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littleroaes · 7 months

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To any lovers left alive ( 恋人たち ‘The Lovers’ ), l.jy

inspired by weathering with you ( 2019 )

a failed love goddess saves herself by fleeing to earth and an ordinary hopeless romantic boy ( with his self claimed younger brother ), together they start a fail-proof service that can make the love of your life fall for you too. as he teaches her human relationships, they eventually come to adore each other too. though, as the universe's not in their favor, only left is to hope.

PAIRING lee juyeon x fem!reader, high schooler!eric

GENRE FLUFF, pretty angsty, slight fantasy, little smut ( MDI 18+ ), greek mythology!au ( eros & psyche ), hanahaki disease!au ( no one dies <;3 ), teaching love!au, forbidden rules aren’t in their favor love , little crime!au, amnesia!au, they run a love service, it rains a lot, human!juyeon, eros!reader, strangers to friends to ( nearly ) lovers, mutual pining ( but juyeon does it harder ), cute flirty needy juyeon, hopeless romantic and lovesick!juyeon, y/n likes to tease juyeon, adopted little brother!eric, high schooler!eric, makoto shinkai type of love like your name ( 2015 ), weathering with you ( 2019 )

WARNINGS call reader angel once, say fuck about 5 times, knife used as a metaphor of anger ( once ), juyeon finds and fires a gun, petty crime, ANGST — > bittersweet ending, fictional disease ( not conventionally used! ), amnesia, descriptions of coughing and breathlessness, mentions of violence ( physical ), SMUT — > kissing, making out, oral ( f receiving ), palming, dry humping, soft begging, p in v, unprotected ( don’t try at home ), juyeon’s touched starved af, both are kind of switch, very fluffy smut

WORD COUNT 33.6 k

PLAYLIST

a/n : this is one of my favorite pieces ive written so I hope you like it! don’t try to translate the japanese on the banner😭, it’s literally just bs to make the banner look like the movie posters😭 I don’t usually write smut, but I thought it added to the story. but don’t worry! it’s very soft and not hardcore at all ( very fluffy ). it’s a bit angstier than my other works, not by much, it’s predominantly fluff. it’s very melancholic!

like and reblog are highly encouraged!

"A RECENT SPIKE IN NEW USERS FOR DATING APPS HAS CAUSED DEVELOPERS TO BE ASTOUNDED.

At the same time, hashtags like love is dead are trending number one on social media platforms like Twitter. Young people all over the internet are sharing their recent heartbreak, leaving us to question the mega romance struggle of the youth generation.”

When the glass door to the inner room falls close behind her, the voice from the TV in the left upper corner becomes merely a vague presence in the night. It ceases between the synthetic material of her raincoat in the harsh weather as she stands on the deck, a meter from the center. A wind from far away collides with the fragment of her face beneath the hood. How the rain, cold, impacts her skin before they descend down the curvature.

But between the loose strands in nonexistent patterns before her eyes, shines the city in total divine. Each lightsource, limited in a single square, stacked on top of the other, reflects in the water as they approach port.

The boat collides with the stone lining surrounding the city port. It echoes over the raging sea and Y/n forces her hands deeper down the fabric of her pockets. While the people in neon green vests let the metal reach over to land, the dock, she for a single second stood alone on, is slowly filling over with people from indoors.

The vague heat across the passengers clothes as they pass her by. She stands still to let them cross the arch above water without reflection. Y/n walks out the metal bridge with the last five passengers. When her body reaches fast land, she hears resonant voices from the workers behind, together with the metal being thrown up against the dock.

At the very edge of the city, she looks up towards the highest lights, where the towering buildings fade into the rain clouds. To then look down, where the crowd of passengers enters between litten up corners. The backpack on her shoulders feels immensely light as she looks at the nearest street where signs emit neon blue and starlight yellow.

But as the celestial behind the clouded sphere continues to move when she stands underneath it, Y/n forces the straps higher and walks between the entrance of neon delight.

The storm from the first day she laid her eyes on the city, still lingers over the high buildings. Though, the heavy rain that plummets against the architectural dimensions, can’t reach her in between all these walls. In a hostel room, cramped between six–five enclosures, until the very outer edge of the building meets weather, she sits cramped up against the computer desk.

Teared tour guides of the metropolitan city, stacked on top of each other, and the white screen in complete view of her vision, showcases link after link of potential jobs. Every blue sentence turns purple as she passes down the page. But each leads to a paragraph with a solid brick wall. From the first word down to the next five, Y/n doesn’t have to read more to realize she isn’t qualified.

At last, at the tail end of the first page, she finds an application for a job at a hostess bar. Three clicks among the main streets on google maps, she finds the neon sign in an alley. Half of its radiance, covered by alternate indorses. The street view won’t let her in to see the entrance, compressed between shadows.

Y/n falls back into the chair. The rectangular screen ventures from sight field as her mind receives the blue illuminated walls and brown wood of the desk. One can barely see the floor in this precarious space, therefore, she leans further back, embraces her legs and watches the ceiling. The walls impend on her figure, but somehow she feels guarded. Between all layers, she stays hidden from the eyes of the storm or silhouettes remote from street lights.

The complete silence of this space, bane in a second, being her stomach. A kind of sound that only comes by hunger, and a sort that pains at the very inside of the body. Y/n looks down from the walls, lets one arm off her legs and gently wraps it around her stomach.

Her eyes wander the table. Between the small titles of books, keyboard and paper scribbles, lies three bills in vertical order. A single shadow beneath the gaping parts where paper bends, causes of the light from the screen. Y/n stares at it as if it will change. But the only thing in motion is the light from the computer, when she hasn’t moved the cursor and the white fades to a darker shade.

Her shift will be tomorrow night, and the money beside the computer will be needed for the morning, in the badly lit register, where a man sits behind a scratched plastic veil. The same sound from before lingers between the room and Y/n gently stands up. The chair creaks as she pushes it under the table and turns against the artificial light, to get the plastic raincoat, dripping of water from the weather thundering outside.

“I apologize, I’m-”

“Out! You’re fired!”

The last words leaving her mouth echoes over the blue-red litten street. As his face is only a centimeters from the back door, she takes the handle and forces it close. The sharp edge of the black metal tears the space in between them. His eyelids fall shut, chin down towards his chest as his right foot trips over the elevation in asphalt. In the limited back door space, where he stands secluded from rain, are two plastic bins. His feet touch the ground where water has endured along concrete and created a static puddle. The opposite loses grip and his shoulder lands on the brown bin, at the edge of the cubicle.

How in an instant, the fall of rain against concrete existed only auditorily, but to now soak his white shirt. The brown bin, together with his own silhouette, falls down the asphalt, creating waves in the thin build up of water. All its insides are dispersed across the alley, beside his knee, to the cigarette ashtray down the other wall.

He lets hands coat himself in midnight rain as he forces to stand. Assemble the pieces in neon light as he desperately wonders where to take himself next. Wherever his thoughts seem to take him, his mind always runs back to his brother.

When the bin stands upright, at the place it first belonged, he sees a brown paper bag below it. Sealed in tape across the opening. To reach down and see dark spots form, where his fingers touch the paper. His eyes curiously brightened by the red neon sign above. The paper bag, tightly shut, seamlessly goes into his pocket. Even as he comes out the back alley of restaurants and out the high end street where people without faces covered in raincoats brush against him, he thinks about the slight weight change in his right pocket.

At the glass door into a fast food chain where a doorstep separates the water and white clear floor, he steps in. When it locks to the frame, the weather becomes simply a vague background shatter against the windows. Instead, static rhythms come from the TV in the higher corner.

He finally takes a seat. Black tray decorated in a thin piece of paper with his order placed on top. The grease of the burger seeps through the wrapping. As he sits on the extended piece of table up against the window, he sees fragments of a color spectrum in the dark as people pass him by. He takes off his marine blue raincoat, water courses through the folds and down the hem, before it assembles and falls to the floor. To let it continue pour beneath the chair as he places it on the back rest. He sits down again, sees his reflection in the window. Though supposed to be a transparent barrier to another scene, in the dark, even windows become mirrors. He sees a vague outline of his metal plate on his uniform. “Juyeon”, outlined in two languages fully black. Before opening his meal, he unclips the brooch and lays it beside the tray.

While half way through his burger, the paper bag in the right pocket off his raincoat crosses his mind. Still with the burger in one of his hands, the other reaches to the end of his raincoat, where the hem line dances upon the floor. It whispers of paper and he has it only a centimeter or two below the table. Juyeon’s chin leans forward and the strands of his fringe fall with it.

He turns it upside down and inspect the crinkled sides. Finally lets his food down the tray to use both hands to gently loosen the tape from the fibers. The fold at the very top of the brown bag opens and Juyeon cautiously reaches his finger in between.

He can’t completely ascertain why he took it. Maybe because there’s no firm reasoning to argue, since it was only pure curiosity. One doesn’t throw a sealed package in the bin, he thinks.

Strands of his fringe seem to fall faster when his eyes reach for the black complexion hiding beneath the paper. The skin of his fingers feels cold hard material, and when his hand returns, revealing half of the object in matt black, his eyes go from curious to wide of racing heart.

He only sees the object for a second, but nonetheless, Juyeon brings it to his stomach and leans over the table. The bag is in full shadow beneath his body and eyes coated in a thin layer of horrid adrenaline, watching the surrounding tables. When the weighting pressure against his chest has started to loosen and the avid line of light in his eyes has run out, Juyeon leans up a little. Let the radiance from the spotlight ceiling find its way in and make sense of the object again.

As he sat and wished it was a dream, beneath him, in his own lap, lies a gun. Sharp lines of its corners contrast violently against the color palette of the restaurant. Juyeon takes his hand down towards it, feels the weight. Sounds of dark pitch when tapping his nail against it. There is no frame in his mind whether the object in his lap is a real gun. Closest being a toy gun from the local kids shop in younger days. It could not be real, he thinks, as it turns to the other hand.

Either way, when Juyeon once again looks up, the scenery is as serene as the first time. At the highest corner above the toilets is a screen. TV that, instead of music distracts from the overbearing silence of a strange place, plays the news. The woman in the suit talks about the spike in dating apps. With the first mention of romance, Juyeon looks away. Cage the voice, to simply return to background noise, without a purpose of being understood.

For the last time his eyes recoil to the gun. Juyeon takes up the paper bag again, folding it gently around the gun before reaching to his jean pocket. If it’s real, he needs to keep it hidden and preferably leave it inside another dark alley along the city streets. And if it is just simply plastic, it bears no consequences.

Where paint starts to fade, cloth seen behind the window and electric cables rather than leaves. Y/n stands on her toes to inspect the details of glass into private lives. An apartment complex compressed between five others, stairs where the rain varies in flow, down each step to the closest drain and three windows in lack of light.

In contrast to the constant pedestrian crossings further away, places like these may hold people with forgetful minds about their doors, or just the framework itself that is supposed to protect them, won’t.

At the third floor of the complex in gray shade, is a dark window with broken lining placed a meter from the stairway. Y/n has gone into the alleyways where lush plants of the forever rain covers any spots where street lamps would shine between the high buildings. It's cramped, shoulders brush between edges of green plantation and feet nearly trip over pots. There are metal fences in blue pigment that creak every time she opens or closes them. But at last, she stands at the end of the stairs, beside a plant, suffocated in water.

To reach out the window with red hands as an effect of cold, onto the ice metal lining. It hurts in those fingers but nonetheless, Y/n continues to pull on loose pieces and hit the frame. As another wind rises, a star dies and one room in the neighborhood darkens. The square design loosens from the complex and creaks amidst the rain shatter.

It’s simple to take one step onto the sill and force one’s body up the elevation, to then fall to the opposite floor. Though, as Y/n then stands up to observe the secret world of someone else’s, she feels just a little guilty as eyes return to the floor. How her shoes holding rain frees it, and causes thin puddles to collect beneath. Y/n turn her head, two beds beside her, and way in, a kitchen. She walks up to the counter where a few plates are stacked and the window above the sink opens for light over the otherwise shadowed details.

Immediately, there’s a neatly organized box of ramen packages close to the sink. Placed in color order, Y/n’s hand, just a little hesitant to actually reach out and ruin it. Three red’s that she gently puts in her raincoat, because it was most of that color. Now her eyes adverts from the counter up to the shelves. Hidden furthest where the sharp lines and walls cut off any highlights, she sees a plastic bag. Y/n stands on her toes to force her hand in, it echoes of plastic throughout the apartment. When reading the label, it’s melon bread.

A sudden sound goes through the walls, a click from the hallway behind her. Y/n looks over her shoulder to see a streak of yellow light, painting the floor before it disappears when the door closes once again. Fabrics and keys, chaotic in that part of the complexion and Y/n stares at the wall before the new presence. All thoughts that race through her mind, become none when they all collide into each other. A fragment of an idea does make itself out of the blur. But there is no use in hiding beneath the sink or running towards the window, because when her eyes drift for an escape, the person reveals himself and stares eye to eye with her.

As if body, absent like two curtains drifting apart, her soul left before him. She hasn’t realized the anonymity in the real world until the eyes of someone else, truly authenticate her existence. How much of humanity is just to fill up old space and pass each other in it.

As neither of them say anything, a second silhouette appears from the hall.

“What’s wrong-” He, a distance in height from the former and in navy school uniform with a backpack, halts his words when closing in on the taller, and then follows the line of stare to her figure. The taller’s eyes turn sharp in casted light from outside. He takes a step back to the one in school uniform, so his body hides from her sight, aside from the glimpse of hair and eyes above the shoulder.

“Who are you?”

Y/n lift her hands up to head length, the plastic of red vibrant packages crinkles with it, “I’m not here to hurt anyone.” She purses her lips in, tears her eyes away from theirs as she watches the city framed in the window. To let her hands down again, Y/n stacks the three red packages on top of each other and the bread neatly beside.

“I’ll leave.” Her shoes stain the floor and cold air forge divides them as she passes down the hallway. The one protected by a taller shoulder, watches her take the door handle and turns when he feels the presence of the one before him alter.

“You didn’t take anything else?” The taller one asks while looking at her. The line of his shoulders aren’t as tense, the shine in his eyes from the awake city at night, reflects like a single star rather than the red light at the tops of soaring buildings. Y/n holds her hand still on the metal, shakes her head. Soon after, he frees his back from the shorter, continuing up the counter. Eyes of the one in uniform follows him and lingers in the direction plastic can be heard. Then, in a slightly faster haste than daily walk, he comes up to her with the three ramen and bread.

Her eyes remain in wonder over his two hands with mere distance to her own. And as another second passes, she sees a fruit bar of sorts on top of the ramen. Y/n takes her eyes off the food in an uncertain manner, towards the window. The student who still glances in her direction, stays at that line of floor.

The plastic sounds again as he motions it towards her. His fringe follows that action, “You needed the food.” He says gently and this time, fully extends his arms to let the vibrant material fold gently against her stomach.

Y/n finally lets her hands around it, rain on her coat, now spreading across the synthetic. The shoes on her, find themselves in an awkward position and vision wanders between two points. Therefore, the boy gently nods and purses his lips in.

Her hand finally weighs down on the handle and a light, much stronger than the moon, opens from that point. It casts itself over him and the one further into the apartment. She for the first time realizes the complexity in human features as the highlights contrast with its shadows.

“Thank you…I’m sorry.” Y/n says quietly before closing the door.

There’s an empty seat to his right at the back of the bus. Sunshine behind the cloud layers has passed, and during evening, the rain remains, and shatters against the windows with an ever changing view. Juyeon watches each droplet race across the glass before it implodes against the edge. The sequence as if taken out of a memory, he stares for a bit longer.

A monotone voice lingers along the bus as it comes to a stop. The rain enhances when the doors separate. A woman in the middle of the bus walks out and at the front steps a boy in. By only a faint glimpse of his profile, even in between the masses of crowds, Juyeon would make out the features and smile as he does now. Eric waves goodbye to two girls standing beneath the door before turning his head, locking eyes with Juyeon at the very back.

Eric takes the right seat next to the older. Let the backpack off his shoulders and lie it in his lap. Juyeon observes each action and synthetic fold of the material til the door closes and the cityscape moves forward. The younger one suddenly looks up at Juyeon who still smiles, so much that his eyes start to crease.

“Player.” Juyeon pats his shoulder against Eric’s. Meanwhile the one in sudden accusation takes up the umbrella, where it has compiled a small puddle. It spills rain on their pants as he waves it towards Juyeon, and he lets out a laugh and covers his face behind his hands. Before Eric has gotten the entire backseat rain covered, Juyeon takes his wrists and forces it down.

“I’m not.” Eric switches to a more comfortable position, “You’re just hopeless.”

Juyeon scoffs, “I’m not.”

Eric does the same, leaning his body over Juyeon’s, and hand, reaching for his pocket. Eric is back in his own seat before Juyeon’s expression converts. While Juyeon furrows his eyebrows and asks him what he’s doing, Eric has his lockscreen on perfect display, HD in all dimensions, perfectly framed in the rectangular screen. The younger one turns the phone up against his nose.

Juyeon would scold him, but his lips fall shut as the smile from dreams enters his sight once again. The picture is from a day in which the weather was warmer and the sun stood in complete limelight, cloud curtains out of view. A month has gone by, but somehow it feels as if glimpsing into a past life as he makes eye contact with the captured past.

Juyeon takes the phone back, holds it in two hands. Eric sits quietly to observe Juyeon, and quickly sighs when the older doesn’t turn off the screen. Juyeon looks up, visible pout on his lips and fallen eyes, he consciously holds the phone while Eric falls back in his seat.

“You still have her as your lockscreen?”

He doesn’t answer.

Eric sighs again, “Hopeless.” He widens his eyes, “Hopeless!”

Juyeon too leans back, letting the younger’s words drown him like the downpour. The screen close to his face again. Somehow, the longer he stares at it, he feels as if she will stand there again before him, like the spring they first met. But each night he longingly waits, but rain season never ends.

At the last stop, where there’s only vague lights and dark roads. They walk under their own umbrellas. The shatter over the bus seems to haunt them wherever they go. From where cars and buses flashes beside each scenery, building walls close in on them. Each meter reaches beyond the next alley, how it feels as if the edge of the umbrella will make marks in the walls.

It is quiet between them, Juyeon looks at Eric and observes the delicate details over his face. He smiles where the umbrella covers it. Some days, on the same street, Eric’s voice can echo past the last wall and reach further out to the sides where the signs extend. And other days, his imaginative world stays where it was born. Juyeon guesses it must have been a tiring day.

An abrupt sound from a left alley draws a crack in the ambiance evening. Eyes of the two turn towards that vague litten path. Their sneakers cease to form circular patterns in puddles as their vision tries to reach in between the signs. At last, they finally see the figure of a girl moving backwards, away from someone on the other side as her hands extend against the wall. A shout echoes again and a man comes from the opposite side, charges against her and she pulls herself even higher up the wall.

The two of them stand like nature in mid winter, frozen and left to watch the world. Eric’s eyes become wider when the man pulls off her raincoat hood, tauntingly gestures his hand to her face and takes a grip on her hair. The frown on Juyeon’s face reads. Though, none of them steps another foot into the alley.

“Juy-” Eric whispers but his voice disappears when Juyeon walks forward. Each step on the stones becomes slower as he falls in line with the center.

There’s a second presence underneath nightlife entrance. He catches sight of Juyeon first, shine of fine metal as he sharpens his eyes. Juyeon’s dispute in cautious surveillance as the man and girl shift towards him. As they lock eyes, Juyeon recognizes her features. It’s of manmade light, though, familiar as ever.

“What do you want?” The one with turned back asks.

Juyeon deliberately closes his hands around the umbrella, “Please, let go of her.”

The man scoffs, “It’s none of your business, Boy.”

“I’m telling you to take a step away from her.”

“As I said,” The man takes his hands off the wall, reiterating those words as he comes closer.

“It’s none of your business!”

The man forces his heavy arms on Juyeon’s shoulders. Lean his weight onto his palm until Juyeon falls backwards. His left foot comes behind the other, and his hand nearly loses the umbrella. Before he comes upon the asphalt, a hand on his collar obliges the rain to violently graze his face.

At the same time, the girl walks off the wall. Contempt she takes her hand out to grip the man’s blazer. Though, before her fingers touch the black fabric, the second man comes behind her. The weight of his arm comes over her shoulders, coercing her knees to fall.

Juyeon, through the cruel grip in high angle, sees her struggle. He verges on violence, taking the loose end of his blazer and pulls him closer. But when the man loses balance, both his hands come over his shoulder. Weighed down on opposite sides, causing Juyeon to groan. Over him, he constraints Juyeon, forcing ground to pierce his back.

How the cold rain seeps through the clothing, soaks his skin until red and itches. As he tries to force his legs up, the man pushes his weight onto him harder, hands against his throat. Barely breathing, it’s enough to convert rain to stars, being buried six feet under. Each tear from the sky falls in his eyes and Juyeon irregularly closes them so as to make eye contact with the one above.

“What will you do about it, Boy?” He taunts.

Shirt scratches against the ground once more, a raindrop falls onto a middle point of his eyes. Juyeon trails his right hand onto the asphalt. Each sharp edge of the black stone seizes his skin and draws white patterns. He reaches for his pocket, desperately lifts on his body to make room for just a centimeter as water leaks into his clothing. Before his thighs weighs down his own, Juyeon gets the gun out. Takes his opposite from the ground, has the two of them on the trigger. With fully extended arms, he directs it towards his face, the hole as a third eye beneath him.

He scoffs from above, “Like you will kill me either way?”

Raincoats folding against each other to the left, as the other man holds Y/n down. His strong complexion covers Eric down the alley and Juyeon secures his eyes on the man. Pressure sores from the grinding teeth as his point finger shakes over the extinguisher. The rain falls down the matt material of the gun and down his skin. He curses the damn gun for being plastic as the man’s aggravation fuels constraint. A last taunt leaves his lips, rage when sunken to hell, crosses his chest as if by a knife, Juyeon pulls the trigger.

Juyeon closes his eyes the moment the trigger transcend the boundary, and an ear piercing sound shocks between the high walls. Loss of vision, it feels as if the entire platform adheres to that wave. Once he opens his eyes, the shockwave has consumed all provoke. To trail the dust, it ascended and broke a street lamp, devastating the lucent.

He distances himself, wide eyed, etched in terror, Juyeon lies still, seeing his pretense have grown ugly from the sudden shatter as the man takes two steps back. Juyeon finally sits up, rests his hand against the asphalt while still in condemnation. He tears it in a second to turn left. The girl holds the same posture as the two others, he realizes there’s no hands on her shoulders. Juyeon forces himself up, grabs her arm and collides shoulders with the man. He sees Eric standing at the same position as he left him and breathes til it hurts.

“Run!” Juyeon shouts.

He sees those windows he walks by everyday, and Eric accelerates his feet to fall in line with Juyeon. The younger takes him by the upper arm jacket and forces him to stop.

“Where the fuck you get the gun?” Eric spits.

Juyeon tears his arm away and looks at the streetlights in row. No stranger is present under the yellow light, so Juyeon looks back towards Eric and forces the gun lower in his pocket.

“I found it in a paper bag, I didn’t know it was real.” He sighs, “I’ll get rid of it tomorrow, okay?”

Eric doesn’t argue further, instead takes a step back from the circle of light surrounding them. Eric stands with his back against him, head advancing in parallel to the ground as his wet shoes touch the dead grass in between the wall and asphalt.

“Why did you do that?”

Juyeon turns around, a thin layer of startle lies over the pupil and his chest still falls heavily from lack of air. He blinks a few times as the girl’s shoulders fall with her chin. Only a finite part of her features is visible in streetlight and the two boys wait for her in silence as she turns in her place and watches the obscure details of the wall.

“I needed that job.” She says finally and looks up. The rain at her scalp runs down each strand until it forms a droplet at the edge. Until it lands on the skin beneath her eye.

Juyeon watches her cold written figure in fabricated light with mouth slightly agape, as if wanting to say something but no words are to use. The older feels a sudden push against his upper arm. To slip one dimension out of trance, he looks down where the wall becomes background and Eric waits impatiently. Eric’s left side leans continually towards her direction in haste, as his eyes widens. Juyeon stares at the action for a second, until returning, with the same expression as before but with a burden from the shorter.

“I’m sorry…” Juyeon starts. She too face him, chin still a centimeter down and pupils drained of rain, or maybe worry.

“...I thought you were in danger.” He focuses on the point where the worn down wall meets the asphalt and green complexion grows amidst. How his cold hand runs up to his neck where even his hair hasn’t been saved from downpour. There’s a sort of diversion in the way he looks down, seeming to stare at a point far away. As if it were a clear night sky with four constellations, he speaks again.

“I shouldn't have assumed, I’m sorry.”

Eric gives no part in sound, but still, nods his head gently. The girl at the other side of the faint circle, illuminated by the lamp, presses a faint smile.

“You’re forgiven.”

Juyeon looks up fully and as if another star convulsed, their expression shifts and her features are now in full view. How the moon in her veil has finally revealed the hidden side and the girl smiles fully. She shakes her head to make room for the skin concealed in strands. A filter in blue green light, enchanted by city night, conceal the space they stand in and she feels two leaves opening up its sides to reveal itself.

“I’m Y/n.” she takes out her hand, cold as the other two’s.

“I’m Juyeon.” He shakes her hand, “This is Eric.” And motions it to the younger.

“Hello.” Eric says with a pressed smile.

Y/n tilts her head, a visible change in angle as she looks at Juyeon then Eric.

“Are you brothers or?”

“Yes.” Eric says. Juyeon laughs awkwardly.

“Not biologically, Eric’s my adopted brother and my mother passed away recently.”

“Oh, sorry for your mother.”

Juyeon shakes his head gently, “She had been sick for sometime, we take care of each other well, right Eric?” He touches his shoulder with his elbow which causes Eric to look up.

“Mm!” He nods.

Eric is eventually the one to ask Y/n to come in with them as the rain starts once again. Her raincoat is as wet as theirs and during the interval of their conversation, even puddles form beneath their coats. Y/n is the last one left in the bathroom. She stands with her hair above the tub, draining remaining water from her hair. Juyeon edges on the doorframe to the bathroom, looks at her with vast eyes before walking to his bed. He lends her a muted green set of clothing that he can’t remember from where.

“You’re not from here, are you?”

Y/n shakes her head in the bedroom.

“I took the boat here.”

“Where do you come from?” Juyeon asks, seated at the edge of the bed. His hands gathered at the front of his lap. Y/n looks down her own, takes the hem between two fingers before speaking.

Her tone is gentle, birds sing in the arch of her, “I don’t think you’ll believe me.”

"Why?" You can tell us.” He tilts his head.

She wonder over the ceiling. Underneath this roof, it feels as if none can hurt her, “I’m not human.”

Juyeon’s quiet, smiles cautiously to mirror her, “I-”

His first thought is to reach out his hand and tell her she’s obviously wrong, but, there’s a certain rudeness in telling a mere stranger they have an incorrect idea about themselves.

Y/n laughs, “Do you believe in gods, Juyeon and Eric?” She looks at the two beds.

“No.” Eric answers immediately.

“Then, I have to break it to you.” She looks at Eric, “I am the love Goddess.”

“Yeah, and I’m a Unicorn.” Eric laughs.

“Eric?!” Juyeon panics, in which Y/n laughs again.

“Don’t worry about it, you don’t have to believe it.”

Surrounded in conversations for a bit longer as her coat drips of rain still. The two of them come in on work, when Juyeon asks her. Y/n scratches her head as she tells him it was her only chance at a job. That nearly everything is gone after the city journey. Juyeon bites his lip and shifts weight in the bed as that hidden guilt echoes within.

“Can’t you start a service?” His sudden voice lingers over the hard floor. Y/n has her head in his direction, with eyes casted by the little lamp beside the mattress. Juyeon takes his hand on the edge of the bed and Eric watches from the opposite side how he settles onto his knees, further than a meter distance, but close enough for her to feel the wooden floor trail his motions in the contrasting sereness of Earth

“I mean,” Juyeon takes one hand on the floor and leans onto it.

“Say, you promise to people to put in their name and someone they like, that they’ll fall in love, in exchange you get money?”

To deflect from the thin bridge created between them, Y/n returns to the hemline. Where the washed out fabric turns sparse, and because of the warm light from, the outline of her legs filters through the fabrication. The spot beside him becomes desolate as he takes his hand back to his own warmth, to rest with the other in the curve of his lap.

