally glance over to him knowingly from across the lawn, as if you're expecting him to do something. You always seem to do that after years of getting roped into his troubles, much like a lot of your childhood friends who'd frequently end up in similar predicaments. Somehow, however, it's always intimidating when it's you looking at him. He personally hates that, the look in your eyes when you're trying to catch him in his mischievous acts.

"Who are you and what have you done to my twin brother?" Felix has been teasing the entire night every time he encounters Jisung. When Jisung pouts this time, while the two share a drink on a couch that was brought out for this party, Felix laughs over his drink and adds, "Oh, so you're really focused on this test, huh? No trouble until this party's over?"

"Why do you guys think I'm not?" Jisung frowns, elbowing his brother by his side. "Geez, Lix, you're supposed to root for me here. If I win, you get to be king too."

In response, Felix waves his solo cup dismissively. "No, no, I think you're doing great! You've caught how much already? Twenty hearts in this party? That's a great start, bro." He comments with a proud smile. "It's just a little new, seeing you all so serious and focused. It's not because you're up against Y/N, right?"

"Ha? Nope, definitely not. It's barely a competition when I'm clearly winning." Jisung shakes his head a little too defensively as he sinks into the soft velvet couch. "I just think it's natural that another kingdom should get the high crown this time and since it's only me and Y/N competing, unless we also find Hyunjin while we're here I should work hard and make it happen."

Just then, Seungmin sits down on his other side with a cup of punch and a small paper plate of sweets from the chocolate fountain. "If Hyunjin was here, he would've whipped your asses in this party by getting all of the human guys and girls with one smile." He points out matter-of-factly. "Plus, if Lia accepted the candidacy, all three of you would've lost even before you left home."

"You never really rooted for me, huh, Minnie?" Jisung feigns sad eyes as he rests his head on Seungmin's shoulder. "And here I thought we're best friends."

"Oh no, I'm totally rooting for you now." Seungmin replies with a dry chuckle, passing his paper plate over to Felix when he holds his hands out in a motion asking for food. "But if the gang was complete, I would've changed to team Hyunjin."

Jisung scoffs at this, swiping a marshmallow covered in chocolate from Seungmin's plate. "Fine, I won’t hold it against you. I miss Hyunjin too."

"Yeji and Chae are doing everything they can to look for him. He'll turn up somewhere, he just has to. Until then, you should just focus more on your exam. Hyunnie would want that." Felix quips in before turning his attention over to you and Yeji at the nearby karaoke mini bar. "Look, that's what Y/N and Yeji are doing right now."

When Jisung looks through the crowd that has gathered around you, his eyes turning a deep green, he sees a lot of orange hearts gravitate over to you, mostly from the uni boys and girls that Yeji, Seungmin, and Ryujin have invited to this party.

"You guys are seeing it too, right?" Felix asks, his own eyes a matching shade of green when he tilts his head over to Seungmin and Jisung. "At least twenty new hearts in a span of 10 minutes, right after they just gave Y/N a bunch of green hearts."

Seungmin nods, his head movements making Jisung's head shake a little on his shoulder. "Yeah. Y/N's really working extra on this." He notes in complete awe. "The competition's really close, don't you think so Lix?"

"Definitely. What do you think, Ji?"

"Nope, definitely not." Jisung crosses his arms and shakes his head in disagreement. "It's impressive but not enough to catch up to me."

But the smallest hint of a frown gracing his features is enough to give his feelings away to his friends. Only now does it fully sink in that it’s definitely a tight competition between the two of you.

one out of six months

At one point, you understood why people would foolishly fall for Jisung. On a really good day, when he's not causing you or anyone too much trouble, you could see his playful side as charming, maybe even too cute for you to admit it out loud. A long time ago, back when you were still so naïve, you had a small playground crush on him too, after all; a crush that ended so badly you're convinced it's where your bickering naturally escalated.

But now, as your days in the human world turn into a month spent fulfilling your Crown Candidacy exam at university with your friends, you just wish that not a lot of humans are so insanely attracted to Jisung. It's nothing personal, of course, you're not jealous at all in that way. Whenever you sit in the library to study, attend classes from late in the morning to early afternoons, or even just sit in the quad with your shared friend group discussing updates on Yeji's search for Hyunjin, however, your competitor is just always being followed by flocks of smitten girls with their orange and pink ecures of crushes on their sleeves, ready to be collected by Jisung's emerald ring.

And you're not going to get started on the rainbow-colored hearts that send him little gifts and love letters at least once a week before classes, sometimes even directly to Chan's house where the third kitchen fridge is now filled with bakery goods stashed along with Chan's fan gifts. Not wanting to admit it to him or any of your friends, you're admittedly quite jealous because he attracts the ecures from the humans so easily while you have to work extra harder in socializing with your human peers to garner even just pink hearts. You hate having to work extra, extra harder just to be on par with him all the time, especially when he seems to be effortless in his ways.

"Before Lix went back to the magical realm, he relayed that Changbin from back home suggested that we start expanding our search for Hyunjin to—" For the sixth time since your group met up at the quad after classes this particular afternoon, another group of girls pass by and greet Jisung, interrupting Yeji in her explanations. Pouting slightly, she then turns to Jisung and pokes him with her pen, snapping the smirk off of his face. "Sung, focus."

Jisung nods quickly, waving Yeji's pen away from his side. "Yeah, let me just collect their hearts real quick."

You roll your eyes in response, nudging Yeji to resume her updates. "Just go on, Yeji." You encourage her, Seungmin and Ryujin nodding along in agreement. For emphasis, you make sure to tap Jisung's hand on the grass with your own pen harshly, making him wince dramatically in pain. "You're extending the search to Incheon, right?"

"Oh, uh yeah. Like I said, Lix said that Changbin suggested Incheon since Hyunjin briefly mentioned it in one of his letters. We'll start looking into it ourselves before this semester is over." Yeji continues on, ignoring the next group of passing girls that Jisung gets distracted over again this time around. "Chaeryoung is going there in the following months, though, to scout the places first. Then, we'll try and follow up with a search of our own. I'll have to ask Chan and the jury back at home if you and Jisung are allowed to go, though, since you're taking your exam."

"Among those places, Hyunjin often went to this stretch of the beach because he was investigating a monster from home who escaped here and took an artifact from our kingdom." Seungmin added, pointing to a location on Yeji's map sprawled over your laptops at the very center of your circle. "It was one of his last assignments here before he suddenly disappeared. We'll probably stay here the longest."

You try your best to listen, adding your own inputs to how your search operations would go while also noticing a couple of people who recognize you and wave your way, but Jisung somehow keeps grabbing your attention by the way he entertains his admirers who greet him shyly as they pass by you group. The playful smirks he sends their way, the polite waves, and the way his hand keeps twitching in between the two of you as he collects the ecures with his own spell keep eating away at your attention span, pressuring you that he's taking the lead in your race.

You also try discreetly collecting your own share of hearts under your breath whenever someone you know passes by but you eventually find it hard finding people while trying to listen to your friends. "Ji, focus." You mumble under your breath after a while, breaking his focus as he collects two more orange hearts.

"Y/N, keep up with me here." He smirks, just as the orange hearts disappear into his ring. "Why are you so distracted by me, anyway? Jealous?"

"I’m not jealous!”

"Guys focus." Ryujin snaps at the two of you this time, chuckling in amusement when you and Jisung both glare at her. "Hey, easy on the stink eyes. I'm just telling you two to listen over here."

"Do as I do, Ryujin, and just tune them out." Seungmin jabs nonchalantly as he and Yeji take down notes of their discussion, not even once looking up at you nor Jisung. "It works out splendidly once you've mastered it."

"Hearing them bicker over random things before was one thing. Hearing them bicker over ecures now is a whole new playing field." Ryujin smirks, particularly to you. "Ah, you guys sound even more like a married couple now that you're competing. Tsk, tsk..."

"No, we're not!" You and Jisung answer in chorus, looking incredulously at each other after. "Ya!"

"Seungmin's right. Just tune them out, Ryujin." Yeji points out without missing a beat, a small smile taking out the initial annoyance from her face. "Anyway, what's important is we settle our plans first. Let the married couple race for the crown."

"Ya! Hwang Yeji!" You scold, flinging your notebook towards her which she dodges swiftly. "I'm listening, I swear."

Yeji gives you a look of mock disbelief in response before chuckling and going back to her work. "Whatever you say."

Jisung won’t admit it to any of you nor his friends’ faces but he may be just a little jealous that you’re catching onto him at a great speed and looking surprisingly nonchalant about it on the outside. You work extremely hard, that’s a given and Jisung respects that as much as the two of you annoy each other. But he doesn’t even have to sneak over to your room at night and check your locket for your ecure count; the boys and girls from uni, the market where Chan forces the two of you to run errands on weekends, and even at Ryujin’s favorite skate park who always take two glances your way wherever you go are enough giveaway to the amount you’re collecting everyday. And it’s a whole lot of hearts. He won’t even be surprised if you’ve managed to collect 300 hearts by now.

And he’s not even going to get started on how fast you manage to take ecures from the same people twice in less than a week, managing to charm same-age neighbors and classmates from good friends to secret admirers in a span of a few days and getting you at least twice the amount for your tally. You have enough hearts on your locket to keep up with Jisung’s count and use your magic leisurely at home. You definitely keep your competitor up on his toes all the time with how you’re giving your all in this competition and it’s gnawing at him to do even better.

What annoys him on top of this, however, are certain kinds of people that look your way, or even Yeji’s and Ryujin’s for that matter. When the three of you aren’t looking and a bunch of passing jocks would eye you weirdly on the quad or at the library, especially since you’re new to the school, his natural instinct is to glare them down until they’re looking away. He sees their purple ecures from where he would sit across from you as you study, a sign of a lusting kind of feeling, and it does nothing but to tick him off into intimidating them until the color fades out.

Seungmin thinks that, in a way, this is cheating and that you’d probably think the same way if you find out since purple ecures are ranked quite high in the tally, just above pink hearts (”Y/N’s gotten mad at you before for going too far or breaking the rules. You, of all people, should know not to get on their bad side.”). When Jisung writes to Felix back home after, however, his twin naturally defends him and says that he’s just looking out for you.

“You guys don’t always see eye to eye, even now that you’re competing against each other,” Felix recorded over the enchanted mail that arrived after your meeting at the quad, Jisung and Seungmin separating from your group to do some more studying at the library. “but you’re just looking out for Y/N and protecting them from any weirdos, like for Ryujin and Yeji. Just tone it down a bit and let them handle it sometimes.”

“See? Lix thinks I’m doing something right.” Jisung sticks his tongue out at Seungmin who simply shakes his head in stubborn disagreement before returning back to his class notes. “I’m telling you, I’m not sabotaging Y/N on purpose.”

“Still, whether they want to collect those purple ecures or not is not your choice to make.” Seungmin points out. Though he agrees with Jisung’s intentions, as he’s been doing the same and looking out for you and your friends in his own ways as well, he also trusts that you can take care of yourself. “Just let them handle it next time, unless they actually do need your help.”

“But—“

“Consider the guys that passed by at the quad the last time you’ll mess with Y/N’s ecures.” “You saw that?!”

Still, it gnaws on Jisung’s conscience when he takes the train home with you later that day, when another purple heart springs up for you as he checks your surroundings and finds it to be from a stranger. What a creep, Jisung cringes internally with disgust before strategically blocking the man out from your sight and standing closer to you, Y/N’s competition but I’m a decent being! Be the bigger person or whatever bullshit.

“Ya, what are you doing?” You push him away with your index finger to his stomach, leaving a bigger gap between the two of you as you stand on the moving train. “Ji, personal space.”

“We’re literally cramped in this train like canned sardines, Y/N. I’m just trying to make space for the people coming in.” Jisung fibs in retort, unknowingly timing his words perfectly with the train making a stop and justifying his next action of taking a step closer to you. This time, he makes sure that he’s towering over you and blocking the creep behind him completely by moving his hand over to the train handle right next to where your hand is. “Don’t make it weird!”

Your expression is surprisingly unwavering now, clearly unamused by his boyish quips. “You’re the one making it weird! You keep hovering over me.”

“Sure, sure, whatever you say.” He rolls his eyes, instinctively steadying you with one hand when the abrupt movements of the train pushes you slightly forwards. “Oops, careful there.”

When Jisung takes one last glance at the creep and finds him still looking over your general direction, the boy finally snaps and sends a little spell over the man’s way, one that makes him itch all over and ties his shoelaces together. This is the last time, Jisung swears to himself with a chuckle under his breath, oh what the hell? Punishing creeps is kinda funny.

two out of six months

The first time Han Jisung spots a red heart that he can collect, it’s 2 months into your candidacy exam and he makes the surprising decision to prolong collecting it by several days. It’s not that Soonyoung from your Math class is aware of this. As far as she knows, Jisung is simply stringing her along much like he does with every other girl he’s flirting with and she doesn’t seem to mind this fact.

But you mind, you and your other friends do a lot. “It’s a powerful heart and costs 5000 points on the point system.” Seungmin even noted himself once on another day that Jisung left your class without Soonyoung’s crystal red heart. You mostly agree on this, coupled with the fact that you can’t steal the heart for yourself to gain more points in the race since it’s not for you. “Just take it, it’s not going to get any higher than that.”

No matter how much you or any of your friends nag, however, Jisung simply lets the days pass doing nothing much about it besides entertain Soonyoung whenever the girl approaches. As his sole competitor in your candidacy exam, you visibly feel the most frustrated out of everyone else by each passing day, especially at the thought that you yourself haven’t managed any red hearts yet.

“It is weird, very not like him but also a bit like him if that makes sense?” Ryujin notes by the 10th day, after you recounted Math class to her as you take a short break together. Today, Jisung agreed to go to lunch with Soonyoung, only to tell you and Seungmin that even then he’s not going to take her heart today. “I mean knowing what happened between you two in middle sch—”

You immediately shake your head before she could even finish her thought, “No, I don’t think that has anything to do with now. Definitely not.”

“It’s not like that! I meant to say that this is even worse than when you had a crush on Jisung. The girl’s ecure is as red as red could go!” Ryujin exclaims, forcing you to cover her mouth with your hand just as Soonyoung and Jisung comically pass by your table at the kiosk to eat lunch together. Slowly prying your hands off once the pair in question are out of earshot, Ryujin then leans over the table and continues, “But even then, he’s not taking it to gain momentum in your exam. Aren’t you a little bit curious why?”

You hesitantly shrug, “I mean, a little...but honestly I think he’s just being stupid. If I were him, I won’t string the girl along, not for this long anyway. It’s a waste of time and effort when he can just pick up the heart and reject her carefully.”

“Then, maybe he has his reasons. If you know about it, you might get an advantage!” Yeji speaks up this time, joining your table late with a huge pile of library books on top of her laptop bag in her hands. As much as this girl has been busy looking for her brother, she also keeps up with her human world cover surprisingly well even when she doesn’t have to with all the studying that she does on the side. “One way to find out, right? I heard Felix’s not that busy these days back home.”

You feign a frown at the two girls agreeing in unison, especially at Yeji as she takes out her phone from the magical realm. “You know, you’re really good at sticking your head into a lot of things even when you’re busy looking for your brother.” You note dryly, making Yeji laugh while dialling Felix’s phone on the other side. “That was sarcastic, Yeji.”

“I’m a great multitasker.” She winks before placing her phone at the center of your table then scooting her chair closer to you and Ryujin, effectively hiding the odd-looking device that projects Felix’s face almost immediately. “Hey Lix!”

“Hi Lix!” You politely greet along with Ryujin anyway, waving to the small projection of the prince on Yeji’s phone. By the faint greenery that surrounds him, you immediately assume that he’s back at home and tending to his personal garden.

“I’m not in trouble, am I?” The younger Eastern prince jokes, greeting the three of you individually after. “What’s up? Seungmo and Sungie not with you three today?”

“Seungmin got held back in class today for a TA offering and your brother’s on a date! Can you believe it? A lunch date with a human girl!” Yeji explains a little too excitedly, you and Ryujin immediately shushing her up. Giggling, the princess continues anyway, “Which is why we called! We just thought it’s a little weird that Jisung’s not trying to catch this red heart when it’s a clear advantage to his tally and maybe you’d know why.”

All the while Yeji explains your purpose for calling, you slowly observe how Felix’s own expression morphs into that of genuine surprise. “What? He hasn’t taken it?!” He exclaims in response after Yeji finishes speaking. “Are you sure? That’s not very like him.”

“Well, why do you think he hasn’t taken it, then?” You suddenly find yourself asking this time, earning you incredulous looks from your peers. Brushing them off, you simply glance over at Felix as he tries thinking of a reason himself.

“Maybe he still can’t reject admirers for shit.” Ryujin snickers under her breath, making you elbow the girl harshly on her side.

But surprisingly, Felix nods absentmindedly to this. “Maybe…”

“Are you seriously agreeing with that, Lix?” You frown. “I think he’s just up to no good.”

“Hey, Ji can act weird and not be up to trouble too, you know.” Felix pouts back. “But honestly, I don’t know why he’s not thinking of taking it either, especially knowing how he’s so proud of getting to receive it alone. Maybe he likes this person, who knows?”

The thought feels so foreign to you, Jisung genuinely liking someone, especially knowing what he did when you were much younger. But when you glance over to your friends, you also notice the same confused looks on their faces.

“Han Jisung...liking someone? Enough to respect their feelings?” Ryujin muses out loud before eventually shaking her head. “Nope, sounds weird. Dangerous! Alien! Y/N, have you been noticing any other weird things from your housemate lately? Maybe he’s been secretly abducted by aliens!”

“Oh stop it, Ryujin! Whatever it is my brother’s planning, I trust that he at least has an idea what he’s doing.” Felix sighs, running a hand through his blonde locks. In the background of his end, the faint voice of Changbin beckoning him over momentarily catches his attention. “If he’s being stupid again, then just let him be. If he does like this person, though, I just hope that he treads carefully while he’s at it. You know how precious witch ecures are.”

“Oh, I know…” You murmur under your breath as you scrunch up your nose, unconsciously glancing over to Jisung and Soonyoung’s table where the two are laughing over something you can’t hear from across the room. When Changbin’s voice grows louder on Felix’s end, you then smoothly steer the topic to a close, “Anyway, sorry for bothering you at this time. Bin’s calling for you.”

Next to you, Ryujin and Yeji agree with nods and smiles as Felix waves his free hand dismissively at this. “No, it’s okay! Just look out for my brother, yeah? I gotta go, Queen Lia just arrived for tea with me and my mom!”

“Oh, then we’ll see you!” “Have fun at tea!” “Say hi to Lia for us!”

Felix waves one last goodbye before ending the call. As his image disappears from Yeji’s phone, the princess is quick to pocket her phone back and turn to you with a raised brow, “So, what do you think? Even Lix finds it weird.”

Personally, you think it’s odd. The thought that Jisung could easily be developing feelings for someone while taking your exam, to someone human no less. You’ll probably never admit it to him but he’s been working hard in collecting hearts up to this point and you know him enough to know that he won’t let himself get distracted with something like this. “What is he planning exactly?”

You’re giving Jisung that look again, through the boy’s reflection on the bus mirror no less as the two of you head to Chan’s studio where he has promised the two of you dinner. The same look you kept giving him during your welcome party just last month, probably without you knowing, rests on your tired features as you listen to music on your phone and rest your cheek against your propped up hand on the window seat you almost threw him out of the bus for. What did I do now? The boy can’t help but whine pitifully to himself as he steals another glance at your direction while scrolling through his phone.

Jisung helplessly rakes his brain for anything that he’s done today that could’ve possibly pissed you off while pretending to look down on his phone, missing the way you shift uncomfortably in your seat as if you were going to ask a question.

“So—” “I meant to ask—”

Jisung’s immediately closes his mouth shut when the two of you speak at the same time, eyes widening when he looks up and sees you already looking over at him directly. Simultaneously, you’re quick to look away from him and cough awkwardly, quietly mumbling out that Jisung speaks first. “Go ahead.”

“What did I do this time?” Jisung immediately goes for it, pouting and sinking into his seat for extra emphasis. This visibly surprises you by the way your eyes widen slightly and you visibly freeze in front of him. “You’ve been glaring at me from the window since it started getting dark outside and it’s starting to get annoying but I’m too tired from today to think of everything that I did today to pinpoint where I ticked you off again.”

Your lips curl down to a frown and you bring your propped up arm back to your side, sinking down your own seat to his level. “I wasn’t glaring at you!”

“Yes you were—” “—No, I wasn’t!” “Yes you—”

“Okay, then, if I was glaring at you like you said, it’s because I meant to ask you something.” You huff before shyly looking away, gazing out of the window again. “W-Why haven’t you...whyhaventyoutakenthatgirlsheart?”

Now, Jisung is even more confused than ever from not understanding a word you just said. Raising a curious brow, the prince nudges you by your shoulder with his own until you look back at him again, uttering a slow, “What?!”

You inhale slowly, as if holding your embarrassment in, before repeating, “Why haven’t you taken Soonyoung’s heart?”

“I—really? That’s what you wanted to ask?” That’s it? So I didn’t do shit? Whew...

You nod, crossing your arms and looking away. “Well, don’t act so smug now! I’m just curious, it’s powerful and worth a lot of points, after all.”

Caught off-guard, it takes Jisung a worryingly long time to answer your question. He looks down on his phone first, with his emerald ring right next to it, before glancing over to the distant LED screen at the very front of the bus, announcing the next stop. “Just because…” He trails off with a reluctant shrug, avoiding the feeling of your curious gaze. If it were any other situation, maybe involving a lower-ranking heart like a yellow, green, or even an orange one, he would be laughing at you and teasing that you’re obsessed with his count or trying to compare it with your own. “You, of all people should know…”

But it’s a red heart, one that’s made him a bit too flustered for him to admit to anyone, even to his own brother. “I don’t know what I’ll do with it.” He answers vaguely because of this, hearing a little ‘oh’ from your side. “I already told Soonyoung over lunch that I don’t see her like that but it’s still red. Her feelings are too sincere for me and I feel like I can’t take advantage of that, not for a competition.”

Jisung doesn’t hear any verbal response from your side after this, not even when the LED screen ahead announces that you’re nearing your stop. When he glances over to you through the window, however, he catches a glimpse of the smallest hint of a content smile on your features.

Only when the two of you arrive at your stop, while you’re following him down the stairs down from the bus, do you nudge him on his side once more and say, “I guess that’s sweet of you. Plus, you’re actually using your head for once.”

Your soft smile momentarily catches him off-guard, freezing him on the sidewalk, until a passerby brushes him by his shoulder and snaps him back to reality. “Y-Ya! What’s that supposed to mean?!”

You wave your hand dismissively at him with a laugh, running off ahead to Chan’s studio. “Last one to the studio is a lousy runner and won’t get dessert!”

“Hey! Y/N! What’s that supposed to mean? Did you just call me stupid?!”

The next day, a ‘secret admirer’ leaves a red apple, a milk box, and an unsigned heart-shaped note on your usual table as you enter Math class. Though the note has your name and its message typed and printed, a simple nonverbal spell that you cast over the gifts reveal a familiar fingerprint.

“So, who’s it from?” Jisung asks, swiftly swiping the apple from your table and taking a huge bite. “How many points are we looking at here?”

You scoff at his action, taking the apple for yourself and biting on the opposite side. “It’s from Soonyoung.” You answer with a mischievous smile, causing your competitor to choke. When you glance over at the girl’s table, your eyes briefly turn blue to see a pinkish heart for you. “I guess you don’t want her red heart, huh? Mind if I make a pink one from her into a red for me?”

Jisung coughs violently, thumping his fist against his chest as he recovers. “Y-Ya! Don’t you dare!”

three out of six months

One thing you’ve been most looking forward to in this Crown Candidacy exam, besides seeing your cousin and friends currently staying in the human world and helping with Hyunjin’s search, is getting to see your cousin’s boyfriend again. Though the rest of your family doesn’t really approve of Minho, mostly since he’s the reason why Chan renounced his duke title in the first place and why your cousin might be permanently tied to the human world in the future, you’ve taken a liking to the guy since you first met him on a short visit 2 years ago and have been looking forward to hanging out in person once more after a long while.

Minho makes Chan the happiest you’ve ever seen him since you were kids, cooks really well, travels the world as a performing artist, and is totally cool with the idea that his boyfriend is a wizard from another realm. Plus, he catches onto magical items really quick, having adapted quickly to using your realm’s inter-world mailing system hence how you’ve been keeping in touch up until this point. You honestly don’t see any reason to hate him, even before meeting him in person. If anything, knowing that it’s Minho that’s keeping Chan from fulfilling his royal duties makes you support your cousin’s decision even more than before.

However, you’re already halfway done with your exam and Minho is still nowhere to be seen. He initially promised you that he’ll cook you and Jisung a meal as soon as you arrived but last-minute plans in his touring schedule with a ballet company held him back abroad, postponing this plan indefinitely and making you focus more on school and helping look for Hyunjin.

That is until you and Jisung came home from your usual Saturday grocery errands to inhale the smell of meat and mushroom soup coming from the kitchen.

“Is Chan cooking?” Jisung raised a brow at this, closing the door behind you and walking further inside the house. “It smells nice, though. So it’s not him?”

You roll your eyes, biting down a laugh at this surprisingly funny quip. “That’s definitely not Chan.” You affirm anyways, excitedly walking past him to the kitchen where you find the familiar back of a person stirring a big pot of soup next to Chan who’s chopping up side dishes. “Minho!”

Jisung follows you to the kitchen and watches from the doorframe as this said Minho turns around, opening his arms out to hug you as you quickly drop your groceries on the dining table and run towards him. Next to you two, Chan stops his own work and laughs at the sight, prying you away after a moment and reminding you, “Hey, hey, Minho’s tired from his flight!”

“Tired? Then you make him cook dinner? I don’t think so!” You giggle, clutching onto Minho like a koala while the said boy pretends to shrug you off. “I was wondering when you’re coming home! You haven’t even written since I came here, you jerk!”

“My schedule was jam-packed until the other day but I promised some magic freaks that I’ll cook them dinner so I came home as soon as I can.” Minho laughs, hugging you back and only then catching sight of a confused Jisung. “Oh, hi there! You must be Han Jisung?”

“Y-Yeah?” Jisung nods slowly in confusion, raising one hand holding multiple eco-bags up in a wave. He hates it when he’s not in the loop of things but more importantly, he hates it when it’s you keeping him out of the loop in particular. Who’s this guy?! “Sorry, and you are?”

“Lee Minho! I’m keeping Chan hostage here on Earth.” Minho formally introduces himself, earning him a nudge from both you and Chan. “What? Should I curtsy? I know your family and Hyunjin’s doesn’t really require it but I don’t know about the others so—”

Oh. At this, Jisung visibly relaxes with a chuckle and finally approaches your little group, settling his own share of the groceries down on the dining table before sitting down himself. Chan then takes this as his cue to reluctantly drag you over next to Jisung while he and Minho finish cooking. “No, no, it’s cool! We’re not at home, anyway.”