“Maybe…” She answers without looking.

Juyeon shifts his legs, he falls into a criss-cross position, “I mean, magic is profitable, people seem to like it.” He looks behind himself to point at Eric on the other bed, but stutters as his silhouette has fallen between the blue patterns, only his feet visible at the edge.

“I-I see high school students with magic stones all the time.”

Y/n smiles again. To bring her legs up from the floor and embrace them with her arms as she leans into the gap created by colliding knees.

“It is one of the first rules as a god to not interfere with human life for personal gain.” She pauses, “I probably shouldn’t.”

It turns silent once again, or, silence aside from the snoring coming from the bed in the corner. Then of course, a city is never fully asleep. He scratches his nape and diverts his vision to the dishwasher in the kitchen, “I’m sorry, I just feel really bad for the job thing.” His back falls towards the floor gently, but despite delicate, he hits it. As it lingers amid the inner four walls and trails to her end, she smiles and laughs.

“It’s okay,” Y/n nods, “I’ll think about it.”

“Is it true?” One of the girls, in high ponytail, wrapped in red silk band asks.

Y/n nods, pushes the pink box one step closer over the table. She takes up the black marker, holds it out to them. With an encouraging motion of her hand and the calm line of her lips. Before the girl at the center touches hands with Cupid, Eric comes forward.

“You can get a free trial.”

The peaceful features on her face, reminiscent of a spring morning, disappears like it has run one season back. Her head shifts towards him in a second, eyes wide and begs him as to why he just uttered those words. Eric sees them, but looks away, just as calmly as he said that sentence.

“Try for free and if it works, tell the others around the school.” He holds out his hand, “Deal?”

The girl in center alternates intent with the two beside her. The gaze bridging between them must have sent some obsolete signals, Y/n think, cause after, she who has the pen reaches out her hand. Y/n, desperate, tells herself not to tremble when the girl takes a pink note. How the synthetic tip scratches against the dry paper surface, and after a few seconds, the girl lets the note fall into the liminal space seeping light into the box.

Y/n watches in silence as they disappear out the door and follow their back silhouette as far as the windows down the hall let her. Y/n looks at him once again. Eric lifts his eyebrows as her eyes are intensely edged and while her left cheek seems to pout out a bit further than the right.

“It’s business.” He says, “After you actually make them fall in love, the whole school will come rushing in here.”

Y/n tilts her head back. Impatience bound through her veins when she feels as if the sun hasn’t risen another centimeter. Her arms across her chest as she thinks about dirty hostels and forbidden rules.

Eric sighs and one of the backpack straps falls down his shoulder, “Trust me, rumors spread fast in here.”

She nods, accepting the fact that the human beside her knows more than she does.

Only one more student came by that morning. They had allegedly built curiosity when a pink flier at the bottom of the stairs, written in bold letters with about four thousand hearts, crinkled when they opened the main entrance. Y/n was rather skeptical of the poster Eric gifted her. The A4 was the cleanest shade of white she had ever laid her eyes on, either way, when he asked why, she didn’t want to admit it was the rough edges of his lettering. Also, that her own wasn’t worth a duck feather pen in fine ink either.

Eric said he needed to go to his next class. Y/n had taken a seat down one of the chairs beside a desk. She shifted her head where the sun struck his face, the warm filter over his complexion, reminded her of gold. He told her to lay low, even go to the cafe two buildings away if teachers control the flier pointing at room 233 .

When she watched his silhouette fade from yellow tones and into shadows of the cold litten building. His back draped in navy fabric disappears behind the same wall as all four other people. As only the ventilation lingers between the dust and even the clock over the door stands frozen in time at 14:17, Y/n sighs and turns her head to the window. Staring worriedly at a point beyond the sky only she can see.

How the end of each shoe shatters against the floor as students pass by the windows of each classroom down the corridor. As the teacher neither sits on her own desk or stands before the chalkboard, all fabrics, bags and voices come in clusters, lined up against each corner and wall.

A voice from the right side of the classroom, beside the window, draws his vision to them. At that corner of the room stands a group of four other boys. Eric waves before walking between the desks down the spot underneath the sunlight.

“You’re late.” One indicates.

“I’m always.” Eric laughs and lets the backpack fall off his shoulder.

“But I saw you on the way here, you were with some girl?” The other in the group starts making noises and hitting his shoulder. Eric instead rolls his eyes.

“She needed help, she’s my brother’s age either way.”

The book in his bag comes up in height with Eric’s head, before he swings it against the one beside him. It lands on his chest and the other boys laugh loudly. Though, fades in a second when inpatient footsteps run down the hall and crash though the classroom frame. The entirety of the classroom has turned their heads to the one at the center of the chalkboard. It’s the football captain of the team. His hair stands shiverled, the one collar of his blazer is folded inside. At the same time, while all eyes are on him, he scans the panorama and stops when he sees the group furthest down to the left.

His eyes light up in a way only described in fairytales. The curve of his lips and the breath of relief that go through them as he runs up to the group. The people surrounding that desk make room for him as he comes closer. On one of the chairs sits the girl who put her name in the pink box. Eric can only see the boy’s back but clearly each and every change in her facial features. It feels as if she hasn’t closed her eyes since he came before the desk. They sparkle reflection of his own and he finally speaks.

“I walked past a flower shop yesterday, and I saw this, it reminded me of you so I ran and bought it.” He takes up a silk wrapped bouquet that takes up the entirety of his backpack. A gasp goes through the room, and the girl too, lacks air in her lungs as she hesitantly takes the flowers. She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out.

“I love you, Lynn.”

Whispers of excitement fill the four walls and dares to break through the window. Faintly beside him, Eric makes out that the four behind him start whispering too and laughs.He thinks of the paper down the stairwell and Y/n on the floor above. How he has maybe found God, placed in his mundane daily life.

In the tear of afternoon Eric lets his bag levitate over the floor as he waits for the teacher to set the ending breath of her sentence. And the moment she does, Eric takes full step across the sharp edges of each desk and nearly falls over one. Out in the hallway, Eric runs, his figure covers the orange shade seeping through each window as he comes up the stairs, making the poster almost lose touch with frail plastic tape.

At the second floor, he searches each frame that lets him glimpse through the transparency and into the room behind walls. And at the very end, where he left her before the class, her back stands against the bygone rectangle in sun bleached composition. Y/n turns from the school scenery and looks back at him. It could be the novel perspective he has gained that makes him biased, but he wonders if she knew his presence up the stairs before even this dimension let her hear it.

Her features are peacefully drawn against her skin, not a single rule of tension as she questions his presence with vast eyes.

“How did you do it?” Eric walks up closer to her. Y/n smiles and leans further against the window to watch the vague silhouettes and their shadow drawn across the concrete.

“I told you, I’m not human.” She looks at him.

As voices from the entangled hallways underneath their feet reach their ears, Eric wonders if a change in perception will happen, if he lets the minute visor move one step further. Even Y/n’s expression alters. The younger one leans in a bit closer, his pupils seem to search for a fragment of something else, to make sense of her place in home he thought he knew. Y/n herself tense and with immense eyes, takes up her hands.

Like a child taking its first step to explore the vast Earth, Eric reaches his finger out to touch her nose, then her cheek. Later the eyelid, force to close and open it which eventually makes Y/n take a step back and blink about three times in span of one. Y/n laughs slightly as Eric still observes her essence without blinking.

A sharp sound, contrasting to the muted creaks of desks and old walls veiled in delicate old linen. Behind her back, an arrow that balances between the points of two fingers. She looks towards his face, not a single filter thrown over a feature of his astonished expression. Sun reflects onto it as it weighs in her hand, and she closes the space in between them as the arrow comes underneath his chin.

“So you believe me now?” Y/n asks, still smiling.

How his eyes, comparable with the sun as they delights in curiosity. His fingers reach for the arrow, but hesitantly closes in on his chest before he looks up towards her again. Y/n nods gently and takes her hand closer and his fingers finally feel the thin line of the arrow. He takes it gently in two hands. Doesn’t quite force his fingers around it, as if a touch, merely a frequent stronger would tear it.

“Yeah!” He breathes out, “Yeah, I do!”

Y/n opens her mouth to speak once again, but a knock against the frame from the opposite side takes their attention away. Where the sunshine cast itself the clearest, stands another girl and a friend slightly behind. The girl’s hand on the lining, she looks behind her shoulder before back at Y/n.

“I saw your poster, I heard you can make people fall in love.” The girl takes her shoulder bag to her font and reaches for the pocket. Between folding of materials and crinkles of keys, the girl extends her arm with a bill.

“We want to try.”

As the limited day hours come on its last ones in winter, Eric and Y/n look at each other. The younger enthusiastically nods when her eyebrows fall into a state of trouble. Hesitantly, Y/n nods towards him and takes the place behind the desk and slides two pink notes across the surface.

“Of course!”

Winter reeks off the flooring and spreads up her skin. She holds her legs tighter against her body as each bill and silver coin touches the cold floor. With the last gray metal circle in place, she extends her back and scans the paper in thousand folds. Y/n bites her lip with her face down towards her lap, and her back still as a first impression when someone comes through the door.

Thin plastic bindings whisper in the hall. Juyeon takes off his shoes at the door frame, chin directed against Y/n’s back underneath the counter. His fingers don’t find the laces and he takes his eyes off for a second. Eric lies in bed, with his phone and Juyeon sighs quietly before letting the plastic bag up on the square table.

“Eric, you need to do your homework.” Juyeon tilts his head to get even a vague coloration.

“I’ll do it soon.” Eric answers.

To fold down the white synthetic filter, Juyeon looks down at Y/n again.

“Is something wrong?” He asks.

Y/n looks up with vast eyes that fall in usual size once again. She presses a smile between her lips and trails the line between the wood.

“I’m a little worried.” She says, though she quickly breathes again as his hands come off the bag.

“It’s not a lot though, the hostel is just getting more expensive. The money isn’t quite enough yet.” Y/n turns back to the three bills and two coins.

“You can stay here.” Eric’s voice comes from the other end. The two of them look at him, now fully extended over the covers. The sheets drape over his shoulders and legs while the blue light from the screen illuminates his face. She returns in direction and sees Juyeon looking at her with the identical vast eyes as her own. Y/n looks away, she realizes Eric’s complexion isn’t as daunting.

“Can’t she?”

“It’s okay I don’t-” Y/n answers, but Juyeon intervenes.

“No, you can stay.”

Y/n turns to him fully without words, stares at him as he looks away and scratches his neck. It’s still quiet when he remembers the plastic bag left on the table and starts to empty it.

“Are you sure?” Y/n hesitates. At first thought, she doesn’t want to intrude on the line she already feels like bordering. Contrary, she thinks going around the streets would be ruthless. Juyeon nods and she looks over towards Eric.

“You too?”

“Of course, Juyeon’s starting to get on my nerves either way.” He sighs and falls back onto the pillow. The tone itself was nearly bounding on a desire to become three in the house rather than specifically having her settle in.

“Hey?” Juyeon’s hands tangle themselves in the thin synthetic while he tries to get them out. His head leans dramatically to one side while Eric has let the pillows impose around him again.

“I understand that.” Y/n crosses her legs and leans back on her arms, “Don’t worry, Eric, I’ll keep you entertained.”

Juyeon holds a sort of offended expression as she laughs and Eric comes up the fabrics again.

“You’re a high schooler, you just hangout with friends either way.” Juyeon sulks.

“Doesn’t matter, Y/n’s cooler than you.”

“How?” He walks over to Eric’s bed, letting his arms hang low as he stands above the younger and his fringe fall upon.

“She’s literally a god, and you don’t even have a girlfriend.” He moves his hand.

Eric sees from beneath his figure how it forms a gap between Juyeon’s lip, but quickly disappears. As the older has learnt there is no pride left in fighting with the teenager, Juyeon shifts in direction and with the help of his socks, slide defeated against the floor, back to the plastic bag.

All three of them folded out two lonesome blankets scattered in the apartment. It lay on the carpet in the center of the two bed’s. Y/n sat down on the blankets to touch the pillow, but Juyeon insisted on her sleeping in his bed. It took some persuasion, but he smiles so sincerely and talks tenderly that no God could replicate. She accepted and sat on the bed edge. Eric gave her a worn down pajama set from years ago.

Juyeon’s eyes follow her figure, walking away as he stands with his hands awkwardly to the sides.

“The shirt is buttoned wrong.” Her vision from the bedroom, back to the kitchen. He stands still, takes one hand to his neck, scratches it gently before letting it fall down to his own shirt. His fingers draw outlines of details of her own and she looks down to see the overlap in fabric, each button forcing the other side higher.

“Oh.” Y/n frees the first button from the fabric, but it stays in between her fingertips as there is no place to secure it. Juyeon takes a cautious step forward. Where his feet land it makes no creaks and the fall off a button is the loudest thing in the room.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Y/n instantly comes to the floor and takes up the missing piece from Eric’s shirt. She looks up to him apologetically with the plastic piece hidden in her palm as she reaches her arm towards him.

“It’s okay.” He takes the button, then walks over to the kitchen counter. Y/n watches how he opens one of the pantries and takes out a transparent pouch with orange highlights.

“I’ll help you.” He smiles, identical as the sunset shine in winter. It casts cold over skin where there’s no button to cohere fabric. Y/n nods and they walk to his bed, sit by the edge. Y/n’s closest to the pillow end and watches how he opens the zipper to take up a thin needle and a roll of white thread. Juyeon sees her attentive eyes on his hands between the motions. The white thread comes through the metal end and he cuts it off with scissors. Juyeon holds his hands in between them, hesitantly reaching for the open fabric. He locks eyes with her again.

“Is it okay that I?” With no more than a timid hand motion, he asks. But Y/n understands. She smiles and straightens her posture, separating the front and hair with her hands. Juyeon smiles awkwardly with his lips pressed against each other and the opposite ends curl upwards. He takes the folded edge of the fabric delicately between two fingers and leans closer to her chest. When the sharp end filters the backside, his hand brushes against her skin. Juyeon holds his eyes on that spot on the shirt, but really, her warm breath drapes his head in summer mist.

After the button falls in a vertical line with the others, Juyeon lies the needle down. He looks at the two sides of the shirt, shriveled and folded in different heights. Y/n herself, once again looks down her front and follows the line, how the fabric separates from the other side. Halfway through, she buttons again, but Juyeon sees instantly how she’s one level too high.

“I…” His body still in the same place, to attentively listen to the folds in the sheets as to remind himself not to come closer. Juyeon takes his hands onto the end fabric. He coerces together to seal the shadows casted by moonlight onto her skin, their hands brush against each other. The distance between them is incredibly insignificant, in a way that lets her scent intertwine with his own and he hides his face by looking at the hemline.

His head right underneath her chin, his hair smells delicate, of morning in blooming spring. The top of his head reflects the moon and his faint breath damp on her skin.

“And it’s done-”

A sound in greater volume than anything else in the apartment erupts from the other side. Y/n stands up as Eric comes out from the bathroom, his silhouette darker from the warm light coming behind him. Juyeon’s hand diverts back to his own sides. His head slightly tilted up to continue to watch her face and make out the expression above.

Eric walks through the frame, it creaks slightly as he falls down the covers. Y/n looks again where Juyeon observes her with eyes, reminiscent of the cityscape playing outside. It shines across and paints the brown pupil in a cold color. She smiles slightly and takes another step.

“Thank you.” She says gently.

When shoes scratch against the hallmat and two voices he has recorded in a secluded part of his brain intertwines, Juyeon leans forward on toes to let a glimpse of their figures reach from the thin wall. He takes a step before the dividing part of the rooms and stares in silence over the rain consumed. Their hair lies slick against their heads and the thin surface of a droplet holds itself like tears underneath their eyes. Soon gathers a darker blemish by the hemline.

Juyeon immediately runs up to them and feels the water spread from the floor up to his socks. To let his hands immerse in cold rain across the coat arms as he forces them to the bathroom. Though, Y/n insists to wait until Eric’s done as the four walls impend onto them as they stand all three before the bathtub with the sink piercing against their backs.

Eric sees his reflection in the bathroom mirror, starts violently shake his hair to let off the residing water running down his head. The two others shouts, arms covering their faces to ensure any warmth left on their skins in the bathroom. Y/n let her vision through the passage created by the coat arms when Eric’s laugh parallel between the high ceiling. She feels his arms collide onto her own as he points at Juyeon. The water divided into pairs runs down his forehead, to after his lips. Fringe has fallen flat onto his eyes as the water weighs heavy and all collects at the neck of his shirt as a dark stain. Y/n too, starts to smile before falling into laughter together with Eric. Juyeon stands as if anchored to the bathroom mat pressing his lips in.

As some minutes in the room pass, they stand three in row with the last person out the hall. Y/n on the floor at the borderline where the bathroom goes to hall, she sits crisscrossed while Eric stands on knees behind her. The coarse fabric of the towel onto her head as Eric treats it like laundry. And at the top of the three stories stands Juyeon, still drenched, more than the others maybe, drying off the excess in Eric’s hair.

All has dried and the used towels together with the raincoats decorate the bathtub wall. Eric walks to the kitchen as Juyeon tells him there’s soup and Y/n even out the flooded ends of the clothing. Turn around to face the mirror and walk out the door, she stands with her feet in touch with Juyeon’s and the separation between their faces, so trivial that one might condense in another's arm.

At once, when her essence affects his own, he takes a step back and lifts his arms. There is no distance left and in an instant the cold sink hits his back and Juyeon lets out an ache. Y/n laughs silently and Juyeon turns from the floor up to her face that reeks of lucent perfection.

“You look like a wet cat.” She laughs gently before reaching down the tub wall. Beside her calf rests an additional towel which she takes and casts over Juyeon’s head.

Like the fringe of his, it ends just above his eyes and the pupils, infinite golden, look through the opening onto her. Juyeon slightly bends his head down and takes his shoulder closer to his own essence. He tries to hold his eyes open, onto her face that is so close for the first time in his life, but as she follows the wet trails, he closes his eyelids and convulses when she touches his skin down the neck. His head falls back and he whines slightly in which Y/n laughs.

“Stop being sensitive, Juyeon.” She teases and her arms come above his shoulder and around his head to reach the hair furthest down. Her upper body closes in on his and where the cold water has fallen and fabrics cling onto his skin, he feels warmth.

“Sorry…” Juyeon says weakly. The spotlights in the ceiling highlight the fragments of rose red around his cheeks. Her existence is so close to his own that he thinks they might merge. Somehow, he curiously opens his eyes to see her still damp hair, reminiscent of early spring. But has to close his eyes over and over.

Three days outside the window have been in constant motion and the three of them are still in that apartment. Though, for each day Y/n has walked with Eric to school, more students turn attention in the early morning as she walks up the stairs to the second floor. As the pink notes come down to the table surface faster and faster, she has this sensation in her stomach. It grows during silence and when Eric’s at class. It turns into vague whispers and overpowers the ventilation in the right upper corner. It has her out the window and searching for the sun, but at the same time, there’s something so fascinating in watching how the students hold onto their friends as they disappear down the stairs.

How lovely it is to come in so close contact with love, she thinks. Each sight has her desperately wishing for another and when she hits the arrows bow in two hearts, she runs to the other side to stand at the window front and watch how the world stops for only a second as they make eye contact for the first time.

Though, as Eric told her. Whispers between the hallways and notes passed between seats. A single motion that sets the butterfly wings in action, spreads winds around the school and she thinks there is only a lone push before someone other than a student comes up the stairs and sees her.

Y/n sits on the carpet in their apartment during friday afternoon. The warm lamp spreads its familiar light. She counts her bills and coins, and surely has started to build a small tower that goes beyond two centimeters over the flooring. Her palms lean to each side and impend above the paper and silver. She coerces it all to a pile where the bended edges are in opposite directions. As all the flat slides lie together in her hand and she takes the paper bag, she feels a weight on her own shoulder. A warmth only created by another existence in this season.

Y/n takes her sight up, onto the only enhanced in the lingering exhaustion of another turn around the world’s axis. At first impression of the scene beside her, she can only see his legs, like delicate lace in the orange light, but as chin touches his silk hair and the scent touches her face. Y/n sees the facial features from upon, the bridge of his nose in between the hair strands.

Juyeon suddenly perk up. To meet eyes from different directions and see the faint shine in the inner corner from opposite perspectives. Y/n doesn’t speak, but her eyes search his own deeply and when nothing in them seems to gift her question, they follow the shadowed lines down his face to his lips.

“I feel cold, Y/n.” The weight of his head becomes heavier.

“I’m not that warm either.” She says gently, still with her hands on the pile.

Whispers of the apartment and breathing from the alive city, details around them become louder. He finally sighs.

“I don’t know what to do…” His voice mirrors the weak body across her side. Juyeon’s eyes follow the dim corners where lamps can’t reach. Behind the table, against the paper thin wall to divide the bedroom, there is no outline of floor patterns or discolorations. The world sort of fades into that corner. Like the rest of the universe on a certain crossing, falls out of our sight.

Onto his empty chest where he thought nothing could ever reach again, a light pressure of palms to fingers, graze by the shirt before the whole palm encapsulates his sole heart. Juyeon slowly lets his eyes off the horizon at the end of the room and leans his head where her shoulder and neck ends. He watches how she scours his chest from above and feels her hand blur into the chest.

“Heartbreak.” She hums softly and lets her hand cease over his heart.

Juyeon still looks up, “You can feel it?”

Y/n nods and turns to his eyes. The paper between her left hand, she lets them down onto the floor and pushes the rest of them to the side. Her free hand takes his head delicately and his weight off her shoulder. Juyeon complies with her tenderness until his head settle between her lap. His heart, moon touched, and slowly her fingers come in between his hair and in gentle motions brushes.

To carefully not let his entire body weight on her physical bindings. Though, with that thought he still closes his eyes and feels the hemline of her midnight shirt brush against his cheek. The lids over his eyes open once again and he, in a careful state of trance, watches the slight knit between her eyebrows. His eyes, immense and illuminated, picks apart the features and tilts his head slightly, making the shirt come up her thigh.

“Is something wrong?” He asks suddenly. Y/n locks eyes with him. Strands fall like rosen vines beside his head.

Y/n turns back to his chest and stares in wonder over that spot underneath her hand.

“It’s still very painful…it’s recent?”

Juyeon lets the night echo along for a moment longer. Her hand in touch with the temperate fabric of his shirt, reaching for the deepest part of his own existence. It stays to be the most audible thing in the room. But somehow, there’s imminent, much greater weight bound between the ceiling and floor. He takes his eyes off her hand and falls back into the crater which her legs create.

“It was a month ago.” He speaks in a same volume as the detailed city spreading from all directions and encompasses them.

“She broke up with me, we had a lot of arguments. But we finally stood outside this apartment, and she told me that I don’t make her happy anymore.” Juyeon breathes in, “That there's no love left to give, its run dried.” His head falls to its side and her calf brushes against his cheek.

How even the pictures from June, where the stone plates hidden in shadow wished to feel like winter as they ran past the piercing sunlight between the green leaves, aches his heart. All the Earth layers pass through him until he ends up at the very last.

“Your heart hurts a lot, Juyeon.” She watches with knitted eyebrows, the invincible piercing feeling beneath her hand, spreads across her palm. She turns her eyes to him. The tension binding her features disappears slowly, cause; of his delicate expression, painted in care. Another passage of silence.

She whispers and tilts her head, “But you’ll be fine.”

“I will?” He says with a low voice and immense eyes.

Y/n closes her eyelids and opens them up again to take apart the faint layer of shine before the pupil. To lean in closer as to see the reflection grow clearer in the curvature.

“I can’t see why?” She tilts her head again before falling back into place, “But in the near future, your heart will heal.”

He’s quiet for a second, “Are you sure?”

Y/n nods and suddenly smiles. How the cold sensation of his sick heart falls into fragments when her fingers run through his strands.

“I’m the love Goddess afterall.”

The past days, the sun has done a heavy weather rotation around Earth in a perfect instant. Though, somewhere between night and day, the three of them realize it's time to evolve their business. Each dust accumulated over years in waiting has permanently varnished her clothes. The constant sequence of students that runs up the stairwell makes whispers in the hallways, rumors about the ‘woman in the abandoned classroom’ makes it out on student social media.

Any moment, a post on one of the internet cafes will rise to the top, Eric told her one evening. Y/n uncomfortably took the sheets higher up her shoulders then, but he told her one could fear the inevitable curiosity towards her, or profit off it. His idea was to force the service out of the dusty school and that all three stand on a meeting point beside the city river. Eric sat beside her in the bed and threw off the covers to stand up. She watched how he took the loose pieces of his nightshirt and elongated them like what she assumed was wings.

“And we’ll have costumes like real sellers do.” He said.

“Will that really work?” She asked him with a skeptical expression, in which Eric jumped back into the bed.

“Promise, back in first year of high school, we needed to sell cookies. My friend had a cookie monster costume on for two weeks straight while we told people to buy outside the mall.”

Y/n’s quiet.

“We sold the most of any in our class.”

That night, Y/n didn’t really tell Eric that as long as the moon shines on Earth, there will be a constant light upon her, trailing her steps along the asphalt. That she has during this time, become a traitor of the heaven’s and time.

But because that night passed too, the three of them stand in the metropolitan mall. A city where everyone lives or wishes to. In the vertical path down to the opposite end of the white structure, they are. Glass windows with electric doors down every path and five floors that hound above them. Despite an seemingly endless amount of space, the marble floor is nearly invincible when shoes run like tidal waves above it.

Y/n stands in trance with her head up to watch the banners come down on them from the highest floor. The golden light doesn’t cast itself like sunset as the artificial studio light leaves no corner hidden. But by a certain tilt of one's head, the heart of the light bulb, a shimmer closer to a star during night, reaches the pupil.

“I know a good store.” Eric says and takes one step forward, “It’s not expensive there either-”

Though Juyeon forces him to reverse as he reaches out his hand. Juyeon turns to see Y/n beside him, gaping at the high ceiling and he gently intertwines his other hand with hers.

“You have your phone on, Eric?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“My ringtone gives me panic attacks, should we go or not?”

“I-”

“We don’t have all day!” Eric takes the lead by stepping into the crowd. Juyeon comes quickly after and naturally forces Y/n to stop staring at mall decorations. Two different entrances later and a desire to desperately rip off every last layer of clothing, the three of them stand in the store cluster which Eric pointed at. The youngest insists deeply on a store with massive red signs across the windows, indicating an illegally low price, meanwhile Juyeon argues back that it’s smarter to get actual costumes from the party-hell-store next door.

Democracy isn’t on Eric’s side since Y/n stands with wide eyes, still with Juyeon’s hand in hers. Clearly she didn’t have much of an opinion as her answer when Eric tried to get her on his side was what the hell is a costume supposed to be? As Eric’s store windows had white tees and colored jeans, Juyeon pointed at a mannequin in hot dog costume.

“They just have stupid stuff there.” Eric complains as they walk into the party store.

“You don’t have to choose the hot dog costume.” Juyeon answers.

They reiterate the plan and pass the paper plates and party hats down the clothing aisle. Immediately, Juyeon walks to the corner and Y/n watches as Eric stops before her.

“I want to be a devil.” Eric takes up the rectangular plastic bag. Y/n leans over and sees the model in an awkwardly cut suit, pants with way too tight seams that ends above the ankles, and, the cherry on top, a dejecting pair of plastic vibrant red devil horns.

“No one goes to the devil for love advice.” Y/n complains and continues down the aisle. At the furthest end of the costume section, Juyeon stands between the plastic bags. He holds two different ones, the right one he lifts up so that the spotlight in the ceiling shines atrociously on it.

For every step she expects to see the awareness in his face as he looks to her side. But instead, he stands with a slight pout while still holding the plastic bag in front of his face. Y/n smiles as she’s a little less than a meter away. To lean on her toes to reach over, catch a glimpse of the front model.

“Is this how I’m supposed to look?” Y/n tilts her head as she looks at the woman on the front wrapping of the fabrics. Synthetic wings falling off the back with an even cheaper shine over the arrow and bow. The little white dress is dull, though short as the hem ends mid thigh.

“No, you’re prettier." His answer comes close at the end of her own sentence. His eyes aren’t on hers when he says it, he too looks at the model picture of the packaging. Y/n turns to look at him when his face is still in usual saturation and pout visible.