“Okay, then, cool. You guys are okay with waiting for a little bit, right? The lamb’s not fully cooked yet.” Minho explains. “I was going to make you two a meal when your exam started but I got caught up in work so—”

“Yeah it’s fine!” You agree eagerly, taking out your groceries and organizing them on the table. “We’ll just fix up the groceries.”

Jisung side-eyes you with an incredulous look in his eyes, something Chan definitely notices as his lips quirk up into a knowing grin before whispering something to Minho. “Why are you so chirpy all of a sudden?” He asks you, helping you take out the groceries and arrange them into their respective shelves.

“What do you mean? I’ve been chirpy since this morning.” You scoff. “Why do you even keep track? I told you not to stare at me, weirdo.”

“Um no, you weren’t. You were complaining about me breathing next to you on the bus a while ago. ‘You’re not helping me get any hearts’ or whatever it was you were rambling about a while back.” Jisung points out with a huff. “And I don’t stare, that’s you! If anything, you’re the weirdo, always up my business!”

“Well, why wouldn’t I complain? I was at the market with you all day! You don’t know how to pick good vegetables and you kept flirting with the store clerks to try and up their orange hearts to pink ones! Then, you wore that stupid perfume again when I told you already that it smells bad! Now we’re at home and you can stay the fuck away from me.”

“Ya, you little sh—”

Across the kitchen, Minho giggles in amusement at hearing you and Jisung bicker live for the first time. You’ve always complained about this Jisung fellow in your correspondence and he’s never had a clear grasp as to why you’re always at this boy’s neck but now that he’s meet Jisung in the flesh and is starting to hear what you two are exactly fighting about, Minho can’t help but laugh into the mushroom soup. “So this is the troublemaker who’s been bugging our Y/N.” He ends up musing out loud. “I see why you need me home now.”

“Believe me, you should’ve seen them grow up together with the other kids. Always fighting over the smallest of things, competing on who’s better, and all that.” Chan rolls his eyes in disinterest, glancing over to you and Jisung as the latter starts chasing you around the dining area with a bundle of scallions. “What you’re seeing right now is barely the tip of the iceberg, Min.”

“Reminds you a little bit of us back then, don’t you think?”

“Ya, and which one am I supposed to be?”

The couple glances over their shoulders to see that you’ve now successfully snatched the scallions from Jisung with your magic and have started to hit him over the head with it. This then makes Chan squint his eyes suspiciously at Minho who only chuckles. “Babe, you and Y/N are definitely related, don’t you think?”

“Do you also want to get hit with scallions?”

Though Jisung was initially wary of Minho at the start of the evening, having only heard of him vaguely from gossip among the other royal kids prior, your cousin’s boyfriend slowly and naturally transitioned over the prince’s good graces as soon as the lamb chops and mushroom soup were served along with stories of Minho’s own adventures and questions about the magical realm. Now that he’s put a name and a face to the person that people back home simply referred to as the reason why Chan left (and who he’s admittedly been blaming as well for the sudden shift in your attitude at the royal courts), Jisung now genuinely believes that the people back at home jumped to their conclusions quickly about Minho.

Minho’s really nice, Chan is really fond of him and you clearly support the two. In return, Minho looks out for you and Chan, you in particular as the older guy proceeds to drill Jisung shamelessly with questions on whatever it is that you’ve mentioned about him in your letters.

Jisung didn’t even know a lot of the things Minho kept rambling on about while you tried so hard to keep his mouth shut next to him by helplessly trying to cover his mouth.

“Y/N talks about you a whoooooooole lot. Like, a minor inconvenience during their royal duties then they’re quick to talk to me about it.” Minho grins playfully, dodging your attempts at shutting him up while he eats his share of the pastry dessert. “When we first met and this candidate exam thing was first brought up, they talked about the other royals briefly but they talked about you in super great detail! Oh, and Y/N was rambling a lot about how you reacted to when they confessed to you in middle school and everything, it was so funn—”

“Minho shut up!”

“It was really funny!” Minho pins your wrists to the table after a while, gesturing towards Chan, sitting next to Jisung across the table, who then uses his magic to switch your places. This then effectively shuts you up as your flustered expression overcomes your face upon accidentally locking eyes with Jisung right after. “But I want to know what actually happened when you rejected Y/N at your magic school? I want the full scope of what happened just so I get both sides!”

“Y-Ya!” You protest, only to be silenced by Jisung this time who laughs as he swallows a mouthful of food. “Ugh, you’re enjoying this aren’t you?”

“Why do you still talk about that, anyway? It was a long time ago.” Jisung chuckles, propping an elbow up on the table and resting his cheek on his palm as he glances over to you with a smirk. “God, you’re in love with me, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m no—” “So, Minho hyung, what did Y/N tell you about that?”

It was in the 7th grade, on Valentine’s Day of all days even, when you confessed your crush to Han Jisung. You actually didn’t plan any of it to happen because you just thought of it as stupid, especially at the thought that almost everything Jisung used to do back then annoyed you and made you think of him as childish.

But Hyunjin somehow slipped you an enchanted cookie on that day as a prank after you confessed at Ryujin’s party the previous weekend that you thought that Jisung was cute sometimes (”I specifically said sometimes and it was one time. Clearly, it wasn’t me who had a problem, right?” “That still doesn’t change the fact that 12-year-old you had a crush on me, Y/N.”). He told you that it was from a batch Felix made for their baking class, bluffing about its distinct strong vanilla scent as a mistake on the younger Eastern prince’s end.

As it then turned out, however, the cookie was laced with a potion that forcefully exposed the true color that your heart reflected towards Jisung in front of the entire cafeteria while the two of you bickered over some mishap that happened in one of your shared potion classes. Being young as he was as well and feeling embarrassed of all the passersby that looked at you both, Jisung’s fight or flight response made him visibly cringe at seeing the surprisingly pink, bordering red, heart and childishly berated you for it until the potion wore off and your ecure disappeared back into the sleeves of your robes. You ran away crying while Jisung didn’t go to school for the few days that followed in embarrassment.

“You were like 12 back then, it happens.” Minho shrugs after yours and Jisung’s messy storytelling. “And for the record, Y/N, if Chan did that to me as Jisung, I would’ve been annoyed at him too. Your rants are totally valid.”

“I’m eating my croissants in peace.” Chan complains, slapping the younger man’s arm. “Don’t drag me into this.”

Simultaneously, Jisung glances over to you and sees a small pout rest on your features. “Well, I don’t know, it’s not really an ‘it happens’ kind of situation if you come from our world.” You point out, glaring at Jisung when you feel him staring at you. “Especially back then. My heart was looking pink and a little reddish for Jisung at the time—ew—which gave him the power to take it if he wanted to.”

Now, this is apparently new information to Minho as he then asks, “You can do that? I thought witches only have one heart so it can’t be taken away?”

“Yeah, exactly.” You nod. “Since we don’t produce the crystal hearts as infinitely as you humans do, it could only be taken if it’s pink or a higher color. It’s the natural law in our world.”

“And if that happens, the witch could become weak, controlled by the other witch who takes their heart, or killed.” Chan quips in this time. “That’s why marriage is sort of a permanent commitment back at home and witches are more encouraged to use human ecure when performing higher-level magic.”

“That’s a bit of a stretch in our case, though! It’s not like 12-year-old me would think of killing Y/N back then.” Jisung purses his lips into a thin line at you, unamused. “You really are a bit dramatic sometimes, you know? What would I even do with your heart?”

“You were 12, Jisung. Who knows what you were thinking back then...if you were thinking at all.” You retort immediately, turning to Minho again after. “That’s why my family’s a bit wary about you, Min, no offense. With you and Chan in a relationship, he can give up his heart to you but if you don’t reciprocate it by exchanging with one of your own, he might get weak or die.”

This then makes Jisung turn to Minho as well, curious as to what his response would be.

Unfazed, Minho smiles and turns lovingly to his boyfriend. “Then, aren’t you lucky I’m obsessed with you, huh?”

“Really now?” Chan chuckles, slinging his arm over Minho’s shoulder and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Then I guess I can stay here permanently, right?”

You pretend to gag as you sip on your water, reminding the older guys that there are “children” in front of them. Jisung rolls his eyes and leans back in his chair at this scene, looking away at the tender display of affection across the table. The two of you don’t even have to check how the pair’s ecures reflect towards each other with your magic to know that they’re a matching bright red.

When he looks over to you, he catches the briefest and fondest smile gracing your expression as you mumble about how “stupidly cute” Chan and Minho are being. Jisung knows he shouldn’t look, not in this moment when he sees you at a vulnerable state and you would slap him over the head if he teases you about it, but his eyes unconsciously turn green and peeks over at your ecure as it watches over your favourite cousin and his boyfriend.

It’s a bright blue, a sign of deep respect and familial love for Chan and Minho. Jisung looks away immediately when you glance up at him curiously, forcing his eyes back to their natural color before he could accidentally see how your heart reflects to him. “What?”

He gets it now. Why you’ve been so uptight in fulfilling your royal duties, snapping just a little more easily these days whenever he annoys you, and acting like a pushover to the elders who keep ordering you around back at home. You’ve been shouldering a lot of the responsibilities back home, both yours and the ones that Chan has left behind, all because you want your cousin to be happy in this world without worries.

“Why were you looking at me?” You pout. “You didn’t check my—ya, Han Jisung!”

“I wasn’t looking at you like that! I was gonna ask you to pass me the cream puffs!”

You begrudgingly pass him the bowl of cream puffs, rolling your eyes before smiling at Minho and Chan again and changing the conversation to something else. “Anyway, Minho, you’re staying longer now, right?”

“I saw what you did at dinner, by the way. Y/N would beat you to a pulp if they knew you were looking into their heart, especially since we were just talking about it.” Chan speaks up after a moment of walking around Jisung’s room, tidying up the fallen music sheets on the ground and closing the curtains for the night. You’ve long stolen Minho from your cousin right after dinner hours ago to binge his tour videos and so he’s resorted to hanging out with Jisung, playing video games until the clock struck midnight.

Jisung pouts as he tucks himself away in bed, turning to his side to face Chan as the older boy continues arranging his “messy” work table. “I looked at how it reflects for you and Minho, not at how it looks at me. Just that, swear.” He clarifies in between protesting over Chan’s actions (“It’s an organized mess!” “It’s a mess, Jisung.”) “It’s almost like your family’s sapphire when it looks at the two of you, bluer than how it looks when Y/N’s with the King and the High Queen. You’re more family to them than their own parents.”

This effectively freezes Chan in place for a moment, a small smile gracing the former duke’s features. “Of course I know that.” He replies, almost as an inaudible mumble from across the room. “That’s why it was so hard to leave at first.”

“Then why did you—?”

“Because Y/N told me to.” Moving to the door and preparing to leave, Chan sees Jisung’s face and continues, “Believe me, I was even more conflicted than you’re being right now back then. We both know that my own siblings are too young to shoulder the job I’ll leave behind but Y/N told me that they’ll gladly handle it if it meant that I can be happy here. We argued about it a lot, I kept telling them that I can just juggle moving between the two realms, but you know how persuasive and stubborn Y/N can be.”

The last comment makes Jisung chuckle. Of all people, he should know of it the best. “It’s just hard to argue with them.” He nods in agreement. “I heard they’re the one who got you this house and everything.”

Chan nods, slowly putting one foot out of the door. “Y/N cares a lot, sometimes a little too much, that they end up sacrificing a lot and putting their own feelings last because of it. Since I went away, I’ve only ever been worried that they’ll just explode one day, actually, but I know you and the other kids keep them in check.”

“I’d hardly call Y/N relaxed with me.” Jisung pouts, fiddling with his fingers nervously as he confesses this shyly. “I think they just find me annoying…”

“Oh you definitely annoy each other but that’s just how you two are together. It’s all in good fun and that’s good, especially now that you’re going to take much more responsibilities once you go back home.” Chan notes with a shrug, briefly glancing over his shoulder as you and Minho arrive on the second floor. “Just be a little gentler with them. Night, Sung.”

four out of six months

You know better than to expect nothing less from Lee Chaeryoung, one of the best investigators from your realm, as she helped Yeji lead Hyunjin’s search party. When you initially expected that she would finish scouting Incheon before the end of the semester, she came back with the most solid lead that anyone’s picked up since the start of the search party around Seoul with 2 months left on your time in the human world.

Apparently, from the scouring she’s done beyond the initial parameters of the search, a few magic and non-magic folk living around the beach area have seen the Southern kingdom’s prince at a party on the night he disappeared, interacting with a strange group of people they only described by their unusually white hairs, matching snake tattoos, and icy blue eyes. What was even more interesting is that these people were still around the area when Chaeryoung visited but without any sign of Hyunjin. With this, she could only confirm that they’re also from the magical realm.

“They could only be Northwestern ogre witches, I’m sure of it.” Chan commented after hearing Chaeryoung’s report over dinner with everyone present. When Minho then asked about it, your cousin didn’t hesitate to explain, “A group of witches back home who were initially banished to the wastelands because they practiced darker arts and only collected black ecures. Lately, a lot of them have been turning up here and doing gods-know-what.”

“But if they only want the artifact that Hyunjin recovered, why would they still keep him?” You ask, crossing your arms over the dining table as Chaeryoung showed you photos of the location she ascouted on her phone. “Hyunjin’s high-profile too, yes, but unless they want him to collect colored ecures for them, there’s no other reason to keep him captive when there are other magic folk there. Why him?”

“Unless they have something bigger up their sleeves.” Seungmin notes with a frown, closing Chaeryoung’s phone as he grows more and more upset from across the table. When you and Jisung glance over to him curiously, he then meets your eyes and adds, “Maybe we shouldn’t let you two go with us on this.”

“What?! Why?” Jisung is the first to instinctively speak up against this, sitting up taller in his seat. You echo the same question, albeit a little quieter when you see Chan nodding worriedly on your side.

“I have a feeling that they might be after the two of you too from this.” Seungmin explains once Jisung calmed down a bit from his sudden outburst. “Like Y/N said, keeping Hyunjin to collect colored ecures against his will doesn’t seem like a good enough reason, at least not this long.”

“It’s timed perfectly, too, that they caught Hyunjin right before the candidacy exam.” Yeji quips in, belatedly nodding in agreement to Seungmin’s suggestion. “They might be luring you two specifically by using my brother.”

“But that’s just a hunch for now! We don’t know th—”

Chan’s entire disposition in a flash, slamming his hand down on the table a little too loudly and effectively shutting everyone up around the table including Minho. “That’s exactly why we can’t risk it.” He counters firmly and you know, just by the tone of your cousin’s voice, that he already has the final word. “Remember, you and Y/N are here first and foremost because you’re taking your exam. Keeping you on wraps with this search is formalities, at most. Anyway, there’s enough of us here who can look for Hyunjin. You two just stay put until we can sort this out and ensure that this problem stops interfering with the exam any further.”

When you peek over to your right to glance at Jisung’s reaction two seats away, you see him glancing back at you from the corner of his eyes before sighing in defeat. “And if they want our group separated?”

“The house’s enchanted with protective spells. Minho and Ryujin will also stay and watch over you two while we extract Hyunjin over the weekend.” Chan notes, continuing before Jisung could complain further. “That’s final, Ji. We’ll take over from here.”

“Don’t fret too much, Sung.” Seungmin adds comfortingly. “Anyway, if we find Hyunjin, we’ll all stay here for a few days before going back home.”

In response, you hear Jisung slam his back on his seat hard before huffing childishly, glancing over to you as he opens his mouth. Knowing that he’ll throw a fit, you immediately shake your head, forbidding him from doing so. “Fine...” He murmurs under his breath with a sigh, knowing better than to start an argument with one of his best friends at this time. “Just—just bring Hyunjin back quickly.”

Somehow, even when you understand where Chan’s coming from, you also feel somewhat bad for Jisung. You want to see Hyunjin too but your circumstances aren’t exactly favourable to let you be of much help.

As much as Jisung used to hate how Chan coddled you, he hates it even more now that the same behavior is directed towards him, especially in situations like this when he wants to actively help in Hyunjin’s search. The circumstances couldn’t have been more unfavorable to him now: the group finding a lead but at a time when he’s participating in an exam that has him more at risk of being targeted by creatures from the magical realm that have strayed to this world.

On top of this, he hates how he can clearly see that you want to see Hyunjin just as much as he and everyone else does but you’re quicker to comply the moment Chan, and eventually even Yeji, put the two of you on house arrest for the weekend while the rest of the group goes to Incheon. It frustrates him to no end that you keep quietly complying to everyone else when you clearly want to do something else. And, as a result, you end up channeling your energy aggressively elsewhere much like today as you spend most of your Sunday cleaning and redecorating around the expansive house with Minho.

“Can’t you two like, tone it down a bit?” Jisung complains for the third time this afternoon as he plays with the music software on Chan’s laptop, lifting his feet off of the coffee table in the living room when Minho passes by with a vacuum before pushing a levitating plant that hovers too close for comfort to his face. Somewhere, Ryujin has retreated outside to the garden in order to tend to more plants. “The house’s going to get thrashed after a while anyway.”

“And why can’t you help clean?” You ask back in retort, fluffing up the pillows next to him as you occasionally glance over your shoulder to make sure that the levitating objects around the room aren’t falling over. “If you’re just going to complain while we’re cleaning here, you can just go up to your room since we’re done upstairs, anyway.”

Jisung pouts, crawling over to the other side of the sofa anyway when you gesture for him to move. “The sunlight’s better here at this time.” He points to the glass windows. “Just finish up quickly already.”

“If you want to get some sun, you can help Ryujin outside.” You poke back, moving over to the sofa across the coffee table. As you move, the hovering plant pots slowly move to where you want to relocate them to, one moving next to the sofa almost hitting Jisung in the face once more with its leaves. “Make yourself useful, Jisung.”

The witch in question scoffs, closing Chan’s laptop and finally planting his feet back on the floor to a stand. Jisung also hates that tone you use when you order him around because it always makes him do whatever you ask without fail. “Fine, I’m going outside.” He grumbles, trudging to the direction of the back door leading outside and making sure to close the door with a loud thud.

Out in the gardens, Ryujin is busy reviving dried up leaves and flowers while a few watering cans go around to water the trees and bushes. Upon seeing Jisung walking down the mini stairs with a pout and furrowed brows, the younger witch can’t help but laugh, “Y/N banished you outside?”

“I’m supposed to help you but you don’t even look like you need help at all.” The prince continues to grumble, setting himself down on a foldable chair and crossing his bare arms over his chest. “If I do help, I might actually kill the plants. You already know how I’m terrible I am at healing magic.”

Ryujin acknowledges with a hum, turning her attention back to Chan’s mini garden of camellias. “Just sunbathe, look around or whatever, I can handle this.” She assures with a smile. “I won’t tell Y/N too, don’t worry.”

“I think I’ll take you up on that looking around thing later.” Jisung sighs, sinking into his seat and closing his eyes. “I’ll nap for now.”

“He just does whatever you say, huh?” Minho points out to you as soon as you finish cleaning the living room, tiredly taking up the empty space next to you on the couch with two pillows hugged close to his chest. When you open your mouth to protest, “I know I said it’s amusing when you two bicker over stupid things but it’s actually really nice and quiet when you two reach compromise like this. So peaceful.”

“He just knows when to not mess with me. Don’t exaggerate it.” You scoff at this, pushing Minho away from you as you lift your legs up to the coffee table. “He knows that I feel the need to be busy when I’m on edge like this but he was in the way. The least he could do is either be useful around the house too or just stay out of my sight for a while.”

“Don’t be too worried, I’m sure they’re all being careful and getting to Hyunjin soon.” Minho assures you with a small smile, waving his human world phone in front of you as it displays a flurry of messages from Chan. “If it makes you feel better, your cousin’s been asking me about you and Jisung as much as he’s been updating me of what’s happening.”

You frown at this, making Minho chuckle. “He’s been talking to you but not to me? I’m his cousin!”

“He knows you’re redecorating his house in 50 different styles while you wait for him so he just asks about you through me. Don’t get it twisted, Y/N.” The older boy continues laughing, carefully shoving a pillow away from his face when you levitate it closer to him. “Anyway, they said that they’ve confirmed that the ogres are still staying at the beach resort so they’re planning to get to them tonight and confirm if they really took Hyunjin.”

Your expression visibly shifts more positively, eyes widening and mouth hanging agape. “Really?”

“If things go smoothly, everyone, including Hyunjin, would be home really soon. Until then, Chan has asked me to make sure that you and Jisung don’t kill each other or go outside without permission.”

You shove Minho once more at the last statement, mustering up a laugh this time. “Hey, we’re not that childish.” You point out with a pout before another thought crosses your mind. “Oh, right, I can tell Jisung, right? I mean, it’s just an update anyway.”

“Yeah, go ahead.” Minho nods, poking you on your side to get you to stand up. “It’s also getting dark out, call Ryujin in too so we can reheat some leftovers for dinner.”

You scoff at the thought of leftovers for dinner, standing up anyway and heading outside where the sun has indeed set on the horizon. As you walk down the steps leading down to the backyard, you easily spot Ryujin by the back gate as she flirts with one of your neighbors who holds an orange heart up her sleeve but it takes you a moment to see Jisung fast asleep under one of the outdoor umbrellas.

“Ryujin!” You call for your friend, biting down your lip when the girl she’s been flirting with awkwardly looks away and your friend in question consequently glares at you for interrupting her. “Where’s Jisung?”

“There.” Ryujin quickly points towards the outdoor umbrellas on the far corner of the backyard before turning her gaze back on your neighbor whose heart immediately turns a shy pink at this.

You roll your eyes at this with a chuckle before heading over to Jisung, finding him snoring lightly and snuggling into a pillow despite the cold evening breeze. He doesn’t budge an inch when you call his name or poke his side, stirring only when you slap his cheek gently awake by instinctively swatting your hand away and mumbling a string of curses for you to go away. “What?!”

“It’s starting to get cold out here. Come on, we’re eating dinner in a while.” You respond, taking the pillow from him and grabbing him by the arm to help him stand up. When he doesn’t budge, you resort to adjusting his hoodie at least so he doesn’t freeze himself to death. “Minho also said that Chan’s been texting him. Everyone’s okay so far and they’ll interrogate the ogres tonight, maybe even get Hyunjin if they really took him.”

Jisung finally springs awake at this, jumping to a stand in surprise. “What? Really? Is there—well, is there anything else?” He asks quickly, stumbling over his words in shock while you drag him back inside.

Ryujin follows along after a while, running to the kitchen to check what you’re having for dinner. You and Jisung walk a little slower as he rubs his eyes from his surprisingly long nap next to you, somehow not making a fuss this time about your linked arms.

“Sadly, that’s only what I got from Minho a while back so I guess we’ll have to wait until tomorrow morning for anything new.” You answer his previous question as you head to the kitchen where Ryujin and Minho reheat leftovers and make some new side dishes. When you see Jisung’s ears perk up slightly at your words, you quickly add, “Don’t try staying up late just for an update. You should get some more sleep after dinner so you don’t look like a ghost when we see Hyunjin again.”

He scoffs at this, sitting down on the dining table and dragging you along with him on the adjacent seat. “How can I sleep if I know that we’re so close to seeing Hyunjin again after months? I’ll stay up late if I want to!”

“And I’ll kill you two if you stay up all night then get all cranky tomorrow when you have to get to class.” Minho cuts you off before you could even speak, setting the dishes down on the table. “Okay, eat up!”

“That was him, not me.” You shrug at Jisung’s semi-permanent pout with a chuckle, receiving a plate and utensils before thanking Minho for the food. “Eat up, Ji.”

You don’t even have to glance back over to his direction to know that he has his usual determined look plastered over his face again. Because of the new update on Hyunjin’s situation, he’s suddenly more alert now that he might actually take you up on staying awake the entire night.

“Jisung, are you awake?”

Jisung doesn’t really expect you to hold true to your word and check up on him at 3 AM when Ryujin and Minho have both gone to sleep. You suddenly knock on his door while he’s in the middle of a song he’s been trying to write on his guitar lately, startling the poor boy who almost falls off of the window and causes a big fuss about it.

“Are you okay in there?” You ask worriedly from outside after knocking for the 4th time, the doorknob clicking gently after. When only shuffles reach your ear on the other side, you immediately add, “Hey, I’m coming in!”

Jisung doesn’t even have time to protest, catching a glimpse of you going in and closing the door as a tray of mugs trails behind you. Quickly hiding the guitar by the curtains, he clumsily scrambles up to a stand and retrieves the tray from the air, “H-Hi! You made...tea?”

“Those two mugs are for me.” You pretend to swat his hand away jokingly, joining him on the small balcony on the other side of his window. Spotting his guitar hidden haphazardly on the side, you’re quick to pick it up and slide it over your lap while Jisung’s occupied with the tea, strumming a few chords. Only then, do you also notice his music sheets strewn across the balcony, all labelled with the word ‘sunshine.’ “I didn’t know you brought this along. It still plays good, I suppose, but do you still play badly?”

Jisung scowls at you as he sets the tray down next to his notebook, sitting down criss cross once more before swiftly snatching the guitar from your hands. “I play better than you, at least.” Ignoring your protests, he then strums a few chords of his own and continues, “Why are you still awake, anyway? Don’t you have a 9 AM later?”

When he turns to you, he sees you taking a sip of your tea first before answering, “I feel like ditching,” a statement he’s definitely never heard from you before by the way his eyes widen in surprise. “Don’t act so surprised! Uni’s just a cover and a way to get hearts while we’re here in the human world, anyway. Since everyone could be here later and there’s a possibility that we’ll see Hyunjin again with them, I wouldn’t want to miss a second of him back.”

“Don’t tell me, am I rubbing off on you?” Jisung snickers playfully. Deep inside, however, he’s undoubtedly a little impressed. After all, it’s been a while since he’s seen you so carefree outside of royal duties. “This is bad. We’re still competing, you know!”

“Tch, don’t push it. My current count’s quite high so I’m not that worried.” You shake your head in disbelief, leaning back against the windowsill and gazing ahead to the brightly-lit city. “It’s just that it’s been 5 months since Hyunjin’s gone missing and Yeji started combing every inch of Seoul, only to find a lead out in Incheon. I want to see him as much as you do.”

Jisung nods slowly in agreement, picking up the second mug of tea and taking a sip. It’s chocolate matcha, the flavour you always craved on elementary school field trips back in the magical realm whenever you missed home or so Felix once said. “It’s been that long, huh? And we’ve been here taking our exam for 4 months now.” He muses out loud between sips of tea, warming him up in an instant against the unusually cold night. “Time flies a little weirder when you’re on the other side of the moon, don’t you think?”

“I think you’ve just been having too much fun flirting with humans.” You point out, gesturing over to his emerald ring. Over the months, you’ve noticed that the vessels grow warmer every time you reach a thousand points which is roughly every 100 hearts or so. In the rare moments these days that Jisung’s ring has accidentally brushed against your skin, usually at the bus or when passing dishes along, the stone feels intimidatingly hot and almost burning. “How much do you have already?”

“Enough to win against you.” He teases playfully as he hums along to his song, making you scoff. “I mean, it’s been fun. Gaining a lot of ecure here has made my magic feel more powerful but, still, I can’t help but think sometimes that this whole exam would’ve been fun if the 4 of us were complete.”

You take another sip of your tea, listening along to Jisung’s humming. “If Hyunjin didn’t disappear beforehand and scared off Lia and her parents from letting her compete...yeah, I guess it would’ve been much more fun if we’re all competing together and the exam duration was 1 year like normal.” Thinking about it more, you end up chuckling at imagining how this whole exam could’ve gone differently. “But, at the same time, it’s been fun competing with you so far.”

“Going soft on me?” He raises a brow with a smirk. “I know we’ve been stuck to each other like glue for the past months but you should look out for that heart of yours, it might turn pink for me again.”

“I mean you’ve put up a fight so far. It’s a professional compliment, don’t exaggerate it.” You roll your eyes with a slight snicker, making him laugh. You purposely ignore his last comment, though, knowing that he wouldn’t really look into your feelings for him, anything but that. “Maybe you’re the one who’s going soft on me. Seungmin told me about the purple hearts.”

“He what?!” Jisung exclaims, his smug expression instantly morphing into panic as he almost throws his guitar off of the balcony. “Wait, I can explain!”

You shake your head and wave your hand dismissively. “No, you don’t have to! I understand.” You assure with a laugh, placing your hand on his nearest shoulder and making him sit back down when he wobbles over the messy and narrow space. “Though, yeah, I probably would’ve yelled at you if Seungmin told me any earlier but it’s all said and done now, anyway. I appreciate it, actually.”

“A lot of guys were being creeps to you so I thought...I got protective, okay? Ryujin and Yeji were getting stares too so even Seungmin would do the same thing to protect them.” Jisung pouts. “I know we’re in a competition and we’re supposed to rake up a bunch of hearts but your dignity’s much more important than some stupid crown...”

“I know, and I also know that you would’ve done it for Lia if she were here.” You nod understandingly, mustering up a small appreciative smile. Jisung can be sweet if he wants to, you conclude internally. “Ah, seriously, just imagine if there was 4 of us competing. This would’ve been much more fun and less stressful. You would’ve gotten your ass handed to you when you wanted to race to the moon.”

“Tch, Hyunjin would’ve taken all of the red ecures for himself.” Jisung adds, sharing in your quiet laughs now that the conversation’s shifted once more. “Much like how he charms everyone back home. He might even win, like he always does in every challenge the elders give us. He’s just the favourite!”

“I can’t wait for him to come home safely. He’s been gone for too long.” You sigh against your tea, tiredly adjusting to the uncomfortable space of the window. Seeing this from the corner of his eyes, Jisung doesn’t hesitate to pass you a pillow and nearby blankets this time which you’re more than grateful for. “I can’t wait for all of this to be over and go home, just visit again when I feel like it.”

“Me too. I can’t wait to see him.” Jisung sighs, peering down onto the balcony as he adjusts his guitar on his lap. “And I can’t wait to go home, too.”

And just then, the car that Chan used to drive everyone over to Incheon materializes at the front porch, spewing out Chan, your friends, and Hyunjin who’s supported by Seungmin and Yeji.

five out of six months

Hyunjin sports distinctly black cuts and gashes across his arms and legs when you greet the group in front of the house, similar to the ones Chan and Changbin also sported one time when the two also had an encounter with dark magic. Limping on his right leg and supported by his arms, Yeji and Seungmin used their magic to lift him over to the nearest sofa once they’ve reached the other side of Chan’s protective spell from the front door while the rest of the group crash into the vast expanse of the living room.

“I tried healing him as much as I can so it’s easier for you and Ryujin.” Seungmin huffs, tiredly sitting down on the ground by the coffee table. “He’s mostly fine, just exposed to a lot of dark magic.”

“And you guys? Are you okay? Is anyone else hurt?” You ask worriedly, darting your eyes over to Chan, Yeji, and Chaeryoung who all individually affirm to you that they’re not nursing any big injuries. “What happened?”

At that moment, Jisung arrives in the living room with a half-sleepy Minho and a frantically running Ryujin who immediately makes a beeline to Hyunjin and Yeji. Standing next to you, he echoes the exact same question to Seungmin. “What happened? Is Hyunjin going to be okay?”

You kneel down in front of Hyunjin, right next to Ryujin, and examine the cuts and gashes. Meanwhile, Jisung sits next to Seungmin while Minho runs over to Chan. “Turns out, they’ve been keeping Hyunjin to try and get him to activate the artifact.” Seungmin answers Jisung’s question after a moment, taking out the stolen compass that Hyunjin was supposed to retrieve from this world. “Then they heard that you and Jisung were going to proceed with the exam. So they tried using him as bait as well but the protective spells the elders casted on you two made it hard for them to find you even when they planned to separate our group.”

“We got there before they could manipulate my brother into it with dark magic.” Yeji continues tiredly in between casting her own spells, making her smaller wounds and a sprained ankle disappear. “They were quite hostile but we managed. It’s just that Hyunjin still hasn’t woken up since we took him.”

“Then aren’t you glad we stayed at home, Ji?” You mumbled under your breath as you and Ryujin casted spells to identify the magic needed to heal the half-conscious Hyunjin’s injuries. “Hyunjin’s probably not waking up because of exposure. We’ll have to determine just how much dark magic those witches used.”

Behind you, Jisung grumbles stubbornly at your comment. “So, is Hyunjin okay? What’s the diagnosis?”

Hovering your hand over Hyunjin’s chest, his heart suddenly reflects a horrifying black over your magic and making yours and Ryujin’s eyes widen. “Oh no…”

“What?” Suddenly, Jisung’s next to you and peering over Hyunjin’s ecure. “What the hell? Why is his heart black?”

Ryujin then places her hands over Hyunjin’s forehead, going through his fresher memories as her eyes turn a bright blue. “He’s...it’s an ancient spell, a really powerful one.” She eventually concludes, turning to Chan after. “Chan, do you think you can take a look at this?”

Across the room, Chan stands up with Minho’s help, having just treated a healing cut on his leg, and sits on Ryujin’s other side to briefly access the same memories. “The three of us can do it,” He gestures to you and Ryujin with pursed lips. “But it’ll take hours and a whole lot of ecure. We’ll need to purify his heart with an equally powerful spell.”

From the corner of your eye, you see Jisung immediately turn to you in worry, as if he already knows what you’re going to say. “Y/N, don’t—”

But you’re already reaching for your locket, forcing the stone to reveal its contents. “I can give up mine. It’ll save you both your energies and time.” You assure, tuning out Jisung’s protests.

“A-Are you sure?” Ryujin asks worriedly, echoing Jisung’s concerns. Next to her, Chan shakes his head at you in equal concern. “Y/N, these are your ecures for the candidacy exam, you can’t just—not right now when you’re almost do—”

“That’s not important right now. What’s important is that we save Hyunjin.” You nod without any hesitation. “Anyway, I have enough for both purifying Hyunjin’s heart and healing his wounds. It’s fine.”

You then take out more hearts from your locket, the clumped crystals of oranges, greens, pinks, and reds hovering above Hyunjin as he continues lulling in and out of consciousness and his body tries rejecting the prior spells Yeji casted to help him heal. Before you could fully empty out the vessel, however, Jisung’s hand with his emerald ring flies over yours to stop you. “Wait!” He exclaims, startling you, Ryujin, and Chan. “I’ll give up some of mine too. Don’t empty yours out.”

“Ji—”

“—Y/N.” He snaps frustratingly, raising his voice and confusing you further. “Please, let me help! I don’t want you to empty your count, I’m not letting you.”

This seems to effectively catch you off-guard. Jisung then takes this as an opportunity to stop you, not letting your hand go while he summons his own collected hearts out from his ring and firmly making sure that you don’t argue with him further until Chan has reluctantly made sure that you have enough ecures to convert into magic. Even then, he doesn’t let you go by your hand and instead moves his over to your free hand while Chan instructs you and Ryujin on how to purify a black heart.

“J-Jisung.” You call for him once your initial annoyance of him stopping you has died down, eyes widening when he glances back at you with worry. “I need my two hands.”

“Oh, shit. Sorry.” He lets go of your hand immediately, keeping his hands down on his lap before leaving the three of you to check on Seungmin, Yeji, and Chaeryoung. “Sorry…”

You cough out awkwardly as he leaves, glaring at Ryujin when she musters up a teasing smile despite your current predicament.

“He’s right, you know.” Chan comments after a while, instructing you the following spells while the dark color of Hyunjin’s ecure fades to a glowing white.

“Don’t start.” When you send a glare over your own cousin’s way, however, he quickly drops the subject with a shrug.

Purifying a darkened heart, as it turns out, lasts until the very break of dawn as the three of you exhaust the ecures you and Jisung have put out to heal Hyunjin. As time ticks by agonizingly slow for Hyunjin who could only lay back on the sofa and absorb all of your energies to heal himself, Minho eventually gets everyone to clear the living room and sleep in the much more comfortable guest rooms after making sure that no one is greatly injured before hurling himself to the kitchen and make breakfast.

But you see Jisung stay from the corner of your eye, taking up space on your opposite side to steal glances at you or comfort Hyunjin. From the way his eyebrows furrow over his sleepy eyes and how he refuses to leave even when you awkwardly tell him off, you could tell that he too can’t make out your previous exchange.

“—Y/N. Please, let me help! I don’t want you to empty your count, I’m not letting you.” You know that he acted the way he did because it was Hyunjin that you were trying to save, one of his best friends. But the way he sounded so angry, the way he snapped at you in the spur of the moment, a small part of your thoughts wants to make you think that he had other reasons for doing what he did.

“Hyunjin? How are you feeling?” Chan asks after 2 hours of nonstop spellcasting, halting you and Ryujin in your steps after. “Can you sit up?”

Your eyes turn blue at the same time you see Jisung’s turn green, surveying Hyunjin’s heart for any hints of leftover dark magic. Meanwhile, Hyunjin struggles to sit up with Jisung’s help, tiredly groaning under his breath. “Much b-better.” He manages to stumble out after a moment, mustering up a small smile despite the dizzying and overwhelming fel. “Thanks, you guys.”

You sigh in relief, resting your back against the coffee table behind you before nodding. “Finally…”

“Come on, Hyunnie, I’ll move you upstairs.” Chan volunteers, standing up from his position on the floor and briefly stretching his arms out. Turning to you, Ryujin, and Jisung, he then adds, “You guys get some rest too. Just skip for today and tomorrow. I’ll write to everyone back home.”

You don’t even argue against your cousin this time, finding yourself nodding when he gives you the same look he always does whenever you intend on shouldering some work for him. Standing up from the floor, you, Ryujin, and Jisung then head upstairs in silence.

The entire walk, you feel Jisung stealing glances over to you but you decide to not act on it, shaking your head when he suddenly opens his mouth to speak before the two of you could go on your separate ways.

“Y/N, wait—” “Goodnight, Jisung.”

Growing up, Jisung has always relied on two people in helping him through the crisis of accidentally going too far with you: Chan and Felix. Chan, obviously, because he’s your cousin and the only other friend he has who harbors an inkling of a braincell and Felix because he’s everyone’s favourite and he knows the kinds of snacks that get on your good graces. These moments when he’s actually pushed your buttons too far are rare (as much as the two of you like to express your annoyance over each other, you’ve actually come to understand that this is just your dynamic growing up), but Jisung personally keeps a list of steps to do in situations like this anyway. Now more than ever, it seems, because suddenly, it feels weird and awkward being around each other—and not the usual kind.

But as fate would have it, Chan is busy working out how to safely get Hyunjin home and explaining to the elders what happened. If normally Jisung would be asking Chan first about you and what he could say when he confronts you, this time he’s asking all of them to his twin brother who’s more than willing to listen (after listening to Yeji, Ryujin, and Chaeryoung gossip everything to him prior, of course).

“Why did you do that anyway?” Felix points out on the other side of the call, snuggling into a pillow as night falls on both realms. It’s been 3 days since Hyunjin returned and both the house and the officials back at home have been busy arranging his return with Yeji, Seungmin, Ryujin, and Chaeryoung; only allowing for the twins to talk in the late hours of the night. “And you said it angrily too from what Ryujin told me. No offense, bro, I’d feel a little weird if you raised your voice at me, too, then offered up half of your collection on their behalf.”

Jisung groans in frustration, running his hand through his hair as he shuffles uncomfortably around his bed sheets. “I don’t know, it’s just...I was thinking of a lot of things.”

“Like what?”

“This candidacy exam, what Chan told me beforehand, Hyunjin, Y/N…” The older twin purses his lips, taking his eyes away from Felix to gaze down at his hands. The emerald ring is much cooler now after losing ecure but somehow, it feels heavy on Jisung’s ring finger. “I thought that it’d be unfair if they lose all of their ecure at this point in the race, trying to save Hyunjin, then the elders might not be too pleased about it when we return. But most importantly, I thought about what Chan told me when Minho first arrived, about how Y/N’s always jumping at every opportunity to help other people without thinking too much of themself. I was right there with my own vessel of hearts for them to use and if I just let them empty out theirs, then I’d be letting them get the short end of the stick in the long run again.”

Felix nods along understandingly at his brother’s words, all the while trying to hide a smile behind his hand. So Yeji was right! “So why did you call me, then? You seem to have your reasons sorted out, just tell Y/N what you told me.” He shrugs after Jisung’s extensive speech, giggling at the dramatic reaction that he receives from his brother after. “I know you guys aren’t those emotional kinds of people to each other but you said so yourself that Y/N’s been quieter these days and that it’s been eating at your conscience. I say you just go for it and tell them how you feel.”

“I’m not you, Lix. Y/N’s going to laugh at me.” Jisung pouts helplessly. “I can’t just tell them that.”

“You’re so dramatic! It just implies that you care about Y/N like a decent human being. Anyone in your situation who knows what you know about them would’ve been considerate enough to do the same thing.” Felix argues back, rubbing his temples at how the older boy’s acting. “Don’t get it twisted, brother...unless you want it to, of course.”

“Ya, and what’s that supposed to mean?!”

“Figure it out yourself.” Felix sticks his tongue out teasingly before laughing and waving a dismissive hand. “Anyway, Yeji told me that Y/N’s been craving blueberry pancakes lately. You can just make them right now and give it tomorrow so you don’t have to go out.”

“If anything, I want to leave the house right now and never come back.” Jisung grumbles back in frustration before sighing in defeat. “For the first time, I can’t believe you’re no help at all, Lix. I’m hanging up.”

“Tch, you just can’t handle the truth, Sung. Anyway, I have to go too, mom and dad are asking me to come to this thing. I’ll update you on it later! Love you! Bye!” Felix then waves to the call one last time before hanging up, leaving Jisung in the uncomfortable silence of his room.

Jisung sighs against the heavy blankets, throwing his phone to the other side of the mattress before ultimately deciding on standing up and heading to your room across the hall. Fuck it, he thinks to himself, it’s not like I like them or anything like that! Nothing to worry about! Let’s not get it twisted.

When he opens the door, however, the first person he unexpectedly sees outside the hallways is you just as you close the door behind your own room. “Y/N!” He ends up blurting out loud in the moment, catching your attention with wide eyes. Not knowing what else to say, the first thought that comes to mind is, “Are you going to Hyunjin’s room?”

You furrow your brows in confusion, shaking your head slowly. “No, I’m going to the kitchen?”

“O-Oh.” He runs his hand through his hair once more in nervousness, nodding along and hiding the heat rising up his neck in embarrassment. “Well, I’m going there too. Mind if I join you?”

You simply nod in response, walking down the end of the hallway with him in relative silence. He hasn’t seen you much since Hyunjin’s arrived either since you spent most of your time checking your mutual friend for his condition and brewing tea. The dramatic gears in Jisung’s head would like to think that it’s just pure convenience.

“So, what did you and Felix talk about?” “How’s Hyunjin?”

Jisung glances over to you on his right just as you mirror his actions, the gesture somehow making him flustered this time around as he’s quick to look away. “S-Sorry. Um, we just—talked about how things are back home.” He shrugs in his best feigned nonchalance, mentally cringing at how visibly awkward he looks as the two of you go down the stairs anyway. Not that it’s a lie, anyway, he and Felix did talk about other topics besides you. “Everything’s pretty busy back home since the elders are talking about how Hyunjin coming back is going to affect the exam now.”

“Oh.” You nod along almost absentmindedly. “That’s...yeah, I’ve heard about it too. It’s pretty hectic on my mom’s end right now.”

“So...how’s Hyunjin?” Jisung chimes in almost a little too quickly, feeling even more awkward that he accidentally brought up your candidacy exam again. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

You purposely pretend to not notice anyway, answering his questions carefully as you approach a curve into the spiral staircase. “He’s regaining his strength at least. Still on bedrest but he should be okay by the weekend when Changbin fetches him and the others.” The two of you then pass through the living room to get to the kitchen, finding Minho and Chan cuddled up on one of the sofas as they watch a movie on the television.

The kitchen, on the other hand, is deserted when you turn on the lights which Jisung internally thanks every guest in the house for before taking a deep breath. “About what I said back then, by the way…” He starts carefully, catching your attention before you could even detach yourself from him to open the nearby fridge. You freeze a few steps ahead of him, making the poor boy gulp nervously. “Um, I’m sorry that I raised my voice at you. I shouldn’t have done that, even when I was stressing out.”

Much like when he actually did raise his voice, you momentarily freeze in your spot before eventually shaking your head reassuringly and moving over to the fridge. “It’s alright, you don’t need to apologize for that.” You add with a small smile, taking out the fruit bowl from the fridge. “Is that why you’ve been quiet these past days? It’s okay, really.”

“I haven’t been—it’s you who’s—” Jisung stops himself halfway before he could even start another argument, biting down his lip before shaking his head. Walking over to the stove area, he then opens a few cabinets in search of the pancake mix while you shuffle around the area behind him. “A little, yeah. It’s just that it looked like it bothered you so it bothered me too.”

When Jisung then glances over his shoulder, he sees you approaching with the fruit bowl hugged close to your chest. “I thought about it a few times. After that, I just thought that you were bothered so I couldn’t talk to you after.” You explain slowly, voice growing louder as you set the bowl next to him. In the dim lights of the kitchen, he suddenly can’t tell if you’re lying or not. “But it’s all good now. Are you making pancakes?”

Jisung nods sheepishly, finally finding the pancake mix in the deeper crevices of the cabinet and taking it out with a pan and spatula from the adjacent cabinet. “No, but you have to know that—that—”

“Hm? What?” You raise your brows curiously, taking the pan and spatula for him before proceeding to the stove and twisting the knobs to preheat.

“You’re not letting me finish.” Jisung points out with a feigned disapproving situation while quickly preparing the pancake mix, one which you somehow find amusing enough to laugh at. “Come on, don’t laugh, my twin made me say a bunch of things then coerced me into telling you so I’d—”

“Yeah, I know.”

“—So, I appreciate it if you’d lis—wait, you know?!” His feigned expression then turns into one of surprise once more as you nod and break into giggles. “W-What?!”

“You were being really loud, Hyunjin was even complaining to me from the next room by phone that he can’t sleep because of you.” You chuckle in amusement, nudging him by the arm when you notice that he’s slowed down his mixing. “He said something about you complaining to Felix about something or whatever. I don’t know, I was on a call with Lia.”

“Then why did you—? So, you just came out here for pancakes?!”

“No! I wanted to hear what you were going to say! I didn’t hear any word besides the pancakes, I swear...well, not clearly at least.”

By now, all of the awkwardness has immediately dissipated as Jisung stops mixing the pancake mix altogether to turn to you and cross his arms. “You’re unbelievable.” He pretends to roll his eyes and scoff at you, earning him a glare. You then swipe the pancake mix from his hands, pouring them into the pan in big circles. “And you still have the audacity to make me do this pancake mix.”

“Well, you’re already mixing it so might as well.” You shrug with a knowing smile before nudging him again by the handle of the spatula. “Now, go on, what were you going to say?”

Jisung shoots you one last incredulous look but you effectively counter it by encouraging him, promising that you “won’t laugh.” “Ah, well...I just wanted to say that you shouldn’t go all out wasting all of your collected hearts at this point, not when we’re almost done with the exam.” He blurts out, gazing down and fiddling with the fruit bowl while you take spoonfuls of blueberries from it to mix with the pancakes. “I want to win but it won’t be fun if your tally suddenly drops, right?”

When he looks up, you’re raising your brow at his last comment as you make more pancakes. “I mean, I know you want to do what’s best for everyone but you have to look out for yourself too. Geez.” With a sigh, he then corrects which makes you nod in agreement. “A-And I guess lean on us too. We’re your family and friends, don’t shoulder all of the work for us all the time.”

“I doubt I can lean on you.” You tease, flipping through your second batch of pancakes to cook. When Jisung sends a glare your way, you simply stick your tongue out at him. “Kidding.”

“I get all emotional and all you say is that you doubt you can lean on me. Unbelievable…” Jisung scoffs, stuffing his mouth with more blueberries in feigned annoyance.

The blueberry-filled pancakes are all eventually set on a plate you find on your opposite side, stacked up as a tall tower leaning on one side. Carefully passing Jisung the plate, you then twist the stove’s knobs off and reply, “You also made me cook the pancakes you wanted to make for me so I think that makes us even.”

“Y/N!” He whines between mouthfuls of blueberries as you move around him to transfer the pan and spatula to the sink.

You sigh in defeat, chuckling when you meet gazes once more and see him sulking with his cheeks full. “Right, right, I’m sorry!” You then beckon him over to the dining table, taking the fruit bowl on his side. “A-And...you know, thank you for that. We’re all good now, right?”

“If you are.”

“Definitely. Want to eat with me? I still owe you that meal from our first day.”

six out of six months

Your mother as well as the high jury of elders from back home eventually proposed that you and Jisung finish your Crown Candidacy exam while Hyunjin, should he eventually announce that he wants to participate as well in the incoming 6 months, do his under stricter supervision in the following year. This ensures fairness in your situations, that yours and Jisung’s efforts aren’t wasted in the past 5 months while also thinking of Hyunjin who wasn’t around in time for the traditional schedule of the exam. When Hyunjin was escorted home by Changbin and Felix, however, he briefly hinted towards a plan on refusing the candidacy and the exam. He left with the others before you or Jisung could even ask him about it.

Regardless, you and your sole competitor easily fall back into the race as soon as Hyunjin, Yeji, Seungmin, and Chaeryoung have settled their business in the human world and went home, returning to university over a week later to regain the ecures that you lost. Not that it’s suddenly harder, anyway. Timely as it is, an announcement for a school festival at the end of the month has Jisung signing up to perform while you join the organizing committee to spend more time with your human friends.

In the time that you’ve spent in the human world, you’ve made many genuine friends beyond collecting their ecure for your exam, especially in your classmates Yuna and Jeongin. Though they don’t know about your true nature, the two have unknowingly aided you a lot in your mission by accompanying you through the different activities around university.

Yuna, in particular, was even the one who first mentioned the school festival to you, encouraging you to join the events committee with her and invite Jisung to perform. “It’s free backstage passes and we can see all of the artists up close!” She sighed dreamily on the day she showed you the gold and red poster that she picked up from the department bulletin board. “And come on, you’re really good at organizing stuff! We should do it together!”

And more hearts to collect, you thought to yourself when you accepted and attended the orientation.

And more hearts it was, indeed, as you spend the next 3 weeks meeting people from different colleges as you and Yuna are assigned to helping organize the music performance for the end of the festival. With your previous experience fulfilling your duties back at home, it’s unsurprisingly easier for you to juggle the work assigned to you—contacting students to perform, arranging the program flow, and turning the university football field into a makeshift mini concert stadium—with socializing and fulfilling your original mission of collecting hearts.

Across from your room at home, on the other hand, Jisung has been busy spending the same time making his own music to perform at the music festival. You invited him to perform some time after starting your work with the festival committee—well, your friends insisted that you invite him and Chan after finding out that the famous DJ, CB97, is your cousin and that you and the “College of Psychology Cutie” commute home together (“Don’t tell me...are you guys secretly dating?!” Yuna had shamelessly asked during one of your meetings, to which you had to smack your hand over her mouth and improvise a cover story for you and Jisung that you live in the same neighbourhood).

Jisung accepted at the thought that he could garner a huge crowd of hearts from this opportunity, cooping himself up in his room right after the following days that followed to complete his 15-minute set. Ever since, all you’ve heard coming from his room in the middle of the night would be guitar strums, drum loops, and the faintest hints of Jisung’s voice singing along to freestyle raps and lines.

He mostly sang about love, of all things; something you, Minho, and Chan immediately noticed in the next 3 Friday nights that the three of you would be huddled in the living room to watch a movie, only to hear Jisung repeating lines as if he was talking to someone in Chan’s home studio. You wanted to ask about it out of pure curiosity, and just the general worry that he might not be looking after his heart while finishing your exam after all, but decided against it in favor of waiting for the final product at the music festival.

Fortunately, the month somehow went by in almost a flash as you and Jisung both got busy preparing and collecting more hearts on the side. Before you know it, it was the afternoon of the music festival and Felix is suddenly back in the human realm to accompany you and Minho to the school festival.

“So, did he tell you what he prepared for tonight?” Felix asks you as the three of you walk around the festival grounds. Over the course of 3 weeks, you and a large team of student volunteers have managed to haul in food stalls, arcade booths, and rides from the quad all the way to the football field for this festival, amenities which you yourself haven’t tried yet because of your busy schedule but Felix and Minho have both been so overwhelmingly excited to check out even on the bus trip to your university.

In response to the prince’s answer, you shake your head with a small pout. “I just hear him all over the house and I didn’t really want to pry if he didn't want to tell me anything.” You point out, the two of you suddenly changing the course of your mindless walk as Minho points to a crossbow shoot booth. “Why? Doesn’t he tell you what he’s been working on?”

“No! He stops whatever he’s doing whenever we call, even when I ask him to play just a little bit of his work.” Felix is quick to mirror your pout, only for it to disappear when Minho jokes that the two of you help him cheat in the booth as he picks up a crossbow. “I thought since you guys are living together, you’d know better than me.”

“Ah, you kids just wait until Jisung and Chan perform later.” Minho dismisses your concerns, holding the fake crossbow up properly while the staff manning the booth prepares the targets on the other side. “Now, help me win Chan a giant wolf.”

You roll your eyes at Minho, shrugging at Felix. “I guess he’s right. Let’s just help Minho get a giant wolf first.”

Chan and Jisung arrive at university 10 minutes before the music festival from Chan’s studio halfway across the city, initially unable to find you in the crowd of organizers as they set up backstage with Yuna and Jeongin’s help until you call Chan late that you’re “babysitting” Minho and Felix.

“They’ve somehow teamed up and have been competing with the rigged booths since we arrived.” You explained over the voice call, the distant sounds of Minho and Felix yelling while tossing metal rings around almost muffling your own. “I’ll be on my way in a while as soon as Minho leaves the ring toss alone but Yuna and Jeongin are there. Just ask them if you guys need anyth—oh my gods, Felix, you won another plushie? That’s so cool! Wait, I’m on a call with Chan!—uh, yeah. I’ll be there in a second!”