“Really?” Y/n tilts her head and can’t help but break into a smile. Juyeon looks up and views intertwine. That rose blush stains his skin once again and he scratches the back of his hair profusely. He takes a step back, laying his hands on her shoulders from behind. To turn her head to still watch him, he disappears from her sight and instead, feels a warm weight on her back. The waves of his voice perceive that spot beneath her hair when he speaks.

“Go and try it on.” His voice is in faint volume as he starts pushing her shoulders gently.

Y/n laughs, “Okay.”

At the left direction he prod her, reside three high rectangles in row. Y/n opens the one closest to her and walks in. After she forces the curtain to divide, she hears Juyeon’s voice outside, ensued by a familiar whine. Y/n smiles for herself when the metal rings at the edge hit against the railing as Juyeon tries to force Eric in.

At last, the velvet closes, and soon, the adjacent walls uncover. Juyeon stands a meter away, watches how Y/n lifts the fabric over her head and the hem takes some of her hair with it. Her feet stay serene, looking down her front while her fingers compress the chemical fibers.

“I think it’s too big.” She looks up at him. Arms fall to its sides together with the flat line dress. Juyeon’s lips form to speak, but precisely, it intersects with Eric who extracts the curtain and walks out. The shirt reaches down his wrists and radiates an agonizing white shade, the pants, in same shade, drape over his legs. Lastly, the tiny wings and plastic bow in his hand. The halo in his hair sits tilted, folded at the center, beaming in the store light over his displeasure.

Juyeon and Y/n are silent at the closing seconds of his entrance. But the visor alternate another minute and the two burst out laughing at the same time. Their silhouettes bend to the floor and cover their laughter with right hands. And if the knit between Eric’s eyebrows couldn’t get tighter, even his lips press harder.

“But you look really cute, Eric.” Y/n coos and walks to him. The side of her palm perceives the veil over his shoulder. He looks down towards her, causes the halo to shake and Y/n laughs again.

“I’m serious!” She takes the other hand, where she too has a bow, on his opposite shoulder. Eric lets the thin line on his lips loosen a little as Y/n assures him. Though he hears a giggle a meter away, shift to see Juyeon’s phone in their direction.

“Hey!” The younger runs over to Juyeon who lifts the phone to the ceiling. The little plastic halo above his head flutters as he stands on tip toes while reaching for the screen.

“No, it’s so good!” Juyeon still laughs and takes the phone behind his back. Eric is left with that same complexion of oddenment on his features as the two laughs.

“I think it looks good.” Juyeon says after. He points at the ill fitting dress on Y/n but acknowledges Eric got the right size. He says they should go to Eric’s store and get a better white dress.

“Aren’t you gonna dress up?” Eric throws at Juyeon.

“You should too.” Y/n complains and points at him with the bow, “We look like idiots, you need to look like one too.”

Juyeon glance the room and takes a step back, “But I didn't find any in my size.” He affirms with high arms.

“Bullshit, just be an ancient myth man.” Eric, deadpans.

“There’s no myth man costume.” Juyeon says confused.

“Then we make one.”

“Isn’t this one lovely?”

Juyeon looks up and sees Y/n between two racks of aisles. In her hands, a white baby blue dress that she puts against her front as if wearing it. The lace excess attached to the skirt and half length sleeves imitate her own twirls.

The coloration with his hands falls to the sides as she looks up towards him. Her eyes fixated on him after her question. Juyeon opens his mouth, but takes a breath and his free hands come up the back of his neck. Scratching lightly as he looks towards another aisle with transparent bags. Groups of young girls run past them and he shakes his head, therefore, the fringe comes before his eyes, making his pupils hide in between shadows of his strands.

“It’s really pretty.” He says shyly and smiles, takes a step closer and forces his chin up a bit higher, “You’re really pretty in it.”

Y/n takes her palm towards the stomach of the dress and looks down, “You’re honest?” She laughs.

The hand quickly falls off his skin and top the side of his thigh. The pink coloration saturated into his cheeks are still in full view, but his lips turn pressed and downward. Just as his eyes grow wider and he eagerly nods his head. The strands of his hair follow those precisions and he continues to speak while it falls further.

“You are.” He repeats in a clear tone which makes her laugh again.

“Okay, then, I believe you.”

Once the afternoon stood on its last hours, all three had found their costumes. Y/n in a white dress that accumulates at the writs where it tights into a ribbon before the remaining fabric folds out like a flower. It sat under the paper poster for the early spring collection. Juyeon got a shirt in a similar edition. The details on both sort of seamlessly intertwine. When taking a quick look in the passing window stores, the two seem to share sensibility. And then of course, Eric as a baby cupid.

Juyeon’s hair was in need of a change since the shirt alone couldn’t disclose the intentions behind. He suggested a lovely braid to form around his head, though, neither of the three knew how to braid. Because of that, they sat forty five additional minutes at the mall beside different baby strollers. Juyeon had searched up a braid tutorial, held it before his face, Beside him sat Y/n on her knees and constantly switched from looking at his hair and screen. The result was of partial essence from the original, and with a yellow bouquet they bought before walking, Juyeon looks rather like a flower boy at a wedding than fantastical character.

At the center of a meeting platform before the river, they stand in line. The yellow flowers together with the synthetic wings on their backs are taken by the wind. Youth in close knitted groups and couples walking hand in hand pass by the metal railing and the bridge connecting to the opposite side. All three have a box of their own and with a breath or two, they separate from the mit and walk over the frozen concrete paving in late afternoon.

As the unknown always has people afraid, not many notes land in the bottom of their boxes. But as the sun comes down the sky and closes in on the rooftops, people their age become intrigued by the enchantment and put their name together with a bill. As such, pictures of plastic wings spread around corners of the internet with rumors about the magic.

As the person before her walks to the left, Y/n waves gently as their figure becomes another someone in the crowd. With no close frame in sight, the sun that edges on the horizon, spreads its pink coloration above her vision. Her hand holds the box as a wind comes from the right direction of the city and intertwines itself into her hair. The white fabric of the sheer skirt touches against her skin and the plastic wings lean towards the bridge. And as if the wind became gifted, to affect the significance, a clear pathway towards the edge of the river opens up.

How both the start and end of a bridge captures in a total frame. The dividing sides of the city in opposite parts of her rectangular vision. Y/n takes a breath and lets the setting sun in final clear sky complete the hues on her face.

When her eyes arrange the disposition and total focus settles onto a silhouette. Y/n’s grip around the box falters and the incoming wind might take the rest of her essence with it this time. The cheap chiffon fabrics wrapped around his body shines of white, just as his close orbit. Though the pigment, only parts of his features stand in highlight as the rest in shadow from the rosy hue above.

Y/n moves her head suddenly, forcing the loose strands before her eyes to fall towards the side profile. Slowly she takes a step down the clear path, follows the lines in between frozen cracks to where he leans over the railing. Juyeon has his eyes set on a vague point on the horizon. When she, too, stands beside him, she follows the imaginative line of his pupil and fails to make out the disoriented city lines.

Y/n turns to him, “I haven’t asked you yet.”

Juyeon turns to her with vast eyes.

“If you want to write a name.” She holds the pink cardboard box out for him. Her hand shortens distance, but there is still a void to be completed. He stands silent. Let each passing conversation fill that space up until it becomes vague from another direction. The motions in the river, it comes up against the stone they stand on before changing tide. Juyeon looks at Y/n and smiles like he always does as he shakes his head gently.

She tilts her head. Curiously wander to the pupil of his eye and search for entrance into his mind, but there’s nothing to open. With his aching heart underneath his throat, Y/n expected a certain answer from him, an answer most humans would give. She smiles as wonder entrances her mind when thinking about his own.

“Okay.” Y/n answers in her usual tone. Take the box back to her own side and like Juyeon, let a part of her weight lean against the metal railing.

A couple walks them by, hand in hand towards the other bridge in far sight. Juyeon follows them until the color of their shirts fades in between the others. His eyes fall back on Y/n’s frame. Her profile towards the reflection in the water and he contemplates in silence before asking.

“What happens to all the names people write down?”

Y/n faces him as the question spreads into all directions over the river surface, and when it maybe reaches the opposite end, Y/n stops to tilt her head.

“They fall in love…or what do you mean?” She knits her eyebrows.

Juyeon shakes his head and smiles. Watch the scenery behind him where the buildings soar above the open platform and lovers walk hand in hand. Eric sits on a bench, further away, with a stranger probably his own age by the parallel complexion.

“Do they just fall in love forever or…” to attentively consider details of expressions and body language, his own skin brushes against the cold railing.

“No, they don’t” Y/n shakes her head.

“Most will probably fall out of love in a week or so…” The curves of her lips have become amicable, he remarks, when Y/n looks at him.

“Maybe one or two couples go on for some months.”

Juyeon tilts his head, arm over the railing and the weight of his body advances onto it. The flicker between the colors of his eyes reaches for another one, just like it. But at the edge of finding it, she turns her chin down where waves return from the stone, and another wind pulls fabrication before their sight.

“Why?” He asks curiously.

Y/n purses her lips in. Her essence stands on physical space but the fragments of thoughts, collecting her being, solely wanders somewhere else.

“I don’t know why.” The tone is disheartening, “I wish I knew too.”

“You don’t?” he says surprised, “You’re the love God.”

“Yeah,” She smiles, “but I’m not good at being one.”

“Is that’s why you’re here?” He asks gently after silence.

Y/n’s quiet and completely still for a moment before nodding without giving him a glance.

“People are getting heartbroken all the time and aren’t finding love, and I can’t figure out why.” She pauses, “Mother’s angry at me.” Y/n lets her chin fall onto the railing and she leans over the cold metal and watches the sun go behind the horizon.

“I don’t want to live like that, especially since I can’t even do the only thing I was created for.”

Another silent passage in time, she speaks again.

“And your breakup last month was probably also because of me.” She looks at him with a smile but eyes of starshine, on the edge of its own death, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It is.”

“There’s eight billion people, that’s a lot to put on one person.”

She looks at him, still leaning on the railing.

“I mean, one being.” He corrects.

Y/n smiles again in which he too does.

“You know, for humans you’re never perfect at first try.” He looks out over the river, “For all the professionals, more than talent, they train over and over again.” She looks at him and he stutters while scratching his neck.

“What I’m trying to say is,” He squints, “Practice makes perfect, you’ve never experienced human life until now, of course it’s confusing.” He pauses and takes a step closer. The view of him comes higher up.

“If you want, I can help you.” Another wind passes, while the same rose color against the sky transmits over to his cheeks.

“Teach you what human love is like,” When she still isn’t speaking he takes a irregular breath, “I’ve had two girlfriends before, a lot of dates, I’m very experienced so you don’t have to-”

“Okay, I want you to teach me.” Y/n laughs. He closes his mouth once he realizes the diffuse pace of wording. Though, smiles as her clothes strive free with the next breeze. Juyeon’s relieved as Y/n has visibly fallen interested in a shape at the other end. Only in need of his voice to affirm the color, not his red stained warm cheeks.

To a change of a digit by the “Sunday '' written on the phone. Y/n opens her eyes to see morning filtrate through the curtains. Her hands come behind her posture to force herself off the layers of cloth. At Eric’s bed at the other end of the same corner, he lies spread out in total absence. His face is buried within the pillow and his right leg has fallen off the bed and touches the floor.

Without any sort of considerable intentions, Y/n looks down beside the bed. The thin mattress is still out with an imprint among the creases of the sheet. Despite being devoid of any life, a trail of essence aviates above it. The disarray of plates stacking comes from the open kitchen. Y/n looks towards the window and sees Juyeon roaming through the shelves.

She herself lets the covers come off her body and accumulate beneath the pillows. With each one of her steps, a creak course through the flooring. With the ceasing distance in intervention, Juyeon feels the faint change on the spot he stands on when her presence comes closer. He looks away from the shelf and sees Y/n, her right hand is up before her eye and he smiles like he always does to her.

“Good morning, Y/n.”

“Good morning,” She answers in a quiet tone.

“Did you sleep well, Angel?” He asks while he lets his head fall down to the counter as he groups in spoons and chopsticks. Y/n blinks a few times and stares at his side profile as he opens the cabinet beneath.

“Angel?” She tilts her head and Juyeon looks back at her.

“Yeah, Angel?”“I always used Love, but I think you fit Angel better.”

“Oh, okay.” She tilts her head still and squints her eyes at his frame. He seems to detail that there’s something still left to be said, so he looks back at her again.

“Am I supposed to call you something too or?”

She asks him with genuine perplexity and he remembers again, that she’s not human. He smiles. How magical, he thinks, that someone that bears on enchantment and bliss to change his state of life in seconds, stands before him. Juyeon has never really believed in gods, even now he isn’t particularly drawn to religion, but Y/n in her otherworldly enchantment but relatable demeanor seems to come beyond any sort of devotion.

“Only if you want. It’s called pet names, it's common between couples.”

Her eyes widen, “People see each other as pets? Like those dogs they’re out walking?” Y/n gestures with her hand onto the floor. The new information is rather unsettling, how much of the human love she didn’t understand, she thinks.

Juyeon laughs and comes closer to her, “No.” He takes his hands onto her shoulders while her eyes are still appalled.

“Or some couple out there probably. "But not most.”

“Why pet names?”

He thinks, “I don’t know, it’s cute? Pets are cute, so you’re cute.”

“Okay.” Y/n seem to only half accept his explanation.

“Can I still just call you Juyeon?” She asks.

“You can,” He pouts, “Though, no one has ever given me a pet name.”

She smiles, “No one?”

“I always ask them to give me one, but they don’t.” He sulks.

“I like your name, it’s pretty. I think it fits you.”

The picture before her, as she’s still in his hands. The sprout from which his hair blossoms, faces her, but in the ending sequence of her sentence, his face comes up in height with hers. The sulk, seized by the floor. He smiles again in which she tilts her head.

“You’re really simple, Juyeon.” She laughs and takes a step back. By the nature of the motion, his hands fall off her shoulders. Juyeon stands in vertical posture once again and concentrates on the ends of his lips, so as to not pout again.

“I’m not.” He says quietly. Before he turns his head back to the counter, though, Y/n catches the remote sulk formed underneath his nose.

Sometimes through the hits against the counter surface and pans, they hear Eric turn sideways and wrap his body in another round of fabrics. She looks from the cutting board to the beds and Juyeon notices. He tells her that there is no use in low volume, that the entire building could start shaking and his consciousness would not move an inch closer to its physical state.

As he stands beside her and goes between the stove and cutting board to show her how to cut the vegetables. The broth in the pot simmers, damp heat comes up in his face and spreads onto the metal spoon as he brings it down. Juyeon tastes the broth first before taking it down a second time. He holds his free hand underneath the spoon and turns to Y/n’s. Her hair has fallen before that side of her face. Only when those strands come to the back of her ear, she looks away from the white plastic and towards Juyeon.

Being conditioned to fall back, Y/n leans away from his close hands. Sees a single steam grow like rosen stems during spring, Juyeon comes closer to the spoon and blows on it. Y/n’s eyes are small when they intertwine with his own.

“Try it.” He says in his sweet voice.

“Can’t I just…” The free hand on her other side hesitantly reaches for the spoon.

“I’ll feed you.”

Her face turns to the left as if to gesture him a no, but when he looks at her with those pearl glance eyes. Y/n sighs and leans forward. His hand comes under her chin and he helps her by tilting the spoon a little. Y/n’s own hand comes up to Juyeon’s who holds it before she returns to her own place.

“It’s good.”

Eric left the cramped apartment soon after eating. The sun’s out the entirety of the weekend and his friends had sent messages all night to meet on Sunday. Y/n went to bed again after eating, lying on the outer side and with the sheets at the very end of the bed. She stares up at the ceiling, watches hidden shadows in patterns. Though, steps on the floor cross onto the carpet and soon after, she feels the weight on the mattress shift. Y/n turns to look at the change, and when her cheek falls into the pillow, Juyeon’s eyes are there to meet.

Y/n sits up and takes one of her legs off the height, but Juyeon takes her arm.

“Where are you going?”

“I thought you wanted to lie here?”

“No, I wanted to be here because you were.”

“Why?”

“It’s comfortable.” He smiles, “Couples do it all the time.”

“Are you serious, or are you just using that as an excuse because I let you teach me about human romance?” She squints his eyes at him, in which Juyeon forces his head from the mattress and reaches his hand out for her upper arm. He shakes his head while laughing quietly, reiterating that he speaks truth. Y/n can’t keep the stale expression when he smiles so deeply and the pillow pushes his hair closer to his face. Eventually she lets his arm pull her down fully again.

“Do people just lie like this?” Her hands rests over her stomach where the ruffles of the shirt accumulate. A tilt of her head in a direction closer to his existence, but nowhere in full sight does she get a glimpse of even a hair strand, just the ceiling in sunlight from the curtains.

“Sometimes.” Juyeon answers. He turns his head fully and so does Y/n. Their chin rests on the light blue stripes, folded where the weight are.

“Sometimes it’s very comforting doing nothing with the one you love.”

“Why?”

Juyeon takes his hands in between the pillow and his chin, “Love needs no words.” His voice is gentle, passing her ears like the faint brush of the new washed sheets against her upper calf. A vague nod comes from her side as they still look at each other.

Juyeon suddenly breathes a little stronger, “But other times we do this.”

Y/n doesn’t get to high her eyebrows or part her lips. The hands underneath his chin forces his weight off the pillow and Y/n feels him lean towards her side. He sits up fully and in the same duration from her eyelid closing and opening, Juyeon has taken his hands down her arms and neck, fervently tickling her.

The expression of confusion painted by her features turns to a desperate smile as she tries to escape his attack. To kick her leg onto the sheets beneath her and shout Juyeon’s name as his laugh becomes louder for every centimeter the fabric falls down the bed. To not let her escape, Juyeon unconsciously sets his knee on the other side of her body. Her figure stays in between his own frame as she falls deeper down the pillow.

“Juyeon, stop, I’m serious!” Y/n laughs in panic.

Eventually his hands come to rest beside her upper arms and the laughter turns to heavy breathing. Juyeon faces from above, still smiling, as Y/n lies with the side of her face against the pillow. That until she stares at him, while fully hidden between his own complexion. Each of her breaths comes to him like the green leaves during spring. Just as the incident, the rose color of flowers in small sprouts bloom on the side of his face. Y/n looks down from his eyes, just one centimeter in distance to see the saturation. She smiles again.

“You’re always so red, Juyeon.”

Juyeon takes his head further against his chest to hide it, but there is no use. She laughs lightly as his hair falls before his eyes and he is forced to shake his head when he comes back up. They look in silence at each other's features. Mere sunlight comes in between the thin curtains and cats itself over the shadows. Dust from the sheets cease between the space and Juyeon leans in a bit closer. The shine in her pupil comes all the higher in her coloration as his lips are above hers.

“I’m sorry.” He speaks gently.

Y/n laughs again and shakes her head. Seconds cruelly pass them where they lay enchanted in white-blue sheets. The sounds of folding fabric beside her ears, without visual frame she imagines a butterfly at the breaking of dusk, to spread its wings before full sun. But truly, it’s purely, without decorations, Juyeon’s hands beside her body that flutter at the closing distance between them.

He who always leaves a space in between, Juyeon lets his head fall closer to hers. The pace is incredibly cruel, but so sympathetical, as he stops where they can see each other’s flaws and their breath dampens the other's lips. Time stands so pianfully still when he waits for Y/n to say or do anything. He looks into her eyes, searches for something, but she tries to use the parted distance between her lips but nothing comes out.

There’s a sort of apprehension somewhere between all of her physical essence. But it dies with every second. In the dilemma playing faintly before her eyes, in the background she sees Juyeon’s eyes come further away from hers. The sensation of guilt and fear were on the verge of death, and fall flat line in an instant. As to desperately not make him disappear, Y/n takes her hands up from her sides. Juyeon gasps quietly when gently holding his face.

And at last, when she takes him back to her, Juyeon lets his weight on his hands shift to his right knee as their lips collide. Y/n falls a centimeter further into the stripes of the pillow case. It creases at the edges. The pattern changes in structure when Juyeon brings his knee up a bit further. In a boundless room devoid of sounds, the kiss lingers between the four walls.

As Juyeon gently takes his tongue out for hers, Y/n trace the lines of his features up to his hair. Their mouths are just a little open when she intertwines her hand through his strands. The tips of his fingers scratch against the surface. Through the slight space in between their lips, Juyeon whines. It trails through her clothing and hearten her hand to force the strands tighter around her skin to hear him again.

And as they encourage the other to fall in closer, the room that had been detached from space and time comes back. The door echoes through the apartment and folds of clothing come after. Before any footsteps close into the kitchen, Y/n’s hands fall back to the mattress and Juyeon throws himself off his arms and lands on his previous place. When Eric comes into the kitchen and lets his eyes span over the details he sees everyday, he stops at their bed. Arms completely down their sides and face up against the ceiling. Eric knits his eyebrows.

“Are you trying to teach Y/n magic tricks?” Eric asks.

Juyeon lifts his head from the pillow to look at him.

“Don’t even try, she’s literally immortal.” Eric goes to the sink and takes a cup.

“I didn’t even-” Juyeon defends.

“I’m not immortal?” Y/n cuts Juyeon off by lifting up her head in the same manner to look at Eric. He’s already on his second glass of water.

“You know what I mean, mythical creature and the unfunniest person alive.” Eric smiles.

“I think I’m funny.” Juyeon defends and turns his head to look at Y/n.

“I’m funny?”

Y/n laughs a little as he looks at her with vast eyes, “When you try not to; yes.”

He pouts and turns the other way, in which Y/n laughs fully. To turn her own silhouette and let her free hand reach out for his shoulder.

Y/n takes her legs off the mattress. It creaks when she stands fully on the carpet and it faintly lingers when she walks out the kitchen and further down the hallway. Juyeon, who lies beside her, compels to feet and without any obligatory commands, starts walking after. Y/n looks behind her once to see him trail the invincible steps along her. She takes the bathroom handle and looks at him again. He stands close to the opposite wall, right eye wearied. And the scene, in static vision for another passage, until Y/n tilts her head and asks him;

“Are you coming with me in or?”

Even with a question fully spoken in between the takes, Juyeon looks at her with the expression he always has. But like February into March in reversion, his eyes widen and he takes a step back. Juyeon says something Y/n can’t decide if it were comprehensible words. When in no trance, he disappears from the hall, out the kitchen and back onto the bed. She knits her eyebrows while staring at the serene flooring before she closes the bathroom door.

Eric sits in his bed with his phone, but tears his eyes off the screen when Juyeon comes back after only a minute. The older pays no intention of looking to the side and Eric sees him shaking his head before falling onto the mattress. The short video clip on his phone rewinds again as he smiles for himself.

“I never knew you would be such an attention seeker when your girlfriend left.” Eric looks towards Juyeon. He has his arms crossed over his chest while in his own corner of the world.

“I’m not.” Juyeon protests.

Eric snorts which makes Juyeon look at him, “Yeah, and I’m Jacob Elordi.”

The younger scrolls to the next short clip before talking again, “Come on, you can’t even be two meters away from her. I see how your arm twitches of starvation from her just being in the bathroom.”

Juyeon takes his hands from his chest, letting them spread out before the background, “They’re not at all.”

He takes the phone in his other hand, rises so that the sheets fall off his upper body. Eric lifts the pillow higher before he falls down to feathers again and watches the blue light radiate off his screen.

“Either way, I support your future marriage with Y/n, I could even be the flower boy.”

“We’re-I-” He stutters and looks at Eric who snickers at the screen, “I just think she’s nice.”

Eric refrains from throwing more comments across the room. Instead continues to mindlessly consume the massive subtitles on screen. Soon after when the bathroom door opens, the audio from Eric’s phone has rewinded across twenty times and Juyeon walks up to his edge. Eric lies with eyes closed and lips slightly apart while his hand with the device hangs off the bed. Juyeon pushes the turn off button and it becomes quiet in the apartment.

As Y/n walks across the kitchen area, Juyeon straightens his posture. A sudden burn comes between his throat as he looks down. The fingers of his right hand touch the spot that grows with itch. The sensation makes him want to further reach his hand through the skin and scratch what bothers. He coughs when Y/n comes to the line crossing the kitchen and bedroom.

“You’re okay, Juyeon?”

Juyeon turns from the corner where Eric lies and sees Y/n with her head tilted. He coughs again before facing her fully.

“Yeah, I must catched a cold or something.” He reassures.

That afternoon, evening boundary, pink encloses orange in softly curved patterns. How the sunset at the very peak of its livelihood, soon will bleach from the celestial and leave nothing but those stars holding hands in constellations to remind us that it was there. And as it shines over the edge of the river, hangs lowly over the open square, Y/n walks over to Eric sitting alone on one of the seats at the center of the open space. A passing wind intertwines like ribbons through their hair, braid them in irregular patterns before letting go. Eric feels the essence of another identity under the collapsing sun enter his field.

He looks beside his left shoulder and sees Y/n smiling, though, it might just be the sunset, but there’s a whimsical bearing to her expression in plastic wings.

“I realized you haven’t written a name.” He turns focus from her eyes down to the pink box as she holds it close to him.

“You don’t have anyone you like?” She asks.

Eric’s quiet for a second, but ultimately shakes his head. Her silhouette stands in contrast to the setting sun. Each shine streak runs into the river and reflects like a horizontal mirror. The outline of her shoulders divides the flicker, causing him to squint. Y/n herself let the box fall onto her thighs. When another wind comes, a short lived reflection on his hair passes by. Cupid tilts her head and observes his features. A visible lack of emotion and eyes on a dead tree. Another group of people walk down the river and Y/n smiles again.

“Seems like it.” She says.

Eric suddenly asks, “Can you write down someone else’s name? Two people you want to be together?”

She looks at the box then back at him, “Usually no, but I’ve already interfered in enough lives.” Y/n takes up the pen and pink paper, “Try.”

Eric takes the pastel note and presses the synthetic end on his palm. When he gifts it to her, he sees her smile grow wider as she reads it. Eric’s lips too, like a wildflower during the incoming flourish season, grow as she laughs a little. On the piece of paper stands two names, Y/n and Lee Juyeon. She let it descend down the thin opening of the box. While still looking down at the space created by cardboard, she speaks.

“That won’t work, though.” Y/n speaks gently.

Eric tilts his head suddenly, keeping his hands at the edge of the bench.

“Why?”

“I’m not human, right?” She still smiles, but Eric’s has withered.

“I don’t understand, gods and humans can’t be together?”

Y/n shakes her head, “No” She shifts in her place, “It’s just, the rules don't work as they normally do, it might end up bad.”

“Like what?”

“Just bad, not fun…it’s not important.” Y/n takes her hand before her face, standing up and locks eyes.

“Juyeon will be fine.”

For days closest to present, that itch at the very bottom of his throat has become stronger. Each night he touches the spot where it hurts the most, and his fingers trails higher for every night. The other day Juyeon surrendered and went to the pharmacy. He took coughing medicine, but at last he stands before the hand sink, throwing lilac flower petals. The first time, he stood perplexed and backed away until his calf hit the tub.

At the same time, he thinks about what Eric said to him, that day of the kiss. While the hours pass them by he always finds himself having music on or cleaning dishes, searching for job applications. Cause, when neither of them are with him, and there is little to no sound to surround him, those scenes play before him.

It was night and he turned to the other side of the floor. He searched coughing flower petals. In immediate blue links, informative paragraphs describe the cases of physical effects of a yearning heart. The pictures showed strangers with flowers in shades scattered over white sinks. His heart picked up pace before he shut off his phone and forced his eyes closed. He has the love goddess beside him to lead him, but it only aches to think that he stands alone at the edge of the bridge, longing for the other end when it doesn’t reciprocate. At midnight, he’s forced to accept his heart's admiration for Y/n. He refuses to let the knife remove the love out of his body, instead, begs in moonlight for fate to spare them.

There’s a gentle touch over his head. It reverses before it comes back. A sharp point between his hair strands and further down where his neck starts. As his eyes are still closed and mind in a different dimension, he doesn’t register how he slowly starts to lean towards the touch every time it disappears. Eventually, the moonlight cast at the other wall becomes apparent and he sees Eric’s silhouette beneath it. It shines of city lights in the furthest window above the kitchen.

Behind him, he hears soft creases of fabric lines. It comes from the material in his own bed, but his arms are at the front side. There’s a faint opening between his eyelids and he feels the touch linger down his cheek until it trails to his chin. It tickles when it gently outlines his nose. Once Juyeon opens his eyes fully, he tries to look up. On that side of him, a startled motion comes between the soft folds and the warmth on his face stills.

All shadows leisurely adjust and he makes out the room. But in that space, left of his mattress and frame of carpet sits Y/n. He recognizes her features in turned axis shimmer and traces her upper arm down to her hand on his face. She still caresses his cheek when they look at each other. When Juyeon takes his hands to either side and forces himself up, the fabric sounds violent as a shadow covers the cast on the wall. He watches how she quickly makes her way out the kitchen.

He can’t describe why, when his mind is half asleep and his body cold of the thin fabrics. Though, he does fully take off from the mattress and follows her. He sees her figure disappear through the bathroom door and when she stands to see her reflection in the mirror, Juyeon leans his hand on the edge of the door. Y/n looks at him when he walks in. There’s a meter in between them, and she tries to keep the same distance as he closes the door gently and walks forward.

At some point, her back hits the cold wall and Juyeon, with some space still separating them, reaches for her left hand off her side. Y/n’s quiet when he brings it to the blossom of his head. He leans down so that she subtly makes out the shadows beneath his fringe. Juyeon gently ushers her hand to mirror those motions from a minute ago. Where the whole cityscape stands in silence, the clearest thing spoken through the barrier is the sigh of relief Juyeon does when her hand reaches his neck.

He lets his knee rest where the divide forms between her own. How his soft breaths affect her own person. Cause eventually Juyeon separates his hand from hers as she on her own starts to touch his hair. For each caress along the silk, her palm continues deeper onto his neck. At last, her fingers reach where the collar of his shirt starts. To be touched even faintly in a place unaffected for so long, he whines. His head that faces the floor lands underneath her chin. The cheap shampoo reaches her nose and his breath dampens the spot above her collar.

The ends of his hair scratches against her skin and, by consequence, her other hand comes to the center where his shoulder and neck meet.

With the door closed, there’s no light source from any of the quiet corners. But for each breath they both take, he becomes all clearer. His face is buried underneath her while his body leans as close. The contrast of the painfully cold wall and the heat spreading from his essence. It’s so deeply attractive in her eyes, how he folds when she reaches her fingers a step further down his shirt. The quiet whimpers get muted in her neck. She desperately wants to hear it again, the hand from his shoulder and outlines his neck up to his chin where she lets her thumb caress the skin before coming back down to the shoulder.

“Y/n, fuck.” He moans cruelly onto her skin. It creates some free room between her hand and his shoulder when he falls down to his knees. The warmth that has accumulated above her chest, turns instant cold when there is no barrier before the grading temperature.

Her eyes naturally follow his own which are locked on the edge of her sleeping wear. Where the muted pattern convulse into each other and a harsh line before her own skin. Juyeon timidly takes his fingers onto that edge. All warmth in his body rushes to the inner parts, there is nothing but cold on his fingertips when they for a moment touch beneath her stomach. Juyeon looks up, the color in his eyes comes through the fringe and his hand flexes when holding onto her sleeping wear.

“I want to-can I?” He stutters profusely while looking into her eyes. It’s not enough light for the pigment on his upper face to reflect back into Y/n’s own vision. He looks away and faces the wall of the bathtub.

Y/n’s own chest has started to pick up pace while a limited gap between her lips forms to afford it. The lid on her eyes closes and opens profusely as he refuses to state the expression on his face. The inpatient motions with the urge to not look at her, she desperately wants him to say it when her mind runs to try to comprehend it.

“Sorry, Juyeon, I really don’t understand.”

Her hand still in laces with his own essence starts to gently advance across the back of his head again. He sighs when she reaches a sensitive spot down his neck and brings his head back. It affects her mind deeply so that her own physical state falls on the wall behind her and shifts her right leg.

“Please, I want to make you feel good.” He holds his head high to maintain the contact. The fabric of her shorts comes tighter around her waist when he pulls it again.

“I want to lick your…” He whispers to her, in a volume equal to the sounds coming from her hands in his hair. Y/n nearly reaches down to mute his words, but the desire to shift her leg again blinds those thoughts and she nods.

“I want you too, Juyeon.”

Her words seem to have freed the chain off him and gently lets the two layers of fabric touch her thighs down to her calves. Juyeon takes his own hand up her waist and the other around her left leg. To carefully, as if made out of velvet he forces her up onto his shoulder. Y/n tears her eyes away from him and falls head against the cold hard wall when goes in between her thighs. The soft changes in direction from his tongue and the careful advances as he watches her reactions from below.

The hand on his hair becomes tighter when the sensation goes inside her two walls for even a second. There’s constant shame as she lets him completely mend the soar spots with a part of his existence. She can’t tell if Juyeon feels it too, but to never let her eyes be open for more than a second, because when her head falls onto the wall and her eyes stare up the ceiling. An invisible but cruel rain falls onto her from above, a circle of faces from her youth watches how one of their own crumbles before a human.

“Juyeon.”

She strokes his head once again and Juyeon closes his own eyes. Y/n has been forcing her lips shut of fear to hear her own sounds echo in between the walls. But at last, when he grips onto her calf a bit stronger and the end of his hair brushes up against her thighs, a cry of pure bliss comes between her lips while her hips move forward. Juyeon continues with his lips to let the sensation gently fade.

Y/n breathes heavily while still leaning onto the wall. Juyeon comes up from the floor and lies one hand on her shoulder. With eyes closed, reminiscent of weekend morning when her own self is far from the body, lovely gathered in his worn down sheets. How Juyeon solely comes closer to make the pixels of her features clearer and discover the secret appearance, one who is only this close can make out.

Y/n finally opens her eyes and there is barely a distance between them. Juyeon has let go of the space and has his entire front against her own. There’s a firmer impression in contrast to the rest of his body. It pushes onto her lower stomach in timid motions. Her arms embrace herself as she smiles and laughs suddenly.

Juyeon lets out an embarrassed laugh and forces his head under her chin again. A faint ‘no’ escapes, barely audible, which causes her own eyes to look over the line in which his hair grows. And she forces him from her chest just a little. His sight is still in lock with the floor and Y/n laughs again.

“I’ll do it now.”

As she takes his hand, directs to the bathtub and pushes him gently down the cold material. Whatever’s left of the world becomes merely a singular. When the last lights of the cityscape passes through the visual horizon at the end of the universe, Y/n lets herself on top of him fully and takes her hands onto his face while staring in deep adoration with no sense of responsibility.

Truly she feels her heart pick up a pace she never thought was possible when creating friction onto them both with easy advances of her hips, and the back of his head falls against the edge. With no other light visible, a single star burns off in the upper left corner when he opens his right eye to look at her.

Juyeon feels the fabric enclose him painfully underneath her and he moans desperately. To force himself up from the edge, he holds his hands on the sides of the tub and comes precisely under her own lips. Y/n continues to fall back in motion while Juyeon tilts his head up to take her lips. Tension tears off like two desperate sides of a rubber band and Juyeon takes his hands on her hips. To take his knee up higher to force her chest closer to his own.

Behind the door, there's nowhere to go, he wishes for them to continue being in this place, this emotion.

Juyeon trails hands up to her waist. To get on his knees and gently make her come in contact with the white tub. Her hair spreads out the sides of the curvature and his mouth comes agape when he watches her eyes, in what he hopes is at least brief adoration.

Once again he puts his hips into her own. Timidly pushes against her through all the layers of fabric and breathes out. Y/n lifts her own leg up to make room for the climbing friction between them. Juyeon sighs and lets his head fall down, in which Y/n takes her hands through his hair and moans.

She can see his expression, and he looks as divine as he sounds. She soothes the side of his head and tilts her head before whispering.

“Juyeon?”

He moans again and pushes his hips harder into hers.

“My name sounds lovely when you say it.” He pauses to breathe again, “Please say my name again?”

Y/n swallows and the pupil of her eye comes in between him, the friction soon the wall behind them. So quietly but still enough so he can hear how she calls his name again.

“Juyeon…”

A pleasure hits him through his spine and he moans again while holding onto nothing with his other arm. The constant humping makes her not glide down the bathtub and when he carelessly starts pushing his hips against her, at a pace faster than before. Y/n takes her hand from her side and forces it into the small space between them. He throws his head back when the layers of fabric come tightly against him. In nearly instant, Juyeon fucks his hips into the cloth in her palm.

Y/n doesn’t take her eyes off as she’s determined to see him fall down and rests on her chest.

“Y/n…”

She answers in melody.

“I need to see you come, all undone for me.”

As the shorts and underwear lie serene on the carpet beside them, her head falls to the edge. Her hand comes to his face and he takes the hem of his pants off as he misses her. Though it aches with impatience, Juyeon’s eyes shimmer in hands, cupped by Y/n. Every motion he does in pleasure, as if handcrafted. It sores from watching him wither above. Y/n nods again, whispers to please see him wilt in cause of her.

He fills her completely when they come as close as possible. The first thrusts are painfully slow as he edges on relief but desperately wants to feel her warmth. Y/n urges him to fasten the pace as she falls down the wall. He holds his eyes on Y/n like she will save him as he thrusts harder.

“Please, Y/n, you look so beautiful.” His legs twitch, “I need to see you…”

His words falter as she cries out for a second time. He slows down in pace, staying amidst the warmth as the high washes over her. On precise edge, Y/n takes her hand onto the material and forces herself off him. Though the pleasure still affects her, she reaches her hand out where it hurts the most. She strokes him just merely. Juyeon’s eyes are closed and he cries from pleasure and wet stains her skin. The sight of him desperately saying her name and convulse in pure bliss might live on for an eternity. He continues with slow motions in her hand, moving the stains up the rest of her hand before the wave falters.

Juyeon gently descends his head beside hers. The right arm out of the pushing under his weight and he lies it underneath her head. The two of them close their eyes while listening to their breath echo throughout the bathroom.

Though, as the world comes back into place and Y/n opens her eyes to see the ceiling, she thinks about the windows outside. It goes chills through her essence when she looks at a the ventilator. Juyeon’s breathe are soft on the side of her face and she still console his hair. She desperately wants to lie beside him for as long as time lets them. Turn her face to see his blissful features look back at her own.

But for every second, reality moves closer. How her escape from above might put him once again in pain. The scene from when Eric put their names on his note comes back to her in a form of a distant but cold wave.

Fate doesn’t have them, she thinks before sitting up. The change in atmosphere comes suddenly to Juyeon who lifts his upper body when she climbs out the tub, takes on her cloth and goes to the door.

“Where are you going?” She obscene herself before turning. He sits like she left him and the withered shine in his eyes that yearns for her burns the side of her heart. Y/n puts her other hand on the handle and looks down without a clear expression.

“I’m really tired.” Her voice is low, putting a further distance.

“Oh, okay.” Juyeon looks down.

Of course he’s so perfect, she thinks and opens the door wider. To set her feet out before she returns and see his sunken posture, watching the patterns at the bottom of the tub. Y/n bites her lips.

“Don’t sleep in the bathtub tonight.” She says and Juyeon looks up, giving her a smile reminiscent of the one he always gives her.

“Don’t worry about me.”

Y/n nods and takes a step out again and shuts the door, not fully closed.

“Thank you.” She says, before at last leaving.

When the divide amid the handle and frame becomes non-existent and each step of her bare feet recites from the floor back to her, she sees the rising moon in the corner of the window, fade from view as dark clouds pass by. There’s no liquid moonlight cast on the kitchen counter, and the metal in the sink emits no starfall reflection.

She takes the hand that holds the only visual significance of the scene in the bathroom, and her other hand on the tap. The white stains run off her hand and weave together with the water. She watches the colors of morning gloom after rain, before it all eventually disappears down the drain. Y/n closes the tap, when her hand is left on the metal and she watches the lone drops of water that's left. It feels as if a part of her essence might have gone down with it, leaving her left at the edge of the world.

Y/n hasn’t stayed in one place since she came down from Olympus for more than a few days. The date of the calendar has passed three days longer than planned, but why does she find this city so astonishingly more beautiful than any other place? She closes her eyes and maybe the ache in her heart will flow down the metal pipes like how she saw. But at last, her hand falls off the tap.

Maybe hope will win, she thinks. The only thing left to believe in, the only thing that will save the three of them. If she goes to sleep in this state of heart, she hopes for their good life that Juyeon sits in the bathtub yearning for the woman he did a few days ago. She hopes no stems grow through his skin and to, as the love goddess and not Y/n, not see him fall to the floor as the power she rules consumes him from within.

“You’re awake?”

To turn to the opening between two walls and see the table in the middle of it. The sun is already up. Juyeon takes his hand from his back to above his eyes, in the cause of blinding gray light.

“Yeah, I-” Juyeon sits up and starts walking out the kitchen. Eric and Y/n sit on either side and he stands beside them and looks down the plates.

“You cooked?" Did you burn anything?” He asks Eric in which he shakes his head and points at Y/n while his mouth is full.

“No, Y/n did.”

As she sits on the opposite end from where he’s looking, Juyeon shifts his vision. The golden brown of the bread leaves trails of grease on the tips of her fingers and when she too looks up at him, scenes from last night pass through his peripheral vision like they tell you at the edge of death. Juyeon looks away before any visual traces will be sighted on his face. And as he scratches his neck, Y/n comes up from the chair and goes to the counter. When he feels the faint touch of her free hand on his back, Juyeon looks over his shoulder and sees the plate in her hand.

“I did one for you too.” Her hand leans the plate out for him and Juyeon hesitantly takes it, “I tried to remember what you have on it, hopefully I got it right.” Y/n smiles and gets down to her seat once again.

The vast eyes of his observes her eating before turning down to look at his own plate. How each of the green and red vegetable layers follows the same patterns as he usually does.

Though, in truth, as he takes a bit of the sandwich, a sort of warmth trails down the sore spot. In one way he just thinks the sleepiness is coming off, but in between all the superficial, in the hidden part of his heart, he wants to fall to his knees and shout that Y/n hasn’t abandoned him. That there is hope left for them.

“Eric?” Juyeon has hands on his knees. Eyes turn away from the speckles of color running across the concrete. And when they land on the younger sitting beside him, Eric has his towel in his hands, throws it above his shoulder.

Eric hums and looks at Juyeon.

He plays football in a building further away when school’s over. Sometimes memories return from that unchanged landscape. The sun wore bleachers and the synthetic grass field that spares its color no matter season. At some point, Juyeon didn’t need to follow him and wait on the bleachers.

Juyeon came here as the clock reached noon. He took one stop earlier off the bus and walked to the entrance of the building in light blue paint. And Eric sat like he always has done, on the same place four rows above the grass.

“What’s a good gift to a girl?.” He asks finally. The inner corner of Eric’s eyebrows closes in together as he doesn’t say anything. Simply stares at the one, a row under before his lips curl at its sides and Juyeon throws his face in his palms.

“Ohhhhh!”

Eric’s shoulder veiled in damp shirt material comes closer to his own before the younger takes the towel. He turns it in the air so that cold wind comes down on Juyeon. The one with a towel over his head starts swinging it closer and Juyeon doesn’t get to protest before the damp fabric runs across his face.

“When did you become like this?!” Eric’s eyes, immense as his back falls into a curve to reach down where Juyeon hides.

“Why am I proud?" Eric asks himself as he puts an arm around the older and lets his head high to once again see the bleachers in the lower end become steeper and the artificially green grass spread from one end to the other.

“You didn’t answer.” Juyeon scratches the back of his hair, still with his own features a little nearer empty space down the bleachers.

“What should I give her…a girl?” Juyeon corrects himself. At the end line where the side of the field ends and two planes of the bleachers start, he sees Eric’s feet come into frame and turns towards that direction. The shoelaces have blemishes of black hues and the neon color itself has run with rain water down the drains. Four depressing shades of fabrics in the same motion of how he kicks his feet back and forth, reminiscent of the end leaves of a dying plant.

“I know it’s Y/n so we can start from there.” Eric answers and leans forward, “So what should you give Y/n?”

Juyeon sighs again and lets his face in between his hands while falling forward.

“I don’t know, that’s why I came here.”

Eric continues to look down on his shoelaces, “I mean, you know her well, you can’t figure out at least one thing?”

Juyeon shakes his head.

“No wonder she broke up with you.” He says to himself and the older takes his face up from his hands and stares at him with deadpan.

“Okay, too soon.” Eric takes up his hands above his head.

“I don’t know, chocolate, that’s classic. A movie ticket to a romance movie? She’s the god of love – or new clothing, she doesn’t have much clothes.” Eric starts to look up at the high ceiling but jumps one step away on the bleachers as Juyeon stands up and gasps.

“I know, I– thank you, see you!”

Eric holds his arm closer to his own body, all while Juyeon jumps down the four rows and disappears along the white edge of the green field. The heavy metal door at the side of the building echoes throughout the empty walls.

His eyes linger on the cold metal doors. There’s butterflies in his stomach, and not for himself, but for his brother. The slight change in atmosphere in their limited apartment, and the expressions of Juyeon’s face seemed to have cleared with the sky. Truly, Eric thinks, Y/n being a goddess or not, she cast a spell on their life and made him look at the sunset in an angle never perceived before. If she could stay with them, with Juyeon, a little longer, he might actually believe he gets to see flowers bloom in spring.

Though, ever since he wrote their names on the note and she told him it’s not possible. He looks at his brother, when he melts to his knees and reaches out to touch her. The severe words she uttered that evening. In her otherworldly complexion, there’s a shadow she desperately tried to hide from him that day. Eric knows more than anyone, even more than Juyeon himself, that their love is inevitable. But a part of him hopes still, that the thing she fears so deeply, is merely a projection, and that if he doesn’t tell Juyeon, the three of them might get what is closest to “forever”.

As Y/n came to them in the last weeks of December, she noticed the decorations of warm light scattered across every avenue. Eric told her on the bus once that they celebrate the passage of a new turn around the sun. That whole ride until the final glass cubicle, she told questions in which Eric eagerly answered. Juyeon and Eric, promised Y/n to take her to the center city when the sky’s shimmer.

They’ve walked all three down the street alleys. There’s a light from every restaurant and in the few open balconies and windows, music blasts through the street. She’d never seen so many shoes on the same platform. How it causes ripples in puddles, forces the mall entrance doors to stand open eternally and the constant, city conversations integrate.

None of them took much down to the festival, Juyeon told her to dress up but there’s not much in her limited closet that would pass as festive attire. While she herself went with the shirt she always wears, it itched in Juyeon’s fingers to give her paper blue bag beside the bed. When down the street she pointed towards it, asked him why he’s carrying a bag. Juyeon took the excuse of wanting an extra scarf and umbrellas with him if it starts raining.

To chase warmth while running through the open streets. And when the entrance door to the mall directs like curtains, people have gathered for the final scene of the night., Juyeon touches them both lightly.

“I’ll get us something to eat, we haven’t eaten since lunch.” Juyeon points at a nearby van down one of the streets. It reeks of steam from the window while the person in front fervently switches conversations with the new person next in line. The two nod and Juyeon looks at Y/n while turning half away.

“Look after Eric, okay!?”

In the midst of all the burning colors, Y/n takes her eyes off the sky to see the reflection of each spark in people’s eyes. As passionate red fills the sky and scatters a wither of faint glow, Y/n think truly, that she has never felt as alive as now. The upper quarter of the crowd starts to move, she looks in that direction where a concise distance opens up between two jackets.

That divide of the mass has loosened and the wall of the closest building works as a background to the people passing by that glimpse. Another firework goes off, echoes over the crowded platform. Eric looks up when her hand on his own becomes tighter and the direction of her head is not the sky but the front wall of the mall. He too leans forward to see between the arms of the ones before them, but as he opens his mouth to ask her what’s wrong, Y/n takes an even stronger grasp around his hand. Her own skin forces white spots to appear onto Eric’s and he nearly falls in a man’s chest as she turns.

“What?!-” Eric shouts as people pull their shoulders closer to their warmth when they run past them. Y/n doesn’t look back, but exchanges attention from the barely patterns of the platforms and Eric’s hand secured in her own.

“Run Eric!” Y/n tries to overpower the next color that fires off above them.

To escape the borderline of tight bound space and now free view over the imminent skyscrapers and alleys from the center. Y/n’s chest falls desperately, an impending sensation that hurts at the mit of her heart and seeps through the back. As each breath might cut her throat inside and a dye of red stronger than the one above, she takes another step and starts running.

“What are we running from?!” Eric asks again, but Y/n doesn’t answer. The younger sometimes, when he looks at her face, sees a glimpse of her features when her hair comes behind the side profile. Vast eyes that none of the massive street lights can catch the attention of, and once or twice closes her eyes like it hurts. The strange fright running after them has him desperately coil his fingers with hers, run towards wherever she takes him. As the city flashes them by like a sped up film, they pass a familiar face without even noticing. He calls their names but only Eric looks back.

“Y/n! It’s Juyeon!” Eric shouts and looks at her.

“I need to go Eric, I need to go!” She breathlessly answers him. The signs start to fade, only streetlight patterns with distance lines the alley, the rest hidden. Fireworks from the curved celestial become all fainter and she can clearly hear his voice now.

“Y/n! Y/n stop!” Her name bears through the street. There’s a few restaurants with closed doors and warm lighting down the high walls. The people inside might see the silhouettes disappearing in an instant before the outer window.

Juyeon shouts again and runs. The paper bag hits his thigh. Cause of petals in his throat, each shout becomes weaker and soon no air seems to pass them. The lungs inside his chest reach for air but like a cement divide, it seems impossible. Juyeon coughs as he still runs, and hears Eric shouting her name too. At the end of the road where three others meet, Juyeon gets his hands on her shoulder and forces her back towards him. They stop in an instant, and his other hand comes to her shoulder.

“Y/n!” All three breathe heavily as they stand in a crossing. When the sky burns of color, it might even melt.

“What happened?” He takes another breath and Y/n takes a step back, but Juyeon forces her feet to return to that place. Her head looks the other direction so her side profile comes into full view, but his hands go to carry her face.

“Y/n?”

“I need to go.” She swallows. Eric takes a step from the two of them, watches how tears edges off her eyes.

“I need to go, Juyeon.” Her own hand comes to his upper arms as she tries to push him away, but his own only comes closer, embracing her shoulder and back. The white fabric folds against his arms. To never let his sight of hers.

“Why? Why do you need to go?” He asks gently.

“It’s my mother, I saw my mother.” Y/n breathe and try to look behind Juyeon’s back before returning, “I’ve stayed for too long, I shouldn't have used my powers.”

Finally all the water that has accumulated under her eyelashes overflows and a single drop runs down the curve of her cheek. As the tears itself saturate the space beneath her eyes and drown the lashes, all thoughts that would continue to pile up on her mind, reach the high ceiling. Where the last piece of stress bends at the top and eventually the whole tower falls. Tension releases in a second and Y/n feel her body become heavy.

“I need to go.” She says again in a voice barely above a whisper. To face the rain covered asphalt, the strands of her hair fall before her face. Juyeon holds his arms still in that place they are in. But eventually, he let them fall to her upper arms. When her body is fully in his embrace, Juyeon pulls her closer so her head lands on his shoulder and body against his own.

“I’ll help you get away.” Juyeon says gently. Though the fragments scratching his throat tightens at the sentence, he takes another breath through the flourished broken part. Let the sharp edges of vines pierce the insides.

“And Eric will too.” He adds, looks towards the younger. Y/n shifts, then, a meter away stands Eric in a tense position, though, it slowly loosens as she looks at him. The yellow sign behind him, shines from his head like a halo and he gives her that boyish smile like he always does. At that, she gifts one back.

“But you have to sleep.” She looks back at Juyeon, “We’ll help you out of here in the morning, but you can’t leave tonight.”

She’s quiet.

“I promise, your mom won’t find you.” He says sincerely as he looks at her in the eyes. Y/n can’t say anything, instead nods.

Y/n didn’t sleep. Even when she lied in bed with vision parallel to the turned off lamps above, Juyeon with great delicacy took the spot beside her. She refused to visually trace his face, still when his arm came under her neck and voice fluttered against her ears as he drew her closer. Forced light to divide from her eyes, maybe nothingness would mend the sore. Though, for every change on the minute digit and next firework. Naivety only pushes it bitterly, to grow in the hidden parts of her essence.

Even at 5 in the morning, when their side of Earth still longs the sun, Juyeon’s hand is placed over her like before. Though, feather-like when he sleeps. His other arm is placed across her chest and at the end of his hand, he holds her upper arm. She turns from the ceiling, down to the side where his face is closest. Only in intimate moments have he been this near, but for the first time she can admire his natural red blemishes and the patterns on lips without Juyeon withdrawing.

Time may stop for merely a second when she sees him like this, but there's trouble deep within her heart. It consumes butterflies left in her stomach and she reaches out closer to him, kisses him at the ending scene. It’s gentle and fast, contrasting to the cruelly slow ones they shared before. Y/n loosens his arm and climbs out the bed. When she packs all the belongings that can count on two hands, she sits on the floor and looks over towards Eric. The view is incredibly familiar as his arms depend on the bed edge and feet free from the fabrics.

Y/n smiles before the pocket in the bag closes and she walks towards that side of the room. Her head is on its tilt when she tries to look at his face from the right angle. His mouth is slightly agape when he breathes and carefully Y/n takes her hand to brush his fringe. The covers are halfway over his stomach and Y/n bring it over his chest. As the edge of the stripes ends before his neck, Y/n takes a step back. To look at the room in its grandest form, she feels like bursting into tears.

At last, she walks out the kitchen floor like an ending scene and comes out the hallway, just like the credit scene. When she reaches down for her shoes, a piercing knock on the door comes through the walls. Y/n stumbles backwards and catches her weight with her arm. She stands completely still while looking up the impending door. Another knock echoes throughout the apartment and this time, Y/n straightens up from the floor and takes the handle. Let the backpack fall to the side.

When the door opens and the bright light from the stairs burns the dim apartment, her eyes squint. Though, a tall figure in dark clothes creates a shadow. She follows the lines of his clothing and sees his face. An older man with barely no hair, same with his smile.

“Is this Lee Juyeon’s apartment?” He asks in a monotone voice.

Y/n’s quiet for a second before nodding, “Yeah, he lives here.”

“Is he here?”

Y/n falls quiet again. To stare at his face without words, she looks down and sees the mark on the uniform chest. The reflexes on the navy shade and all the layers underneath. Y/n swallows before looking up again.

“No he’s not.” Y/n says without doubt. The man looks behind her, into the kitchen area for a second.

“Where is he then?”

She answers quickly as adrenaline starts rising, “He visited a friend last night after the fireworks, a friend from school.”

“Do you know where this friend lives?” He asks and Y/n bites her lip.

“Not completely, he took the bus.”

“Do you remember the number?”

“Maybe eight.” She lies.

The man takes up his phone and types something quick. She still holds the door when he puts it back down in his pocket.

“Are you aware of the investigation regarding Lee Juyeon?”

Y/n furrows her eyebrows.

“No.”

“He may be in possession of illegal firearms and has used them.” He pauses, “We are also in search of Eric Sohn?””Social services have been called to take him in since he's a minor with a guardian under crime investigation.”

Y/n stands with her mouth agape. In desperate need to answer him as he looks at her, but words refuse to come out.

“I understand it’s confusing,” he takes up a notepad and a pen, “But we’re gonna have to ask for your name since you seem to be close with Lee Juyeon and Eric Sohn.”

Y/n does write her name, incredibly unstable for the age she appears. She looks up at him when she has just written her name, he doesn’t say anything but reads between the glances that a second name in after space should be there too. Y/n quickly adds a surname and gives the note and pen back to the officer.

“Thank you.” He says, “Is Eric Sohn with Lee juyeon?”

“Yeah.” Y/n nods, “They took the bus together last night.”

After a few more questions, the officer does finally leave her at the door. She doesn’t close it until his silhouette disappears fully down the stairs. When it finally does and she has stood there long enough for the automatic lights in the ceiling to shut, she does pull the handle close and lean her forehead towards the frame. Y/n closes the lids against the bottom as if it’ll erase the world from her. But when she opens them, the world is still cruelly real and she turns to the kitchen.

Y/n shakes Eric first, let the covers she adjusted fall down his stomach once again. He lets out a confused sound with eyes still closed. Y/n continues to bother him while speaking.

“Eric, you need to wake up.”

Eventually she walks over to Juyeon, grabs arm and shakes his upper body. She repeats his name in usual volume and slowly his eyes come open and his head turns to her.