The commotion on your end makes the two boys laugh, even as you bid your goodbyes and end the call, but especially Jisung who’s been looking nervous since he arrived. Throwing his head back in a laugh as he tunes his guitar, he comments, “That’s a bit unexpected. I didn’t know my brother and your boyfriend would get along like that, and this quickly!”

“Beating out rigged games sounds about right.” Chan chuckles along, seated on a plastic chair and running a quick check on his equipment. Turning to the younger boy, he then asks, “Are you still nervous?”

“Me? Nah, I wasn’t even nervous to begin with!” At this, Jisung’s laughs naturally die down to an uncertain shake of his head. He dismisses with a scrunch up nose which Chan immediately raises a brow at.

“Come on, Sung, I practically raised you with the other kids.” Chan proceeds to roll his eyes as Jisung’s brief confident facade crumbles down slowly. “What’s up?”

The boy in question eventually sighs in defeat, shoulders slumping against the plastic chair he occupies. “Fine, maybe I’m a bit nervous! Just a little bit, though, I can still get on stage later! I mean, it’s not like performing here is gonna be different from back home like you said on the way here but…”

“But what?” Chan asks patiently, glancing up to see Jisung’s gaze fixed down on his yellow acoustic guitar. When the younger boy doesn’t respond immediately, he then continues, “I’ve heard bits and pieces of what you’ve been working on this month and all of the songs sound great. You’ll catch a lot of hearts tonight with them, I’m sure. What are you worried about?”

Jisung looks up from his guitar and opens his mouth to speak, only to get cut off when you come in the performer’s tent running and balancing different kinds of microphones in your hands. “Sorry I’m late!” You announce in between tired pants, catching both his and Chan’s attention as you pass the microphones around the artists with Jeongin who instinctively comes to your aid. “I was with my friends and they wouldn’t budge from the ring toss!”

“I think I’m going to faint.” Jisung mumbles under his breath with furrowed brows, loud enough for only Chan to hear, until you approach them last with their microphones.

“Mics?” You offer obliviously, holding up the last 2 hand mics in your possession. Passing one to Chan quickly, you then sit down next to Jisung and pass him his hand mic. “Hey, you’re up fourth, right?”

Jisung glances over to Chan with a panicked look but the older boy simply shakes his head with a chuckle and focuses on his keyboard. Turning to you, Jisung then nods quickly with a hum before gazing down at his guitar and the laptop he’s set up on the table in front of you two.

Immediately sensing his odd behavior, you then hover your hands in the space between the two of you in a quick spell, eventually verifying his nervous feelings. “Yeah, totally not nervous.” You chuckle in amusement, laughing even more when he turns to you and whines in complaint.

“Ya! Don’t do that!”

“Well, it’s not like you’re that good at hiding your nervousness!” You point out in defense, holding your hands up in front of you in between uncontrollable fits of giggles. When the glare he sends your way doesn’t relax one bit, you then fish out a small quokka plush from your backpack. “Anyway, Felix was kinda expecting that you’d be a little nervous so wanted me to give you this plushie he won at the milk bottle game with Minho for good luck. He would’ve given it himself but LUCY was already performing when we came here so he dragged Minho to the audience area before I could even bring him here.”

You then place the plush toy on the table right next to his laptop, looking around once to make sure that no one is looking your way before mouthing a quick spell to shrink the quokka into something smaller that he can hang on his guitar strap. As you do so, Chan notices how Jisung’s ears are quick to turn red as he follows your every movement. “You can stick it to your guitar strap and bring it with you to the stage.” You point out once you’re done, only then noticing his stares. “What?”

“Huh?” Jisung shakes his head absentmindedly, mentally slapping himself back to reality before scrambling to pick up the plush toy by the chain you added on top of its head and tying it to the small hole along the edge of his guitar strap. “O-Oh, yeah, thanks!”

You chuckle, just as Yuna suddenly calls for you to help in getting the next act’s microphone stands on stage. Standing up, you then pat Jisung’s shoulder reassuringly, saying one last, “Don’t be nervous!” before running off again to where most of your committee members are.

Once you’re out of earshot, only then does Chan look up from his equipment once more but this time with a knowing grin and squinted eyes. “Yeah, Sung, don’t be nervous!”

Jisung rolls his eyes in front of the older boy at this, securing the quokka plushie on his guitar strap one last time. “Shut up.”

Your committee heads lay you off of work just as Jisung heads to the stage for his set, the small quokka plush you gave him dangling behind his fretboard with a toothy grin while he sets up his laptop and greets the energetic crowd. When you discreetly scan the people’s ecures while standing behind the curtains, you quickly spot a growing number of pinks and oranges. “Such a charmer.” Chan notes, eyes also blue when you look up at him.

You nod in agreement, reverting back to your original color as more of your peers gather around the curtains to listen to Jisung’s introduction. “Um, hi, I’m Han Jisung from the Psych department.” You hear him greet with a shy chuckle over the microphone, earning him another wave of cheers. Behind you, even Yuna and Jeongin cheer despite Jisung having his back partially facing you. “This is my first time performing here at uni and the songs that I’ve prepared so please go easy on me.”

You then turn to Chan again, taking a sideways step closer to him as a thought crosses your mind. “Hey, Chan,” You call for him in a lower voice, craning your head up when he leans towards you. “Have you heard of the songs he’s going to perform tonight? You were together before coming here, right?”

“Only a little bit. We mostly talked while we were at the studio.” Chan shrugs in response. “I think he wanted it to be a surprise to everyone.”

On stage, Jisung then checks his guitar one last time before announcing the name of the first song. “So, this first song is something that I’ve been thinking about since I moved here. It’s called ‘Close.’” He says, pressing play on his loops and singing the first lines of the song. “Can you tell me about you? You, seen from afar. I just don't want to watch. Yeah Just tell me about you.”

Jisung is a great performer, there’s no doubt about it. Though you’ve grown up hearing him sing and rap at your more casual events back at home, he always manages to surprise you every time he performs just with the way he enjoys himself on stage. You can see him smile widely from the side of the stage, his nervousness long gone as he interacts with the crowd and collects the pink crystal hearts that float above your heads.

“He’s really good…” You murmur, more to yourself than to Chan, as you find yourself gently swaying to the song. “What was he even worried about? It’s a great song…”

Chan glances knowingly at you, a small smile playing on his lips as you sing along to the next round of the chorus. “I don’t think he has nothing to worry about too, not right now at least.”

“Hm?” “Nothing.”

In truth, even with the positive response from the crowd and the amount of ecures he’s collected from this set alone, Jisung is still nervous for his last song. “Sunshine” was supposed to be just another warm-up song with barely a cohesive topic, a compilation of sketches about his experiences in the human world that he spent his free time on when he wasn’t collecting hearts these past 6 months. As more time passed by, however, and the time of your exam was suddenly coming to a close, they eventually took a different direction without him even realizing it until you were inviting him to perform at this music festival.

The times that the two of you would bicker just to laugh at each other in the end, the competition that brought the bests and worsts in you, and your chocolate matcha tea and musings on the one time you sat down with him on his balcony. Eventually, you were all he was writing about. On top of the nervousness that comes with finishing the competition you’ve found yourselves in for half a year and finding out who will be declared the winner, Jisung was more nervous about the thought that you’re just behind the stage curtains with Chan, anticipating his next song.

“For my last song, I picked this one for someone I know whom I’ve spent a lot of time with these past few months.” He confesses shyly in front of the crowds. Among the hundreds of people that came tonight, he easily spots his twin brother in front of the barriers with Minho, sporting the most exaggerated surprised face ever. “I was hoping that when all of this is said and over, we’d get well-deserved breaks...maybe music and tea at night again or something.”

Jisung doesn’t have to turn around to gauge your initial reaction as he begins the song, Felix’s expression turning into that of giddiness as he looks over at the stage curtains is enough to set every gear in his head to pump out more nervousness. Instead, he pushes through until halfway to the song before he could steal his first glance over to you since beginning his set.

With his eyes still an emerald green from scanning the crowd’s ecures, your eyes meet under the harsh stage lights as he sings the bridge. “This place is quiet without a sound ye ye ye. Quiet except for the sound of our breaths ye ye ye.” He doesn’t intend to look again, not in that split second before he’s turning his gaze back to the crowd of cellphone lights and LED signs, but he sees your heart’s reflection once more.

Reminiscent of when you first confessed in middle school, a pinkish heart floats by the sleeves of your sweater, almost looking red if he just looked longer. You didn’t even turn away this time and simply just stood there, heat visibly rising up your neck.

Reminiscent of when you first confessed in middle school, a pinkish heart floats by the sleeves of your sweater, almost looking red if he just looked longer. This time around, however, you don’t turn away to try and hide it.

And this time around, Jisung doesn’t childishly call you out for it or ignores it. This time, it makes his own heart swell at the thought.

The car ride home, with Chan on the wheel and three extra boxes of equipment most of the backseats in his SUV, is a comfortable and awkward mix of quiet between you and Jisung as the two of you are forced to sit next to each other in the cramped space. You sit by the window, using it as an excuse to peer outside and avoid any kind of small talk from the boys, while Jisung has hisi eyes glued to his phone while a sleeping Felix snuggles into his shoulder. The only human noise in the car, as it seems, is coming from Minho and Chan as the two recall the songs the latter and Jisung performed at the program.

It’s even quieter at the thought that you, Jisung, and Felix will fly back to the magical realm tomorrow, something that Minho reminds you when he suddenly asks, “Right, what do you kids want me to cook for lunch later, by the way?”

The question comes right as the car suddenly comes to an abrupt stop at Chan’s garage, masking the way you and Jisung simultaneously jump in surprise. You instinctively glance over to him after with wide eyes, before gazing over at Minho who has a poorly-hidden snicker on his expression from the front passenger seat. “Um,” You stutter out awkwardly, glaring at Minho when he smirks teasingly over your way. “Anything’s fine for me.”

Jisung nods over to your direction in agreement. “Yeah, anything’s fine.”

Minho nods with pursed lips, as if he was biting down a laugh. “Does crispy pork belly sound good?” He asks, earning him nods from you. “Okay. You guys have been quiet back here this entire time, you guys good?”

“Yeah?” “Totally.”

Clearly unconvinced, Minho shakes his head and scoffs before twisting his upper body to face front once more, unbuckling his seatbelt and opening the car door next to him. “Oh, kids…”

You roll your eyes at the comment before stealing a glance over at Jisung again, only to find the boy already staring at you. “W-What?” You manage to ask this time despite your initial surprise. In front of you, Chan has already turned the engine off and left the driver’s seat to open the back of the car. “You okay, Ji?”

He hums almost absentmindedly, phone now set down on his lap as he fiddles with his hands nervously. “Yeah, um—” He stutters out, biting his lips down once. Briefly glancing at his side, he then gestures towards his twin and adds, “Wait, sorry, um, let me wake Lix first.”

“Okay.” You nod awkwardly, deciding to unbuckle your own seatbelt and open the car door next to you. Jisung then gently shakes Felix awake, leading his brother out through the same car door since the opposite one’s blocked by more of his and Chan’s equipment.

“You go on ahead, Lix, I’ll just talk to Y/N.” You hear Jisung say as the three of you now stand outside in the cold, levitating boxes of instruments and computers flying over your head and heading inside the house.

Felix nods at this immediately, sleepily bidding you and Jisung with loose hugs before trudging back inside the house with Chan and Minho.

Once the doors leading back to the house fully close on the two of you, only then are you engulfed in the same awkward silence again and the two of you, for the third time in the past 6 months, speak up at the same time.

“So um—” “—Yeah, a while ago—”

This time, the two of you chuckle awkwardly over speaking at the same time again. You then gesture for him to go ahead and speak first as you adjust your sweater’s placement on your shoulder.

Instinctively, Jisung fixes your sweater for you before speaking, causing him to stutter a little. “S-Sorry, um…” He licks his lip awkwardly, retracting his hand as fast as he can and moving a step back. “Yeah, I meant to say that I didn’t...I didn’t mean to look at your heart.”

Suddenly, at such an important moment, you’re speechless and frozen in front of Jisung. Your hands find their way down the hem of your sweater, absentmindedly playing with the loose threads as you shift your weight on the balls of your feet and stutter out your response. “I-I um…”

Simultaneously, Jisung takes in a huge intake of breath and continues, “I looked at you because I actually made the song for you—well, about you but not in a weird way! It can be for you too, that is if you want it!—”

“Jisung?”

“Ah, anyway, I’m losing track! Just, I looked at you because I wanted to know what you thought of it the most in the moment, you know—”

“Jisung…”

“And I didn’t realize that my eyes were still green and I saw so I looked away as fast as I could, I swear—!”

“Ji.”

“I know you don’t want me looking into your heart and stuff because of before. I promise I won’t do it again—”

Realizing that he’s not going to stop in his ramblings, you then impulsively take a step towards him and grab him by his arms. “Ji, it’s fine.” You shake him gently, effectively stopping the endless flow of thought. “I mean, you already saw it and everything.”

“But I—”

“Just don’t lash out or stop talking to me again while I sort it out.” You shrug reassuringly with a sigh, reluctantly sliding your hands off of him and taking a step back again as you see him listen intently to your words. “It’s just pink, anyway, it can still go away like before. Just don’t avoid me again this time.”

Though he’s clearly been listening intently, you see his brows furrow and his expression suddenly becomes confused towards the end of your words. “What?” He echoes helplessly after you. “No, I...why would I stop talking to you? That was a long time ago. I won’t do that now, I...”

“Then just don’t take my heart or something.” You point out, almost like a question as his reaction confuses you similarly. “Anyway, that’s not the point, like I said, I’ll sort it ou—”

“Don’t.” He cuts you off immediately this time with more conviction, shaking his head and suddenly taking your hand. “Don’t sort it out. Don’t make it go away or anything.”

“What? Why?”

You’re pulled closer again, Jisung mumbling an incantation to show his ecure under his breath. “Look at mine.” He points out, a pink crystal heart floating over to your upturned palm as he holds onto you by your wrist. “If anything, I should be the one telling you to not take mine on the spot or something.”

“It’s pink.” You muse out loud in surprise, the warmth of his ecure feeling overwhelming as it floats above your hand. “And it’s for me…?”

Jisung rolls his eyes at this in disbelief, nodding patiently anyway. “Who else would it be for?” He scoffs gently, making the heart disappear before it could burn your palm. “I don’t know since when it’s been like that, maybe it’s been like that for a long time even I don’t know I’ve only looked at it while Chan and I were at the studio. All I’m sure is that suddenly I was writing a song for you and sacrificing half of my ecure count so you don’t lose easily in the exam and looking out for you and—just, this time it’s me who’s afraid that you’ll run away or disappear for a while if you knew.”

“So don’t...sort it out.” He concludes after unknowingly speaking at such a fast rate, heaving belatedly from this. “I like you now, I like you a lot, and I’m not going to lash out like when we were kids. Take my heart if you want just don’t change your feelings for me, please.”

There’s a brief pause that follows, the only noise ringing in your ears being the unusually loud beating of your own heart as the two of you freeze in place. Jisung tries waiting as patiently as he visibly can in this silence, puffing air in and out of his lips as he fails at trying to conceal his recurring nervous feelings, while you gaze at anywhere but him because of the heat rising up your neck.

“Listen…” He speaks up after a while. “I’m sorry, I—”

Fuck it, you think to yourself before stepping forward, shakily cupping his cheeks, and pressing a kiss to his lips. “Don’t say sorry.” You muster up a shy smile in between brief kisses. “You already know that I like you too.”

bonus epilogue

When you return to the magical realm to the news that Hyunjin won’t be taking his own candidacy exam next year in favor of his own kingdom’s crown, the elders are quick to take your locket and Jisung’s ring to proceed with the final results. Since the decision takes at least 3 days, coupled with the fact that a major complication arose in the 6 months that you were given, Jisung was asked to stay at your castle until the jury could come to a conclusion and crown either one of you.

The others would also occasionally come and visit (especially Lia who’s mostly kept up with your trip through Yeji and Ryujin) but since confessing to Jisung, the boy has been doing the most trying to sneak you away from everyone and your regular royal duties just to spend more time with you.

“So this is what you meant with Sunshine?” You ask in the afternoon before the elders would summon you back to the throne room, the two of you hidden away in your favourite greenhouse garden. Today, Jisung has somehow convinced you to ditch a visit to Chan’s family in favor of just sitting on your greenhouse’s cushioned sofas and listening to him hum his songs until your mentors would eventually come looking for you. “Chocolate matcha and your guitar?”

“Yeah, just a relaxing rest date with your crush.” Jisung points out next to you, his head snuggled into the crook of your neck as much as the guitar in between the two of you could allow him. On your opposite side, his cuddle rival, the quokka plush toy you’ve somehow managed to turn into a life-size pillow today, sits on your lap and occasionally pokes on the end of his guitar. “Why? Do you want to refill your tea? I’ve been getting Felix to teach me this spell to refill tea, you know. I’m getting it but chocolate matcha’s kinda hard to replicate.”

You shake your head in disbelief with a chuckle, a stark contrast to how you’re internally flustered over the small comment on your favourite tea flavor. “Who said you’re my crush? Bold of you to even assume, Ji…” You pretend to roll your eyes, sinking deeper into the soft cushions behind you.

“Baby, you’ll be taking those words back when I get crowned tonight.” He pouts, elbowing you gently before shifting to place his guitar on the side. With his hands now free, the prince then resorts to linking his arms with your free one and intertwining your hands together on top of the plush quokka. “If I win, I’ll make sure to banish this quokka first so you’ll be forced to cuddle with only me.”

“Tch, Felix won you this quokka. You’ll have to duel with him first if you want this gone.” You argue, sliding the quokka closer to him so its face is adjacent to Jisung. “Plus, it kinda looks like you. If I get crowned and you’ll be away doing your own duties back East, I have something of yours.”

“I think you meant that if I win and you’ll be staying here doing your own duties, you’ll have something of mine.” Jisung huffs pettily. “Maybe we should keep the quokka, after all. You might get lonely if I get busy.”

You shake your head immediately with a chuckle, leaning more of your weight on his side. “Oh, no, no, no.” You correct teasingly, making him giggle along against your shoulder. “Who said you’re going to win later?”

“Wanna bet?” He raises a brow and smirks, lifting his head briefly to glance over to you.

You roll your eyes at this, leaning forward to meet his lips. “You’re so competitive, babe. Give it a rest, you know I’ll win anyway.”

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rocorambles · 3 years

Text

Lifetime of Love

Pairing: Suga x Reader

Genre/Warnings: NSFW, Overstimulation, Mythology AU, Demi-God!Suga

Prompt: Mythology

Summary: As the son of Aphrodite, Suga knows more than most when it comes to beauty and love. But knowledge and experience are two very different things. OR Suga finds true love.

A/N: This is my contribution for the HQHQ NSFW collaboration. There are so many talented writers on the server and I highly encourage you to check out the collaboration masterlist here to see how everyone decided to run with this prompt. As always, thanks for beta-ing @sawamooora

Being the son of Aphrodite has its perks. Even as just a demi-god, Suga is borderline ethereal, naturally drawing men and women to him with his dazzling silver hair, enthralling hazel-brown eyes, and coquettish charm. It’s effortless, the way he wakes up looking just as radiant as ever, the way his hair is naturally shaped and styled even after tossing and turning in bed. Clothing is just a technicality, just fabric he wears to not risk indecent exposure. Why waste time and effort thinking of putting an outfit together when he could wear a burlap sack and still have admirers flock to him?

It’s not a bad life and he knows others stare at him with envy, wondering what it’s like to be so beautiful, so loved, so wanted, so desired. Never an off day. Never a hair out of place. And truth be told, maybe more of his mother runs in him than he likes to admit, if the swell of pride and satisfaction he gets from having everything in life handed to him on a silver platter is anything to go by.

Life is easier for beautiful people. It’s a hard pill to swallow for the masses, but a reality that Suga has no qualms taking advantage of. After all, he might as well get some benefit from being a goddess's son, even if his mother and him don’t always see eye to eye.

Suga can appreciate beauty and love. Aphrodite has taught him to have an eye for the finer things in life. He’s not stubborn enough to deny that he enjoys waking up entangled in silk and satin sheets, surrounded by a beautifully decorated apartment, to reject the ecstasy he feels when he has one or more playmates in his bed.

But love of the flesh is different than love of the heart, and he wonders, despite how blasphemous it is to question a deity, if his mother truly understands what love is.

Aphrodite’s love is a seemingly fleeting and fickle thing, a fire that blazes bright and strong, only to burn out just as quickly as it had risen. And he judgmentally watches as she bounces from man to God to man to God again and again, grimacing whenever he meets his “family”, knowing how she’s slept with most of the other gods in Olympus.

He has no doubt that in her own way, she truly has loved each entity she’s slept with. But he wants something different, something less promiscuous, something less shallow. He wants true love, a love rooted in something much deeper than superficial appearances, a love rooted in a connection of souls, a love rooted in the bond of two people truly seeing and knowing each other’s flaws and strengths, yet still determinedly pursuing each other.

So he steadfastly continues on, searching for the one.

There’s no end to the line of people who practically throw themselves at his feet, desperate for a chance to catch his attention. He goes on endless dates, entering and leaving countless relationships. Some attempts are longer than others. Some partners have hope churning inside of him, have hazel-brown eyes sparkling in interest. But in the end, they’re all the same and the flutters of his heart become anchors of disgust inside of him when he sees their leering eyes, the lust driving their actions, the way they never see past his handsome face and attractive body.

No one sees Sugawara Koushi. They only see the body of a man literally blessed by the gods.

Maybe it was naive of him to believe that he knew more about love than the goddess of love herself. Maybe sleeping around with other attractive bodies is all his life will amount to, can amount to. And as he watches the people around him break-up, divorce, chase after some happy ending that seems more and more unattainable, he gives up his rose-colored dream of a fairytale romance.

But life has a funny way of dropping something in your lap just when you’ve given up all hope.

Aphrodite had not been amused when Suga had told her he was going to be a teacher at a local elementary school in the countryside. Children and parental instincts have never been her forte, and he remembers the long winding back and forths they had as she implored for him to rethink his decisions, flaunting modeling and acting opportunities in his face, anything to have his handsome face plastered on televisions and magazines.

But he had remained steadfast in his decision and she had finally relented, shaking her head and letting him know that she’d be ready to help him when he’s done wasting his gifts and time.

“You’re only part-god, Koushi. Your beauty will only last so long.”

He knows there’s no malice behind the words. It’s just a cold hard fact, a reminder. And he simply nods in response, secretly wondering if that would be so bad, letting age take its toll and put him on the same playing field as the rest of the world.

But he has years before he crosses that bridge and he dedicates himself to finding fulfillment in life by caring for and teaching the children in his class. A megawatt smile spreads across his face as he watch them play and excitedly call his name, politely ignoring his fellow teachers who parade themselves in front of him for an ounce of his attention, never entertaining the married mothers of his students who try to lavish him with unnecessarily exuberant gifts and woo him with fluttering lashes.

It’s a tiring never-ending dance, so when he hears about the arrival of a new female colleague, he internally sighs, no doubt in his mind that you’ll be just like the rest. So imagine his surprise when you just casually smile at him when you’re introduced, no interest in your eyes, no lingering gaze, before turning your attention away from him without a second glance back.

He wonders if it’s a fluke, hopes and prays that it isn’t. It’s almost comical, complete insanity, how his heart races, his eyes blow wide, just from your sheer nonchalance. And for the first time, it’s Suga who’s left wistfully staring as his eyes trail after your figure even long after you’ve turned the corner of the hallway.

He’s seen his mother’s work, seen the way humans pursue their love interests with almost fanatical effort. But he had never understood, not until now.

It’s an intoxicating feeling, addictive, the thrill of the chase energizing him in a way he’s never felt before. It’s hard, meticulous work finding reasons to visit your classroom, finding ways to weave himself in conversations you’re a part of. But it’s always worth it when he sees the genuine fondness in your eyes, the way you look and really see him, the way you care about the man underneath the shiny facade, in a way no one ever has before.

And when the two of you go out for a friendly lunch one day, when you order his favorite dish that he’s only briefly mentioned to you once in passing, without even missing a beat, his heart stops. It’s something no other partner has bothered even taking note of, too busy trying to impress him with high-end meals and fine dining. And just like that, he blurts out his confession, heart hammering, fingers nervously twitching as he awaits your response.

For many years to come, the two of you will debate whether or not that lunch counts as your official first date as a couple.

Dating you is everything he’s dreamed of and more. And for once, Suga feels like just another regular man, a normal human being as he holds your hand in his, giggling and sharing stories, feeding each other bites of food, lazing around on his sofa watching TV.

But as a romance movie runs in the background and the main couple kisses after the male lead raves about how stunning his lover is, he turns his attention to you, curiosity nagging at him, a tiny tendril of lingering fear squirming inside of him.

“What do you like about me?”

There’s silence as you owlishly blink and look up at him, surprise and confusion flitting across your face as you try and process where this question is coming from. But when you see the worry, doubt, and insecurity muddling your boyfriend’s eyes, you interlace your fingers with his and cuddle into his side, resting your head on his shoulder as you continue gazing at him.

“I like the way you always insist on getting the highest spice level at every Chinese restaurant we go to that serves mapo tofu, even though you complain about your mouth burning all night long afterwards.”

Suga chuckles, unable to deny the truth of those words.

“I like the way you act like a clueless angel even when you’re wreaking havoc and chaos, you big trouble maker.”

This time Suga does try to plead innocence, although all he can do is sheepishly grin when you start listing off event after event of mischief he had instigated and encouraged, much to Daichi’s and Asahi’s dismay.

“I like how patient and gentle you are with your students and your old underclassmen. I like the way you nurture them, mentor them, encourage them to keep on going, keep on trying even when the going gets tough. And I like how you instill that belief in your own life. If we have children of our own one day, I know you’ll be the father I’ve always wanted for my future kids.”

The weight of your last sentence hangs heavy in the air, the meaning, the hope of a lifetime promise has Suga’s jaw dropping. But when you shyly look away, nervously biting your lip as he just dumbly stares at you, he jolts back to reality and you yelp as lips suddenly crash against yours.

Sex with Suga is always sweet, with a hint of spice when your lover is feeling particularly mischievous. But it’s never been like this, full of desperation, untamed desire, a want so deep that it leaves both your minds in a hazy disarray. You gasp as you’re firmly pushed down, until your back hits the couch and you’re moaning into the mouth pressed against yours, your tongues tangling with each other in an attempt to taste every crevice.

The wet sounds of your lips connecting and disconnecting over and over again, the frantic sounds of fabric being rustled and tossed off, they all mix in a passionate symphony punctuated by breathy declarations of love, by whimpered names.

You throw your head back as a hot wet mouth sensually carves a path down the column of your neck, to the delicate swoop of your collarbone, sighing in bliss as they end in the valley of your breasts, two hands gently tweaking and rolling your nipples. And then fingers are replaced with a tongue, with lips, and your back arches, body writhing, seeking more, more, more as you wildly grind against your lover’s body.

Usually Suga likes to take his time with you, unwrap you piece by piece, unravel the strings that tie you together, coax the prettiest sounds out of you. But today something more carnal, more desperate, more raw spurs him on, and he feels more beast than man as he devours you, plunders you, marks you as his for all eternity.