“Y/n?”

“The police were here.” She shakes him still, “You’re under criminal investigation, Juyeon. They’ll take Eric…you’re a criminal, Juyeon.”

Y/n herself seem to have not fully comprehended the words the officer spoke outside. And as she voices what he told her, it dawns on her chest and her breath becomes heavy. She looks at him weakly when he sits up. The tiredness that lingers after slumber has disappeared and he looks at her with vast eyes and she repeats it to him.

“Social services will take Eric, you’re under investigation for illegal firearm use.”

Juyeon stares at her for a second before taking the phone off the desk. She takes a step back once the blue light illuminates his face. He clicks into the news sights and at first article at the very start of the site, a video recording from the alley when he fired off the gun. He hits the lamp above them and it ends shortly after the man stands up. He reads the title of the article, “Young man wanted after shooting”.

She sees the video rewind on his phone as his face turns to Eric on the other side who shifts position. Despite the weight coming down on them in one moment, none of them even stands up or walks out. From today's news, their tomorrow plays out in front of their visions. Like a gloomy movie Juyeon watches how they take Eric, ship him off to somewhere, long outside this city while he himself is stuck in between the same four walls for months on end.

Y/n herself knows she must take herself out of the city. Sky’s been watching, nothing’s here will save her. But she can’t take her feet to the hallway, bend her arms down to her bag and leave them behind.

“I’m so sorry, Juyeon.” She doesn’t know why she apologizes. After all, it’s not her in a layered uniform who will come between the closed door at dawn and separate the two. But the way his eyes lingers on Eric’s silhouette while the grip on the phone tightens.

Juyeon suddenly looks up towards Y/n, he stands up and takes her shoulder, “Don’t apologize, Y/n.”

He walks away to the kitchen, opens the shelves and takes out red packages. Snacks in vibrant colors and then down to the refrigerator where he grabs the plastic bottle of juice. She stays in one place, unable to relocate her essence when the world progresses at a fast pace. Juyeon places the food on the table before he goes to the hallway to take out a backpack. Y/n takes her first step closer to follow his silhouette where she once stood to leave.

“What are you doing?” She asks when he comes back to the table and lies the cheap plastic in the backpack.

“We’ll have to move too.”

She’s quiet for a second, stands with hands against her sides when he goes to the shelfs.

“Where?” She looks at him.

“I don’t know, probably where you’re going.”

His answer causes a wind to force the side edge of the mirror to reflect back onto herself. Her double vision becomes unclear when the thing she focuses on is rather a gloom layer at the far end of the world. Probably Y/n will disappear in the masses of people down the main road complexions before even that fades as she comes all the further from the center metropolitan. When buildings start to lose color and texts graze the sides of parks, she’ll take the bus and let the vehicle take her as far as it can. Where she’ll stand in the vast world when the sun falls down the horizon once again, is like always, a mystery.

“I’m not leaving Eric.” Juyeon comes back to the table before turning to her.

“And not you either.”

Before the sun breaks up on the horizon, they were out of the apartment. The sky’s collapsing above them as it rains, reminiscent of melancholy in hearts. Y/n walks beside Juyeon in between high end stores and dares to look up the gray coloration in thick layers. It all reminds her of the first day she saw this city for the first time.

They come to a meeting point where the city's buses pass in rush hour. The weather has worsened, wind from the shoreline comes through the building divides and forces the rain to stand on diagonal. They force their heads down and in need of perception, they peek through the strands. With all the other lights and reflections, they see neon green stripes of guards around the platform. The central station has just a few white stripes on the asphalt before them.

To let one of the glass structures hold the rain above, Eric and Y/n take their hoods off and let the water that has accumulated run down their backs. Y/n looks to the left to see a woman in the inner corner of the booth. She shifts her feet as it reeks and scatters of cigarettes.

“You didn’t have another jacket?” Eric looks at Juyeon who hesitantly takes his hand up the edge of his hood.

“It’s the only one that is waterproof.”

Eric sighs, “If they come up to us, it’s your fault.” He points at the officers the other booth away.

“I’m sure those two, specifically, don't look for us.” Juyeon emphasis.

Y/n lean over to hold her finger before her lips. They look at her with immense eyes and eyebrows knitted together. In response, she tilts her head in constant pattern, back towards the woman behind, she’s on her own phone, but both Juyeon and Eric get the hint. Eric turns to the open rectangle staring out into the rain that has started to take on forms of snow.

As another bus pass them and it’s only seven minutes until theirs come, the officers has come out the booth and started patrolling this line. Their uniforms in neon details shines clearly through the snow. And as they come closer, each of them become stale in their soaked clothing, feeling each water drop plummet against the ground.

“Just be natural.” Juyeon says in low volume while hitting them gently with his elbow.

The two officers come before the transparency. The three of them hold their heads in other directions, only daring a look in between time through side eyeing. The two have stopped talking, topics seem to have run dry and they come closer to the death of afternoon. The officer closest to them passes his eyes over the glass. Juyeon holds his breath tightly and looks up at the screen in orange outlines showing another minute. At last, none of them cease dividing puddles as they continue down the platform.

The three of them fall with their backs onto the glass. Y/n turns to see the silhouette linger. But as she prepares to look away, Y/n tears her eyes off immediately, as they glimpse through the thick rain and stained glass. When a half minute has gone by, she dares to seek that side again, the two officers are static on that spot.

Y/n budge Juyeon with her elbow, but he only faces the back side of her head. He follows where he thinks her sight lines and sees the two officers turn to look at their booth. The two of them look away and Juyeon brings Eric closer to his side.

Eventually the two officers walked back to them, letting the glass divide two sides. The woman beside them looks towards the opening to see the police seek inside, but she quickly turns back to her screen.

“Waiting for the bus?” The one to the right asks.

“Yeah.” Juyeon nods.

“Did it work paying for tickets? We’ve been getting complaints all day that the machine is struggling.”

“Yeah, we used the app.” He answers quickly.

There’s silence.

The police breathe in, “We’ve gotten a report of suspicion against you three.”“There’s a case of a young man potentially on the run, he has a younger brother of sorts and a female friend.” He pauses, “It’s a serious errand, I would want to ask for your names.”

Eric looks up at Juyeon, then down into the ground, Y/n herself side eyes him too.

“Kim Joonwoo.” Juyeon says after a passage of silence.

They look down at Eric.

“Max Sohn.”

Y/n too lies.

The two officers look skeptical at the three of them. Then their eyes lock with each other and one of them tilts their head further out the rain before disappearing.

“We want you guys to wait for a minute, we’ll just have to check in.”

The other stands in the rain with their back against them. His hand comes out the pocket as he holds a phone to his ear.

Juyeon bites his lip. The one standing against the booth frame has taken out his phone and stares at the screen. Juyeon looks towards Y/n and budges her arm with his own. Y/n dares to look at him and they lock eyes. He doesn’t say anything, but points his head towards teh space where the last officer stood. She knits her eyebrows at first, leans harder against the glass pane when he eagerly opens his eyes and points with his head in that direction. Finally he looks over the two officers and sees none of them at concentration, he takes his lips closer to her hair.

“When I take your hand, we’ll run, okay?” Juyeon falls back. The little space created heats of whispers in cold rain. Y/n nods as Juyeon turns to Eric and whispers the same words.

Her heart races behind the synthetic fibers of the coat. Out in the rain, the officer guides his hand away and let the phone come before his face. At that moment, before he hangs up on the caller, a cold grip on her own soaked fingers runs through her. She already had her heel on the glass divide and push from it in a second. Eric accidentally falls against the other police when he runs out their back silhouettes dim out the rain, directed towards the street up the city.

One officer shouts at them which takes the attention of the other and in a span of less than seven seconds all five are aiming at that street. Juyeon holds their hand desperately in his own as the asphalt end seem to decline in streetlights, in compassion to the escape.

“I’m hungry.” Eric sits on the edge of the bed. How the perfect surface of the silk white sheets forms lines in which he sits. There’s only one bed, or two thinner, long sides against each other. Y/n lets her bag onto the floor two meters after the hotel door. There is no scent in the room, if she concentrates and lifts her chin higher, maybe there’s a hint of chlorine.

“We all ate before going.” Juyeon throws himself onto the other side.

“Yeah, but I’m still growing.” Eric complains and falls in parallel to Juyeon.

“You don’t.” Juyeon smiles while looking at the ceiling before his head falls to the side in which the both of them share. Eric too lets his eyes wither from the spotlight shine and turn to the subject in which he falls onto.

“Ha, really funny.” Eric deadpans, takes the pillow that’s half a meter from his head. When he holds the pillow in the air, gravity takes it down to the mattress in which Eric aims towards Juyeon. The older one takes his own elbow as a protective hold before his eyes. Sounds of laughter erupt from that side of the room as Eric goes onto knees to hit Juyeon fervently.

Y/n stands in parallel to the mirror before the bathroom. For the first time she smiles in what feels like years. The sheet edges loosens from the mattress when Juyeon only vaguely tries to protect his body from the hits. Even then, his elbow comes back down to its side. Only closes his eyelids when the pillow comes close and the smile, only Eric gifts to see, never falters.

A surreal wind goes through the walls, fills the hotel room. It struck her again, in her heart. Human time slows down and despite having a window right before her, that world disappears at the edge of the observable horizon. As the pillow in Eric’s hand falter and comes to lie in his lap, Y/n goes to Juyeon’s bag, opens the zipper and takes out a plastic packaging of a white cream bread. To come up to the bed herself and cross her legs at the end of Juyeon’s feet and diagonally towards Eric, she gives him the bread.

“Oh, thank you, Y/n.” Eric takes it and opens the sealed edge.

“You’re seriously giving him?” Juyeon takes only his head up from the mattress which forces his voice to come out strained.

“Yeah?” Y/n smiles and looks at him.

“He should only get a reward if he has done something good.” Juyeon falls back.

“He has.” She insists.

“Like what?”

“Shut you up.”

Eric laughs and hits the surface of the bed with his free hand. Y/n too smiles at her own comment and the two of them bring their hands to a high five. While the laughs lingers in between the divide of the bed Juyeon shifts onto his stomach and falls flat with his head against the fabric.

When they arrived with the bus at the outer corner of the city, it was already dark. They ran until street signs were rare and seeked for their conservation behind a karaoke bar down the crowded street. At the backside of the building with all bins of alcohol cans and empty plastic bags, they sat between the black synthetics. It rained still, they balanced on their feet even when they had sat there for 20 minutes. At last, Juyeon spoke for the first time since the shout to run behind the corner. After, they took the bus on a lonely waiting platform with no screen on the bus times, just a worn down time table underneath the name.

No one else beside them and a man, two seats before, sat on the bus. And even the man walked off two stops before them as they sat on those demishined seats for as long as the ride let them. When the last stop got called through the speakers, they walked off back into the rain and the sun had fallen. Only those usual lights on row down the street were there to guide. At last when their feet were sore from escaping and minds had become numb from all the oversaturation they came to a hotel in gloom.

They couldn’t tell if it was because of the dark or the hotel building simply hadn’t been renovated since it first came to fruition on this street. Either way, three of the eight letters before the entrance didn’t work.

After barely an hour after closing the door to their small room in which Juyeon used his extra money for, they took on other clothes and went to lie in bed. Eric’s closest to the window, Y/n in the divide where the two beds leave a limited gap and Juyeon thereafter. She feels slightly stale when in between the two of them, but it loosens off quickly when Eric starts talking about stories from when he was younger and what he and his friends did the month ago. The two older listens as his words become incomprehensible in sleep.

Suddenly it's just the two of them again. Y/n’s quiet when Juyeon starts coughing a little, he takes his arm up to his mouth and she turns their shared side to see him caress the underside of his throat. When they were running from the officers and jumped behind the back alley, Juyeon too reached deeply for air and desperately seemed to mute his coughs while waiting. She blinks a few times while still staring at him, before speaking.

“You’re okay, Juyeon?” Only a mere part of all the worries and guilt in her heart.

“Yeah.” He coughs once more before guiding his arm underneath his head, “Just a little sick I think.” He smiles and scratches his hair, “The rain was really cold.”

His voice only reaches the span of the closest two pillows when he takes his hands underneath his chin and turns to the side, “I think I need a hug.”

Y/n squints her eyes and looks at his smile before whispering, “Really? "Right now?”

Juyeon’s request when in a strange bed while his face circulates rounds on the internet, it feels rather inappropriate in her book. Though, she laughs as the fringe falls diagonally over his vast eyes. There’s a point in pearl essence when he looks at her in which she has no choice but to reach for his face. The same echoing words in the back of her mind as the night they spent together in each other's arms comes back. It taunts her to divide space in between them. But even when not only this Earth, but the universe, chases them, she still finds her soul melting of tenderness when he looks at her.

“You are a bit cold.” She smiles and caresses his head.

Juyeon hums and closes his eyes, shifts his head on the pillow before bringing himself closer. His head comes underneath her chin as her arms closer around him and his breath comes against her chest.

For every touch of her hand against his essence, and each time her warmth pulsates out of her veins and spreads across his own, he can feel the ways in his throat become choked. Ribbons with sharp edges tightens around his heart. He closes his eyes painfully, forces his head closer to her chest, as if to merge with her, the pain will cease. All the world’s seems to desperately stand in his way, he thinks in this rain drowned night. He can’t look forward to the morning. When any road can take him there, he closes his eyes and wishes to remember this moment, her arms, her presence, even in death. The green plantations in between the frozen cracks might grow from this weather, and so do the lilac petals in his heart.

There’s a sharp edge of yellow light. It cuts through the dark room in a single divide and traces up the floor to her face where it climbs up the wall. Y/n opens her eyes just so that a liminal shade of the outer world can be conceived. The light comes from the open bathroom door diagonally from her. As hands spread across the pillow behind her to let the weight off the mattress, Y/n hears violent dry coughing coming from the gap.

She looks to the left where the side of the window stands, Eric still sleeps. Juyeon’s pillow has creases left of him and the sheet is folded from where he left. Another severe cough occurs from that room and Y/n folds the fabric once more as the warmth accumulated underneath, lowers in degrees while free. Gently while rubbing her eyes with her left hand, Y/n takes the other on the frame while adjusting her eyes to the light.

“Juyeon?”

He depends on the sink with his hands. Upper body leaned forward over the crater while his back replicates the harsh sounds coming from his throat. Y/n tilts her head to see his face, but neither standard vision or mirror angle contravene her fear. The cough brutally tears on the insides of his throat, it too causes delusive discomfort in her own body.

His back straightens suddenly and Juyeon turns his head over. She stays in continued silence as he looks at her with eyes of liquid layers and redness underneath. He takes his arm up to his mouth to cough again before he takes a step closer and directs his body to come in between the bounded space of frame and body.

“I’m okay.” He says hastily without making eye contact.

Y/n follows the sight of his back silhouette returning into the hotel room. She lets go of the door frame, takes a single step to the sink. A dead garden with only traces left, deep lilac petals. It decorates the sink by erratic trails from the mit where water comes down. The air in her own chest twined amidst two ways. In contrast to the exhausted motions from the bathroom, she forces the door up even wider until it hits the other wall. Juyeon with arms against the mirror at the bed end, and she rushes towards him.

“Juyeon!” With her hands on his shoulders, she pulls him closer to turn him in a direction to let his front face hers. But he stubbornly leans heavier against the mirror and only his left shoulder comes two centimeters closer before returning back.

“Juyeon!” Her voice is loud in a room compressed beside ten others at the end of the city. She refuses to close her eyes when he coughs again and eventually, they plummet to the ground when he can’t bear the flowers rotting his body. Juyeon's face hides before the carpet.

Y/n sinks to her knees, takes one hand under his chin and the other at the back of his head. To force his face up from the floor and see lilac vibrancy in gloom consume his features. A single petal falls from the end of his lips down to her thigh. Now when it traces her essence, she feels so cruel for being optimistic.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” The hand on his hair comes to his cheek where she touches the red coloration with her thumb. Let the gentle pressure create white patterns before it returns to that color.

“I- '' Juyeon coughs again and Y/n takes her other arm on his shoulder when he comes down to her lap. His hair scattered across her legs and the ceiling above him withers in view.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Y/n repeats in which he looks remorsefully up at her from her embrace.

“I’m sorry, Y/n.”

Tears threaten at the borderline under her eyes. Y/n shakes her head and reaches for the backpack behind her. This entire life, she wished to still be holy, but she realizes she might never be, when one grip the arrow. She holds it in her right hand, above his fragile heart. Juyeon’s eyes widen as the sharp knife aims at his vulnerable. He takes her wrist from below and speaks through the petals.

“What are you doing?” He coughs.

“I need to save you, Juyeon!” Y/n holds against him with her own strength.

Her voice becomes softer, “It won’t hurt, Juyeon, I would never hurt you.” The single tear comes off her eye and falls onto his cheek. He pity her so deeply. But he wishes to be destroyed, eradicated by fate, if only he follows her for an eternity.

“I-I don’t want to.” His voice is sore when he speaks and she shakes her head.

“You’re gonna die, Juyeon.” She weighs down the arrow even harder, “I can’t let you die.”

Shift of fabrics comes from the bed above them. Juyeon closes his eyes. Even in no visual presence he feels her raging strength extraordinarily work against him. A single glimpse into the future and his heart aches, maybe even more than the tearing in his throat. He doesn’t know where the second arrow will land after she strikes him, but he might as well be buried six feet under if it’s because of her.

“I love you, Y/n.” He breathes heavily while his eyes lie underneath their lids. Y/n takes his shoulder with her other hand, shakes him fervently,

“Juyeon!”

“I just want to hear you…” He whispers and Y/n forces her eyes close when the tears run down her skin. The grip on the arrow becomes weak from both directions as she leans her face on his chest. Y/n shakes her head because fate betrayed her, gruesome and vengefully again.

There’s faintly rain shatter. The dark gray clouds can be seen from this angle but one can only insinuate the existence of a cityscape at the end of the frame. Each of the droplets running down against the glass becomes further precise. He traces the outline of one of them, like his youth, following its tail to the very end where it shatters into pieces.

“He’s awake!”

A voice that echoes in the strange room, it shares the same stardust as his. He turns from the window and the yellow shine from spotlight sources blinds him. Juyeon squints his eyes as his head comes flat against the hard pillow and a silhouette covers the light in the ceiling.

“Juyeon?” His voice is delicate, softer than in his memories. He knits his eyebrows and answers the one above him.

“Yeah?”

It’s only a word, pronounced sore and lost, but either way, it creates a smile on the boy above. As if too fragile to touch, he reaches his hand down to his shoulder and shakes him gently.

“It’s Eric!” He smiles still.

Juyeon still squints his eyes, “Yeah, I know.”

“Juyeon?”

The door from the other end of the room opens. There’s a wall before, in which two hands hold it while someone peaks through. A doctor comes before her, stands a meter behind Eric while the girl who spoke his name closes in.

Another second passes before he speaks her name. His hand comes down to his chest and he rises from the bed just a little. The girl walks from the spot at the very end of his feet to the opposite side of Eric. She holds both her hands before her front and leans down to him. He feels cold off her body as if been in the rain he just chased. She holds his shoulders while her head rests beside his. Juyeon closes his eyes and embraces her too.

“I was so worried.” She speaks quietly, so that each breath reaches his ear.

“I’m okay, don’t worry anymore.” He answers whilst hugging her tighter.

On the day Juyeon woke up at the hospital, she had ran to the bus platform in harsh rain after she got the hurried call from Eric that he was in sleep. Y/n only gave him a few hours to accept how she had altered fate, stand beside them in the yellow room whilst the past became forgotten. Juyeon, after waking up, went to the police station, he was on probation for a month, because of illegal firearm use but they did acknowledge self defense and past of no criminal records. Eric lived with Juyeon’s girlfriend at that time.

When visiting him while on probation nearly everyday after school, Eric told him the weeks leading up to the blackout. All while his brother returned to true state, Eric felt inexpressibly alone after walking home. How he lives in the ruins where no one goes.

Since that day, at the hotel where he nearly saw Juyeon die, Eric apologizes a lot for not being present. He wants to tell them that he lives in dreams, and put himself there because her name will never be forgotten. Instead he’s forced to tell the people that there was no Y/n, no love service, no magic, just an accident as Juyeon had gotten a gun curiously, used it to defend himself when a stranger was attacked in an alley. The rest of the story after new years stays, but without Y/n. He doesn’t know how she did it, but even the name of the friend the police got that morning after new years is not hers, but a friend of Juyeon’s.

Now when it’s the end of spring and the edge of summer, he lives with Juyeon again. They meet up with his girlfriend often after Juyeon’s work. In two days, he’ll pass the school entrance for the last time, and think back, on a summer day in the near future. But as he lies in bed at night, he can’t help mourn the loss of that endless winter. Y/n told him that those moments will wither, not feel as intensely as they once did. But he’s still there.

Eric comes home the next day after being out with his friends after school. Juyeon should be home, he thinks, as he’s nowhere to be seen when in the hallway. To see the sofa in the living room but sounds of struggle comes from a half open door opposite the balcony. There’s no sounds from Eric when walks with only his socks into his bedroom. Eric tilts head to see Juyeon’s back in his closet.

“Why are you in my room?” Eric asks and Juyeon looks up from the floor.

“Your closet door is a bit loose.” He pushes the black slide, “It’s soon done.” Juyeon smiles.

Eric nods but doesn’t take away his vision from that corner as a black box sits beside Juyeon. The lid’s off the edge by a centimeter. Eric comes in and lays the bag at the frame before weighing down on the bed edge. Juyeon has laid down the working material and looks at the black box. Eric straightens his posture when he takes it in his hands.

“I’m just curious, I didn’t mean to be nosy, but why do you have this dress?” Juyeon takes off the lid and angles the rectangular frame to showcase its inside. The dress in light blue color, detailed with white lace, is delicately folded so that the square neckline lies in center of the box. Eric bites his lip, hands on his thighs and touches them up and down the cotton fabric. There’s silence for a moment and Juyeon observes the younger’s expression when no words come out.

“Eric?” He let the box down to his lap.

“It’s yours.” He says and finally looks at him.

Juyeon tilts his head.

“Mine?”

Eric nods, “You bought it as a gift, you were supposed to give it to her on New Years.”

Juyeon asks if he means his girlfriend and Eric shakes his head, looks down again. The fingers of his right hand start scratching against the left. A thin layer of skin loosens from the nail binding. He bites his lip again and thinks of all the lone mind echoes.

Eric hasn’t seen Y/n since the day at the hospital. When Juyeon and his girlfriend started talking down in the room, Eric silently escaped and walked around the different floors with stairs in between. There was a door on the highest floor to an outside platform. Eric stood there, feeling a great sense of compassion for the Earth-like-tears. When it felt like everything might have been a dream, Y/n called his name.

To come into her embrace and affirm she’s real. Though, Y/n told him before leaving that her existence is now not a valid part of Juyeon’s world. That there’s just the two. That she promises he’ll not be left at the threshold of two worlds, that this moment in each other's arms isn’t the last. But winter will soon end, and he must accept how the flowers will forget about snow once it is replaced.

Eric breathes, “It’s Y/n.” He finally admits, still looking down.

Juyeon knit his eyebrows, “Y/n?”

Eric nods and a faint smile comes on his lips, “The one you saved, with the gun was Y/n. She lived with us at the end of December and you told me you loved her. You wanted to ask her out at New Years but you never got the time, because then the police searched for you.”

Juyeon listens quietly, opens his mouth but none come to flourish. Instead he shakes his head.

“I wasn’t told that.” He says hurt.

“She told me not to tell you.”

“But the police, the doctors…” He names the people who have affirmed fiction.

Eric starts swinging his feet and smiles again, “It sounds stupid, but Y/n’s not a human.”

Juyeon raises one eyebrow.

“She’s a goddess, you fell in love with the love goddess, and she, in you.”

Juyeon didn’t believe Eric. The younger stubbornly chased after him when Juyeon simply told him, “That’s ridiculous”. To run around every corner of the apartment, even into Juyeon’s room where Eric lied down beside him and reiterated. When Juyeon still persisted, Eric sighed and went up from the bed and out of Juyeon’s room. Went to his own, before coming back with his phone.

“Look, here she is.”

Juyeon turns to Eric’s screen and sees a selfie, presumably he himself has taken of Eric, himself and a girl at the very end. Juyeon’s own phone falls to his stomach and he leans closer to see the picture.

“When’s this?” He asks.

“This winter, in our old apartment.”

Eric scrolls to the next photo which is taken at the store, when they tried out angel outfits. The photo is clearly centered on Eric in his small wings, but Y/n can be seen to the right laughing in her own costume.

“This one’s good.” Eric laughs and scrolls to the next photo in which Y/n holds the pink box on the platform with Juyeon beside her. He throws an awkward peace sign up with half his hair in his face.

“I don’t remember this.” Juyeon tilts with a half smile and takes the phone from Eric’s hand. The younger one comes down fully on the shared pillow as they go through the pictures from that winter.

“She’s the one you wanted to give the dress to.” Eric says eventually.

“Have you met her since?” Juyeon asks at the last picture of them at new year’s.

Eric shakes his head, “No,” He sighs, “She told me that her mother had found her and that she was only allowed a quick visit to meet me.”

Juyeon nods. As if looking at another life when reversing the pictures. But her face, always in the captured stills from the past, insists a dime of all his sensibilities to tell him he cares. Even as the day passes, her face lives like cathedral windows before him.

The moon, lifeless, in shine hanging above the sleeping Earth. It’s been dark for a couple of hours. The sun stays above the city line a second longer for each day that passes.

When no one’s there to verify one's existence, the glass door to the balcony opens. No heavy wind passes through the city streets during this weather, but nonetheless she closes the door back to its frame before taking silent steps against the floor. The shoe material at the tip of her toes makes a pitched sound. Those steps come closer to the left door of two at one wall.

To bring her hand out to the handle without any weight. She lets the shine melt into her own essence before gently forcing it down. Between that space is his room, she stands there for a second to finally see it in all three dimensions. At last, when her eyes trail down the wall details and reach him beneath the soft fabrics. His mere existence is extremely poetic.

He reminds her of the present fragile complexity. How human he makes her feel, she thinks. She brings her hand up to her chest, above the spot of her clothing where underneath all the layers, one can sense the quick pulses. Eventually, she takes a step over the borderline, his features in pale moonlight become all clearer. When he’s so close to her, she hesitantly takes out her hand.

His delicate skin is underneath her fingertips, slowly she pulls them back to her own side. Instead, sits down on the left space beside his hip. The bed sheets crinkles when her weight changes the patterns of the creases. She tilts her head. As if there’s a field drawing them towards each other, she leans over his chest and her face comes as close as it can.

At this mere distance, each of his breath lingers. She had been dying to hear his voice and see his face, but truly her heart aches in bliss when his scent touches her face. It forces her to open closed off memories, may be sun bleached and dust, but it warms her human heart, as a part of him she had forgotten, returns to her. Her hand comes to the side of his pillow as she leans forward. He shifts his head and the beautiful hair scatters in new patterns. That peaceful sensation lasts, until the motions of his head spreads to his eyes and they slowly open.

She immediately backs away, the hand returns to her lap and the sudden motion causes an effect on the rest of the bed. There’s a new emotion in her heart as he forces himself off the mattress and rubs his eye. She is still there, at the edge of his bed, when he looks at her with tired eyes. She wishes for him to fall right back onto the pillow, but he doesn’t, instead he continues to stare at her while the exhaustion from sleep disappears.

She finally stands up from the bed. He looks up at her and trails after when she rushes out of the room. Juyeon is left with his hands on the mattress, blinking a few times, agape his lips.

The person on the bed was a visit from a past life. He nearly wonders if the pictures on Eric’s phone he's been thinking about, might have started haunting him. But there’s a pattern left on the spot where she sat, a real world consequence of her existence.

Juyeon takes the sheets off his body and walks up to the door. The silhouette stands at the outer edge. The glass is against the other wall and her lower body is covered by patterns of metal as she stands with her back against the free fall. A night wind from the moon comes through the open door and touches his warm body. It filtrates the thin fabric of his sleepwear and he takes another step forward. As her right feet disappear beneath the balcony floor, Juyeon speaks.

“Wait!”

The moonlight shines behind her when she turns her eyes from beneath.

He opens mouth and walks closer, “You’re Y/n, right?”

Juyeon takes his right leg higher to pass the doorstep elevation before the cold hard floor of the balcony. She’s leaning with both her hands on the railing which causes her to come in greater height than Juyeon. With still a meter between them, Juyeon looks up to her and asks again.

“You’re Y/n?”

The scene is rather overwhelming for her. Only in imagination has she continued seeing those moon made eyes and voice that causes spring to reach the very isolated, cold corners of her heart. None of the human vocabularies she has learned feels acceptable to answer him with, none withstand the level of adoration her heart feels. So at last, to open up to conversation with him one more time, Y/n nods her head.

As she blinks, the nods become faster, “Yeah, it’s me.”

For the first time, after a season, she sees him smile again, “Hi, Y/n.”

She breathes out and smiles too, “Hi, Juyeon.” Though, she tilts her head and observes the highlights caused from the moon on his face.

“How do you know my name?”

A wind passes them, “Eric told me.” He breathes, “He told me you were a goddess, that you saved my life that day when the police came.”

Y/n looks down for a second, still smiling, “Eric couldn’t keep it in, right?”

“He’s pretty indiscreet. Though I guess you already know that?”

Y/n nods.

There’s a passage of silence while a car drives down the street below them. Juyeon hasn’t taken his eyes off her for even a second, trying to place where in his heart she occupied space and if, when they stand together again, the doors will open again for her.

“Where were you?” He asks which makes Y/n look at him again, “All of spring?”

“With my mother.” She nods slowly, “I’m receiving my punishment…” Y/n looks down before smiling. Yet, she looks as if forced to improvise, he thinks“...I’m allowed to visit Earth more often though, I have an apartment here now.” She pauses, “So I’m at least free from that place.”

Juyeon tilts his head, “Punishment?”

“I escaped Olympus, I interfered a lot with human relationships…” She nods with ocean-heavy-eyes, “My mother was pretty angry.”

Juyeon listens attentively when Y/n trails her eyes away and picks at her fingers.

“You don’t remember, but I did fall in love with you back then. Changed your fate from the disease which I shouldn't have.” She looks down, the smile has slowly vanished with the wind, “So I am forever destined to love you unrequited.” She says as if turning home.

The last sentence falling from her lips, causes a permanent block in whatever way was left in his heart. Like winter comes back in a second, deep frost structures his cathedral heart.

“Unrequited?” He repeats.

Y/n nods, “I will never be able to love anyone else. And you, will never love me.”

Juyeon blinks, “Don’t you have powers?”

Y/n smiles again, laughs a little as she takes an arrow from behind her back. For the first time since he saw her eyes, something else falls in center. The sharp edge shines off the left side from the silver light. He realizes as he looks at it, that it is the same edge that must have struck him.

“I’ll die if I use it and the same on you.” Y/n takes the sharp end against his arm. Juyeon brings it closer to his chest as the edge makes a white mark on his skin before it springs back in color. Y/n lowers her head and the arrow disappears behind her back, as mysteriously as it came.

Juyeon looks at his arm. There’s nothing equivalent in words to describe the slow paced swan song that runs through his veins. But somehow he sees the dejection at the tips of her lips and it shares like grief in his heart. He doesn’t know why, but at last he speaks those words that die to come out in the silence.

“I’m sorry.”

Y/n tilts her head, laughs softly before speaking, “Why are you apologizing?”

“I don’t know.” Juyeon scratches the back of his head, “I wish I didn’t have to leave you to love alone.”

Y/n shakes her head, “Even if you didn’t forget me and everything else, my love would have outlived you by a hundred years.” She pauses and looks at him, like described out of a mythology, “Our love was never destined to be forever.”

Despite standing before each other once again, there’s an undeniable distance. Y/n ‘s heart that desperately longs for Juyeon’s, but there is no lost place. There’s no use in trying. The universe has created an eternal absence, pulling them miles apart even when they’re here, at the same time in the same place. How tragically, he thinks.

“But…I wasn’t punished?” Juyeon knits his eyebrows.

“I mean, kind of.” Y/n says gently, “Though, not in the way I am.”

“But I don’t understand, what was my punishment?”

“Guilt.”

Juyeon tilts his head, “Guilt?”

She smiles weakly, “Cause you’re a good person, Juyeon.” And it slowly fades, “Only good people die with guilt.”

He looks down onto the cold floor of the balcony. There’s tragedy in marrow, cruelly hurts when she thinks of the eternity waiting for her. How the adoration for him will simply not mature. How her heart will search for him, far and wide, even when he’s no longer here.

Y/n swallows, “Anyways,” She shakes her head to let a strand fall beside her face. Her voice tears Juyeon’s eyes up from the floor, “You told me before I saved you…” She pauses to let another wind pass them by.

“...that you loved me. But I never said it back.”

Y/n looks down from the railing, locks eyes again. She reaches deep within, to find maybe even a fragment of him that will remember those words.

“So I want to tell you that I love you too, Juyeon. Not because I’m punished to, but because you loved in a way no one else has done.” She breathes out, “I didn’t quite understand love back then, I couldn’t understand humans,” She smiles weakly, “even when I wanted to save you and you said no, I couldn’t grip my head around why you didn’t want to be saved.” He looks at the goddess with vast eyes when the moonlight is at its brightest behind her.

“But now, when I’m forever punished loving you, I still think that I wouldn’t want it any other way.” She says, “I want to love sincerely even when you don’t love me.”

The lips of his mouth form a faint gape. The reflection of the moon in the left center pupil fades and returns like it's pulsing. He waits for a spark, a falling star or even a firework, but the night stands as still as it always does. Though, with the sincere words she gives him, he wishes there’s a part in his heart that receives it, that can fully comprehend the words she so gently tells him.

Another car passes by and Y/n looks down the detailed street in lights. Her hand comes up before making a sound on the metal railing.

“Well, I think that was all.” The smile she gives him comes as if perfectly out of the photo on Eric’s phone, “Thank you, Juyeon. I’ll protect you and Eric from the bad things, you've been through enough.” She once again takes a foot down the balcony.

“Wait-”

Y/n looks up as he pushes the glass door open again and disappears into the room. Still halfway down, Y/n tries to perceive his shadow behind the frame. Only struggles of doors and paper can be heard from her distance, but at last, Juyeon comes out again. He holds a black paper box with his two hands.

“I don’t remember, but Eric told me I wanted to give this to you on New Year’s, but I never got the chance to.”

Y/n comes up again, reaches her hands out but hesitantly takes them back a centimeter. Juyeon smiles delicately and pushes the box closer to her. To open the lid, he sees her expression fade into brilliance. As if sunrise has come above the horizon, he tilts his head and smiles too. The distance destined between them refuses to let him fully comprehend the gift, but truthfully when she lifts it up, a pure bliss rushes through him.

“You brought it?” Y/n holds the top part of the dress as those burnt memories return.

“Apparently,” He smiles.

As she pulls the fabric a bit higher, a piece of paper reveals itself underneath. Y/n takes her other hand and folds open the letter.

Happy New Year’s, Y/n!

You looked really pretty in that dress so I wanted to give it to you. If I ask you out now, I hope you will wear it.

Love, Juyeon

She reads it over and over until it means visually nothing and ocean edges on her eyes. The choir of lovers that sing in her lone marrow, how each word tears at her strings deeply, “Thank you, Juyeon, thank you.” They shine as she looks back up.

She puts the letter into the box again and closes the lid.

“I’ll treasure it forever, I promise. “

He smiles because she now knows it wasn’t always unrequited. That the mourn and loss wasn’t all for nothing. Though, still in melancholy cause he can’t help her like she saved him. Amidst everything in silence, Juyeon’s eyes widen.

“Oh, I nearly forgot. Eric’s graduation is tomorrow,""do you want to come?”

“Are you sure?” Y/n hesitates.

“Of course.” He smiles, “I think he missed you.”

At those words, she finally nods, embraces the box a bit closer, “Then, I’ll come!”

“Great, meet me on this street at ten tomorrow morning, okay?”

Y/n nods and takes a step down.

“I think you should use the stairs.” Juyeon leans over the railing.

“Oh, right.”

“Eric!”

He turns when his name, pronounced deja vu inducing extreme, trails the high ceiling. The friends in circle stops talking and almost instantly, he recognizes her silhouette, that can overthrow the world, in the crowd.

“Y/n!” The paper in his hands withers off when he meets her halfway there. She closes her eyes when he’s under her arms again. The black suit he has on scratches against her arms. Y/n tells him he’s the most handsome she has ever seen him. She ruffles his head when they let go. Eric would have sulked but couldn't when he had missed her so deeply.

Juyeon came up too and soon after his girlfriend walked through the entrance. Y/n, though, struck her heart that night after Juyeon, didn’t have a chance to see her. As she stood real before her, she smiled fondly and introduced herself. Her tender heart, molten because of the lovers. Though as the two turn to walk down the entrance, and their traces leave Eric Y/n, her cursed soul starts to mourn.

She thinks; if I told you my world stopped when I saw you. You wouldn’t have believed me. You should have known by then that the heaven’s lies in my palms and when you said my name, angels heard it echo.

They say nothing truly disappears, that it just changes. Then, she hopes that if she shouts his name into the black void, it’ll come back to him as an echo. That if she believes in love, help people over the street, pet cats and water her plants, that all that love will reach him someday, in some form.

She hopes, if she lives on, worshiped in history, that if her name gets spoken in the far future, his will too. When we believe there’s nothing left to be made holy, she sincerely begs to tell this tale, to any lovers, that’s left alive.

a/n : that self conscious part of me thinks no one will make it down here, but if you did, thank you!

tagging : @from-izzy

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thewintersoldierdisaster · 10 months

Text

a/n: i know i said i probably wouldn’t write more for brady, but, uh, here we are. this is porn with the barest minimum of plot. like genuinely this is so deranged but i had a wild time writing it. MAJOR props to @smileysvech for the title because i couldn’t think of a single one 😭

word count: 10.5k (😳 i had NO idea it was this long omg)

tw: period sex, like big time. this is essentially all smut and you’ve been warned. blood, obviously

summary: when you’re on your period, brady just wants to make you feel good

When Brady comes home after practice and his workout, a full five hours after he left the house in the morning, he finds you in the exact same spot on the bed - curled up in the fetal position. You have the plush Stormy he bought you as a joke when one of your date nights accidentally ended at the pro shop cuddled against your chest, your face pressed into the top of the pig’s stuffed head. You lift your head slightly when you hear him step into the bedroom and mumble a soft, pitiful ‘hi’ before pressing your face back into the stuffed animal.

Brady lets out a sympathetic hum and sits down on the edge of the bed, a plastic bag crinkling in his hand. “Hey, sweetheart, still feeling crappy?” His fingers are cool against your skin when he reaches over and brushes a few pieces of hair off your forehead. His forehead is creased with concern, full lips downturned in a frown.

“Every damn month, Brady,” you whine, pulling your knees up closer to your chest, trying to add pressure to alleviate the cramps. “Every month and somehow I’m still always knocked on my ass.”

Your periods had always been difficult, lasting a full seven days and coming with headaches, sore breasts, nausea, and raging cramps. Days one and two were always the worst and it blew your mind how you were surprised that you felt like hot garbage every time. It’s like you forgot about the symptoms and misery the second it was over. Being on birth control had helped a bit, but birth control came with its own side effects - a rapid weight gain, migraines worse than you’ve ever had before, and a total death blow to your sex drive. So, off the birth control it was. The weight had slipped off and the migraines were reduced back to a normal headache. It had taken a second for your libido to come back, worrying you, but thankfully it was back a few months after stopping the pills. Now you just have to suffer through the worst two days of your period, the edge coming off with a borderline unhealthy amount of Advil going into your body.

“Maybe this will help?” Your boyfriend grins a little as he rustles through the plastic CVS bag and withdraws a can of raspberry Arizona iced tea and two king sized Butterfingers bars. He holds the candy bars between his fingers, splayed out like he’s displaying a deck of cards.

Tears prick at your eyes, overwhelmed by Brady’s thoughtfulness and the flood of hormones in your body. You nod a little, giving him a wavering smile. “You’re too good to me,” you reach out and flatten your palm over Brady’s grey-sweatpants clad knee, the closest body part of his that you can reach from your position in the middle of the bed. Brady snorts a laugh.

“Sweetheart, this is nothing,” he leans back a little and sets the candy and drink on your bedside table, knocking the family-sized bottle of Advil to the floor and pushing your half-finished Tessa Bailey novel to the edge, nearly sending it to the abyss between the piece of furniture and the wall. “Whatever you need from me, I’m all yours for the rest of the day.”

It’s game day tomorrow, at home, which means Brady really is off the hook from team responsibilities until morning skate tomorrow. A sharp cramp works its way through your uterus and you wince, wiggling a little to stop your butt cheek from going numb.

“Can you just…like, cuddle with me?” You ask, rolling your neck so you can look up at Brady’s face. His eyes are soft and a low throb of want fights the cramps. You feel gross though, bloated and sore and right now all you can handle is being the little spoon to Brady’s big.

Brady’s nodding, already laying back on his side of the bed, “whatever you need from me, sweetheart,” he says, rolling onto his side and opening his arms for you to scoot in. His body is warm and inviting and you could cry with how badly you just need to be held right now. You feel stupid and silly and fragile, but Brady’s never shied away from giving you the comfort you need. He’s still and patient while you settle your head on the inside of his bicep, pressing your back against his chest, your ass flush against his groin, your knees bent and his knees slotted in right behind yours. Every inch of your body is pressed against Brady’s and the body heat coming off of him is better than any heating pad.

He wraps the arm that’s supporting your head over your chest, his forearm resting against your collarbone, and slides his other hand under the hem of your sweatshirt so his warm, broad palm can rest on your lower stomach, pressing down with gentle pressure to help your cramps. You sigh happily and relax back against him, tension seeping out of your shoulders and spine.

“Better?” He murmurs, breath hot against your ear and cheek. You nod, closing your eyes. Brady curls his knees up a little more so you’re both bent closer to a fetal position and there’s more relief for your lower back.

“Perfect,” you mumble, wiggling just a little so you’re even further in the cocoon of Brady’s arms. You can feel the slight press of Brady’s cock against the curve of your ass, but even that’s comforting, more so mentally than physically, since it’s proof that Brady still finds you attractive even when you feel your grossest. “How was practice?” You ask, happy to listen to Brady talk while you ignore the twinge of cramps.

He chuckles a bit, his chest vibrating at your back. “Same old,” he says and it feels so good when his chest moves against your back, the soft rumble of his voice in your ear. “Brett says to tell you that Amy’s gonna text you about a viewing party for the away game next week, thinks it’s her turn to host?”

You hum a confirmation, nodding against Brady’s arm. “It is. I get the game when you’re all up in Montreal,” you reply, knowing you’re probably going to have half a dozen texts from Amy when you eventually muster up the energy to pick up your phone. Brady’s hand rubs soft circles against your lower stomach, releasing more of the tension that’s built up without you realizing it. You shift again, stretching your lower back and feeling the giant pad you’re wearing move around. Brady has to be able to feel it with how closely you’re pressed against him and the thought makes you tilt your hips forward, away from his dick, so he doesn’t realize that you’re basically wearing a diaper.

Brady presses gently on your stomach and on your shoulder with his other hand. “Sorry,” he mumbles a little sheepishly, and you wonder why until he continues, “I know you’re not in the mood to have my dick poking at your ass. Swear I’m not that guy that’s worried about getting off when you’re feeling so crappy.”

“Oh!” You bite down on your lip to smother a little smile even as your nose burns with hormonal tears. Honestly, it hadn’t even occurred to you that Brady would think you were shifting away because of him. “No,” you rush to reassure him, twisting your neck so you’re looking at him from an awkward angle. “I’m not…I didn’t think…oh fuck, I just didn’t want you to, you know, have to feel everything that’s going on,” you wave at your lower half with one hand vaguely, “down there.”

“Sweetheart,” Brady’s lips quirk up in a little smirk, “I’m thirty years old, I don’t have any issues with what you’ve got going on. Besides,” he chuckles a little before kissing your temple, “I’ve seen the box of pads under the sink.”

Your entire face flushes hot and you grumble, “well, let’s just not talk about that.” Brady laughs again and kisses your hot cheek. It’s almost unnatural how sweet he is, but you suppose after the string of terrible boyfriends in your early twenties, this is what it’s like being in an adult relationship with an adult man.

“How about you close your eyes and try to nap?” Brady suggests. He subtly pulls you closer again, until your ass is back where it belongs against his semi-hard dick. His thumb strokes an arc under your belly button and you sigh, warm all over from Brady’s body curled around yours. “I know you tossed and turned all night.”

“Sorry,” the words get lost in his bicep, your cheek pressed against the fabric of his t-shirt. “Tried not to move so much.”

Brady’s hand moves in lazy circles against your skin and he keeps you pressed tightly against his chest. He’s functioning like the world’s greatest weighted blanket. When he replies, his breath ruffles the little pieces of hair escaping your messy bun. “Should’ve woken me up, I would’ve spooned you until you fell asleep again,” he sounds almost hurt that you didn’t wake him up.

“Next time, I’ll wake you up,” you promise, pressing a soft little kiss to the inside of Brady’s bicep, brushing your nose over the soft skin. His arms tighten around you and you feel him kiss the back of your head.

“Just wanna be there for you,” he says, yawning a little. The yawn is contagious and your jaw cracks a little with the effort. Brady tucks one leg in between yours and you settle back, your head resting under his chin.

You must fall asleep at some point, because when a sharp, persistent cramp stabs at your abdomen, sending you curling forward in a tight little ball, the sun is a little lower in the sky and blinding you from where it peeks out under the partially opened blinds. Brady’s arms are still wrapped around you, keeping you mostly in place even as you’re pressing your hands to your lower stomach to try and alleviate the cramps. Whatever brief reprieve you had during your nap is gone now, the pain back with a vengeance, and you groan a little, waking Brady from his nap.

“Bad again?” He asks, voice rough with sleep. The arm around your chest drops flat down to the mattress and you roll a little onto your stomach, pressing your hand tightly against it. His other hand is caught in between your body and the mattress, tangled in the waistband of your shorts. He wiggles his fingers ineffectually.

“Mhm,” you mumble into the pillow your face is pressed against. “C’n you give me Advil?”

“Yeah, whatever you need,” Brady rolls onto his side and hangs his upper body off the side of the bed to scoop up the bottle of Advil off the floor. He pops the top off and starts shaking pills into his hand before stopping and squinting at you suspiciously. “Wait, how many have you had already?”

“Two?” The lie comes out as a question and Brady rolls his eyes at you, lips twisted in an amused expression.

He cups his hand and drops the pills back into the bottle. “You want to try that again?” He asks, raising an eyebrow and leaning back to set the bottle on your bedside table.

You roll back onto your side, facing Brady, and poke your lower lip out in a pout. “Okay, so maybe it was like five or six, but I think I know how many Advil I can handle, Brady,” you can’t help the sharp edge that colors your response. The cramps are a stabbing pain, radiating through your lower back and hips. “Just give me one at least.”

Brady reaches out and settles his hands on your hip to pull you closer. He huffs your name on an exasperated sigh. “No way, your liver’s going to give out if you take any more Advil. Come here and I’ll give you a massage, see if that helps,” he says already rubbing one large hand over your lower back. His thumb digs into a particularly sore spot and you let out an involuntary moan, gasping a little. The muscles in your back are so knotted and stiff that even Brady’s gentle touch is painful.

“I…s’not gonna help,” you whine, wiggling under his touch. Tears fill your eyes involuntarily. “Hurts too much.” You exhale a harsh breath and roll away from him, wincing when you sit up. You have to change out your pad and moving might help. Brady doesn’t say anything, but you can feel him watch you as you rush off to the bathroom, hunched a little when another sharp stab of pain grips your stomach. Fuck this. One-tenth of the pain of actual childbirth contractions? If that’s true, you’re making sure you’re completely knocked out when you have kids.

You don’t linger in the bathroom, cleaning up and getting yourself ready to crawl back under the covers, making a mental note to see your gynaecologist again and harass her about a possible endometriosis diagnosis. Because this shit is just not natural.

Brady’s propped up against the headboard, his phone in his hand. He looks up when you come back into the bedroom and you’re not entirely sure you love the look on his face. He holds up his phone, displaying the screen even though you can’t see the webpage, and says, “you know, orgasms are a natural way to get pain relief from cramps.”

You’re shaking your head before Brady’s even finished talking. “No, no way. I’m never able to get myself off properly anymore, I’ve been spoiled,” you shoot him a mock glare and his smile turns smug. You continue, cutting him off when he opens his mouth, “And! It’s gross, I’m gross, I’m not letting you anywhere near me. All the blood and…and…well, stuff.”

Hands on your hips, you stubbornly remain standing at the foot of the bed, shaking your head at Brady. He tosses his phone onto the mattress and gets on his knees, crawling down the bed towards you. “Sweetheart, a little blood doesn’t bother me,” he waves his hand in the general vicinity of his face, where a cut across his nose is still healing after he took an elbow to the face two games ago. The resulting nosebleed had been fairly epic, to hear him tell the story. “Plus, I want to help you. Let me help you feel better.” He sits back on his heels and wiggles the same hand in the air, fingers splayed. “You know I’m good with my hands.”

He is REALLY good with his hands. And your poor swollen cunt throbs a little, arousal building low in your stomach despite everything else happening in your body.

“I’ll make it good for you, sweetheart,” Brady promises, looking earnest as hell. “If it doesn’t work, we can go back to Advil overdoses.”

Reluctantly, and chewing at your lower lip, you nod. “Okay, yeah, I guess we can try it,” you sigh. Truthfully, you’ve never tried to orgasm yourself to pain relief with your periods. It always felt so messy and gross.

Brady nods and hops off the bed, “I’ll be right back.” He disappears out into the hallway, leaving you standing at the foot of the bed, wondering just what you’re getting yourself into. You can hear a closet opening and closing and then Brady’s back, holding an old, but still semi-plush towel in his hands. He pushes the comforter on your bed to the side and spreads the towel out. You look at it and wrinkle your nose. This is going to be such a mess. But another cramp sends your stomach into a spasm and you grit your teeth. Okay, whatever it takes to relieve some of this pain.

“Come on,” Brady’s hand rubs wide circles over your back. “I’ll prop up and you can lean against me, okay?”

You nod and Brady’s on the bed, in the same position he had been before - propped against the headboard and legs spread wide so there’s room for you. “I’m keeping these on,” you huff, snapping the waistband of your shorts before crawling onto the bed. “It’s already going to be a mess, I want to keep everything contained.”

Brady laughs, “we both know it’s not the first time I’ve made you come while you’re fully clothed.” He pauses, smirks. “And it won’t be the last time.”

Your face heats up again and you push gently at Brady’s shoulder, “shush, you. This is so embarrassing.” You gingerly settle in the vee of Brady’s legs, stiff and sore. He kisses the crown of your head and gently tugs on the back of your sweatshirt so you’ll relax back against his chest.

“Why are you embarrassed?” He asks, running his hands over your thighs and up your hips. Your stomach clenches a bit when he slowly works his hand up your shirt and brushes his knuckles against your abdomen. He knows not to go any higher than your waist, that your breasts are so sore you’ll cry if he touches them, but he touches everywhere else. “I told you, I’m thirty years old. I’m not grossed out by your period, sweetheart. I hate that you’re in so much pain and if I can do anything to help,” one hand slides down the front of your stomach and his fingertips dip beneath the waistband of your panties, “I’m going to.”

His fingers slide lower and you tense a little, knowing he’s going to hit up against the pad and even though he’s so chill about it, you’re not. “Relax, sweetheart,” Brady murmurs into your ear, kissing your cheek. “Let me take care of you.” You nod faintly, forcing yourself back against Brady’s broad chest, feeling the hardening ridge of his erection against your lower back. That helps, and when Brady’s fingers finally start to stroke your swollen, sensitive flesh, you shudder a little and then relax completely. His movements are maybe less firm than usual, his fingers slipping around a little more. He takes his time, finding your clit easily and circling it with the tip of his index finger.

“Oh, Brady,” you gasp his name, sliding down his chest a bit, opening your legs wider so he has better access. Your eyes flutter closed and Brady’s free hand rests on your left inner thigh, holding it open.

“Doing so good, sweetheart,” he mumbles, angling and reaching forward. His middle finger is at your entrance, carefully pressing inside. “Tell me if it’s too much.”

You shake your head. Heat is building in your stomach, the throbbing between your legs overtaking the pain of your cramps. “Not enough,” you sigh, breaking off into a little gasp when Brady’s thumb presses a little more firmly over your clit. You blink rapidly, his fingers slipping too easily from where you need him. “I…more…s’fine. Put your fingers in me, Brady, please.”

Brady’s middle finger slides in, deeper and deeper until the knuckles of his other fingers are pressed against your folds. “Whatever you need,” Brady says, running his other hand over the outside of your thigh. Your legs start to tremble and he pumps his finger and out of you, sliding easier than he normally would with just your arousal to help. You try not to think about the kind of mess his hand is going to be covered in. He crooks the finger and taps against your inner wall and your stomach clenches.

“Oh!” You gasp, clenching around his finger. “More, Brady. I’m so…I need more.”

“I’ve got you,” he reassures you, taking his free hand and brushing your hair off your face. He kisses your neck, sucking gently while he wiggles his ring finger up next to his middle finger inside your cunt. His thumb ghosts over your swollen clit and you bite back a moan, grinding down on his fingers. “Come on, sweetheart. You feeling good? Tell me what you need.”

“Faster,” you whine, your stomach tightening with every pump of Brady’s fingers. The sound his fingers are making as they work in and out of you is obscene even when it’s partially muffled by your shorts, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Not when it feels so good. Brady wraps his free hand around your thigh, pulling it open slightly so he has more room to work. His hand is trapped by the constraints of fabric and can only move so fast. But the pace he’s pumping into you is perfect. His fingers slide deeper inside of you, pressing against your g-spot and your toes curl against the mattress, a low wail escaping from your lips. You clamp your mouth shut, face flushing hot with embarrassment at how loud you’re being.

Brady keeps pumping his fingers, murmuring in your ear, “go ahead, sweetheart. Be as loud as you want while you come for me. Scream, let me hear you.”

He flicks his thumb over your clit and you scream his name, your entire body going taut as he works his fingers harder, bringing you right to the edge. Your orgasm builds low in your stomach, a coil of heat and tension. His fingers curl and you finally let go, surrendering to the wave of pleasure that loosens your entire body. It’s not the strongest orgasm you’ve ever had, but it’s strong enough, making your brain a little fuzzy and sending endorphins rushing through your veins. Your head drops back against Brady’s shoulder and he peppers your exposed neck with soft kisses. He mumbles terms of endearment against your skin, encouraging your orgasm with his words as his fingers continue to work you through the aftershocks.

You slump back against Brady’s chest and his free arm wraps around your waist. “Feeling better, sweetheart?” Your legs are a little shaky and you stretch out, inadvertently clenching around Brady’s fingers.

A satisfied hum leaves your throat even as Brady sucks in a breath from the feeling of being knuckles deep in your cunt. His cock stirs against your lower back and in the back of your mind, you feel a little bad for him, that he’s going to have to use his hand in the shower. But your cramps have settled to a minimal ache that’s completely bearable, so you tuck your head under Brady’s chin and mumble, “thank you, baby. That was perfect.”

“Happy to be your personal orgasm provider,” Brady chuckles, pulling his hand from the waistband of your shorts. You wince at the blood that streaks his skin, reddish-brown and dripping down to his wrist. Behind you, Brady shrugs a little and wipes his hand on the towel under your bodies. He kisses the side of your head. “Sweetheart, gotta clean up for a minute. I’m gonna go clean off and uh, take care of something.”

The ‘something’ is pressing insistently against your lower back and you manage a soft hum of empathy as you lean forward so Brady can slide off the bed. He snatches the towel out from under you in one smooth move, balling it up in his hands. “Mhm, clean your hand and come back, I’ll take care of you,” you offer sleepily. The orgasm has your head fuzzy and your entire body relaxed.

Brady kisses your forehead and you slump against the pillows. “Take a nap,” he grins against your skin. “I’ve got this.”