“Koushi!”

You wail as he wastes no time in quickly snapping his hips, filling your slick walls with his cock. There’s an urgency behind his pace you’ve never felt before and you dig your nails into his shoulders, eyes rolling back in your head, lewd moans echoing in the room as you wrap one leg around his back, the other dangling off the couch.

You’re not sure exactly what the trigger had been for this, but you’re not complaining, pussy walls only clamping down even more when you see the feral hunger in his eyes, the drag of his cock against your insides even more pronounced.

He can feel your end approaching, sees it in the way your head tosses side to side, the way your eyes glaze over, and he brings a hand between your bodies, toying with your clit, circling it, rubbing it, never losing his rhythm as you begin to convulse, body thrashing, nails scratching his skin, a debauched version of his given name rolling of your tongue. Only when you begin to whimper, shaking hands trying to grasp his fingers still playing with your oversensitive nub does he relent, smiling down at you as you entwine your fingers with his as he continues to thrust in and out of you.

Suga’s been told he looks like an angel time and time again, but as he stares down at your completely ravaged and exhausted form, the way your chest heaves up and down, the sheen of sweat on your skin, the after tremors of your body, the duality of how you cling onto his hand despite your wanton state, he thinks you’re the true angel here. Maybe a fallen angel, but an angel nonetheless and he can feel his balls tighten, the last shreds of his endurance ripping apart at the seams as he takes in your breathtaking appearance.

But he needs more than that, needs you, needs you here and with him, and he meets your lips in a bruising kiss, a silent demand for your attention, adjusting his hands until your fingers are interlocked on either side of your head.

“Look at me.”

He patiently waits, peppering your face with butterfly kisses, slowing down the rocking of his hips. You’re so tired, heavy eyelids wanting nothing more than to close, but you’re still in a rocky ocean of pleasure, body still registering and reacting to every touch, every move. And when his soft voice makes its way through the fog, you know you need to listen, you want to listen. So you turn your eyes until they lock with hazel-brown, a weak smile plastered across your face when you see the love and affection pouring down onto you.

“I love you.”

Both of you grin as the three words unanimously exit your mouths, but the smile is wiped off your face as he resumes his pace, tempo beginning to stutter, his own head being thrown back in ecstasy as he approaches his end. Your overstimulated body is barely hanging on by a thread, pathetic mewls dripping from your lips, and you keen when sticky spurts fill you, Suga’s cock buried balls deep inside of you as he breeds you, coating your quivering walls with his essence.

Suga gently lowers his body on yours, capturing your mouth in another kiss, one much gentler as both of you catch your breaths, bodies feeling soft and pliant as post-coital bliss wraps around you like a fluffy blanket.

Beauty is a fleeting thing. His mother’s not wrong about that.

But love? Love isn’t nearly as fickle as beauty, he thinks, as he holds you in his arms. And he smiles, letting himself be lulled to sleep by your rhythmic breathing, dreaming of the long and full life still ahead for both of you.

#haikyuu smut #suga x reader #sugawara x reader #suga smut #sugawara smut #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fic #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader

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goggles-mcgee · 3 years

Text

Too Late: Alya & Nino (commission for miner249er)

Fourth chapter of @miner249er ‘s commission

Chapter Summary: The truth is harsh. Teens are harsher.

Previous Work

Last Chapter Next Chapter

Truth.

As an aspiring journalist it was something Alya strived for. It was the most important thing she could give the people who followed her so diligently. She thought she had been giving them that. She had been so good about giving them the truth, her truth, and Ladybug’s truth in the past, she foolheartedly believed she was continuing to do so despite taking shortcuts later on in the road. Why didn’t she fact check herself? Why did she throw that very thing in Marinette’s face? What kind of reporter was she? What kind of friend was she? The answers were all around her and yet she still wasn’t ready to face them head on. There was still that voice in her head that was telling her that this was all Lila Rossi’s fault.

But is it? Alya thought as her and Nino ate together at her house, the TV on in the background. At first it had been on the news but Alya was done with the news for a long while, all it had been was coverage of The Protector and Nino had immediately taken the remote and changed it to cartoons. This was hitting him hard, harder than Alya had expected if she was being honest. When they found out Ladybug and Chat Noir had, in fact, not defeated The Protector and instead the akuma, that Marinette had gone missing, it hit the class hard. Hard because they learned the truth about Lila in that time and that had been rough to work through. Then they had to come to the realization that they believed Lila over Marinette, the sweet, kind, selfless girl that had all at one point been friends with.

Then the lies got to them. It poisoned them. That’s what Alya had written on her blog anyways. They were victims of a silver-tongue and they had paid the price, one they had not been prepared to pay for. Their friend was missing, had been missing and they couldn’t do anything. Alya had been searching through as many local papers and news around the world for any clues if Marinette had possibly gone to those places. Everything was coming up empty. She had even made a separate website along with Max all about Marinette and what had happened, she left ways to reach her and her classmates in case anyone had any info. Nino said they should have added Tom and Sabine’s information as well but Alya was too scared to ask them if they would be okay with it, last time they had all been at the bakery the tension had been palpable.

They weren’t banned like Nathaniel had worried they would be but every time they went in with their families, because that was the only time they went in there, it was always awkward. Tom and Sabine were much too nice to ban them even if they felt like they deserved it. How did everything go so wrong? Even school wasn’t as fun as it had been. Walking into their classroom was like taking a walk of shame, people from other classes, even teachers just stared at them. Some even glared. Then there were the whispers, Dieu the whispers, they followed them everywhere not just school, but they were the most prominent there. Her, Nino, and their classmates would find notes in their lockers, none were really threatening but they tore at her heart all the same. Things like, ‘You’re the reason she’s gone,’ or, ‘Are you guys proud of yourselves now?’ ‘Were the lies worth it?’ ‘You traded in a gem for fool’s gold.’ ‘What a reporter you turned out to be.’

All the notes hurt. That was the truth. That last one? She had found it in her locker this morning and it burned. Alya had been bullied before, she never liked to think about it, who would? But she was and she had to acknowledge it because she had told herself she would never allow herself to be bullied again, and most importantly, she would never turn into a bully. Wrong. She was wrong, and it wasn’t the first time she had been made aware of this since everything happened. Since everything changed. It was a blessing that Nino and her were still together, he never partook in the “tough love” the class had been giving Marinette before she...before she had been akumatized. Sure he didn’t stop them, and that was bad, but he didn’t go out of his way to not invite her to things until she stopped being “jealous” and started acting like the bigger person. Nino wasn’t the one who ignored her text messages, which now that Alya read them, were pretty telling that her friend had been hurting and she had only made that worse.

“What are you thinking about babe?”

Alya looked up from her half eaten bowl of soup to see Nino gazing at her in concern. “Marinette.”

“Oh…” He breathed out as he put his spoon down and looked down at the table before placing one of his hands on hers and giving her a small smile. “Everything will be okay Alya. Someone will find her and then she’ll be back home.”

Empty words. Empty words fed to him too much from adults who didn’t have any updates on anything. “You don’t believe that. And even if she did...who's to say she would even want to talk to us!? What’s to say that anything would be better? We would still be seen as the bad guys! We will still all have to eat lunch at our houses or the park just to avoid the stares and the whispers and the tossed trash our way and the “accidentally” spilled drinks!”

Alya had never understood just how much their class had been living in its own little world. Not to say they were completely unattached to the rest of the school, Alix, Nathaniel, Rose, Chloe, and Sabrina were in the art club (the art teacher and the rest of the club had made a mural of Marinette without notifying them or asking for their help. Everyone is encouraged to leave notes about Marinette on the mural. The art room even has a chair decorated in honor of Marinette that no one else can use. That was announced very pointedly Alix later shared.), Rose was in the scrapbooking club (no one asked to use her materials anymore like they used to), and Max was in the gaming club which Marinette had helped him set up (people weren’t showing up lately.) They weren’t kicked out, but they were reminded of Marinette all the time,it was like everyone’s way of punishing them. It had never occurred to any of them how popular Marinette was.

So popular that the whole school seemed to hate them. Even Mlle Mendeleiev seemed to be harsher than normal and that was really saying something, it would seem like she had a soft spot for Marinette. In their class everyone avoided Marinette’s seats in class, Alya had to step up as class representative but the silver lining was that Nino had stepped up to be her deputy. Though another negative was the fact Nino had stopped making his music and taking DJ gigs. At first he hadn’t said anything to her or their friends, Alya found out because of Chris actually, but then her and Adrien confronted him and he broke down. He cried and he didn’t stop for a long time, but when he had calmed enough to talk he pulled out old pictures of him and Marinette, told them stories about how they had grown up together. It had made the pit in Alya’s stomach grow, she had just been thinking about her and how much she blamed herself and how much she missed her best friend, she hadn’t even thought how this was affecting Nino.

“I...I need to believe it Alya. I need to. Because if I don’t I will break apart. Mari...Marinette and I were best friends in l'école primaire. I never thought she would ever not be a part of my life. Then the whole Lila thing happened and I turned into a coward again, like I had with Chloe! No, worse than a coward! I don’t even know what I would call myself but I know I can’t call myself her friend.” His voice rose the more he spoke and near the end it cracked.

“Nino…”

“No. I know that’s the truth! And I know, I know that things at school have been rough. Hell, they’ve been awful, everyone sees us as these villains in some trashy young teen novel when all we’ve done is make a mistake! Yes. It was a big mistake but it was a mistake nonetheless but we’re...we’re kids dammit. We’re just kids.” Alya felt tears race down her cheeks as she saw her boyfriend break yet again, his cheeks wet with his tears, his voice choked with his guilt.

“I know. I just...I just want her back. I want everything back. I don’t know how many times we have to apologize to the school, but they’re not even the ones that need to hear the apologies! The one we need to have hear us isn’t here and…” Alya could feel herself breaking but she tried to hold on. Nino needed her to be strong. Her class needed her to be strong. Her family needed her to be strong.

“I can’t take the stares! Or, or hear Rose’s cries that she tries to hide from us. Mylene hasn’t been eating and I know she thinks we don’t notice and Adrien, god Adrien. I’m trying to hold it together because my bro is falling apart at the seams! First Marinette gets...gets fucking akumatized, then his dad and Nathalie get taken to the hospital from some supposedly random attack but it’s pretty obvious it was Mar-the akuma’s doing, his mom freaking pops out of nowhere but of course that can’t just be a good thing because everyone has to talk about how his dad and Nathalie were probably Hawkmoth and Mayura! And I’m over here trying not to think too much about all that because it makes actually too much sense, but then we find out that Marinette was most likely Ladybug! LADYBUG!” He lamented, not bothering to hide the fact he was crying, more like sobbing. It just made Alya cry more.

“I...I wanted the truth for so long, but not like this. Not like this. I...I know this makes me sound like the worst person on the planet but I kind of wish stupid Gabriel Agreste wasn’t Hawkmoth because then I could be akumatized and maybe I could be some kind of time-travelling akuma and we could go back and fix everything and school wouldn’t be hell and the twins wouldn’t act like they had to walk on eggshells around me all the time and my dad wouldn’t look like he’s always so disappointed in me and my mom wouldn’t look at my with only pity in her eyes and Nora would talk to me and Marinette would be back!” Alya sobbed out. At this point her and Nino had moved from their seats to the kitchen floor and were huddled together hugging each other for comfort.

The two just sat there soaking up whatever comfort they could and dreaded the time that passed. For each minute that passed, was a minute that brought them closer to having to go back to school. Alya didn’t know if she had the strength to go back and deal with everything, she didn’t know if Nino could handle it either, but she knew her mother would be by any minute to give them a lift back to school. If there was a way she could just finish school online, Alya was willing to do it, but her father wouldn’t ever allow it. He had put his foot down, Otis Césaire was mad, then he was disappointed and he thought it only fair that Alya face her peers and continue on at Françoise Dupont. It didn’t feel fair, it didn’t feel fair at all, it felt like punishment. Hadn’t she been punished enough? Even in sleep she wasn’t safe, all she dreamed of was Lila and her making her act like a puppet. She would see puppet her do all these things to Marinette and she would wake up in sweat and tears.

“Okay I’m here, I hope you two are ready to head ba-” Alya looked up to see her mom standing there staring at her and Nino, her mouth agape. “Oh Alya...Nino...How about I call the school and tell them you’re not feeling good? And I’ll call your parents Nino.”

Alya was going to respond, she really was, but when she opened her mouth nothing came out but a choked off cry and nod. Nino nodded as well as he took in a shaky breath. “Th-Thanks, Mme C.”

“Nino, you know I told you to call me Marlena. Now you two go rest in Alya’s room while I make those calls. Then maybe I can get the rest of the day off and-”

“No manman. Things...things are already bad enough, don’t make it worse by not going back to work. I don’t...I don’t want to be the reason why you get fired.” Alya mumbled as she and Nino got up off the floor.

“Oh...Oh my little one, that won’t happen. And if it did, not because of you. Never. Don’t you think that.” Alya’s mother breathed out as she pulled her daughter into a hug before taking her daughter’s face in her hands and doing her best to wipe her tears.

“Papa and Nora would! Nora still won’t talk to me and Papa only looks at me like he’s disappointed he ever had me!” Alya cried out before she could stop the words from coming out. Her mind completely forgot that Nino was standing right beside her until she felt him hold her hand and give it a squeeze.

“Your Papa is just being stubborn, but you listen to me, he could never ever be disappointed in having you. You are our daughter. You made a mistake yes, but I know you know you made a mistake and that you are sorry. Your Papa will realize that. He just needs time. And Nora...she just needs time too. I just think she doesn’t know how to handle everything and that she’s mad that she couldn’t protect you sweetie. She’s always been the protective older sister, and this was something she couldn’t protect you from herself. They’ll come around. I’m sure.”

“If you’re sure manman…”

“I am. Now you kids go relax. I’m going to take the rest of the day off and go to the store for dinner ingredients, I’ll be back soon. I know things are hard my little Melusine but they won’t always be like this.” With a kiss to her forehead and a swift hug to Nino, Alya’s mom left the two teens in the family apartment.

At first they just stood there in silence and sniffles, but Nino made the move to put their plates in the sink and rinse them out while Alya gathered their schoolwork back into their bookbags. Then they made their way to Alya’s room and kicked off their shoes before sitting on the bed. Nino nudged Alya who looked at him in confusion until she saw him give her a crooked smile and open his arms which she fell easily into. She took off her glasses and placed them on her bedside table while she felt more than saw Nino take off his cap. For a while they just sat there in the quiet of the moment and Alya was content to do just that, to just have a moment of peace, but she slowly pushed away and reached for her remote to turn on the TV and quickly pulled up Netflix. Her mom wanted them to relax so why not fry their brains with some television.

“Anything in particular you want to watch?” She asked as she settled back against Nino.

“As long as it has nothing to do with school or superheroes...I’m good.” Nino responded with a hollow chuckle.

“I’m glad we don’t have to go back too…” She murmured, “Should we...tell the others?”

“Probably. But if I’m being honest I don’t really feel like talking to them and them asking how we are and if we’re okay when they know we’re not. I just. I don’t think I could handle that. Not today.”

“I get it. Sometimes I feel like everyone else even blames me for what happened. Like... Like it was my responsibility to not fall for the lies and to warn them. Like my word would have made a difference! Mari...Marinette’s didn’t so why would mine?” Alya huffed as she scrolled through all the movie and show choices and tried her best not to cry again.

“If they blame you then they need to blame me too and blame the people in the mirror. We all fell for the lies. Sure you’re the budding reporter, but the blame could just as easily be pushed onto Max who is so smart he created a living AI. But we have no one to be mad at but ourselves and we can only do that for so long.” Nino sighed as he held her closer and kissed her temple. Alya relished in the warmth of it all.

“When did you get so wise?” Alya teased softly.

“When I decided to rewatch Star Wars. But no seriously. If anyone in class bothers you please tell me because we should be sticking together not at each other’s throats.” Nino stuck out one hand and Alya slid her hand into his.

“Cross my heart and hope to die. I will. And you’re right, we do need each other, especially now, especially at that school.”

“Especially at that school, yeah.” He laughed out. “We’re going to get through this. I don’t know how, but, we are and we’re going to do it together.”

Alya smiled wryly before she looked up at Nino and it slipped into a real small smile. “Together.” She agreed softly.

Last Chapter Next Chapter

l'école primaire - elementaryschool

manman - Haitian Creole for Mother

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir #ml salt #ml salt fic #alya cesaire #marlena cesaire #etta and ella cesaire #nora cesaire #otis cesaire #nino lahiffe #djwifi #ml class salt #lila rossi salt #akuma class #revolt of the akuma #they are kids and they made a mistake #others need to recognize that as well #goggles commission

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moonbeamsung · 4 years

Text

Winter Nights & City Lights

Because nothing says ‘Christmas’ like spending the big day (and not to mention the whole holiday season) in the Big Apple living with your high school friend-turned-roommate, Mark Lee.

member: mark (featuring johnny)

au: roommate!mark x gn!reader, college roommate au, christmas au, ‘the gift of the magi’ au/inspired

word count: 9.5k

genre: fluff, angst, slice of life

warnings: profanity, underage drinking, hangovers, insecurities, mentions of food and drink, money issues, embarrassing moments

author’s note: This fic is close to becoming my favorite that I’ve ever written. It’s also almost twice as long as I planned, not to mention that tumblr crashed right as I tried to post it so here I am, two hours later. Overall I had a blast writing it and I hope you enjoy reading it! Please let me know what you think, too! :,) Happy holidays! <3

taglist: @astroboy-lele @kisshim @radiorenjun

network tags: @kpopscape @neo-constellations @starryktown @culture-cafe @dreamlab-nct

“That parade was so cool! I mean, did you see the size of all those balloons? They were huge! I’ve never seen so many people all in one place before,” Mark chatters away like an excited child as you navigate through the crowd that always seems to grow bigger year after year, gathered along the curbs of the New York streets to watch the famed Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.

“How are you not more excited about this?” He questions, and you stifle an amused giggle. “I’ve lived in the city for over a year, Mark. I’ve seen a thing or two.”

“Oh, right. I knew that.” The cold air only accentuates the blush on his face as he remembers that particular detail about you. It isn’t often that it’s demonstrated, however, considering you spend so much time cooped up inside of your shared apartment cramming in university work and studying. There are hardly any opportunities during the year to take in the sights of the concrete jungle you live in the very heart of, but luckily, one of your long-awaited breaks is coming up soon.

Thoughts of Christmas vacation are the only things keeping you going, along with countless cups of steaming hot coffee, as you prepare for exams in just a few weeks, weeks that seem to go by in a flurry of snow.

There’s less than three days left until your first one, but you’re nothing short of drained after pulling so many all-nighters, and you need a break. A breath of fresh air seems like just the cure for your burnout, so you slam your textbook shut and lethargically drag yourself off of the soft comforter you’ve been sitting on for the past two hours. You grimace at the deep imprint left behind.

Trudging through the living area, you knock softly on Mark’s bedroom door. A tired “Come in” sounds from the other side, and you push it open, immediately noticing his disheveled state. Eyes heavy with fatigue and lacking their usual sparkle of youthful innocence, he blinks back at you, “What’s up?”

“You look like you need a break just as much as I do,” you insist. His already-open mouth widens a bit more, “But... our first exam is on Monday, we can’t just—”

“Mark, come on, you’re one of the smartest people in our class. If anyone’s going to pass, it’s you.”

He huffs, “Maybe you have a point.”

“I do have a point, and you know it. A little walk in the park never hurt anyone, right?”

Mark rubs his eyes with the back of his hand, fingers raking through his dark locks before he musters up enough strength to push himself off of his bed and into a standing position.

“I’ll get my jacket.”

Central Park is a sight to behold on its own all year round, but something about the Christmas season makes it even more magical. You and Mark step at the same pace, your paths lined by metal benches blanketed in fresh snow. Even through the many layers of warmth you’re both wearing, the chilly air still nips at your skin. It’s Mark’s first time experiencing the holidays in New York City, and you’re determined to show him everything this real-life winter wonderland has to offer.

The story of how you two came to be roommates in the first place is an extremely lucky one. You met in high school, and had been part of the same group of friends along with six younger boys. Both Canadian, you’d been hoping to get into the same New York college since what felt like forever. The day that you received your acceptance letters in the mail was full of joy and celebration, but not even a week later, Mark got an unexpected scholarship to a local but prestigious university not far from where you lived that he simply couldn’t pass up.

Parting ways after graduation, you had thought you might never see each other again until you got a call from him. It was the day after your last exam of the spring semester in college and you were sitting on your two-person couch, feeling rather lonely. The number seemed too familiar, too good to be true, and scrambling to pick up the phone as it blared throughout your fairly small apartment, you answered with a shaky voice. Mark’s recognizable tone met your ears, and a wide smile met your face. Though he couldn’t see it, he could hear the happiness in your words.

As it turned out, his college had given him the opportunity to transfer to yours for the remainder of his four years, as their programs were closely linked and on similar levels. Graciously, he had accepted, and wanted you to be the first to know.

“So, uh... are you living with anyone?”

The question he dreaded asking more than anything else. Call him cliché, but he had the biggest crush on you in high school, much to his dismay and to the rest of his friends’ excitement. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to like you, but he feared that college could tear a potential relationship apart, regardless of whether or not you went to the same one.

As a result of this, he had never acted on his emotions. But he’s older now, and wiser, which leads him to believe that maybe it wouldn’t be so hard to maintain one, should he ever gain enough courage to ask you out.

“No, actually, I have my own apartment.”

Silence.

“...Are you looking for somewhere to stay?”

“Yes! Yes,” he replied a little too quickly, eager to accept what would hopefully be an invitation from you. He wasn’t disappointed.

“Well, my place isn’t the biggest, but you can live with me if you want to. Plus, we could split the rent between us!”

You’ve always liked Mark. He’s hardworking, kind, and humble, maybe a little too much of all these things for his own good. Even back in high school, you spent endless nights and very early mornings on the phone with him, trying to convince him to go to bed after he refused to stop studying. To reassure him that he did the right thing by ending that friendship, or to insist that he tell the teacher no one worked on the group project, so he did everything himself. You’ve been his shoulder to cry on for years, you’ve seen a side of him that he’s never been brave enough to show anyone else because they expect so much of him.

Mark knows he’s blessed to have had a picture-perfect childhood, a good family, and an education that was rigorous yet rewarding enough to prepare him for his next chapter in life. The pressures that came with being so lucky just got to him sometimes, and they made four years of high school seem more like fourteen.

You, on the other hand, didn’t quite have all the same luxuries that he did, but you still managed. He’s been there for you plenty of times, too. In your opinion, though, he’s the much more vulnerable one of the two of you, mainly to his cumbersome insecurities and shortcomings, however rare those shortcomings may be.

So in your mind, Mark Lee deserves the entire world and then some. The least you can do is share your apartment with him, either until he finds what you’re sure would be a much more desirable place to live, or if he wants to stay with you indefinitely.

What you don’t realize, and will eventually struggle to admit to yourself, is that your admiration for his perseverance and endless generosity is teetering rather precariously on the edge of blossoming into something more than just platonic.

“Sounds good, then. Thanks so much!” He had exclaimed, the sound of his pure excitement and gratefulness bringing a wave of heat to your face, and you were glad he wasn’t there in front of you to see it.

You talked a little bit more for the next few minutes, catching up and enjoying a lighthearted conversation about what you had both been up to. These sessions on the phone began to occur more and more frequently, turning into weekly, and soon daily, affairs. Mark planned to move in a couple weeks before school started again, giving himself some time to settle in and adapt to urban life in general. The calls became a highlight of your summer vacation, and every day without fail, you found yourself waiting to hear the unique ringtone you had set his contact to.

Less than twelve hours before Mark was scheduled to arrive at New York’s largest airport, you were on the phone with him just like always. The clock in your apartment chimed eleven o’clock, and as reluctant as you were to hang up, you knew you should turn in for the night. After all, the sooner you went to sleep, the sooner the morning would come. The morning you would meet him at the airport.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow?” His voice was hopeful. Slightly unsteady, but hopeful all the same.

“I guess so. What time does your plane land, again?” You confirmed the time you had scribbled down onto a neon yellow sticky note a few days earlier as he repeated the short string of numbers, nodding to no one in particular. Why did you feel so nervous? It’s just Mark, you had told yourself.

“Have a safe flight!”

He bade you goodnight in return, accidentally throwing in a “sweet dreams” before he could stop himself. When you put your phones down, you were both too busy trying to calm your racing pulses, however, so it didn’t matter. Mark collapsed onto his bed, hand bumping his duffel bag and heaving a sigh. You sank down into the couch cushion, closing your eyes and leaning your head against the back of the furniture. Neither of you could find the strength to stand in those moments, scared that your legs would give in from the unsteadiness of your nerves, your hearts, your emotions.

A singular worry occupied both of your minds from that point on until you greeted him in the JFK airport terminal the next morning, shy smiles on your faces: is it dangerous to enter into the impending situation of living together? Are you really ready to be in such constant close proximity to the object of your affections, however oblivious you might be to them?

Before his brain could talk his heart out of it, Mark had wrapped you in a tight hug, extra thankful for the welcome since you were all he had here, in the city. You wouldn’t have missed his arrival for the world, and you told him so. You also wouldn’t have missed the chance to make him flush a deep but adorable shade of red, reaching from his rounded cheeks all the way to the tips of his ears.

In your long-term rental car, you drove him back to your apartment, enjoying the quiet sounds of surprise and amazement that spilled from his lips, generated by the city’s sights. As you passed underneath towering skyscrapers, navigated bustling avenues, and caught glimpses of world-renowned landmarks that you both had seen only in the movies when you were younger, you just knew Mark’s eyes held their signature sparkle, despite your inability to see the dark brown orbs glimmer with wonder. You kept yours on the road ahead.

His first day was spent unpacking his suitcases and bags full of possessions, one of which was his most prized: an acoustic guitar.

It had been a gift from his parents when he finished the eighth grade, and all throughout high school, he had turned to music as an escape whenever he needed it. As any new musician does, Mark had played around with chords, experimenting and seeing what sounded good, and before you knew it he had composed a song. Another one followed, then another, and by the end of his freshman year he had written enough to fill an entire album if he so wished.

The guitar had heard every note, every lyric, carried every melody from his heart into the world. It had grown to be a part of him, a worldly sliver of his soul in the form of a simple musical instrument that could convey every hope and every dream, every concern or every frustration. Every love confession. Though that wasn’t saying much, since he only had eyes for you. You didn’t know it, but one of those songs was about you. For you.

You and Mark’s circle of friends tried to set you two up one day in the school’s band room after hours, with the excuse that the second-youngest of the group, Chenle, had forgotten his piano sheet music in there. They sent you to retrieve it, which you only agreed to do after being persuaded by the boy’s intimidating but still lovable pout.

With no sheet music in sight, your eyes landed instead on a diligent Mark that appeared to be the only sign of life in the room, plucking away at the strings as the sun set outside. You had sat with him for a while, neglecting your task and listening to him strum gracefully, softly murmuring lyrics that sounded like your name at one point. You didn’t think much of it, though, not making the connection behind the rest of the words coming out of his mouth and accompanying the chords. His love song was left unacknowledged by the subject of it themselves, and that was both the first and last time he ever attempted to confess to you.

He wondered if now that you were sharing an apartment, he would let something slip by accident. What would he do then?

University had other plans, though, and his fears were temporarily relieved. So fortunately and unfortunately, you were so occupied with schoolwork that trying to balance dating, or even mere thoughts of doing so, with all of your other responsibilities would have been exhausting, not to mention impossible.

Snapping out of your memory-induced daze, you realize that you nearly wandered off the path into a deep snowbank, only aware of this fact because Mark catches you by the wrist and pulls you back toward him to walk at his side. His fingers stay curled around your forearm as you approach a famous bridge, stepping to the side and gazing down at the icy waters below, calm and rippling with the chilly breeze.

“What do you want for Christmas?”

You honestly haven’t thought about it yet, so you can’t give Mark a definite answer. The same goes for him, both of you leaning against the brick railing in a comfortable silence.

In Mark’s mind though, he knows what he wants to give you: something to complement your own equivalent of his guitar, a large collection of handwritten letters and notes from your childhood and school days. Sentimental by nature, you had saved every colorful post-it note one of your friends would slip through the narrow slats of your locker, every birthday card received over the years, every thoughtful postcard from someone’s vacation.

Your favorites are undoubtedly the always-awkward Christmas cards that your friends’ families consistently mail out each December, by far the most humorous parts of your growing collection. You always found yourself chuckling at the pictures displayed on the front. Eyes bright with mirth, you would observe their forced smiles and arms slung carelessly over siblings’ shoulders, their eyes flickering between the camera and something going on behind it, probably the family pet getting into trouble across the yard. You pitied the photographers, surely beyond frustrated as they would try to get everyone to stand still for more than five measly seconds. Mouths were clamped shut and for a brief moment, the air was void of complaints of how itchy someone’s sweater was.

Then the camera would snap, capturing an image that was simply “good enough.” They’d plaster it on the card and in a few days, it would magically appear in the mailboxes of relatives and close friends. Grandparents would overlook the uncomfortable expressions and focus instead on how fast the kids were growing up. You didn’t blame them. Even in four years’ worth of cards, so much could change. In between fits of laughter, you’d stare in awe at the way your friends grew into their features, only becoming more handsome with time and some growing so tall that they even towered over their fathers. You always kept the letters they included, too, detailing the highlights of the year that was soon to come to an end by the time they dropped it into a nearby mailbox.

And like he could read your mind, Mark makes an offhand comment right then and there. “My folks texted me the other day to ask for our address. You know, for the Christmas card.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “Shame I couldn’t be there for the family photos this year.”

“Is it really a shame, though?” You prod, tilting your head a bit at the boy. “You always told me you couldn’t stand waiting around for the so-called ‘right lighting’ and all that.”

“Well, I couldn’t, but now that I’m not there I wish I could go back to those days. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, you know?”

“Right,” you sigh, thinking about how the same saying could easily apply to the way you felt about Mark all throughout your first year of university.

You have a box, made of a dark mahogany wood and lined with elegant golden trim, where you keep all of these letters, these handwritten memories and souvenirs from some of the happiest moments in your life. A gift from a past Christmas, your family had your initials engraved onto the front in a loopy cursive font, making it truly unique and utterly irreplaceable. And, you’ll soon come to realize, valuable.

Mark remembers it well, remembers the many times you’ve shown him its contents, remembers how his eyes sometimes land on the delicate container resting beneath the windowsill in your room, sunlight catching the accents. He knows how much those letters mean to you, and he also knows how much you love returning the favor.

That’s why he wants to give you the tools you need to do just that, and to do it well.

You’ve always been one for writing thank-you notes for any and every gift you receive, your parents having ingrained the habit in you since you were very young. Slowly, crayons turned into pencils and lead became ink. To this day you remain unfazed by the increasing amount of yellowing papers residing in the letter box, but the words imprinted on them never quite fade, strong enough to withstand the test of time.

Too many times in high school Mark would find you, hunched over your dining room table in frustration with a stack of letters beside your arm that you deemed “failed” because your handwriting was bad, or something of the sort. Usually it was the other way around, him being the one in need of comfort, but on those days your roles were reversed.

He had always wondered why you didn’t have fancier supplies that were more suited to your task, but he supposes now that maybe it simply wasn’t an option for you and your family. So a stationery set seems like the perfect gift for you this year.

On a similar note, you’ve already decided what you’re getting him: a guitar case. You happened upon a sleek leather one while browsing the website of a popular music store, coincidentally with a location not too far from your apartment.

Now it’s no longer a question of what to get the other, but how. As university students living on your own, money is scarce. Unknowingly, you both contemplate this concern as you walk side by side, returning to the start of the path that you set out on at least a half hour ago.

This stroll of yours was supposed to clear your minds, but why are they racing even more than before?

There’s no time to worry now, though, and for the next week, your thoughts are forced to shift back to the topic of school and midterms and all your academic endeavors.

Your exam week is over before you know it, and the two of you return to your apartment after the last one only to collapse onto your respective beds, beyond exhausted.

The dreary Friday afternoon clearly calls for a nap, but unbeknownst to you, Mark decides to seize the opportunity that has so conveniently presented itself to him: a chance for him to go out and buy your gift without suspicion. He drops his backpack on the carpet next to his dresser and sighs, wondering if what he’s about to do will be worth it. But it’s you, of course it’ll be worth it.

Thus, his next move is done with a heavy heart. He’s been forced by a lack of funds to come to a decision about your gift, and a difficult one at that. The only thing he can think of doing to even come close to affording a nice stationery set is to sell some things in exchange for cash. Namely, the most valuable item he owns: his beloved guitar. He doesn’t really want to, but deep down he knows that a true friendship warrants the occasional sacrifice. He’s done some research on a nearby pawn shop, and however sketchy those kinds of places may seem, it’s his only feasible option at the moment, with just a week left until Christmas Day.

After making sure you’re fast asleep, he not-so-stealthily slips out of your shared flat, his actions far from silent but even so, you don’t wake up. Mark winces at the unintended high volume of pulling the front door shut behind him, sticking his hand into his jeans pocket and relaxing when he feels his keys at the bottom of the fabric compartment. Guitar strung over his shoulder by the flimsy, fraying strap, he sets off.

With his phone in hand and directions to the pawn shop displayed on the screen, he strides through the lobby of the apartment building and pushes the revolving door, stepping onto the busy sidewalk and into the cold winter air. Shoppers crowd the pavement with hands full of department store tote bags, crinkling loudly as they pass by one another. Shoulders knock together and heels click against the concrete, just some of the many sounds of the city that Mark is still growing used to hearing.

A few blocks and several wrong turns later, he finds himself on a quieter street, standing in front of the shop. It’s dimly lit inside and looks almost abandoned, the letters painted on the window chipped and faded from the wear and weather of past years. A soft bell rings when he lets himself in, searching for some sort of employee.

From behind a cluttered shelf a tall man emerges, the shabby name tag pinned to his vest reading “Johnny.” Well, he’s not some shifty-eyed, balding man wearing a muscle shirt stained with grease. New York continues to be full of surprises.

His dark hair looks neat, the jacket he’s wearing free of any wrinkles and face young but chiseled, high cheekbones prominent.

“How can I help you today?” Johnny booms, stepping behind the counter and absentmindedly sifting through some loose change in bottom of the cash register.

Mark gulps, “I’d like to sell something.” Still not entirely sure he wants to do this, he instinctively tugs on the strap resting atop the fabric of his wool jacket.

“Well, you’ve come to the right place,” Johnny assures with a small laugh. “What did you have in mind?”

Taking a deep breath, Mark slides the guitar off his shoulder and holds it near his chest for a moment, before extending his arms out towards the counter.

“A guitar, huh? We don’t see many of these,” the tall man comments. “Are you sure? It seems pretty valuable to you in more ways than one.”

Mark’s fingertips trace the strings for the last time and he decides to just get it over with, before he can change his mind. His hands are shaky as he gently places the instrument down on the counter in front of Johnny, taking a step back once he’s done so. “I don’t have much of a choice. I need the money to buy a gift for my… uh, my friend.”

Johnny raises an eyebrow, “Just a friend? Or a special someone?”

“They are special,” Mark confirms, noncommittal to either title that Johnny suggested.

“They must be if you’re willing to give up something like this for them. Okay, that’ll be…”

Johnny tells him what the guitar is worth, matching the amount with a stack of cash and a few old coins, rusty but still holding their value.

Despite the pain of letting something so meaningful go, a bit of joy creeps into Mark’s heart as he realizes that now he can give you a gift that will hopefully become just as meaningful to you as his guitar was to him.

He thanks Johnny and bids him goodbye, step lighter than when he entered, much to his surprise.

It’s the next day when you and Mark find yourselves getting into the Christmas spirit for the first time this season. After he had returned yesterday, you were still out cold on your bed, so he chose to follow your example and do the same. The both of you had slept the rest of the day and almost the entirety of the following morning away, waking up just before noon.

With a sudden burst of energy you spring up from the sheets, overtaken by your excitement for the nearing holiday as you dig out the artificial Christmas tree you had bought last year from your closet. Sure, it may seem lazy of you, but let’s face it: there was no easy way to find a real one in New York City, let alone lug it down the streets, through an elevator and down a narrow hallway to a door it wouldn’t even fit through.

Mark hears the loud rustling of various decorations as he begins to stir, leisurely getting out of bed and checking one of his dresser drawers to make sure he hadn’t merely dreamed up his shopping adventure of the previous evening. There the stationery set sits, tucked safely at the back of the wooden cabinet.

The bookstore he stopped at on his way back last night had many different options to choose from, so he made sure to get one that both matched your box of letters and reminded him of you, with its color scheme and style. A surge of pride brings a smile to his features, pleased with his choice, and he pushes the drawer shut before joining you in the living area.

Your knees brush as he sits down next to you to help unpack the large but manageable box, taking out the tiers of the tree to eventually stack on top of one another. Working more quickly than usual (and probably necessary, there are six days left after all), you assign Mark to stringing the lights across your small balcony while you finish setting up the tree. You knew you shouldn’t have let him do it alone, though, because when you look over at his progress you find more lights wrapped around his body than the metal railing.

“Do you need a hand?” You question, holding back a laugh at the way the cord restricts his arm movements to the point where he can’t even reach for the handle on the sliding door.

From outside he opens his mouth to reply, but pauses, looking down at himself and the mess he’s made of the lights before meeting your eyes once more. His voice is muffled by the glass, but you hear him shout playfully, “I’m the tree now! We don’t need that one.” He tries to gesture to the one you’re currently decorating, but fails, and this time you aren’t able to contain your amusement.

“Let me help you,” you offer, joining him on the balcony and helping him untangle himself from the glowing strands. “Thanks,” Mark replies, sheepishly rubbing at the back of his neck. With your combined efforts, you manage to thread the string of lights through the railing with little to no mishaps, and both of you continue decking out the apartment with other seasonal items for the next several hours.

At some point during the afternoon one of you decided to connect their phone to a speaker and play some music, all Christmas songs of course. As the classic version of “Jingle Bell Rock” begins to blare throughout the living room, Mark abandons his task momentarily to walk over to you. He extends a hand down to you, sitting on the floor, and you accept the invitation to stand up with a questioning look.

“Dance with me?”

It’s hardly a platonic request, Mark realizes once the words leave his lips, but even so you don’t shy away, glancing down at your feet with a slight trace of bashfulness in the action.

He intertwines your fingers somewhat loosely, placing his non-dominant hand on your waist and beginning to sway, slowly at first but then his movements become more exaggerated, shoulders tilting dramatically to one side after the other and straying from the rhythm of the music. You join Mark in drawing out the jesting movements, losing yourself in laughter and leaning forward to bury your face in his shoulder, the heat of your breath hitting his skin through the thin t-shirt he’s wearing. In one last attempt to keep the joyful smile on your face, he steps back a bit and holds your wrist above your head to twirl you in a circle.

The electric guitar in the song fades as you collapse onto the carpet, recovering from your fit of giggles. The sun has begun to sink in the sky, you can tell by the gold and orange glow that your apartment becomes bathed in as it sets, inching closer to the horizon and eventually becoming hidden by tall skyscrapers in the distance.

Satisfied with your progress so far, you both decide to call it a day, though in truth there aren’t many decorations left to put out. A few stray ornaments and some garlands remain, still packed up in boxes that you would need help reaching. You’re also eager to get your mind off of the way your heart was palpitating as you danced with Mark, your roommate and friend but nothing more, nothing less. You have enough to worry about at the moment, not wanting to add potential feelings for the boy into the mix. Shit, you think, you still need to buy his gift.

“What should we watch?” Mark asks, scrolling through the list of movie choices on the TV screen.

“I don’t really care, anything’s fine.”

His finger presses a button on the remote to select a film at random, the intro playing as you scan the refrigerator shelves for a frozen meal. Hopefully it’s not one of those cheesy holiday romances.

Settling down on the couch a few minutes later, you with the warmed-up container in your lap and Mark holding a cup of ramen noodles, both of you fall into a comfortable chatter about the movie. Thank god it’s a comedy.

Occasionally you find yourself diverting your attention from the harsh display and directing it over to the panes of floor-to-ceiling windows, where you watch more and more lights flicker on in the distance, illuminating the urban landscape as night falls. The view is breathtaking, but so is the way your face softly glows with their warmth, even from blocks away. Not that Mark would ever tell you that, of course.

“I’m going out!” Mark hears shuffling from outside his bedroom the next morning, your voice instantly bringing him to his senses. Curious, he shoots out of bed and flings the door open to find you, one arm stuck through the sleeve of your coat and the other buried in a bag, but it’s not the one you usually bring when you leave the flat. Eyes wide and panicked at the boy’s unexpected appearance, you clutch it to your chest with a visible amount of difficulty, Mark notices.

“Where are you off to?” He squints at the brightness of the living room, the early morning light pouring in through the glass on the far wall.

“...Maybe I can’t tell you,” you respond with a huff, slinging the heavy bag over your shoulder and pulling the rest of your coat on.

“What do you mean, you can’t—oh.”

“Nice going, genius,” you shake your head, feigning disappointment. “It’s not like it’s Christmas this week or anything.”

“My bad, sorry.” Mark winces and rakes a hand through his bedhead, abashed.

“I’ll be back soon, okay?”

With that, you step into the hallway and offer a parting smile over your shoulder, shutting the front door behind you.

At least your being out of the apartment gives Mark time to wrap your gift. All he has to do is figure out how.

Johnny gets a familiar feeling when he sees you enter the pawn shop, fumbling with your things and reluctantly gazing at whatever’s in the tote you’re holding. Are you also about to make an exchange you could potentially regret?

“One second,” you excuse yourself as you step up to the counter, placing the heavy bag down and removing the large item from inside: your letter box, minus its contents. Of course you would never get rid of those, but despite the letters and notes being so special to you, the box they were always kept in is also a significant part of your attachment and the memories you hold dear.

With a thud you set it down, Johnny glancing between the hesitation on your face and the wooden container on the counter in front of him. “Let me guess, you want to exchange this for cash?”

“Yes, sir, that’s exactly what I—” You pause, biting your tongue. “Hold on… Look, I know this is a pawn shop and that’s what people do here, but how are you so sure?”

Johnny’s gut tells him he shouldn’t give away the fact that a boy wearing the very same expression and with the same sense of purpose and determination was in here just two days earlier. So he corrects his mistake with a simple “Lucky guess” and a hearty chuckle.

Without Johnny even asking, you tell him that you’re also looking for some extra cash in order to afford a gift for your “friend,” and you say the word with so much conviction and certainty that it’s almost laughable. The information given to Johnny helps him fully connect the dots in his mind, realizing that each of you are the one the other talked about.

Before handing you the money, Johnny tears off a sheet of paper from a nearby notepad and asks you to fill out your information, most importantly your address. He has to lie a bit, saying it’s for contact purposes, but his heart is in the right place nonetheless. Just in case something goes south (and the sinking feeling in his stomach tells him that it will somehow), doing so gives him an option, even if he doesn’t know what that option might be yet.

“Thank you, Johnny, and Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas!” He returns your wish cheerfully as you push the door open to leave.

“Good luck finding a gift for your ‘friend,’ too.”

You feel heat rise to your cheeks when you see his teasing use of air quotes, but still smile.

On your way back to the apartment Mark texts you and asks you to check the mail, saying he forgot to do so yesterday. When you arrive in the lobby and make your way over to the cluster of mailboxes, you’re instantly shocked to find a large cardboard box shoved into the small cubby with your and Mark’s name on it. You’re already struggling to carry the guitar case you bought for him, so you decide to make a second trip later.

A few moments after stepping out of the elevator, you knock on the door to your apartment, hoping with all your might that Mark won’t actually open it and instead just answer with a “Come in” as he always does. Your wish is, thankfully, granted, but it’s quickly followed by “Wait, wait, wait!” As it happens, he just finished wrapping your gift and needs another minute or two to tuck it away somewhere until the big day arrives. “Can you stay out there until I say?”

“Sure,” you reply, “but I’m going to have to ask you to do the same.”

“How about I stay in my room while you come in and do… whatever you need to?”

“Sounds good.”

With his door closed, Mark hears the front one open and shut as you enter. Trying not to make any noise that would give away the size of the item you just bought, you finally settle for hiding the leather case underneath your bed, concealed by the drapery attached to its frame that hovers just above the floor.

Mark had hastily placed the now-wrapped (though not elegantly so) stationery set back into his dresser, so he’s already out of his room by the time you leave yours. “Any letters or packages?” He questions when he sees you.

“Oh, right!” You snap your fingers, “We do have a package but my hands were full, so I’ll bring it up right now.”

“Eggnog?”

While the box had looked fairly ordinary from the outside, upon opening it and glancing at the return address you learned it was actually anything but that. Mark’s and your parents had sent a holiday care package of sorts, including both of your families’ Christmas cards and a carton of eggnog, along with some small gifts that are meant to be saved for the morning of the 25th. Also mixed in are a few small decorations (not that you need more), some baking supplies complete with a copy of the recipe for the cookies you make every year, and a soft pair of mittens for each of you. He hopes you don’t realize that one of the items is a sprig of mistletoe.

“You don’t like eggnog?” You ask, stunned. Mark shrugs, “I don’t really care for milk but it’s the thought that counts, I guess.”

That evening you and Mark take another stroll, this time choosing to stay on the streets and admire the festively adorned buildings and shops as you pass by them. Admiring Christmas lights at this time of year is nothing new to you and Mark. In fact, when you lived in Canada you would do the same thing. The only difference is that back then, it involved driving through quiet suburban neighborhoods and not ambling through crowded city streets and alleyways on foot.

Snowflakes begin to cascade from the heavens as you make your way back around to the block where you live. Mark sticks his tongue out to catch one of the small crystals, and it immediately melts in his mouth, eliciting a high-pitched laugh from the boy. Snow is also something you both are more than used to by now, having grown up with white Christmases all your lives. It makes you wonder if the holiday season would be the same without it.

“You know what we should do?” Mark turns to you just as you’re about to enter the apartment building again. “Go ice skating at Rockefeller Center.”

“Mark, c’mon, you know stuff like that is overpriced. And besides, I can’t skate to save my life. Remember—”

“That time in sophomore year? You bet I do,” he laughs as he remembers how you clumsily fell not even two seconds after stepping onto the ice with your skates, and then refused to let go of the railing for the rest of the day. The elevator whirs to life, climbing floor after floor with ease.

“Hey,” you offer, “we can still go and watch people skate, I’m sure there’s some place to sit.”

“And we can look at the Christmas tree, too,” Mark adds, eyes brightening at the idea.

“Right. I forget you haven’t seen it in person before.” The cabin doors open with a ding and you step out, your eyes landing on the door to your apartment a few yards away.

When you turn on the TV, Mark becomes mesmerized by the movie that’s playing, since it takes place in NYC and he recognizes so many places from actually being there. He scrambles to remove his jacket and beanie, plopping down onto the couch once they’re safely hooked on the coat rack.

Watching him, you sigh. Would anything really change if you were dating? Assuming your feelings were returned, of course, but you can’t imagine that your relationship would differ much. You certainly wouldn’t go on extravagant dates, or buy expensive gifts for each other, but that’s not what love is about, anyway. With the exception of a few extra hugs and the addition of kisses, along with more forms of physical affection in general (actually, scratch that, Mark’s always been awkward with those kinds of things), you’d still be by each other’s side just like always.

As you sit down next to him and feel an arm wrap around your shoulder, you don’t shrug it off, instead embracing the warm and fuzzy feeling in your heart that you can’t blame on the holiday season this time.

Mark’s glad, too. He’s been working up the courage to do that all day.

Late that night, you quietly tiptoe into the living area, retrieving an old box from your move-in last year that will fit his gift perfectly, and won’t give away what’s inside. Your hands fold and tape the wrapping paper with care, tying a neat ribbon once you’re done. Sure, you had to give up something that meant a lot to you in order to afford Mark’s present, but the gains outweigh the losses. You find comfort in imagining the way his face will surely light up with pure joy on Christmas morning, drifting off to sleep with ease once you’ve hidden the rectangular parcel back underneath your bed.

A few days pass and soon it’s the 23rd, and you join Mark at the railing of the ice rink, of course on the side with solid ground. “Ice is solid ground,” Mark had corrected, but you stood firm in your words. “More like slippery ground, if you ask me.”

Luckily you had been allowed to stand here for free, because god only knows what small, simple thing someone would be charged for in New York. It’s happened to you before, and you’re not even a tourist.

Mark’s dark eyes gaze up at the 75-foot-tall tree in wonder, pupils dilating and reflecting the tens of thousands of bright lights strung through the dark green branches. They seem to sparkle with sheer amazement. Just then someone skates a little too close to the section of railing you’re leaning on, startling Mark out of his LED-induced daze and putting the most adorable look of surprise on his face.

His focus shifts to the people on the ice, wearing sweaters and jackets of every color imaginable, and the sight is still as beautiful as the looming Christmas tree above. He notices some couples, holding onto one another or skating hand-in-hand, and it makes him wonder if that could be you two someday, at a future Christmas, or if it’s an idea absurd enough for an alternate reality.

Mark sees you shiver out of the corner of his eye, and it’s his cue to suggest returning home for the evening. In a very cliché and boyfriend-esque gesture he offers you his jacket, but you decline, insisting that it’s not far and assuring him that you’ll be okay.

Back in your heated flat, you twist open the lid of the eggnog carton and pour a small glass for yourself. “Are you sure you don’t want some?” You call out to Mark from the kitchen, snatching one of the cookies you made the other day and finding a paper plate for the thin shortbread wafer, lined with elegant white icing and dusted with sprinkles.

“I already told you, I don’t like eggnog!”

“Have you even tried it before?” Mark grumbles at your nagging. You really sound like his mom right now.

“No…”

You appear at the other end of the couch, holding out a small cup with just a sip or two of eggnog in it. “Try it. You never know.”

He knows you won’t leave until you see him lift it to his lips for yourself, so he does. Immediately the sweet drink overwhelms his taste buds, and also leaves a slight sting on his tongue.

“What’s in this stuff?” He coughs, nose scrunching a bit from the strong taste. Surprisingly, though, he doesn’t hate it. Following you back to the kitchen, Mark pours a full glass this time, already gulping it down.

“Uh,” you scan the ingredients on the back of the carton once he sets it down on the counter, “milk, cream, sugar, eggs…”

“...whiskey? What the hell?”

“It has alcohol,” Mark slurs, his giggling interrupted by a hiccup. Having never drank before, he’s undeniably a lightweight, and even a little bit can get him wasted almost instantly.

“Mom and Dad must have mixed something up, because they definitely didn’t mean to send us alcoholic eggnog.”

Sure enough, back home in Canada your parents are wondering why they only have the kid-friendly stuff in their fridge.

Mark latches on to you, arm curling lazily around your waist. Great, he’s one of those people that gets clingy when they’re drunk. “Try some,” he whines, nuzzling into your shoulder a little.

“Are you crazy?”

“No one will know,” he laughs, hiccuping again. Giving in to his adorably drunken pout, you take one sip from your original glass but no more, an unpleasant buzz taking over your whole mouth.

Not looking forward to finding a hangover cure on Christmas Eve of all days, you pray that you’ll stay sober enough to take care of the tipsy boy, who’s currently pressing his face into the back of your neck and—shit, did he just kiss you there? You really don’t need this right now.

“Mark, you’re drunk, okay? Stop it,” you caution.

“But I love you,” he murmurs, warm breath fanning your skin, and you want to kick yourself for almost saying it back. Does he even mean it, though? Alcohol makes people say crazy things, things they don’t mean, so you shouldn’t get your hopes up. You unhook his arm from your torso and turn around to push against his chest, frustrated. “Let’s get you to bed.”

He seems to have just remembered something, because he ignores you and instead goes over to where the care package was still sitting, digging into the bottom and pulling out something you hadn’t noticed before. “Look,” Mark declares in a nasal voice, “mistletoe.”

You exasperatedly hang your head, desperate to slam it into the nearest wall. With much difficulty, you eventually manage to get him tucked underneath the blanket, leaving a glass of water on his nightstand for when he wakes up. “Get some sleep,” you say simply.

He tells you goodnight with a fond mumble of your name as you shut the bedroom door behind you. Rubbing your eyes, you yawn before turning off the lights and heading to bed yourself, trying to block out the events that had just taken place.

Your head aches when you wake up the next morning, and you feel like garbage, so you can only imagine how much worse Mark must be doing. Quickly chugging a water bottle, you reluctantly go to knock on his door, hearing a pained groan once you enter. He’s sitting up, chin resting in one hand and the other anchored onto the heavy comforter covering his legs.

“How are you feeling?” The obvious question with an even more obvious answer makes Mark wince. “Awful.”

“Sorry.” It’s silent for a moment, Mark pressing three fingers to his throbbing forehead and you staring aimlessly at the wall. “I knew that eggnog was a bad idea.”

“You were the one that told me to try it!”

“I didn't know it had alcohol in it!”

You sigh, dejected. Something tells Mark that your head isn’t the only thing hurting.

“Hey, I know that look. What’s wrong?” He prods, voice soft and gentle and altogether unlike how it had been last night. You meet his eyes for a moment, about to speak but biting your lip at the last second. Mark’s brain puts two and two together at your expression.

“Oh god, did I say something? Do something?”

“Yeah, actually,” you reply in a huff. “First you kissed my neck, then you told me you loved me, and then you held up a clump of mistletoe and implied that we should kiss underneath it.”

His memories of the previous evening are all a blur, so he truly would have no idea what happened if you hadn’t just said something. Mark knows he screwed up, bad.

You tense when you feel him place his hand over yours, but you don’t snatch it away. After collecting his thoughts, Mark clears his throat.

“Look, I… I know that’s not the best way for you to find out how someone feels about you. But I’m completely sober, and I can tell you that I meant what I said last night.”

“You promise?”

“Promise,” Mark replies.

“...Can you say it again, then?”

He blushes, “That I…?”

You nod, the corners of your lips lifting into a small smile.