You hum again, wriggling against the warm sheets. Brady chuckles lowly and you hear him pad off into the bathroom. The shower turns on and you can imagine Brady stripping down to nothing, his cock jutting out proudly, stepping under the spray and gripping himself. Your clit gives a faint throb at the mental image - honestly, it could be a memory with how often you’ve had sex with Brady in that shower - and you press your thighs together. Now that your cramps have faded away and the initial embarrassment and awkwardness of sex on your period is cleared from your mind courtesy of Brady’s fingers, you’re feeling horny. Mingled with the sleepy haze, you can’t really do too much about it except press your thighs tighter together and listen to Brady’s grunts and moans that the running water can’t cover up. You press your face into the pillow, wiggling and clenching around nothing, biting down hard on your lower lip when Brady’s strangled ‘fuck!’ echoes from the bathroom a few moments later.

The water shuts off and you’re feeling more awake, the fuzz in your brain from the orgasm fading away. You can hear Brady moving around in the bathroom and he emerges a few minutes later in a cloud of shampoo and Dove soap scented steam. He’s back in his grey sweats and black t-shirt, with the towels balled up under his arm. His hair is damp, darker than usual from the water, and slicked off his face, which is tinged pink from the hot water. Your mouth goes dry at the sight of him, all of your blood pooling between your legs.

“Thought you were gonna nap?” He says, eyes twinkling.

You manage to shake your head. “Not sleepy,” you say, rolling onto your side.

Brady’s grin is teasing as he comes to stand at the side of the bed. “Guess I didn’t do my job well enough,” he jokes, leaning one knee down on the mattress, making it dip under his weight. His warm, broad palm comes to rest on your cheek, thumb swiping over your cheekbone. “Let me throw on a load of laundry and order some dinner for later, then I’ll come back and cuddle, okay?”

“Okay,” you sigh, leaning into his touch. You lick your lower lip and Brady tracks the movement, but says nothing. He nudges your cheek with the knuckle of his index finger and heads out of the bedroom. You watch him leave, eyes locked onto his stupidly firm ass. With a frustrated exhale, you slump further back into the pillows, surrounded by Brady’s scent. You yawn, surprising yourself with how quickly your energy levels shifted the second Brady was out of the room. You let your eyelids flutter shut, figuring you’ll just get in a quick little nap before jumping your boyfriend.

By the time Brady slips back into bed, you’re more than halfway to sleep, eyes closed and limbs loose. He settles himself on his side of the bed and you gravitate towards him naturally. “Warm,” you mumble, tucking your head under his chin and pressing the tip of your nose against the hollow of his throat. Brady’s arms tighten around you, the best kind of weighted blanket.

“Ordered Chinese for later,” he tells you quietly. “With extra fortune cookies.”

“My hero,” you grin sleepily against his skin. He’s really so warm, like a personal radiator, and you sling your leg over his hip, notching your core against his groin without really comprehending it. The stretch feels good on your sore hip and lower back muscles and Brady slots one leg over yours, his muscled thigh pressing gently against your cunt. He can feel the warmth of you through the leg of his sweats and his cock twitches behind the fabric.

“Anything for my girl,” he says, stroking your hair and back, lulling you right to sleep in the warm cocoon of his embrace.

It’s not a very long nap, less than half an hour, but you wake up feeling semi-refreshed. Your cramps are starting to increase in intensity again and you’ve shifted while you slept so that you’re pressed flush against Brady’s half-hard cock, leg wrapped snugly around his hip. His thigh is pushed against your cunt, making it throb. He smells so fucking good and one of his hands is resting low on the curve of your ass. You wiggle experimentally and Brady laughs above you, his chest vibrating.

“Was wondering how long you were gonna sleep,” he says, bringing his hand over your hip to run against the outside of your thigh. “You’ve been making these little noises,” he continues and he sounds half tortured. “Little sighs and grunts. Feeling okay?”

You can’t think, not with his thigh in between your legs, his cock nudging against you. Your stomach flips, not with the cramps though, and you grind yourself over his thigh. Brady’s hand moves to grip your hip, helping guide you over his thigh. He laughs a little, “guess I have my answer. You want more than this, sweetheart, or you just want to use me?”

“I don’t know,” you tuck your chin to your chest, your forehead pressing into the hard edge of his collarbone. Your hips move and it feels good but it’s not enough, not with the extra layer of your pad between you. You can’t get enough friction and you whine low in your throat. “Brady, need you, please, I don’t…” you babble, trying to figure out what you need even as heat builds low in your stomach. The hand that isn’t on your hip falls to your ass and kneads gently, his fingers digging into your skin.

Brady drops a kiss to the crown of your head and mumbles, “okay, sweetheart, I’ll take care of you. I’ve got you.” He rolls onto his back, taking you with him. You plant your palms flat on his chest and grind brazenly against his cock, sighing happily at the increased pressure. His hands grip at your hips and he helps you grind down harder, “this good for you, sweetheart? You going to get off like this?”

You shake your head against his chest - no, this isn’t enough for you. It feels good and the tension is building in your stomach, a gush of arousal and, likely, blood flooding between your legs. It’s like the feeling of sneezing on your period, but worse and you almost hate it. “Can I - can,” you stumble over the request, knowing that it’s gross, starting to feel embarrassed again. “Ugh,” you frown into his shirt, rolling your hips against his like a teenager, “I need more, Brady.”

He nods seriously and lifts you gently off of him, setting you on the mattress. When you whine at the loss of contact and grab at his shirt, he clicks his tongue and says, “trust me, I’m going to give you everything you want. Just gotta get another towel, okay?” He untangles your fingers from his shirt and kisses your fingertips before practically hopping out of bed and beelining for the linen closet. He’s back before you can process, laying out the towel and pulling you to the edge of the bed. Brady tugs at the waist of your shorts, “these are coming off and then you’re gonna tell me how you want it. You want me on top or is that going to be too much?”

His voice is soft with concern for your pleasure and a shiver works its way down your spine. You wiggle your hips and reach for the waistband of Brady’s sweats, curling your fingers beneath the fabric. His cock tents the front of the sweats, a perfect imprint in the fabric for you to stare at. Brady’s big and he knows it, knows that when he gets going it’s a pleasure-pain sort of stretch. When you ride him it’s a little easier to control the pace and how deep he can hit. A cramp ripples through your lower stomach and back and you wince, making a decision.

“Wanna be on top,” you chew at your lower lip, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of Brady’s sweats and brushing against the coarse hair at the base of his cock.

“Whatever you need, baby,” he grins, certainly not going to object to having you ride him. He hisses when your fingertips graze his cock, twitching under your touch. He pulls you to your feet and wraps his arms around you in a tight hug, the pressure easing some of the soreness in your body, before ducking his head to capture your lips with his. You melt into his arms, licking at his lower lip until he opens his mouth for you. Liquid heat rushes through your body, warmth pooling low in your stomach. Brady deepens the kiss and moves a hand up to tangle in your hair. He tugs gently, manoeuvring your head to the side so he can change the angle of the kiss.

You sigh into his mouth and Brady turns so he can sit down on the bed after he breaks the kiss. “Pants off, sweetheart,” he grins, scooting back so he’s sitting on the towel, his back against the headboard. He tosses all the pillows to the other side of the bed so they can stay clean.

Your heart is still pounding in your chest from the kiss and you only hesitate briefly before you shimmy your shorts down your legs, kicking them off your ankles and off to the side. “You next,” you grin, another flood of arousal pooling between your legs when Brady gives you that cocky smirk you love so much. He pulls his shirt off over his head, discarding it to the floor and messing up his hair. A few strands fall over his forehead and he makes no move to brush them to the side. The fading sunlight glints against the greys and another pulse of desire throbs through you.

His hands fall to his crotch and he grabs at himself through the grey fabric, emphasising just how big and hard he is. With a groan, Brady grinds his heel over the base of his cock through the fabric, a little damp spot from his pre-cum turning it a darker grey. He makes a show of it, pulling the waistband of his sweats down one side of his hip and then the other, the red, leaking tip of his cock appearing above the elastic. You lick your lips again and Brady lifts his hips off the mattress so he can pull his sweats down further, tucking the band under his balls and letting his cock spring free. He’s thick and hard and curves towards his stomach. His balls are full and heavy looking, resting on the band of his sweats and it’s stupidly erotic, the fact that he’s keeping his pants on.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he says, wrapping his hand around his cock and pumping a few times to get himself as hard as possible, “sit on it and I’ll make you feel good.”

Even as arousal floods between your legs, you hesitate, thinking of the mix of blood there as well. “You’re sure?” You ask, twisting your fingers in the sleeves of your sweatshirt. Brady’s hand is still wrapped around his cock and you can barely focus on anything other than the pre-cum leaking from the red, angry looking tip. Your clit gives a painful little throb in time with a twinge of a cramp in your lower stomach. Your body knows how it feels to have that broad head of him push past your folds and it’s reacting.

Brady leans forward, his hand falling away to rest on the mattress, “hey, if you don’t want to, I’m good. It’s whatever you’re comfortable with, sweetheart.” He smiles, eyes crinkling up at the corner, “I’ll make myself presentable and we can watch TV or something.” His cock bobs in his lap, bumping up against his stomach and to his credit, Brady barely winces at the sensation against his sensitive tip.

His willingness to go along with your mood changes only makes you want him more, so before you can second (or third) guess yourself, you rush into the bathroom to wiggle out of your panties and get rid of the pad, hurrying back into the bedroom with your thighs clenched together so you don’t get anything on the carpet. Brady’s lips are pressed together to suppress a little laughter at the way you’re moving and you roll your eyes at him. “Laughing at me isn’t very nice, Mr. Skjei,” you huff with faux annoyance.

Brady opens his arms and cocks an eyebrow, “I would never laugh at you.” His gaze drops between your legs and you flush hot.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you grumble. “I’m not wearing pants.”

“That’s exactly why I’m looking at you,” Brady teases in a low voice. He pauses and mutters, “oh fuck,” before leaning to his side, reaching for the drawer on his bedside table. “Should’ve done this while you were in the bathroom,” he mumbles, withdrawing a condom.

“It’s like you’ve never done this before,” you tease with a giggle, watching Brady’s movements like a hawk. His fingers deftly tear into the foil and wrap around his cock again so he can roll the condom over his length. He pumps himself a few more times and it seems like his cock swells in front of your eyes, filling the latex obscenely. You press your thighs together tighter, throbbing and ready to sit on him.

He mock glares at you, “making fun of the man who’s planning on giving you multiple orgasms to help your cramps is a low move, sweetheart.” He crooks his fingers at you. “Now come here so we can get to work on that pain relief.”

Your stomach tightens and you shuffle over to the bed, awkwardly trying to get up onto the mattress without dripping everywhere. “Brady…” you can’t help the little whine that escapes your lips and he takes pity on you, leaning onto one hip and wrapping his hands around your waist to haul you up on the bed. You kneel at his side and throw your leg over his lap, straddling him with your back to him. As soon as you open your legs, it feels like a tidal wave of liquid, even though you know that’s not how it works. At worst, a few drops of blood and arousal make their way down your inner thighs and you know they’ll be stopped by the fabric of Brady’s sweats. Even still, you feel impossibly exposed.

“What are you doing?” Brady asks, smoothing one hand down over your ass cheek and giving it a quick squeeze. His other hand is warm on your outer thigh. “I don’t get to see that gorgeous face?”

“No,” you huff, hovering over him with your knees planted on the mattress on either side of his thighs. “I don’t want you that deep, it’s going to hurt.”

“Okay,” Brady kisses behind your ear, “whatever you need, sweetheart.” He grips the base of his cock in one hand and rests the other hand on the curve of your hip. “Ready?”

You nod, chewing at the inside of your cheek, your inner thighs already trembling. Brady lines himself up at your entrance, the broad head of his cock nudging against you. You sink down on him with a sigh, the stretch of him filling you forcing all the air from your lungs. Behind you, Brady grunts at the feeling of you sinking down on his cock, his grip on your hip tightening. His hand pulls away from his cock and he gets a solid grip on your hips, making sure you don’t sit on him too fast, giving you time to adjust. Inch by inch, you take him, bracing your hands on his thighs in front of you.

“There you go, sweetheart,” Brady rasps an encouragement in your ears, holding your hips like his life depends on it. “That’s it, let me fill you up.”

It’s so easy to have him slide into you, easier than usual due to the extra slickness from your period. You can feel the mix of your blood and arousal drip down your thighs, surrounding his cock.

You babble his name, gasping when you sink down onto the final few inches of him, your ass making contact with his lap. He’s fully sheathed inside of you, thick and hard, still so deep despite the position that you imagine you can feel him all the way up to your throat.

Brady’s still underneath you, the fabric of his sweats rubbing against your thighs as he lets you get adjusted. You lean back against his chest carefully, the underside of his cock rubbing pleasantly against your swollen clit. A soft whine works its way up your throat and Brady’s hands trail from your hips down to the inside of your thighs, pulling gently to open you up further. “No, no,” you mumble, “too wide. Too much.” You squirm on his lap, trying to catch your breath from just the sensation of Brady keeping you full.

“Doing so good, sweetheart,” he kisses your neck, gently rolling his hips up into yours, making you gasp. Your nipples tighten into painfully hard points, desperate for Brady’s hands. “Tell me what you need.”

You grind down on Brady’s cock instead of responding, slowly riding him to build up the coil of pleasure in your lower stomach. You clench around him and Brady grunts into your hair again, fingers flexing around your thighs. “Fingers, Brady, I need…” you mumble, head thrown back to rest on his shoulder. “More, need more friction.”

The slow glide of his cock in and out of your cunt, against your clit, is pleasurable, but not nearly enough. Brady’s fingers are on your clit in the next second, pinching gently, and you gasp out his name, arching your back and forcing his cock deeper into your cunt. “Yes, yes, there. More…please, B-brady!”

“So fucking wet, baby,” he murmurs, one hand on your hip to help you ride him. His fingers work deftly over your swollen clit, sliding around easily. He bends one knee, planting his foot on the mattress and driving his cock even deeper.

You yelp, leaning forward to brace yourself, fisting the material of his sweats. “Stop, too deep, too much,” you whine, pushing at his knee so he’ll flatten his leg again. He compromises, straightening his leg a bit, but still keeping it partially bent. You breathe heavily, panting as you ride Brady’s cock. Pleasure builds in your lower stomach, hot and tight, growing as Brady’s fingers keep sliding over your clit, his cock thick in your cunt. He glides his hand over your back, down over your ass cheek, kneading your flesh.

“Come on, baby,” he encourages you in a strangled voice. “Use my cock. Know you can do it.”

You grab Brady’s wrist, holding his fingers against your clit, pressing down for friction and Brady takes the hint, rolling your swollen nub between his fingers, keeping his hand in place between your legs. Still gripping his wrist, feeling his muscles and tendons move under your fingers, you bounce on his cock. The sound is obscenely wet, filling the bedroom, louder than your breathless little moans and whimpers. Brady’s hand is tight on your hip, guiding you up and down on his cock while he presses hot, open-mouthed kisses to the side of your neck.

“Brady, please, faster….I need….” you break off, chanting his name when he bucks his hips up into yours, meeting you thrust for thrust. His cock swells inside of you, painfully thick, and you reach down with your free hand to stroke at his balls, skimming your nails over the sensitive skin. Brady moans against your neck and his hand moves from your hip, wrapping his forearm around your lower stomach, adding more pressure and guiding you to lean forward slightly. Your nipples brush painfully against the fabric of your sweatshirt and you yelp, clenching involuntarily around Brady’s cock.

He thrusts up into you, thumb planted firmly on your clit and tears roll down your cheeks from the simulation, grinding down on Brady’s pelvis. You let go of his wrist and brace yourself on his thighs again, leaning forward and bouncing on him, the underside of his cock sliding against your clit. That, combined with Brady’s fingers, sends you over the edge, black spots dancing in front of your vision as your orgasm rips through your body. You chant Brady’s name, barely coherent while you rock on him, his cock hitting deep. Brady’s palm presses flat against your lower stomach and you let go, feeling your body gush around his cock.

“So good, sweetheart,” Brady murmurs, sounding dazed. “Keep riding, honey, take what you need.”

You cry out when he thrusts up into you, overwhelmed by sensation, but don’t stop circling your hips over his. Your brain is melted into a puddle of sensation, all of your nerve endings on fire as you clench around him again and Brady’s abdomen tenses. He hauls you flush against his chest when he finishes, shouting your name and filling the condom with cum. He reaches down and grasps the base of his cock, pumping himself into you and filling the condom faster. The warmth of it is different than when you decide to forgo the condom, but you still hum happily in Brady’s arms, stretched wide over his cock, your thighs trembling on either side of his lap.

“Brady…” you mumble his name, turning your head to bury your face in his neck while he fills the condom. Your hands grasp at his forearm wrapped around your waist and he peppers your face with soft kisses, grunting into your mouth when he’s wrung dry.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he mutters against the corner of your mouth. “Got carried away at the end,” he brushes his knuckles against your sensitive clit and you shiver in his arms. “So fucking hot and wet.”

“S’okay,” you slur your words, your body coming down from the orgasm and leaving you limp against Brady’s chest. “I liked it. Felt good - feels good,” you amend, clenching absently around Brady’s softening cock. Every thought and sensation other than being filled up by Brady is gone from your head. He laughs against your skin and you can feel him wipe his hand off on the towel under his ass.

Your thighs and ass feel wet, sitting in a mixture of blood, your arousal, and Brady’s cum, and you wrinkle your nose a little, shifting on his lap. You can’t help but look down at Brady’s lap and you regret it almost immediately. His lap is soaked in your combined fluids, the grey of his sweats stained red. His cum is leaking out of the condom, out of your cunt, and dripping down his balls to pool on the towel. “Oh, Brady!” You yelp, less drowsy now, trying to scramble off of his lap. “Your sweats, the towel!”

Brady adjusts his grip on you so you can’t go very far. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve never liked these sweats anyway,” he jokes, gently manhandling you so he can slide out of your cunt and pull off the condom. He ties it off efficiently and makes no comment about the mess of his hands and lap.

“Well I liked them,” you pout, cheeks heating up for a different reason. “This was such a mess.”

“Are your cramps gone?” Brady asks, carefully swinging his legs to the side so he can stand up. You’re still pressed close to his chest, on your feet too now, thighs pressed together to prevent anything getting on the floor. The towel on the bed looks like a crime scene. Brady lets go of you briefly so he can tug his sweats up to rest on his hips, but then his hand is on your hip again, nudging you towards the bathroom.

“Yes,” you reply, toddling on shaky legs.

“Then it was worth it,” he leans down to kiss your cheek. “Get in the shower, I’ll clean up and join you.”

He tosses the condom in the wastebasket and wipes his hand on his thigh - the sweats are clearly a lost cause - before he reaches out and swiftly pulls your sweatshirt over your head. You shiver at the cold air on your sensitive nipples and Brady grins at you, raising an eyebrow in a silent question. You wrinkle your nose, but nod, bracing yourself for Brady’s tongue to flick gently over one nipple. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he presses a soft kiss to the swell of your breast. “You know I feel bad not paying attention to your entire gorgeous body.”

Despite the sensitivity, both nipples tighten just from Brady looking at them and you resist the urge to cross your arms over your chest. He’s seen everything, there’s no point in being embarrassed. You reach behind you and turn the shower on, making sure the knob is on a high temperature. “Don’t even bother trying to save the towel,” you sigh, “just toss it.”

“That was the plan,” Brady winks, kissing your forehead before disappearing from the bathroom. He leaves the door open behind him and once you step into the shower - groaning in pleasure when the scalding hot water hits your sore muscles - you can see him in the mirror, wadding up the towel and stripping the sheets from the bed. You really hope the sheets aren’t ruined since they’re beyond comfortable.

“Just swapping them for fresh ones,” Brady calls out to you, apparently a mind reader now.

You smile to yourself and focus on scrubbing shampoo into your hair, the eucalyptus scented steam relaxing your entire body. By the time you’re rinsing and repeating, Brady’s stepping into the shower behind you, sliding warm broad hands over your waist. He leans in and brushes his nose against your ear, lips ghosting over the sensitive skin at the hinge of your jaw.

“Hi,” you giggle, wiggling a little in his grip. Your legs are shaky.

“You smell good,” he mumbles, massaging at your lower stomach. You lean into his touch, still trying to work shampoo into your hair.

“I always smell like this,” you reply, ducking your head under the spray and letting the suds wash down your body. Brady’s fingers trail along with the soap, drawing lazy patterns against your wet skin. You shiver under his touch, unsurprised when the familiar tingle of pleasure starts at the base of your spine, in between your legs.

Brady notices the subtle move of your thighs and he lets his fingers trace the crease of your thigh, his chin resting on your shoulder. “Smell like mine,” he murmurs. “My girl.” His fingers move to the left, mere inches, and tease at your entrance. The tip of his middle finger circles your clit, still swollen and sensitive and you can’t believe you’re about to let him give you a third orgasm.

“Brady,” you gasp his name a little, closing your eyes against the sensation. Your hips cant towards his fingers, chasing his touch.

“Sweetheart,” Brady groans against your neck, his cock twitching against the back of your thigh. “Gotta let me feel you. No mess in the shower.”

He continues to slowly, gently circle your clit, making your brain fuzzy again and your knees week. You press a palm against the shower wall to hold you up, but there’s no chance of falling, not with Brady’s arms wrapped securely around you. You whine when Brady’s finger slips inside your cunt, curling gently.

“Feels good?” He asks, massaging at your lower stomach with his other hand. You nod against his shoulder. “Good,” he continues, “just want you to feel good.”

Brady’s usually chatty during sex, but this feels different, his words alternating between concern and filth, his fingers working their way over your clit. You can feel yourself dripping for him, slick and hot. “Brady, Brady… p-please,” you hiccup the words when he grinds his hardening cock against the split of your asscheeks. “Give me more.”

You plant both of your hands on the wall and widen your stance, feeling Brady line himself up at your entrance. The broad head of his cock slides through your folds, entering your cunt with an easy roll of Brady’s hips. You moan his name, still stretched out from earlier, so the feel of him inside of you is just pleasure. He kisses a hot trail over your shoulders, sucking gently at your pulse point, laughing when he can feel your heart skip a beat at the feeling of his fingers pressing against your clit.

“Feels so good,” he groans, thrusting into you, more gently than you’d expect. The drag of his cock against your inner walls has you clenching around him, arching your back, pressing your ass firmly against his pelvis. One of his hands holds your hip in place while he thrusts and the other snakes down your stomach to play with your clit. Brady’s fingers bump up against his own cock and he grunts, choking off the noise. You can feel his cock twitch from the contact.

Honestly, if you had known that being on your period would make the both of you this horny, you might’ve given in to period sex months ago.

Brady drives his cock into you deeper, punching air from your lungs in a sharp gasp. Your head falls forward, chin to your chest, and you watch with hazy vision as Brady’s cock splits you open. Water drips down your face, into your open mouth, nearly drowning you until you spit a little, angling your face away from the stream.

You’d barely come down from your last orgasm when Brady shuffled you into the shower, so it’s easier for him to build up this one. Pleasure works it’s way through your body, your clit throbbing under Brady’s touch, and before you know it, before you can really focus on it, he’s bullying that third orgasm from your body. Fingers and cock working together to send you over the edge. “Come on, sweetheart,” Brady talks you through the orgasm. “Go ahead, scream, cum on my cock.”

You shriek his name, fingers scrambling on the wet tile for purchase as Brady rocks his hips up into yours, rolling your clit between his thumb and index finger relentlessly. Nonsense words spill from your lips while Brady keeps up his pace and it’s only a few more heartbeats before he’s tightening his arm around your waist, his stomach muscles pulling taut, and spilling inside of you. He groans and drops his forehead to your shoulder, his hair flopping forward and brushing your skin. Brady’s fingers only stutter in their movements when he jerks to a finish inside of you and by then it’s too overwhelming so you reach down to push his hand away, whining that it hurts.

“Sorry, sorry,” Brady mumbles against your shoulder, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss there. He pulls his hips back a little, his softening cock slipping from your cunt and releasing a flood of his hot cum down your inner thighs. You shiver at the sensation, rubbing your thighs together a little and looking down to see the drips of blood and cum wash off your legs and down the drain. “Didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You shake your head, dizzy and exhausted. Brady’s palms skim up your stomach and sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts, and he turns you so he can kiss you on the mouth. You melt into his touch, warm and pliable for him. Brady kisses the corner of your mouth again, a soft little peck, before he says, “okay, let’s get you cleaned up for real this time.”

A mumbled noise of agreement leaves your body and Brady keeps you propped up with one thick arm around your waist while he gently soaps you up and helps you rinse off. He gives his own body a quick scrub, paying extra attention below the belt, giving you a little smirk when you watch him clean himself up. You lean against the shower wall on shaky legs, letting the hot water keep you warm. You watch him shower, muscles bunching under his skin, and blurt out, “god, I love you.”

Brady rakes his hand through wet hair, slicking it off his face, and looks at you with warm brown eyes. “I love you too, sweetheart,” he grins. He leans forward and brushes his lips over your forehead before turning the water off and reaching an arm out of the shower to grab one of the big fluffy towels that wait for you. He wraps you up, rubbing his hands over your arms to warm you, and once he’s confident that you’re grasping the towel around your body, he gets a second towel to wrap around his waist. From there, you let yourself be taken care of - Brady leaves you alone in the bathroom to grab you a pair of panties, handing them to you with a knowing smirk, before leaving again so you can get yourself settled with a pad. He’s dressed in a pair of boxers and a worn out University of Minnesota t-shirt when you eventually pad into the bedroom after lotioning up your entire body.

“Sweats or shorts,” Brady holds up both items of clothing and you reach for the pair of his joggers that he offers, wanting to be bundled up and cozy even though it’s not that cold out. You step into the sweats while Brady attempts to pull one of his shirts over your head, only for you to get tangled up in the fabric, blinded by the cotton, and tip forward with a little squeak of surprise. Brady grabs you before you can fall onto the bed, hands hot against the bare skin of your waist. “Ah, shit! Sorry, sweetheart,” his voice is muffled from the fabric around your head and you wiggle from his grip, tugging the shirt down so you can breathe again.

“You already killed me with orgasms,” you huff on a laugh. “No need to actually try and kill me.”

Brady laughs and lifts his hands in the universal sign for surrender. “I’ll let you handle getting dressed,” he chuckles. “Undressing you is my specialty anyway.”

You snort a laugh, managing to get yourself dressed and comfy, the sleeves of Brady’s shirt hanging over your hands. “No more undressing tonight,” you sigh, twisting your wet hair into a loose knot on top of your head before crawling into bed. “I’m tapped out, done, ready for a pile of lo mein the size of my head and a solid eight hours.” You fluff up your pillows and draw the comforter into a little nest shape around your body, curling up like a cat and yawning so wide your jaw cracks.

“Lo mein, I can promise since the delivery should be here any minute,” Brady replies, looking at you with a soft smile on his face. “Eight hours of sleep? Well, if three orgasms doesn’t wear you out enough, I’ll go for four tomorrow.”

You shoot him a sly little smile, even as your eyelids fall slowly closed. “four orgasms? Might have to start complaining of cramps all month long.”

Brady’s laughter fades out as he heads downstairs to check if your food’s been delivered. You snuggle into your little nest of blankets, feeling warm and impossibly relaxed, like all the stress and tension’s been completely removed from your body. You’re pleasantly sore between the legs and you stretch out a little, impatient for Brady to return so you can eat and cuddle up against him.

The mouth-watering smell of Chinese food precedes Brady’s return and you pop up into a sitting position like a cartoon animal, wide awake. Your stomach growls a little too. Brady laughs loudly at the expression on your face. He’s got two white cartons in his hands, a bottle of Gatorade under one arm, a wad of paper towel tucked in the crease of his elbow, and two pairs of chopsticks stuck into the top of one of the cartons. “You’re wide awake now, huh?” He asks, handing over one of the cartons and snatching his hand back like he’s afraid you’ll chew it off. He settles down next to you with his own carton, placing the Gatorade and napkins down on his bedside table.

“I am suffering, Brady,” you inform him primly, shoving a wad of noodles into your mouth and chewing happily.

“Poor thing,” your boyfriend pouts at you, taking a bite of his orange chicken. “And here I thought I helped you so much.”

You swing your legs over to drape over Brady’s thigh and lean in to kiss his lower lip. “Oh, you helped very much,” you grin against his mouth. “You’ve been such a big help.”

Brady laughs into your mouth. “See, now I know you’re teasing me, sweetheart. I might not be so generous with my help next time.”

You fake a gasp, “you wouldn’t!”