“I love you,” Mark tells you for the second time in the last 24 hours, but this time you know you can believe him. The pain of your hangover goes away for a moment as he takes your jaw in his hands and connects your lips, just barely retaining the buzz of the alcohol but not enough to bother you. Slowly you kiss him back, sinking down onto the mattress beside him.

Mark pulls away for air a few seconds later, thumb grazing your cheek lovingly. “Does this mean we’re—”

“Dating? If you want it to, then sure,” your finger traces swirly shapes on the small of his back while you assure him that neither of you need to rush into anything if you aren’t ready.

“I don’t want things to change, though.”

“Who said they have to? I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and we’re already pretty close, you know? Making it ‘official’ doesn’t necessarily mean ‘different,’ so...”

Mark hums in agreement, “You’re right. Okay, I can live with that.”

“And I can’t live another second without food. I’m making breakfast,” you quip, reverting back to the usual banter between you and him.

“I’ll cook the eggs,” Mark insists as you both make your way out of his bedroom and into the kitchen.

“You absolutely will not!”

The night before Christmas had started out unlike any that you’d ever experienced before, with you confronting your now-boyfriend about a drunken love confession the previous day. But now, it’s ending just like every year, with you cozy and curled up in front of the television as the last few segments of the news play.

It’s the coldest Christmas Eve in years. You learned this after the meteorologist had informed viewers of the record only a few minutes earlier, inadvertently planting an idea in Mark’s mind.

Right as you’re about to turn in for the night, setting a plate of decorated cookies and a glass of milk down on the end table (as is tradition in your families, no matter how old you are), Mark holds out his arms like a child might. “Can we…?” He asks in a quiet voice, nervous to finish his sentence.

“Huh?”

The boy inhales sharply, “It’s freezing. Do you wanna sleep in my bed tonight?” His cheeks flush a deep red that’s almost the color of Christmas itself.

You’re slightly taken aback, and then you remember it’s just Mark. “Sure, why not,” you answer with a light shrug and a smile on your face.

“But no funny business,” you inform him as you climb under the sheets together, instantly happy with your choice to join him because double the people means double the body heat. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” Mark replies, pecking your lips. His wrist finds the warm skin of your neck and you flinch away.

“Your hands are cold!” He just snickers at your whining.

The two of you fall asleep more quickly than you ever have on Christmas Eve, usually overcome with nerves and excitement, but now, as two college-aged kids, you’re comfortable and not rushing the morning’s arrival at all, content in each other’s arms for the moment.

You feel like you’re 10 years old again as you rush into the living room at 8am the next day, the bright, early morning sky lighting up your entire apartment. At the base of your Christmas tree sits a humble amount of presents, composed of the two that you bought for each other plus the half-dozen small ones from your parents.

You hand Mark one of the cookies from the end table and grab one for yourself, taking a bite of the sweet treat as you sit down and motioning for him to do the same.

“Open yours first,” you say eagerly, referring to your gift for him. Mark shakes his head and points to what he got you, “No, you go first.”

“Fine, we’ll open them at the same time.” Mark nods, satisfied with the compromise and handing you both the packages.

“On three. One, two…”

The final number barely leaves your lips before you both begin tearing into the paper excitedly, Mark reaching for the flaps on the box and you unfolding the tissue paper.

When you each see what the other gifted you with, it’s completely silent, save for the TV playing a Christmas Day special in the background.

He gazes blankly at you, licking his lips as his eyes dart between the guitar case and your expression.

“I appreciate the gift, but I…” Mark pauses, unsure how to tell you this.

You don’t say a word, raising your eyebrows as a signal for him to continue.

“I sold my guitar to pay for your gift,” he breathes.

“You what? Mark, that guitar means everything to you! Why would you do that?”

“Because you’re worth it, of course!”

“Well, I did the same thing,” you break the news with an unamused expression. “I sold my letter box to pay for that case.”

His eyes become impossibly wider at that, nearly bulging out of their sockets. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.”

You groan and lie down on the floor, beyond discouraged. “Let me guess, the pawn shop on 23rd?”

“Yep.”

“Hey, wait a minute.” An idea hits Mark like a rush of cold air. “Maybe we can work out a deal or something.”

“Meaning?”

“We go back and see if we can trade in our new gifts for enough money to get our old things back.”

“One, I doubt it’s that easy, and two, pretty much everything is closed on Christmas Day.” You’re half tempted to laugh because of how ironic this situation is.

Mark sighs, “I guess that makes sense.”

“We can still try, though.”

Sure enough, the pawn shop is dark, even more so than usual, and the door doesn’t budge. A sign taped to the window from the inside confirms your fear: Closed on Christmas. Gloved hands pressed onto the glass, you and Mark admit your defeat. You had been bested by the giving spirit of the holiday season, almost too generous for your own good.

But it’s the message that the day itself stands for after all, for putting aside material value and doing something out of the kindness of your heart just to make someone else happy. That’s what it’s all about, and you and Mark had personally experienced it this year.

So you’re surprised to find two boxes leaning on the wall beside the door to your apartment the next morning, shapes oddly familiar. Could it be?

Just hours earlier, the hallway surveillance cameras caught a tall man striding down the corridor, carrying those exact packages under his arms. In the video he pulls out a scrap of paper and a pen from his coat pocket, scribbling a short message before tucking it underneath the ribbon of the larger parcel and leaving the building just as quickly as he came.

You and Mark’s only clue as to who had returned your items is a messy ‘J’ at the end of the note attached to the box containing his guitar. Exchanging knowing glances, you both grin, squeezing your intertwined hands with the same name in mind.

...So what if Johnny had to take a bit of money out of his own paycheck to cover the cost of the items? Besides, it’s Christmas. And his boss never has to know.

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idratherdreamofjune · 3 years

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@sunheart wrote in her tags on another post:

Genuinely hate being alive ... I completely understand on so many levels why you would hate being a woman. Its horrible. And then as a Christian there's this whole really ugly dynamic- that i know is probably a lie i just haven't worked out how yet- that we're the 2nd best. The afterthought. The mediocre option. Almost everything in life men are better at and it's hard to believe it's just cultural- math logic leadership writing cooking writing physical activities on and on, and women are good at being Nice :) Which ok i like being nice but it's like that's my only option I feel like any other impact i might wish to have upon the world will be paltry in comparison to what i could do if only i was a man. I feel incompetent. Irrational. Emotional. Obnoxious. I feel like I'm supposed to be a plaything for the beings that were *actually* created to be in harmony with God like I'm not supposed to have a connection with God- only through my husband which what does that make me as a single childless bitch? I can't even fulfill the main point of my existence. Jesus interacted with women but did he care about them like he did the men? David and John were named his favorites not Deborah or Hannah. And like i said i'm sure none of that's true but i don't know how and it feels awful. hate it.

Hopefully others have shared encouragement on this already, but just in case I wanted to give some thoughts. Please know that if I sound riled at all (and I’m going to try to avoid that) I’m not upset at anyone who feels this way but am deeply upset by the enemy’s lies that so many are hurt by. As a younger believer I did struggle with some of these questions myself, and for a long time it was difficult to reconcile these concerns with the promises that God loves me.

Your instincts are right - it is a lie that women are second best. And before I go any further let me also agree that yes, we are physically weaker than men and have other weaknesses too. But since when has weakness meant that someone is any way “less than” others? Men have weaknesses too, just different ones. That’s the nature of humanity: every person is a mixed bag of strengths and weaknesses. I’ve never heard before that men are better at cooking?? My dad literally struggles to cook a hotdog in the microwave and has never touched a grill in his life. And okay men may (possibly, not sure on this one either) be inherently better at math, but which gender is drastically underrepresented in the nursing field? I suspect there are fewer male teachers, too, though not as huge a disparity. Men are more prone to recklessness and violence - part of the reason married men live longer (gotta get that stable influence). Again yes men are physically stronger but have you watched ballet dancers (oooh i mean ballerinas, sorry there’re so few ballerinos that I forgot to differentiate) or female gymnasts? Nothing “less than” there! The famous Proverbs 31 woman is a good insight into Biblical support of female abilities and value: “strength and dignity are her clothing”, “she opens her mouth with wisdom, and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue.” “Let her works praise her in the gates.” (The gates were essentially the city hall or forum of ancient Israel.)

Going back to the beginning - women were created second, true. But did God not know His own plan? He was always going to create women. And the really amazing thing that I learned in the last couple of years is that, when God says He’s going to make Adam “a helper” (Hebrew ”ezer”), that’s the same word that is used to describe God’s actions for His people throughout the Old Testament: - Exodus 18:4 “The God of my father was my help.” - 1 Samuel 7:12 “Ebenezer” means “rock of help” and is a memorial of Yaweh’s help. - Psalm 30:10 “Hear, O Lord, and be merciful to me! O Lord, be my helper!” - Psalm 115:11 “You who fear the Lord, trust in the Lord, He is their help and their shield” - Psalm 121:2 “My help comes from the Lord” - Hosea 13:9 “‘You are against Me, against your helper.’“

It is a common word for “help” used in other settings, yes, but the fact that it’s used of God illustrates that this is no poor or second-rate role. Helping - aiding - supporting - incredibly important! In fact this article I just found puts it this way:

In two cases it refers to the first woman, Eve, in Genesis 2. Three times it refers to powerful nations Israel called on for help when besieged. In the sixteen remaining cases the word refers to God as our help. He is the one who comes alongside us in our helplessness. That's the meaning of ezer. Because God is not subordinate to his creatures, any idea that an ezer-helper is inferior is untenable. In his book Man and Woman: One in Christ, Philip Payne puts it this way: "The noun used here [ezer] throughout the Old Testament does not suggest 'helper' as in 'servant,' but help, savior, rescuer, protector.'

Moving on to the New Testament, and the topic of John, who is known as “the disciple whom Jesus loved”. John is the one who wrote the book which tells us that (under the direction of the Holy Spirit, yes) and he only uses that wording as a title, in place of his name. Nowhere does it say he was the favorite disciple, or even most loved, just that he was loved. To me it seems more as if John is saying “Jesus loved me! Can you believe it?!” It has a feeling of awe and thankfulness as opposed to superiority.

Getting into marriage specifically, I do believe that a wife should be under the headship of her husband ...mainly in the sense of letting him have the last word on decisions and plans. This is in part due to differing areas of strength, and in part because in some situations it’s better to have a family leader - most groups of humans need a leader, and following an assigned (or picked) leader does not make one inferior. All that being said, a wife should be able to provide input, advice, and feedback to her husband, who should take into strong consideration his wife’s needs, insights, and concerns (Ephesians 5:25-29).

The lie that women cannot be connected to God outside of their husband is refuted not only by all the vibrantly faithful single or windowed Christian ladies of history (Amy Carmichael, Gladys Aylward, Mary Slessor, and Elisabeth Elliot are some of my favorites) but also Scripture itself. When Christ spoke with the divorced Samaritan woman the disciples were shocked not because she was a Samaritan but because she was a woman (John 4:27; she was shocked on both counts - John 4:9) - I hope they got used to it because Jesus spoke with women a lot. Despite the culture of the time, Jesus clearly had very warm and caring direct relationships with Martha and Mary, Mary Magdalene, and other women. Anna the Prophetess in the temple had been widowed for decades and was serving God alone “night and day” (Luke 2:37). Incredibly, in a culture where women were looked down upon, the Lord chose women to be the first to discover the empty tomb, and Mary Magdalene to be the first to see the risen Christ! I love that passage so much (John 20:11-18).

Another example is when Jesus stopped on His way to heal Jairus’ daughter (i.e. He put aside a powerful man’s urgent request) to lovingly interact with the woman who’d suffered bleeding for years - a terribly personal and female problem (Mark 5:21-35).

To try to wrap up, I’ll return to David in the OT, who was a “man after God’s own heart”. But again, it doesn’t say that he was actually a favorite - it does say David was chosen by God though, to lead Israel and establish the family from which Jesus would ultimately come. You know who else was chosen? Esther - “for such a time as this”. Once she realizes the task she must complete, she tells Mordecai how it’s going to go, and “Mordecai then went away and did everything Esther had ordered him.” Esther gets a book named after her and is remembered in the holiday of Purim to this day. Also note that Esther was married to an unbeliever. Likewise Ruth was chosen, as a young foreign widow, to be part of the Messiah’s kingly line. As an aside, my favorite thing about Ruth’s story (besides all the faith and beauty of it) is the simultaneous deep respect and protectiveness Boaz shows towards her (okay enough mush). Anyhow what it comes down to is that God chooses and loves both men and women, and both have a place (singly and married) in His plans and kingdom. See also Galatians 3:28 “ There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is no male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.”

This post has all over the place, and I probably forgot a bunch of things I wanted to add (if anything else comes to mind I’ll add it later), but I hope it’s been encouraging. Yes I’ve struggled with some aspects of how women are portrayed in the Bible, but what I shared above, plus the love and blessings I’ve known as a single woman are more than enough evidence that we are known and loved. If anything is unclear or anyone has any questions please speak out/send an ask! Anon asks are on too. Also if anyone wants to add or amend anything do so without hesitation!!

#marriage #women in the Bible #Book of Ruth #Book of Esther #singleness #Scripture #lies

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orangeoctopi7 · 4 years

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It’s Fine (It’s not fine)

@forduary week 1 is Hurt/Comfort. The one’s definitely more on the hurt side of things, but I promise there’s some comfort at the end!

Stanford Pines is six years old. He’s in his bedroom, reading quietly. He’s just getting to the climax of the adventure story he’s reading when his brother Stanley crashes into the room. It wouldn't normally be a problem, Ford is really good at tuning out the world around him while he reads, but Stan is complaining loudly.

“I’m booooooard!” The boy moans, grabbing onto the post of their bunk-bed and dangling off it dramatically.

“Whaddaya want me to do about it?” Ford asks in irritation, not looking up from his book.

“Let’s go play on the beach! Or go to the comic store! Or… or something!” Stan suggests. “Anything but just sit around here doin’ nothin’!”

It was a hot summer afternoon. Ford didn’t want to go down to the beach or the comic store when he knew for certain anywhere they went today was bound to be crowded with people. He just wanted to sit and read in his room and enjoy some time to himself.

“Can’t you go by yourself?”

“Are you kiddin’? Ma would throw a fit!”

Ford heaves a long-suffering sigh, places a bookmark to hold his place, and snaps his book shut before thumping it down on his bed.

“Well we don’t hafta go if ya don’t wanna.” Stan says lamely.

“It’s fine.” Ford assures him.

“Are you sure?”

“It’s fine.”

* * *

Stanford Pines is ten years old. He’s at recess, trying to lie low. Stan got held back for the whole half-hour because he’d been caught trying to sneak the class pet, a newt, into his backpack. This of course leaves Ford at the mercy of Crampelter and his thugs, who have little to no mercy on any given day.

“C’mon freak, fight back!” The towheaded bully taunts him, holding Ford back by the forehead as he tries to struggle past the blocking arm for his backpack, held just out of reach. “I know I seen you taking boxing lessons back at Mel’s Gym!”

“It’s ‘I saw’ or ‘I have seen’, and just b‘cuz I’m taking lessons doesn’t mean I’m stupid enough to pick a fight I know I can’t win!” Ford protests.

“Pfft, you’re no fun.” Crampelter scoffs, before grabbing onto one of Ford’s hands while he continues to reach vainly for his backpack. “But y’know what does sound fun?”

“Let go of me!”

“Seeing how flexible your extra fingers are!” Crampelter starts to push Ford’s pinky finger back with his thumb, stretching it to its limit.

“Stop it! That hurts!”

But Crampelter just keeps pushing and pushing until Ford is sure some tendons are going to pop, when a shrill whistle echoes across the playground.

“Hey! Crampelter! Drop the freak!” The teacher on recess watch commands.

The bully finally lets go, and Ford stumbles to the ground, holding his injured hand close to his body.

“Here, lemme look at that.” the teacher pulls Ford’s hand away to check it. “Eh, ‘snot bleeding or broken, you’re fine.”

As they walk back from school that afternoon, Stan rants over and over that Crampelter Will Not Get Away With This, plotting various methods of revenge, most of them too fanciful to ever come to fruition.

Ford is silent the whole time, his gaze turned towards his shoes.

“Hey.” Stan suddenly stops his ranting and places a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help.”

“It’s fine.” Ford mumbles.

“I promise I’ll try not to get held in for recess again.”

“I said it’s fine.” Ford assures him, knowing that hoping Stan won’t get held back from recess again is like hoping it won’t snow in January. Technically possible, but highly unlikely.

* * *

Stanford Pines is fourteen years old. He’s a freshman in highschool, and he and his brother are in detention after he was caught letting Stan look off his algebra test.

It’s not that Ford has anything against sharing his answers with his brother. It’s not like he has any sort of moral high-ground here. It’s just that Stan is always so carelessly obvious about it!

“I said I was sorry, alright!” Stan hisses at him, trying not to draw the teacher’s attention.

“We’re not in middle school anymore, these things actually go on our record now!” Ford hisses back. “You have to be more careful!”

“Well maybe if you would actually slip me your paper instead of making me crane my neck over your desk! Nobody’s gonna notice if you hand your test in two minutes before everyone else instead of five!”

“That’d be even more obvious! Maybe if you wore your glasses for once!”

“Maybe I would, if you could hold your own in a fight!”

“What does that even have to do with anything!?”

“You don’t wear glasses in a fight, genius! That’s just asking for them to get broken! And I know I’m always having to step in and save your skin, so why would I even bother wearing them in the first place?”

“Hey!” The teacher overseeing detention snaps at them. “No talking!”

The boys shut their yapps and go back to studying, or at least pretending to study.

“I’m sorry.” Stan murmurs, once he’s sure the teacher is no longer paying attention to them.

“It’s fine.” Ford grunts back.

* * *

Stanford Pines is 17 years old. He is begrudgingly walking down to the beach with his brother.

“C’mon Ford, it’s October, there’s only a few more days of weather nice enough to work on her left! And the dumb science fair isn’t until April!”

“I still have so much research to do before I can even start!” Ford complains. “Not to mention procuring parts, testing different models--”

“That all sounds like stuff you can do once it gets cold.”

“I should be in the building phase by then!”

“Alright, look,” Stan jabs a finger in his brother’s direction. “If you wanna spend the last few warm days of the year cooped up in the library, that’s your problem. But I’m gonna enjoy the sunshine and the beach, and finish fixin’ up the Stan’o’war. We’re so close, I can practically taste the treasure and babes!”

“...Fine.” Ford grumbles.

“No, no. You go do your nerd thing. I’ll put the finishing touches on this thing we’ve been working on together since we were pipsqueaks.”

“I said it’s fine.”

* * *

Stanford Pines is 17 years old. He’s just come back from the most humiliating moment of his life (thus far). He confronts his brother, the offending evidence crinkling in his clenched fist. Stan tries to play it off like it’s not a big deal. Like he expects his brother to say It’s Fine.

It is most definitely not fine.

* * *

Stanford Pines is 20 years old. He’s showing his new roommate around their humble apartment.

“I really ‘preciate this, Stanford.” Fiddleford McGucket tells him for the sixth time that day. “Most folks wouldn’t offer to put their TA up in their apartment, ‘specially not when you’re lucky ‘nough to get yer own place!”

“Well, I’ll be starting the Doctorate program myself, next year! That makes us equals, in my mind.” Ford says proudly. “And I’m happy for the company! The only reason I have the apartment to myself is because my last roommate and I parted over… differences.”

“Heh, you too, eh?” McGucket chuckles. “Least you weren’t kicked out, like I was!”

“Why were you kicked out?”

“Oh, several reasons. I think the robot in the kitchen was the straw that broke the camel’s back.”

Ford laughs. “Well, I for one would love to have a robot that does our dishes and cleans the counters.”

McGucket grins and leans against the table.. “See, I knew we’d make great roommates!”

Unfortunately, McGucket’s leaning is more than the wobbly table can take, and it tips over on its side, scattering textbooks and papers everywhere. The two friends begin cleaning up the mess, McGucket apologizing profusely.

They’ve almost finished putting everything back onto the table when Fiddleford picks up an old photo of two little boys standing before a derelict little boat.

“Well bless my soul! Is this you, Ford?”

Ford’s heart skips a beat. He hadn’t realized he left that photo lying on the table!

“Ah, yes, that’s me. That was the day I decided I wanted to be a researcher--”

“And lookit this little fellah next to ya!” Fiddleford interrupts Ford’s soliloquy. “He looks just like you! I can’t believe I’ve known you for three years, and you never told me you had a twin!”

“Er… it just-- it never came up.”

“How in tarnation does yer own twin brother never come up?” Fiddleford asks incredulously. “So, what’s his name?”

“Stanley and I are not on speaking terms.” Ford says stiffly. “I haven’t spoken to him since I was a teenager.”

A multitude of expressions dance across Fiddleford’s face before Ford can hope to interpret any of them. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He finally says.

“It’s fine.” Ford says tersely, snatching the photo back.

* * *

Stanford Pines is 21 years old. He’s trying to get a good night sleep before his first dissertation tomorrow.

Trying being the operative word.

The past year rooming with Fiddleford McGucket has been great, for the most part. Ford loves spending time with an intellectual equal. McGucket accepts all of Ford’s idiosyncrasies, and Ford accepts all those of his friend.

Well, almost all of them.

It didn’t take long after they started rooming together for Ford to realize one of the several reasons McGucket had been evicted from his last apartment had nothing to do with his penchant for robotics, and everything to do with his penchant for late-night banjo playing. As much as it cut into Ford’s sleep schedule, he didn’t have the heart to complain to his roommate about it. He knew he had plenty of his own bad habits that were difficult to deal with, like his coffee addiction, his antisocial behavior, his tendency to start a project and just leave it laying wherever he was around the apartment, and his few dozen subscriptions to cryptozoological newsletters.

The digital clock on Ford’s bedside table reads 2:20 AM when the music finally, thankfully stops. He sighs and turns over in his bed, hoping to finally fall asleep.

When he wakes in the morning, groggy as a hung-over sailor, Fiddleford at least has the decency to look apologetic.

“Sorry, did I keep ya up last night? I kinda got lost in the music an’ lost track of time.”

“It’s fine.” Ford mutters as he pours himself a large mug of the strongest coffee he can brew. This is the first roommate he’s gotten along with since… since he started college. He can put up with this.

“Well, if’n ya need me to, I can start headin’ up to the practice rooms in the assembly hall fer my jam sessions--”

“It’s fine.”

* * *

Stanford Pines is 31 years old. He’s spreading thick globs of slimy aloe vera on his hands. He’s been letting his muse take control of his body while he sleeps for about a week now. Bill says he’s not used to the limits of a physical human body. He’s injured Ford’s body just about every night so far, but last night, when he picked up the hot coffee pot by the pot instead of by the handle, was the worst by far.

“This keeps on happening, Bill. You need to be more careful.” He gently chides his muse.

“WELL HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT’D HAPPEN? WHY DIDN’T THE IDIOT WHO DESIGNED THAT THING INSULATE THE WHOLE CONTAINER INSTEAD OF JUST THE HANDLE? YOU COULD DESIGN A COFFEE POT WAY MORE EFFICIENT THAN THAT!”

Ford smiles, blushing. “Perhaps I’ll get around to modifying it someday. But for now, as I was saying, could you please be more careful with my body at night?”

“HEY, YOU’RE ACTUALLY LUCKY THIS HAPPENED. IF I HADN’T DROPPED THAT POT, I WOULD’VE TRIED DRINKING IT THE SAME WAY I DO IN MY NORMAL FORM, AND THEN YOU’D PROBABLY BE BLIND. SO WHEN YOU THINK ABOUT IT, YOU SHOULD BE THANKING ME!”

Ford pales. “Er, perhaps I should help you practice using my body first, just to decrease the risk of that sort of thing.”

“OH, I’M SORRY! DO YOU NOT WANT MY HELP? DO YOU NOT WANT TO ACHIEVE GREATNESS AS SOON AS POSSIBLE?”

“No! No of course not! That’s not what I meant!”

“DON’T FORGET, I’M DOING THIS FOR YOU, SIXER! I’M AN AGELESS BEING OF PURE ENERGY! THE ONLY REASON I’M HELPING YOU SPEED UP THE PROCESS ON BUILDING THE PORTAL IS BECAUSE I KNOW HOW PATHETICALLY SHORT YOUR MORTAL LIFE IS. YOU’RE JUST GONNA HAVE TO TRUST ME. OR ARE A FEW BUMPS AND BRUISES TOO MUCH FOR YOU TO HANDLE?”

“Of course not! It’s fine! I’m fine!” Ford insists, finishing bandaging his burns.

* * *

Stanford Pines is… probably 45? He’s not quite sure. He’s lost track of time after traveling the multiverse for so long, especially after the Do-Over Dimension.

He’s making his way through a crowded alien market, hoping to find something he’ll be able to use in his Quantum Destabilizer, and also hoping not to be recognized by any bounty hunters. It’s annoying, having to wear a hood and goggles and mask everywhere he goes, but that’s just the way it has to be now.

It’s fine.

It’s only until he can complete the Quantum Destabilizer. After that… it didn’t matter what happened after that.

It’s fine.

* * *

Stanford Pines is 62 years old. He’s sitting in a hospital bed. Despite what that may suggest, his life has finally taken a turn for the better. Bill is gone, Weirdmaggeddon is over, and, miraculously, no one died. Stanley was going to be ok. The kids didn’t hate him. He’s achieved his goal of destroying Bill Cipher, and survived! He’s fine. They’re all incredibly, wonderfully, fine.

The doctor is giving his vitals one last check before officially discharging him from the hospital. It’s obvious that under normal circumstances, Ford would not be leaving the hospital any time soon, but thanks to the incredibly persistent insistence of his family, and the fact that the hospital is already absolutely filled to the brim with people who were injured during Weirdmageddon, and the fact that Stanford was instrumental in stopping Bill, they’re making an exception.

“Alright, you’re free to go!” The doctor finally says, handing his clipboard over to Ford to sign.

“Hooray!” Mabel cheers as her uncle signs his exit papers. “Now you’ll be able to help us set up for our birthday party!” She slings an arm around his neck to hug him, completely forgetting about the thin layer of bandages around his neck. Ford can’t suppress a yelp of pain.

Mabel reels back, hands flying to her mouth. “Ohmigosh, I’m so sorry!”

“It’s fine.” Ford forces a smile.

“I wasn’t thinking!”

“Mabel, really, it’s fine.”

“Ford.” Stan says firmly. Ford recognizes the expression on his face from the last few days. It’s the look he gets on his face when he’s remembering something painful. “You gotta stop doing that.”

“Doing what?” He asks, confused.

“Saying ‘It’s fine’ when it’s not.”

Ford raises an eyebrow. “Stanley, it was just an accident. It really is fine.”

“Oh, yeah, of course this was…” Stan stammers, apparently coming back to the moment. “Mabel’s not-- this was just an honest mistake. But you say… uh, or at least, you used to say that a lot. Even when I could tell it wasn’t really fine. You gotta stop that.”

Ford shifted in his bed uncomfortably. “I’m just being polite.”

“There are ways to say things aren’t fine while still being polite.” Dipper points out.

Ford can feel himself flush. “I’m not good at that. I always come off as rude… or angry.” Saying it’s fine is just easier. He can just move on and forget about it. Control his emotions. Remove them from the equation for the time being, process them later when he’s alone, so nobody gets hurt.

Stan takes a deep breath before he speaks again. “You just gotta trust us, that we’re not gonna leave you just ‘cuz you get angry sometimes.”

Is that really what he’s been afraid of this whole time? That certainly seems to be a part of it, but not the whole. All the same, he does at least feel that he can trust his family. And he can try to be more honest with them when something is bothering him.

“I think I can do that.” he says as he gets up from the hospital bed, ready to go home.

#Gravity Falls #Stanford Pines #Fanfiction #My Writing

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timextoxhajima · 4 years

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GEN Z SERIES, HYUNJAE: The Third Eye

"Will you choose to believe what you see or what you feel?”

Member: Hyunjae

Genre: Fantasy / Slice of Life / Supernatural / Angst / TW

Trigger Warnings: Rape, Self-Harm

Word Count: 5.8k

Taglist: @yn-am-pm @fleurseoul @sunwoowuvbot

The first time I knew I saw something that wasn't there, I was scared. How was an eight-year-old supposed to treat an elderly man who looked closer to a skeleton than a human being standing in the corner of the room... of an elderly's home?

I remember my mother combing my grandmother's hair while my father was helping me pick up my crayons off the floor when I saw him. Nurses were walking down the corridors in a hurry. I remember nobody noticed -- or at least, unlike the conventional way of death that has been portrayed in movies and books by the very cliché usage of the flatlining on the monitor. He had a good amount of hair for an old man in his nineties.

Then again, it might've been his deteriorating health that made him look older than he actually was when he died. Time seemed to pass a lot slower when they let me see them. Unlike the way his skin seemed to sink in between his ribs and wrap around the bones of his arms, his eyes were full of light. The kind that I recognised when I was at school. I didn't know then, because I was just a child he realised could see his soul. But I will never forget the blessing he placed on the top of my head. Every single word etched into my mind like carved into stone.

I told my grandmother about the man I saw earlier that day when my parents went to talk to the nurses of the elderly home. She was scared at first, when she realised her grandchild had abilities that not many had. Yet, she never told my parents, because she knew they would convince themselves that they could do something about it -- as if one could really remove the powers of a third eye all so easily.

Angels are not beings with wings or halos but instead, a bright orb of gold and white. The old man waved so dearly to me, after giving his children and grandchildren a kiss atop their heads though they couldn't feel it. He was 88, auspicious numbers in many cultures. Then when the orb of light drifted in through the window, I remember I could almost hear the sounds of kittens and puppies. But just as it neared him, I heard the familiar sounds of laughter from his children and grandchildren, then static sounds of radio and music I didn't recognise. I will later find out that the music belonged in the 40s.

The orb presents you with everything you've loved and enjoyed and held close to your heart in your life, and should you be content with what the orb has to offer you, then it must be time for you to go.

But where there is light, there is darkness. Where there are orbs of smiles and flowers, there are daggers of blood and evil lurking in the shadows. I was 13 when I saw evil in one of its many forms. I had a headache the entire day, a sign to tell me that my third eye is in close proximity with something that did not align with my believes and morals.

I had expected something to jump out at me through the reflection off the mirror, or a hand to burst through the ground and grab me by the ankle. But no, evil in one of its many forms does not need it to be horrifying and scary.

Her hair was long, and her face was covered in what looked like burn marks.

Does Hell burn through you so quickly?

She looks human, but her fingers were split down the middle, thorns sticking out every finger, in which on each hand she has ten.

As she graced the corridors of school, she sheds these thorns that drop like nails to the floor, waiting for someone to step on those facing upwards. Have you ever gotten a sharp ache or pinch in the soles of your feet when you're walking sometimes?

If you have, then you would've probably stepped on a Hell's Thorn, or at least, that's what I called it. I never found out if she could see me, but when I realised I could touch the thorns and kick them out of sight, they'd roll off into some corner before dissolving into red ash.

Over a decade of being stuck between two worlds. I've done enough reading to understand the dangers of prancing along this line, not being able to shut one side off completely. So, when the ghosts, demons and spirits hide in the shadows of my room, or stare at me point-blank in the middle of the day like a normal human being would, it becomes normal.

They are everywhere, even when you cannot feel them. It gets confusing, when they look more human than some human beings.

Just how much longer... or how much more can I stay like this?

"I don't know where your diary is. If you're telling me it's here, then I'm telling you it's gone."

You are standing right smack in the middle of the school field, afternoon sun beaming down onto your hair. Squinting your eyes, you look around the large space of artificial grass and beyond that, the tracks, where students were finding some fun in running laps in the summer heat.

"But..."

"Lee Eun," Your heart breaks, more than necessary, because this is not the first time you've done it. "What you're looking for isn't here. The building your locker was in was torn down 20 years ago and if it was there, it's gone now. Or at least..." She watches you turn around and stare at the ground beneath your feet. "It's not here anymore."

Lee Eun was a student from your school that graduated in 2000. But she lost her life the day she graduated, only because she hadn't seen the brick falling from the nearby construction site where the school building you attended now was being built.

The silence becomes unbearable so you look up, but you only see the two male students jogging along the track and nobody else in sight. The orb did not come to collect Lee Eun's soul; this is not over.

The sweat has stuck your uniform to your back when you return to class, and it becomes apparent to you that a particular shadow has not shifted an inch since you've stepped into the classroom. You weren't in pain, so this entity is not a demon. Yet, you cannot identify its gender. It had no face, no hair, just... a volume of shadow and darkness and if the girls sitting before it knew it was there, they'd probably scream their head off.

You know its staring at you with every intention in its spirit, though you cannot see its eyes. And it stays when the teacher enters the classroom with a new student trailing behind him. For a moment, your attention is diverted to Jang Jun Hyuk, hair brown and skin fair. The girls in the class were already ogling over him, it's not a surprise anymore. But the shadow turns to look at him, then at you, and the darkness dissolves into the beige wall behind it, vanishing as Jang Jun Hyuk bows and introduces himself.

Then the king of the class speaks at a volume you know you weren't supposed to hear, but consider it a special talent now that you've honed the skills of your third eye.

"Strange vibes," Lee Hyunjae was probably talking to Younghoon. "Don't you think there's something off about him?"

"Are you sure you're not just threatened that there's someone who rivals our popularity?"

Jang Jun Hyuk bows to the class, then is instructed by the teacher to take a seat diagonally behind you, right in front of Lee Hyunjae.

"Hey, new kid."

A frown gently presses itself into your forehead when you can hear Younghoon give Hyunjae a gentle whack on his shoulder.

"Where did you move from?"

"Ah, I moved from another city. My father was transferred."

The shadow was now standing by the door of the classroom, watching the teacher scribble on the whiteboard.

"Cool," Hyunjae offers a friendly laugh. That's more like him. "Join us at lunch, provided you don't have a crowd to hang out with yet."

“Uh, sure.”

The shadow turns to look at you -- even without eyes, you know it’s watching you.

By the time you have been dragged to the cafeteria by your friends (though most people tend to think you’re weird for talking to yourself sometimes), Hyunjae has doubled over on some bench cracking up at a joke Jun Hyuk made.

Your friends can’t help but to draw your attention to the new addition to the group of popular males.

“Man fits right in, doesn’t he?”

“At least he looks like one of them.”

“y/n,” One of the two call out to you. “What happened to... what was her name?”

“Lee Eun.”

“Right, the ghost from twenty years ago. How is she?”

The two look at you with wide, glistening eyes. Most people aren’t as accommodating to your abilities, so it’s a blessing to have them by your side.

“I haven’t seen her since earlier today. She said she had a diary in school but she never found it.”

“Well, maybe it is still in school somewhere, locked up in some lost and found box or lost in some locker. Why else would she still be here and can’t... you know, move on?”

You shrug. I wish I knew.

The library was always comforting. The silence, the sound of pages being flipped and the occasional clicking of someone’s keyboard. And strangely enough, the library’s never really a hotspot for other beings except humans.

The peace was, unfortunately, disrupted though, when Jun Hyuk shows up with his backpack and tie neat around his collar. You greet him subtly before returning to your notes, but he sits down opposite you and renders your desire to be alone useless.

“Hyunjae and Younghoon told me you would be here.”

The pen in your grip gets lowered into the ivory sheets, gaze travelling up to look at him through your lashes. “Lee Hyunjae and Kim Younghoon? Why would they tell you where I am?”

Jun Hyuk offers a shy smile, diverting his brown irises away from you for a second. “Because I asked.”

The cold air stings your nose when you suck in a deep breath. “Why, do you need help with work? Because I’m literally the worst person to ask--”

“No, I just needed to know where I could find you so I could spend time with you.”

Your heart begins to thump madly, because it’s not everyday that a guy is so straightforward with his intentions to someone he just met.

“Uh--” You purse your lips in a bid to form a coherent sentence. “That’s really... honest of you.”

Jun Hyuk grins sweetly, eyes halving into crescents and creasing his skin around his lids. He has a dimple in his left cheek, a detail that you wouldn’t have noticed if he wasn’t sitting directly opposite you.

“So, can I?”

Confusion strikes you, only because assumption is a dangerous thing we like to do.

“Can you... what?”

“Hang out with you.”

The whir of the air-conditioner in the library becomes a little louder alongside the thumping that was now difficult to ignore in your head.

The blood rushes up to your cheeks and you can feel your face catching fire, so Jun Hyuk eases it by restarting a conversation.

“Anyway, have you done the work from today?”

“I--” You look down at the worksheet he was taking out from his bag. It’s barely filled. “I’ve been staring at it for awhile now--”

“Not good at Math?”

“I’m better at...” Jun Hyuk takes the worksheet and gets up, scooting over to the seat next to you. A gulp finds a way down your throat. “...English and Literature...”

“Well, it’s your lucky day because I’m great at Math.”

Up close, Jin Hyuk smells like fresh linen.

Not a great sign. He knows what makes a girl tick.

Jun Hyuk spends the rest of the afternoon helping you with the worksheet, and the glimmer in his eyes...

“Are you listening?”

Your jaw slacks in surprise, blinking your attention away from staring at him. A chuckle sounds from Jun Hyuk, who looks away with the slightest hint of pride.

Jun Hyuk makes you feel like you are prancing on clouds for the next few weeks. The little notes he passed in class that earned the attention of his new friends, Younghoon and Hyunjae. The sweets and treats that he’d leave on your desk before school and the after-school study sessions were your favourite part of the day.

He’d expected you to be calm and collected when he took the initiative to hold your hand under the table, but he could read how nervous and anxious you got, so he thinks it’s a good idea to ease that anxiety with a kiss on your cheek.

Lee Eun was no longer around to ask you for her diary, but the faceless shadow was still tailing you when you were in the classroom. It’s never interfered with your daily routine though, thus you choose to leave it be and enjoy being a normal teenager for once.

Three months after you met Jun Hyuk though, you could tell Hyunjae was deliberately steering away from him, dragging Younghoon along with him. You can’t help but wonder if it was because you and Jun Hyuk were now romantically involved and that Hyunjae had probably caught wind of the fact that you could see things that weren’t there, leading him to ostracise Jun Hyuk.

Not that it had that much effect anyway, Jun Hyuk was a charming boy on his own; he didn’t need Hyunjae’s help to ‘make it’ in school.

The day carries on as per usual with Jun Hyuk staying in school to study with you. Hands busy scribbling away and eyes darting across worksheets, you’ve always admired how focussed he gets when he does his work.

In attempt to pull him out of his stress-bubble, you cap on your pen and lean into him, resting your head on his shoulder after making sure there was nobody else left in the library.

“Do you want to take a break? You’ve been going at it for quite some time now.”

“I’m just about there, just hold on a minute, would you?”

A pout surfaces on your lips. “I know. I just... do you ever feel bad that Hyunjae and Younghoon aren’t as close to you as before?”

Jun Hyuk finishes the line he’s writing and looks up at you. “Why would I?”

“I don’t know, I just... you must’ve heard the rumor that I can see ghosts. Aren’t you upset that they might be leaving you out because of that?”

“You can see ghosts?” He scoffs. His attitude feels strange today, though he hasn’t said anything wrong. “That’s just stupid. And no, I don’t really care.”

“Oh,” A pause halts you, so you can think of an appropriate response. “You don’t... believe in ghosts or spirits?”

“No, that stuff is for kids.”

The thought of Jun Hyuk not believing in something you were known to be able to see was strangely more discomforting than not.

“Why’d you ask about Hyunjae and Younghoon? I thought you weren’t close with those guys?” He’s placing his pens into his pencil case and keeping his worksheets in his file. You start doing the same.

“I-- I’m not, I’m just asking for your sake.”

“My sake?” He clears the table of his items and leans back in his seat. “Why would it bother me? Is it because you don’t get to talk to them anymore?”

“What? Why would that matter to me?”

“I don’t know, you were pretty smitten with Hyunjae just a few weeks ago.”

“Since when?”

“You think I didn’t notice when you were smiling at him when he was making those jokes-- they weren’t even that funny?”

A frown has finally cemented itself between your brows. “I’m sorry, where is this jealousy even coming from? Why didn’t you just tell me when you saw it?”

Jun Hyuk goes silent, and you can tell he’s upset just by thinking about it. Sighing, you rest your head on his shoulder again in a bid to appease his anger.

“Alright, I’m sorry, okay? I was just concerned that you might feel left out or anything. And rest assured, I wasn’t flirting with Hyunjae.”

Jun Hyuk hums in response, reaching your chin to pull you closer. Your heart starts to pound in your ear when he doesn’t hesitate to press his lips against yours, the sudden intimacy catching you off-guard and sending chills down your spine.

Something doesn’t feel right.

“Jun--” You manage to cough out, just as he starts to bury his nose and lips into your neck. “Jun Hyuk, not here.”

“Come on, there’s nobody here. Isn’t it exciting?” He smirks into your skin but it makes you feel dirty.

“Jun, we really shouldn’t. I’m tired today so...” Gently pushing him off, his eyes are now filled with the ache of rejection. Somewhere inside you, you hope that he understands. But you also hope he knows he’s being an asshole.

“I... I think I’m going to go,” Backing away, you can hear your heart in your ears as you reverse, returning to the table to clear your stationery. His footsteps come dangerously close behind you before you are yanked around violently, each of your elbows coming into tight restraint in his palms.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“I’m going home,” When your eyes meet his, they are dark under the lighting. And even then, it seems like the man you trusted had turned to dust and blown away in the wind. “Please, let me go.”

“But don’t you trust me? Didn’t you say that you didn’t know what you’d do without me?” It’s horrifying when his nose comes dangerously closely to yours, his lips that were once part of a daydream now slowly being torn to shreds, forming an idea of a nightmare in your mind.

If you could feel darkness, you were sure you could hurl out nothing but black masses, when he aggressively pastes his lips to yours. There’s a stark difference being in love and being trustworthy... and being this person who was cutting off the blood supply from your face to your mouth now.

“Let me go, please!” Your strength is rendered useless in his tight grip around your wrists, and now he decides to shift his tongue to your neck, harshly sucking on the skin and flesh and making you want to hurl and sob instead. The struggle you offered was of no use to Jun Hyuk, not when he is able to shove you backwards and plaster your back to the study desk with all your pens and pencils under your back.

“Do you know what you’re getting yourself into?!”

“You should’ve thought about that before you kissed me first in the garden the other day, no?”

The tears finally stream when the betrayal sets in. Not even prayers would work anymore, would they?

Using his upper body weight to hold you to the table, the metal clinking of his belt comes like a warning when you can feel the tears wetting the strands of your hair.

“Jun Hyuk, please...”

“Shut up,” Ice cold fingers run up the length of your thighs and around your hips under your skirt, scratching your skin as he removes your underwear. “Isn’t this how much you trust me?”

Sobs run through gritted teeth as your chin tilts to the ceiling, his body absorbing every ounce of struggle and force you were exerting on him. But, it was so easily drained into him that you were gradually turning limp and lifeless. Hearing him undo his zipper while he wets and marks your skin with his tongue and teeth shuts off all your senses. Your eyes flutter shut with resignation, the shivering and trembling seeping away with your need to escape.

Help me.

Something fuses loudly. The lights go off.

“Who’s there?! Motherfucker!”

The zip goes back up, and the weight on you shifts away.

“I’m going to kill you!”

His voice wears away, getting softer with his footsteps.

Still crying, you pull up your underwear that was dangling at your ankles and push yourself off the surface of the table. Everything on the desk gets swept into your back before you stumble out of the secluded study area, the light of the late sunset greeting your tear stained face.

Reaching home feels like reaching the end point in a marathon, just that instead of feeling pride and glory, you were feeling nothing but worthlessness.

The lukewarm water feels like a gentle hug around your body when you sink into the cold marble, knees propped up and surfaced with your feet flat against the base of the bathtub.

Swollen eyes from crying but too tired to cry somemore, and you find difficulty in even remembering why you even fell for Jun Hyuk in the first place.

It was my fault for bringing it up. I shouldn’t have brought it up.

Maybe if I didn’t have this gift then I didn’t need to ask or worry about Jun Hyuk being ostracised. Maybe it shouldn’t be called a gift after all.

This pain is temporary, right? This small blade can do more than ease the pain. This blood that colors the water can do more than dry the tears from my eyes.

I wish I wasn’t born with this gift.

You close your eyes and let yourself sink into the tub, under the surface of the water. The water starts to feel thicker, and before you can count to five, it starts going up your nose.

But then it feels like you’ve been sucked into another dimension and thrown back onto your bed when you gasp, sitting up and choking out what feels like water in your throat.

Your hands fumble around yourself, and you wince when you look down at your wrists. The vertical cut looked more like a scar that’s already healed, rather than an injury you had chosen to inflict on yourself just hours before.

The clock strikes 3.33am, and while you would usually be kind of freaked out because 3 is not an auspicious number, you can’t help but to feel some kind of relief when you realised you were still alive.

The next few days you spend in the shadows. Jun Hyuk tries to apologise to you on more than one occasion, but when you glitch and nearly break down when he gets anywhere near you, your friends start to understand that something had happened.

Why would you want to take your life all of a sudden?

Mr. Shadowman doesn’t leave you alone though. Instead, it starts following you more aggressively, showing up in the strangest of places and in the most horrendous positions. You had seen it standing with its feet planted to the ceiling of the cafeteria, then again standing perfectly still behind the classroom door when the teacher closed it.

Then it finally follows you into the bathroom after school. You’ve changed your studying location to your classroom, so you wouldn’t need to worry about being alone.

But no matter how many times you see this shadow, seeing it curled up under the sink in the female’s toilet makes you yelp and jump backwards, not even enticing a reaction from it.

“You...” Gripping the edge of the sink, you squat and stare at it. “What do you need from me?”

“I wouldn’t go anywhere nearer to it if I were you.” Your eyes dart up into the broken glass above the sink. Seeing Hyunjae staring at you through the reflection, with the pillar hiding the rest of his body was surprising.

It dawns on you that whatever you were seeing, Hyunjae could see it too.

The shadow remained still under the sink, crouched into a mass like someone holding its knees to its chest. The water dripping from under the sink slips through the mass like it wasn’t there. Hyunjae spares you a few seconds to stare at it some more until he grabs your arm and pulls you out of the toilet.

“What the-- don’t touch me--” Yanking your wrist out of his hands, you jerk away from him. The impact pulls your sleeves upwards, revealing the bruises that Jun Hyuk had left on you just a few days ago -- and the scar of the cut down your forearm.

His attention is stolen by the marks, cuing you to nervously pull your sleeves back down as you steal a glance at Hyunjae’s face.

“Don’t interact with that thing,” He advises after a few moments of silence. “It’s been following you.”

Looking up with a harsh frown on your face, confusion and anger starts to seep through your bones.

“You mean to tell me you could see these things all this while?”

Hyunjae’s eyes fill with a tiny pinch of guilt, but he doesn’t look away.

“That thing is harmless,” Your thumb brushes across the area where the bruise was hidden under the material of your sleeve. “It saved me.”

“If it’s harmless or any bit human then why doesn’t it have a face? Or eyes or hair or a mouth?”

“So, you can’t see what it is either. Have you seen others? Ghosts, the angel orbs, demons--”

“Get this clear in your head, I am not here to discuss what you can see,” Hyunjae takes a step closer and looks at you with an expression you can’t read. Was he angry? Frustrated? Worried? Concerned?

“But do not engage with whatever that is. They only stick around if you entertain it, and right now, you are just short of becoming friends with it.”

“You make it sound like you know everything about that other world.”

“And you make it sound like you haven’t seen a demon and that there are no dangers of it.”

The proximity starts to make you anxious; his build is similar to Jun Hyuk’s and the physical confrontation starts to knock on your skull is all the ways possible. Hyunjae retreats when he notices your eyes are unable to meet his now, and he walks away with his fists clenched.

That night, you are unable to fall asleep. Not with the new revelation that Hyunjae can see the same things you do. Or was it just the shadow that he can see?

Has he seen the orbs or angels or demons?

You sit up in your bed, eyes adjusting to the darkness when a thud wakes you up. The crickets outside are loud in the silent night, but it takes you just a split second to recognise the shadow standing in the corner where the door meets the corner of the room.

Keeping your eyes peeled, you fumble around at your nightstand, searching for the button of the lamp. It doesn’t disappear though, when the amber light illuminates the cream-pink room.

“What do you need?” The query comes out more like a whisper, because most spirits you meet are ghosts who need your help or are willing to talk to you -- most of them have faces and eyes and have some resemblance to being human at some point of time in their life.

The shadow pulls itself off the wall, and turns from a flat, regular shadow into a mass of darkness; the same way it was in the classroom when you first saw it, then later under the sink in the bathroom.

This is the first time this has happened -- a shadow that was very obviously a being and yet you cannot decide if it was something harmful or something that once walked the Earth.

By now, the shadow is just about two metres away from your bed, yet you find yourself inching backwards because you cannot predict what it would (or could) do to you.

Then it lifts an arm that reaches out to you, darkness flowing like steam off its limbs as it gets closer to you. But just before it can touch you, a flash of brightness interrupts your interaction.

“Stop.”

Your room is brightly lit up for a split second, blinding you from seeing the shadow. So when your eyes come back into focus, your eyes are about to fall out of your skull when you recognise the back of someone you know.

Hyunjae was standing right next to your bed, between you and the shadow, now visibly a physical blob of darkness.

“You have no business here with her. You don’t even need to be here.”

Silence.

Hyunjae looks at the shadow intently. He is listening to it talk to him, but you hear nothing but the crickets chirping outside.

“Jang Jun Hyuk will be mine to deal with, not yours. You do not need to be here.”

Lee Hyunjae... just what are you?

“Seer but is she a...”

“What did you just say?” You blurt out when the strange croak gets to your head. Hyunjae flinches and turns around to look at you, eyes flickering with worry before turning back to the shadow.

Now, you can see blue orbs for eyes and skin pulled and stretched like it had been worn out through hundreds of years. It was neither a ghost nor human.

It didn’t look like Lee Eun or the elderly man you saw when you were 8, nor did it look like the female demon you saw at 13.

“Leave, you do not belong here.”

“To deserves she know.”

“Know what?” Impatience and fear was getting the better of you, and if Hyunjae was more than human, he would know. “...That I can see you?”

“No, she cannot know!” Hyunjae tries to block you from the ghoul. “That is not your place to tell her!”

The ghoul proves more powerful than Hyunjae and reaches right through him, creating a bright outline of his limb through Hyunjae’s chest.

“No!”

That was the last thing you hear just as the shadow touches your forehead, snapping your neck backwards and sending your memory into a dimension you cannot recognise.

“You will be blessed with eternal protection.”

That was the blessing the elderly man offered you when you were eight. Little did you know that he was merely reading a blessing pinned to your existence on its own.

"The son of Saint Michael had fallen in love with the fairy of the mortals. Saint Michael hadn’t offered the tiniest bit of worry or concern over his son becoming star-crossed lovers. Angels were meant to be with angels and fairies with fairies... Granted that even if you did know about his son’s feelings, you would eventually realise that it was against the laws of the world, for you were a gateway for the Good to seep into the mortal world. But what Saint Michael did not know was that the fairy his son had fallen in love with had stored the same amount of love he had for her in his heart.”

“The Heavens forbid star-crossed lovers between the two breeds of beings. Saint Michael himself couldn’t believe it when his son caved into his feelings right after you did. Fairies were fickle-minded; the only beings of the world of immortals that once walked the Earth as human beings. It was expected that you would provide the same love to the Archangel’s son -- but when he decided to embrace you in his all-gold halo of light... Saint Michael knew he could not afford losing the bearings of his son. He had decided that mortalising you would be a smart decision; keeping you close by letting you protect your ability to connect with this world but restraining you from ever returning to Hyunjae’s side.”

“Yet, like mortals, even immortal beings are unable to fight the strength of love. Hyunjae had decided descend to the world of the Humans and Mortals... to protect you by your side in your second life, allowing you to see him, touch him.”

The day you were reborn was the day Hyunjae had decided to humanise himself, albeit the process was draining and set him on a ticking clock from returning to the other world.

The ghoul looks at you, his blue eyes now revealing himself as a fairy who had disguised himself, in a bid to warn you before you had sold your heart to Hyunjae, something you cannot be with.

“You are paying the price for a fault that was his, do you not bear any resentment?”

The memories return. Flashes of Hyunjae smiling at you because he knew you could see him. The kisses that stained his skin because you were a mere mortal with abilities, and he was a being that was meant for more.

“How is this his fault?”

The fairy is silent, thinking of the words to say.

“Had he lived up to the responsibilities of being the son of Saint Michael, he wouldn’t have caved in.”

Your hair feels light around your shoulders, watching the fairy slowly morph into something less ambiguous.

“What would have happened if we didn’t fall in love in my first life?”

The fairy had grown wings that looks like glass, reflecting light into seven colors into the abyss beyond you. He looks at you, blue eyes never faltering.

“You would’ve become an Undine Fairy, and Hyunjae would’ve had to return to the world of the Skies--”

“And I would never see him again.”

He can see that you’ve had a glimpse into your past life; the forbidden love you had for Hyunjae now buried deep inside you. It feels like someone had just stuck a shovel 6 feet into your heart and dug out every remnant he could find.

“Would you have let him go, had he been true to his existence and you had become an Undine?”

“There’s no way I can answer that, can I?”

The fairy blinks and starts walking backwards. “The rules between the two Worlds are forged in stone, but everybody knows that the matters of the spirit and soul cannot be bound by tangible logic. Your choice depends on what you believe: will you choose to believe what you see or what you feel?”

The question echoes inside your head, and the world around you flashes brightly like you had just died and walked into heaven.

Your consciousness returns to current time, eyes fluttering open as your alarm clock rings you awake. Sitting opposite you, eyes closed as you watch him snoozing lightly despite sitting in a chair, you feel a pinch in your chest.

It’s not his fault, and never will be.

#hyunjae imagines #the boyz #the boyz hyunjae #hyunjae #the boyz imagines #the boyz fanfic #the boyz scenario #tbz imagines

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