“Nah, you’re right, I wouldn’t,” Brady leans in to whisper against your ear, “not when I know how needy you are on your period. Or how easy it was to slide into that sweet, wet cunt.”

Lo mein noodles slip off the end of your chopsticks and your entire body flushes with heat. “Brady…” his name leaves your mouth on a shaky exhale and he laughs, rests his hand on the inside of your knee, and leans back against the headboard. His thumb draws lazy circles on the inside of your knee and you shiver a little.

“I’m here for your free use, sweetheart,” he offers, toasting you with the carton of chicken and rice. “Just say the word.”

You kick lightly at the outside of his thigh with your heel, still flustered. “Insatiable,” you murmur, unable to deny the flutter of interest in your lower stomach at Brady’s words.

“You love it,” Brady counters, feeding you a piece of orange chicken. You hum, not about to lie to him, and lean forward to get closer to the heat Brady’s radiating off his body. You’re both quiet for a bit while you eat, trading bites off each other’s chopsticks. You sip at your mostly warm raspberry Arizona, starting to feel sleepy again from the food and the warmth off Brady’s body. You don’t even realize that your head is drooping forward to rest against Brady’s bicep until he gently takes the mostly empty carton from your hands and sets it on the bedside table.

“Hey, time to sleep a little,” he says softly, lifting your legs off his lap and straightening them out so your entire body shifts.

You hum, eyes shut, and press your face into your pillow, scooting around and getting comfortable. Brady pulls the comforter over your chest, making sure your back is covered and you’re cocooned in the warmth. You reach out a hand from the covers and grab Brady’s wrist, wiggling your fingers until he laces his fingers with yours. He brings your hand up to his mouth and kisses your fingertips. “I’m going to clean up, get some stuff ready for tomorrow, and I’ll be back,” he says against your fingers.

“Best Brady ever,” you mumble through a yawn, hearing his chuckle.

He strokes a piece of hair off your forehead and you’re passed out before he can let go of your hand and climb out of bed.

Cuddled under the covers, you don’t quite manage an uninterrupted eight hours of sleep, but when you wake up in the middle of the night with Brady’s entire body wrapped around yours, legs tangled together, heartbeat thumping steadily under your cheek, you don’t really mind.

#brady skjei #brady skjei x reader #brady skjei x you #brady skjei fic #brady skjei imagine

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mountttmase · 1 year

Text

Brave - Part Two

Note - thank you for the feedback on part one l, here’s part two and I’m sorry it’s a day late 😭 but enjoy and I’d love to know what you think 🩷 part one can be found here

Pairing - Mason Mount × Reader

Word count - 6.2K

Warnings - fluff and smut

Life with mason was a dream.

You’d been living with him now for five months in total, two and a half months on from the day you kissed on his sofa and you never thought you’d been happier. You hadn’t given life before you moved in a second thought, now free from everything in your past. Especially now with your divorce proceedings nearing the end of the line. Eric thankfully hadn’t put up a fight or made things difficult, knowing how difficult you could make things if he tried, and any communication was through your solicitors meaning you’d never have to speak to him again.

With a few white lies from Mason, you managed to land yourself a part time job in London. The office you worked in was super friendly and you’d already made fast friends with one of the girls on your team. That tiny bit of independence turned your world around and you loved feeling like a normal human doing normal human things after so long.

You carried on living with Mason, seeing no reason to try and move out when you’d no doubt end up back there, but you kept all your stuff in his guest room, eventually it becoming your room should you ever need a time out from Masons antics. Those times however were few and far between but it was nice to have that space just for yourself.

Mason was the most supportive and loving man you’d ever come across. Checking in on you frequently and always making you smile. You cherished the life you were building together and seemed to be on the same page about everything.

Well all but one thing.

To say you were on two different pages may not best description, but you still hadn’t crossed a certain line with each other. You’d had plenty of heated make out sessions that could have led to more, but things were always stopped before you got too far. You knew Mason was more than ready for that part of your relationship to develop but you still couldn’t quite push yourself to get there.

You weren’t really sure why, Mason made you feel more loved than you ever had and you trusted him with everything but you panicked you wouldn’t be enough for him. He’d never made you feel that way, never putting an ounce of pressure on you, constantly telling you he’s ready to wait for as long as you needed but the insecurities from you past kept rearing their ugly head. If he wasn’t getting what he needed from you then he could quite easily get it from somewhere else was what your mind told you, but you knew deep down he would ever do that to you.

It wasn’t like you didn’t want him in that way, in fact that’s all you’d been thinking about lately. He didn’t make it easy for you, waltzing around with so much skin on show you were unsure of where to look, sleeping next to him every night with his skin stuck to yours and his hands stroking over your waist. He turned you into a puddle so easily and you constantly caught yourself thinking about the way his mouth would feel on different parts of your body, or how he would sound moaning in your ear.

You were sat in work on Thursday, the last day of your working week and the image of Mason kissing down your body filled your head. You didn’t snap out of it until you heard your name being called.

‘Hello? Earth to y/n?’ Hannah laughed and you shook your head as if to shake the thoughts away.

‘Crap, sorry. Is everything alright?’

‘I could ask you the same thing, you’ve been in a world of your own for ten minutes. Are you blushing?’ She asked, calling you out and you were about to deny it but you could feel the heat all over your body.

‘I’m fine, just thinking’ you coughed, and began to pack up your things, realising it was the end of the day.

‘I know that look girl, you’ve got the horn just admit it’ she winked at you whilst you groaned and hid your face. ‘Just tell your man you need to get you some, I’m sure he’ll be happy to oblige’

‘I wish it was that easy’ you murmured, hoping she wouldn’t hear, but she most definitely did.

‘Is everything okay?’ She asked, a look of concern on her face. ‘Do you wanna talk about anything? We could go grab some dinner and have a chat? Would give me an excuse not to go home to that horrid room mate of mine’ she offered and you laughed, reaching for your phone.

‘Just let me check Masons not started any dinner and I’ll let you know’

She nodded, telling you she’d meet you by the door and you quickly pressed masons name in your contacts. He picked up on the second ring, concern flooding his voice as you never call him at this time.

‘Hey baby, are you alright?’

‘Hey Mase, yeah everything’s fine. Hannah’s asked if I wanted to grab dinner with her but I just wanted to check it was alright?’

‘Of course it’s alright you muppet’ he laughed, making you smile a little bit too. ‘You don’t need permission from me y/n’

‘I know’ you murmured, it was an old habit that you were finding it hard kick since being with Eric. ‘sorry I just wanted to check you hadn’t started dinner or anything’

‘Nah I’ve been a bit lazy since I got in. I still need to pack my bag for tomorrow’

‘Oh I forgot you’re going away tomorrow’ you breathed, rubbing your temple as you thought of what to say to Hannah. ‘I’m so sorry Mase it slipped my mind. I’ll have dinner with Hannah another night’

‘Don’t be silly. I want you to go out and have fun. If you’re home you’ll probably just distract me even more’ he laughed, trying to relax you a bit.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Positive. Don’t worry love, just message when when you’re on the way home and I’ll come pick you up from the station yeah?’

‘You don’t have to-’ you started but he cut you off before you finished your sentence.

‘Yes I do, can’t have the love of my life walking home alone in the dark can I?’ He joked, trying to brush it off but you couldn’t be more grateful for him. A warm feeling growing in your chest at his words.

‘I guess not’ you chuckled and you heard him laugh down the phone. ‘I won’t be too late’

‘Take as long as like, and have a nice time yeah. Love you’

‘Love you too Mase’ you replied and you heard him making kissy noises down the phone before you hung up. You went in search of Hannah at the door and she looked back at you with hopeful eyes.

‘Right, where are you taking me?’ you asked her, and she squealed before grabbing your arm and leading you down the road to one of her favourite Italian restaurants. You were thankfully out of the way of lots of other people so you could talk freely and after two glasses of wine she was ready to pick your brains.

After a very brief run down of what happened with your ex, you went on to explain that you were finding it hard to be confident enough in the bedroom to go very far.

‘Well first of all, from what you’ve said Mason sounds like a gem and as long as he’s not putting any pressure on you to do anything then I wouldn’t worry about him. I think this sounds like something you need to work on’ she told you and you nodded along with her in agreement.

‘Oh I know, honestly he makes me feel so loved and sexy but I just can’t seem to make myself feel it? All I can think about is what if I’m rubbish and she doesn’t want to be with me anymore?’

She pouted at you in sympathy before downing the rest of her glass and filling it back up. ‘First of all, I’m sure you’re not rubbish. You’re just lacking in confidence that’s all. That’s all sex is really is being comfortable and confident enough to be a bit vulnerable with someone. What can we do to make you feel a bit sexier? You need a little something to get you in the mood? I have a few links I could send you’ She winked and it took you a second to realise what she was talking about.

‘I’ll think about it’ you giggled, the wine making you feel giddy and loose as you both thought of ways to get you feeling yourself a bit more.

‘What about some sexy underwear?’ She exclaimed, louder than you anticipated and a few of the tables turned to look at you. You both were sent into a fit of giggles and once you’d both calmed down she looked at you a bit more seriously. ‘I’m serious think about it, you’ll look bomb as fuck, it’ll give you that little confidence boost you need and the boy will eat you up. It’s a win win’

‘You know what, I think you might be on to something’ you winked, liking this idea of hers and giving you an excuse to shop. After a one more glass of wine you both made your way to the train station and you made sure to text Mason that you were on your way. Hannah got off three stops earlier than you, leaving you the last 15 minutes on the train alone in your drunken state, but soon enough you were opening the door to Masons car and trying not to fall over as you got in.

‘Hello baby’ you beamed, leaning over to give him a quick kiss and he caught on to your mood immediately.

‘Hello’ he laughed, taking the seatbelt from your hand and plugging you in as you were having trouble. ‘Looks like someone’s had a good night’

‘The best’

‘Good’ he replied, planting a quick kiss on your nose before starting the engine. ‘Now let’s get you home’

The drive wasn’t that far, and as soon as you were home he sent you up for a shower whilst he found you some painkillers and two bottles of water. He came upstairs to find you in a pair of shorts, struggling to get your head through the hole in your top, and you heard him laugh as he saw you.

‘Don’t Mase, I can’t figure it out’ you told him, and he could hear the pout in voice. You felt him tug at the top, moving it around a bit before your head popped through. He brushed your hair from out of your face, kissing you softly when you sent him an appreciative yet tipsy smile.

‘Next time, try putting your head through the neck rather than the arm hole, you might have more luck’ he teased pulling you over to the bed and sitting you on the side. ‘Here, these are for you’ he told you whilst passing you the painkillers and one bottle of water to which you took two and downed the water, passing him the empty bottle. He kissed your forehead, before whispering ‘good girl’ and chucking the bottle in the bin.

You couldn’t ignore the way your tummy flipped at his praise, the heat rising to your face instantly and you had to bite your lip to stop the smile taking over your face.

‘You okay, gorgeous?’ He questioned, snapping you out of your daze, and you only turned redder at being caught. He let out a little laugh before pulling back the covers and helping you get in, tucking himself in besides you and pulling you into his chest. ‘You have a good time then?’ He asked and you nodded before looking up into his beautiful brown eyes.

‘Yeah it was really nice. I really like Hannah she’s a lot of fun’

‘You got any office gossip to share?’ He quizzed, and you couldn’t help but laugh out loud. Mason loved to know what was going on in your life and loved the office gossip even more. He wanted to know who was seeing who, who hated each other and even mundane things like what they were serving for lunch that day. You spent a good 15 minutes updating him and he listened intently the whole way through. ‘Anything else? What did you and Hannah talk about?’ He mused once you were done, and he caught the cheeky glint in your eye as you went to answer.

‘Oh nothing much, just girl stuff’ you told him, turning in his arms so he could spoon you. He nested back into you, his lips kissing along your neck, pulling a breathy moan from you. If you weren’t so drunk you might have been able to hold it in better but right now you were at his mercy.

‘Girl stuff yeah?’ He spoke right in your ear, goosebumps erupting all over you. ‘Does that mean I don’t get to know?’

‘One day soon you might’ You teased and he laughed into your skin before settling back down behind you.

‘I’ll be counting down the days then’ he breathed, kissing your neck once more. ‘It’s late baby, we should sleep. You’re gonna feel like hell in the morning’

‘I know’ you groaned and you felt him laugh behind you.

‘I’ll look after you okay. Sweet dreams, love’

‘Night Mase’ you murmured and with one final kiss to your shoulder, you both fell asleep.

Mason left for his away game around 3, after nursing you back to health with cups of tea and toast. You didn’t feel like doing much for the rest of the day once he was gone so you pushed all your jobs that needed doing in the house to Saturday, telling yourself you needed a lazy day every once in a while.

It was around half five when you thought about what you and Hannah had spoken about at dinner, pulling your phone out and browsing a few sites for some nice underwear but you weren’t really sure what you were looking for. You sent Hannah a quick text for some help and within fifteen minutes she’d sent you a some ideas.

The first two were pretty, frilly, floral numbers and whilst they were cute, they weren’t exactly what you were going for. The third was a racey black set with lots of cut outs and sheer parts. If you were feeling more adventurous then you might of picked that one but it was her fourth choice that really caught your eye.

It was a mix a satin and lace, lots of straps that you knew mason would love to touch and kiss, and it still incorporated some of the meshy parts of the black set however this one was a bit safer. The colour might have also convinced you, being a deep red that you knew he would adore.

After sending her a quick thank you text, you added it to your basket, thanking your lucky stars you were just in time for next day delivery and also noticing it came with a matching silk robe so you could cover yourself until you were ready to let Mason see. An excited but nervous feeling settled in your tummy in anticipation.

Most of Saturday was spent tidying the house and getting the food shop done. You had just finished putting it all away when you heard the buzzer go and the delivery man was handing you your package soon after. You were too nervous to open it just yet so you got yourself settled ready to watch Masons game.

You never got over how proud you were of him, even more so when he scored a late winner and you couldnt wait to get him home and show him exactly how you were feeling.

You sent him a quick well done text before grabbing the package and running upstairs, now excited to see what it looked like. You got dressed so you couldn’t see yourself in any reflection, covering your eyes and counting to three before moving your hands to see what you looked like.

At first you thought you were looking at another person, the way the underwear made your body look and feel was something you had never experienced before having not worn anything like this for Eric or any other man.

After staring at yourself in awe for a few more minutes you packed it all away and hid it back in your room in anticipation for when Mason got home tomorrow.

The hours were moving slowly the next day, mason assuring you he’s be home by about 2pm but you’d woken up so early in anticipation that you didn’t know how to fill your time. You were upstairs rearranging your sock drawer when you heard the front door open downstairs, checking your phone to see it was in fact 2pm and you rushed down the stairs to fling yourself into his arms.

He caught you as you came flying at him, wrapping your legs around his waist as he spun you in a circle. You both pulled back slightly to look at each other, matching smiles on your faces.

‘Welcome home baby’ you whispered as you planted a kiss on him. ‘I’m so proud of you’

‘Thank you, gorgeous’ he whispered, kissing you again, but you threaded your fingers through his hair and pulled him closer when he tried to break the kiss. He kissed you harder immediately, backing you up against the closest wall and trapping you there. You lips moved from his to across his cheek and started along his jaw. He softly let you down from his grip and you trailed your kisses down his neck which caused his to moan loudly. ‘Looks like someone missed me’ he teased, and you pulled back to look at his flushed face.

‘More than you know’ you breathed, beginning to feel him harden against you and you bit your lip at the feeling. He pulled away, respecting your boundaries and told you he was going to take a shower but you knew what that was code for. When things got hot and heavy but he knew a kiss would be as far as things would go, a ‘shower’ was code for him going to sort himself out alone. ‘Wait, don’t’ you pleaded and he looked at you with curious eyes. ‘I have something to show you, can you go wait in our room? I won’t be long’ you reasoned and he look at you confused before kissing your cheek and heading upstairs.

You took a few calming breaths before following him, nipping into your room and changing into the new underwear and throwing the silky robe on top. After a little pep talk in the mirror you made your way across to where Mason was waiting for you.

He was sat up against the headboard, scrolling on his phone and he had to do a double take when he saw you walk in. Moving from his position to sit on the edge of the bed, beckoning you over to stand in between his legs. Before you walked over to him, you dimmed the lights so you felt a bit more comfortable.

‘This is nice’ he told you, playing with the belt with one hand and resting his other on the back of your thigh.

‘You like?’ You asked, stepping back to give him a little twirl, hearing him hum in approval as he took you all in. ‘Well Mase, if you like this, you should see what’s underneath’ you told him, stepping back towards him.

He looked at you with wide eyes, unsure as to what was happening and when he didn’t move, you gently grabbed his hand and made him hold the end of the belt before stepping away so it would untie. Once it had, the robe fell open to reveal your lacey red underwear. You kept your eyes on Mason the whole time, watching how he swallowed a nervous lump at the sight of you, his eyes growing dark as he took you in. It was all the confidence boost you needed not to shy away from him and you pushed the robe from your shoulders, letting it drop to the floor.

His eyes danced all over you multiple times, never having seen you look like this before. Living together you’d accidentally walked in on each other on the shower a handful of times, but he’d never seen this much skin of yours. He seemed lost for words for once so you dug deep and made the next move, his eyes snapping up to yours as you came closer to him. He sat back a little, helping you as you straddled his thighs but he kept his hands on your waist as he was still unsure of what was happening and what you were comfortable with. Your heart feeling like it was going to burst out of your chest with the adoring look he was giving you.

‘I know it’s taken me a while, and I love you so much for giving me all the time I need and being patient with me. But I’m ready now Mase’ you told him, kissing him softly as he hummed into your mouth.

‘You sure?’ His whispered against your lips and you nodded against him with a smile.

‘More than sure. I haven’t been able to get the thought of you out my head for weeks’ you confessed, the fingers that were lost in his hair tightened ever so slightly and he groaned audibly before cursing under his breath. The kisses he was peppering down you neck felt amazing as his hands had now wondered ever so slightly lower to your hips and you could feel his fingertips lightly stroking over the top of your bum.

‘We’ll go slow yeah?’ He whispered as his lips reached your ear and you nodded before he gently lifted you off him and laid you down on the bed. He crawled over to lay beside you, propped up on one arm so he could hover over you, before attaching his lips back to yours.

You knew he was trying to relax you, starting you off with something comfortable that you were familiar with, but his hands were getting lower down with every stroke of his fingers so you moved yours from around his his neck and dipped your fingers under the hem of his shirt, feeling his abs tighten under your touch.

He moaned into your mouth pulling back to take it off before tossing it across the room. You’d seen Masons body all the time, he always went to bed shirtless, but you were in awe every time you got to see it. He was so toned and it turned you on even more watching how his muscles flexed under his skin when he moved. You were almost dribbling at the sight of him, but he was leaning back down to kiss you soon after.

‘What do you like, baby?’ He whispered and your whole mind went blank. The truth is you had no idea. Sex had always been about getting the job done on the past so you’d never stopped to think about what you did and didn’t like

‘I um… I’m not really sure’ you admitted and you could feel the heat traveling to your face. He didn’t give you time to elaborate, reading by my the look on your face that this wasn’t something you were used to so he kissed you quickly to ease your mind.

‘That’s alright gorgeous, we can figure it together’ he told you, giving you a sweet smile as he tucked some hair behind your ear. You felt your belly swarm with with butterflies at his words and caring actions, feeling so thankful for the man hovering over you. ‘If you don’t like something or want me to stop just tell me yeah?’ He said more seriously and you agreed before he started kissing you neck again. His hand roaming over your thigh and running along the edge of your underwear.

‘Can I take these off?’ He asked cautiously. As soon as you agreed he dipped his fingers in the waistband to pull them off. ‘It’s a shame though, You look fucking unreal, you know that?’

‘Yeah?’ You giggled and he nodded whilst starting at you.

‘Trust me, I don’t think I’ve ever been this turned on. I’m trying so hard not to cum in my pants’ he laughed and before you knew it, your underwear had joined his shirt on the floor. You tried to shut your legs but his hand on one of your thighs kept them open before he settled back besides you, resting his leg over yours and trapping it between him and the mattress. He started kissing you again, his hand dancing across the inside of your thigh before he gently dragged them up to your chest, touching you over the lace bra. Your nipple hardened under his touch immediately, sending shivers down your body as it felt so good.

He was being so gentle and careful with you, but you needed something more from him now, your hips bucking up instinctively and you felt him smile into your mouth. You were more turned on than you could ever remember being, groaning into his mouth as he chuckled at your neediness.

‘Shhh baby, it’s okay, I got you’ he whispered, before his fingers came back to your thigh, inching higher until he was nearly touching you where you needed him.

‘Please, Mase’ you whimpered and he brushed a finger from your entrance to your clit, silencing your pleas but but making you moan loud at the first contact. He dipped his head to kiss you again, keeping you quiet as he slowly circled over your clit before inserting his finger ever so slightly and repeating his actions.

‘Fucking hell, y/n’ he growled, the sound turning you one even more. ‘You’re so fucking wet, Jesus Christ’. You could feel him getting hard against your leg, but all you could focus on was the pleasure he was providing you with. Your eyes were shut, and if you bit down on your lip anymore you thought you might of drawn blood. He kept at a steady pace but soon his lips were at your ear again. ‘Let me see your eyes baby, look at me’ he whispered and your eyes flickered up to meet his. ‘That’s it, keep looking at me’ he smiled and your eyes were trained on his until he inserted two fingers into you and they rolled into the back of your head. ‘Mmm, that feel good?’ And you chocked out a quiet yes. Clearly that wasn’t enough for Mason though and he started pumping his fingers in and out of you faster. ‘Louder baby, let me hear you’

‘Yes Mase’ you cried, his thumb making contact with your clit as he pulsed his fingers inside you. ‘Fuck that feels so fucking good’ you whimpered out and you felt him smile against your neck as he kissed you there. ‘Mase, I think I’m gonna cum’ you told him as your hips chased his hand, ready to let yourself go. It had been a long time since someone else got you to this point and you had to hold back and almost excited laugh as it bubbled up in your throat

‘Go on then’ he whispered and it was all the encouragement you needed before a string of curse words that would make anyone blush escaped your mouth as you came around his fingers. He rode you through it, letting you get your breath back before pulling his fingers from you. Your eyes found his, his face slightly hovering over yours and you couldn’t help but mirror his smile. ‘Can I have a kiss?’ He whispered, chuckling at his words but reaching up to give him a soft kiss and even though he’d just made cum, you were eager for more.

‘Mason?’ You questioned and his head shot up to look at you. ‘What do you like?’ You asked him, your face turning even redder and he smiled at your question. ‘It’s not all about me’ you said and he shook his head softly while smiling at you.

‘It is all about you’ he whispered but you just laughed at him whilst grabbing his face to make him look at you.

‘What do you want?’ You whispered and you heard him let out a low growl in the back of his throat, turning you on even more.

‘I want to taste you’ he admitted and you couldn’t help but let out a massive breath at his words. You’d only ever been at the receiving end a handful of times, and you know Eric never put even 50% effort in so the thought of Mason taking care of you in that way sent your head spinning. Your nodded, letting him know it was okay and he untrapped your leg from under his before sitting up on his knees in between your thighs. Your eyes met, him towering above you and he silently checked you were still okay but the look in your eye was all he needed to carry on. He lowered himself down, kissing his way from your chest back down you where his fingers just were. He reached up to lace his fingers through yours, giving them a slight squeeze before he dipped his head down.

Your whole body relaxed as he slowly started licking up your folds, and when he finally brushed over your clit again you let out a breath, still sensitive from the high he’d just given you. He was soft though, easing you back in and you could hear him groaning as he lapped you up. Your eyes were on him the whole time, making eye contact every now and then which made your tummy flip every time. Mason unlinked one of your hands before moving it into his hair and encouraging you to thread your fingers though his short brown locks. He moaned even harder and you slightly tugged, pushing his face into you even harder which I turn made you cry out.

You had a feeling Mason would be good with his mouth, noticing how his tongue was hardly ever where it should be and just the way he licked his lips sometimes sent you into a spiral. But this was on a whole other level, never having enjoyed anything like this before. the hand in his hair which gave you a little bit of control made you want to grind down onto him, and when he squeezed your hip in encouragement you moaned loudly. A few moments after, you let go of his hair, tugging on his shoulder and his head shot up to look at you, a slight panic on his face as he thought something was wrong but you were quick to reassure him.

‘Mase, as good are you are at that, I really need you to…’ you trailed off, not knowing how to verbalise what you were wanting, but he seemed to catch your drift. He jumped up and removed his underwear so he was now fully naked in-front of you and you’d be lying if you didn’t feel even wetter just by looking at him.

You thought he might be big, having woken up to him prodding you in the back more times than you could remember, but seeing him like this for the first time made your breath catch in your throat. He was flawless, and you were almost scared it wouldn’t fit, but the calming smile he gave you as he returned to between your legs relaxed you.

This was Mason, and you knew you’d be fine.

He didn’t make any movements to do anything yet, just went straight back to kissing you and trying to relax you again. When your legs wrapped around his body he knew you were ready. You could feel him already hard as a rock against your leg, and he grabbed a hold of himself lining up with your entrance whilst never disconnecting your lips.

He pushed into you slowly, both of you breathing and moaning into each other mouths as the pleasure took over you. Your hands gripped his shoulders as he began to thrust into you at a a slow pace so you could adjust to him. After a minute or so you were ready for him to pick up the pace as you knew he was being careful with you on purpose.

‘Mase’ you breathed in his ear and he dragged his lips across your throat and up to your jaw, kissing along it delicately. ‘I need you to go faster. Please don’t hold back’ you told him and he picked up his movements instantly, groaning into your skin at your words.

‘God, you feel so fucking good’ he told you, his lips right on your ear before he pulled back to look at your face. His nose was flushed and his hair was hanging over his forehead but the smirk on his face made your heart flip. ‘You best be ready for me to be on you 24/7 now, gorgeous. You think you can take it?’

‘Yes Mase’

‘You’re such a fucking good girl’ he growled and you were almost embarrassed at the sound that came out of your mouth at his words. You saw him smile down at you, licking his lips as he took you in. ‘You like that don’t you? Being my good girl’

‘Uh huh’ you whimpered, your hands detaching from his shoulders to pull down the front of your bra so you could touch yourself. You heard him groaning at the sight and the feeling of you tightening around him as he pulled up, gripping onto the headboard for extra leverage so he could pound into you even harder. You knew he was close, having waited months to be in this position with you and you so you reached one hand down to play with yourself but he seemed to catch on before you got there. He grabbed your hand, placing back on your chest before touching your clit himself. It only took a few more seconds for you to come undone around him, watching in awe as he did too, both cursing in unison before he pulled out of you to lay down.

You felt his hand on your waist once your breathing was back to normal, tugging you towards him so you could cuddle into his chest. His lips started peppering kisses along your hairline immediately before you looked up at him with a shy smile.

‘Did I do okay?’ You mumbled, hoping he’d enjoyed himself as much as you had.

‘Are you kidding me’ he laughed squeezing you tightly and kissing you gently. ‘you’re amazing’ he whispered softly against your lips, making you smile. ‘I don’t want you to worry about if you were good enough or not, we’ve got so much time to practice and figure out what works and what you like. All I care about is making sure you enjoyed it’ he told you and you smiled up at him whilst nodding.

‘I really did’

‘Well for what it’s worth, I did too’ he winked and you nested into him more as you laughed. ‘I kick myself most days about how I should of told you how I felt about you when we were kids. You probably wouldn’t of gone near the prick of all pricks and we could of started our lives together so much sooner’

‘You don’t know that, Mase. It might not of worked back then. At least we’re grown now and we know what we want’

‘I guess. I’m just thinking about all the years of sex we’ve missed out on’ he laughed whilst tickling your ribs.

‘We’ll just have to make up for lost time’ you whispered, pulling him in for a heated kiss, your hot skin sticking to each other as his hands roamed over you again.

‘Was this the ‘girl talk’ you were on about the other day?’ He questioned, pulling back to look at your flushed face as you nodded with an embarrassed smile. ‘I’ll have to send Hannah a thank you card’ he teased as you hid your face from him. ‘Thank you for trusting me’ he whispered into your hair and you nodded into his neck.

‘Always’

Thank you so much for reading 😌 I'd really like some feedback so please feel free to drop me an ask or whatever you feel comfortable doing, I'd really love to hear from you 🩷

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