#a lot of the misery in his life is of his own making; a direct result of his tenderly-cultivated lifelong inaction

[logaenhowlett]

IF ONLY YOU KNEW PART TWO - L.H.

Summary: Dealing with the aftermath of everything that occurred last night, Logan decides it's time to stop running from his desires. [Set during Logan (2017)]

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female Reader

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Themes of grief and death, Language

A/N: Thank you so much for the love on part one! Didn't expect it to blow up that much. Good news is, it gave me the motivation to write more, so I have lots of ideas for Logan fics!

PART ONE

Over two hundred years, Death had become all too familiar for Logan. A foe that kept barreling in his direction, but always fizzled out before it reached him, instead striking those he cherished the most. When he was younger, he used to revel in feeling of being indestructible, immortal even. That faded away rather quickly once he realised what a curse it was, a cruel joke he grew tired of. Alas, the universe continued laughing.

He thought he could avoid all the unnecessary pain and misery by severing all ties to humanity, retreating to the ends of the world all by his lonesome. But not even the strongest soldier could resist the craving for connection for that long. When Charles had offered a place in his sanctuary, he refused at first, wondering why the universe always seemed to work against him. 

Eventually, the need to distance himself from everything and everyone became smaller. Charles had given him a home, a family, a sense of belonging and after a while, you. Logan was not one for retrospection, but he often recollects how drastically his life had changed once he’d accepted the responsibility of being an X-Man. How he’d gained a new purpose. He owed everything to Charles Xavier.

The shovel in his hand gets heavier by the second. He stops digging for a moment, sensing a whole lot of anger, sorrow and desperation waiting to burst out of him. He knew the end was near for Charles, ever since the incident the old man was barely hanging on. There were times when he wished Charles would just let go, just stop fighting against his mind and body, for his own sake. But that didn’t make his death hurt any less.

His own exhaustion was catching up to him too, having spent the last few days - hell, the last few months - putting everyone else before himself. He hasn’t been able to rest despite all your efforts.

As the last of the dirt falls onto the grave, Logan staggers backwards, his shoulders knock into the tree. He slides against the trunk a little as his knees begin to loosen under his weight, unsure whether it’ll be the adamantium poisoning or heartache that’ll get him first.

Laura’s sniffling snaps his attention, he watches as she curls into your embrace, nothing you were saying stops the tears from escaping. He can see you’re trying to keep your composure for the little girl, but he knows you’re just inches away from completely breaking down. Charles was the father you’d chosen, he had saved your life just as he’d done for countless others, brought you into his arms and gave you something to live and fight for. He knows you’re as defeated as he is right now. Despite every cell in his body aching to comfort you, he understands you need the time and space to grieve in your own way.

After moments of silence, the three of you return to the car. There wasn’t a lot of time left for Laura to find her friends and cross the border to get to freedom. Logan uses that to ground himself to reality, helping her would be a way to honour Charles, for everything he had done and represented. He vows that he’ll grant her wishes, even if it’s the last thing he’ll do. He owes that to Laura, to Charles and to you.

The stars twinkle miles above, painting the night sky with their luminous hue. Logan pulls into the roadside near a lake, deciding it’s in the best interest of everyone to rest tonight. He steps out the car, scouting for a decent place to start a fire. Laura silently accompanies him to gather wood, her eyes follow you as you wander towards the lake, away from the two of them.

Logan senses her need rush to your side, he shakes his head slightly, understanding her distress, “She’ll be okay, kid.” It comes out a little hoarse, having been the first words he’d spoken all day.

All the smoking he’d done in the last two centuries comes in handy, he uses his lighter to spark flames, tending to it before it settles into a calm fire. He runs his hand down his face, his mind has been in overdrive for too long and all he wants is for one moment of quiet. Where he can surrender, stop trying to survive and just live.

“Why are you hiding?” Laura asks him, holding her hands toward the flame.

“What?”

She turns her head to find you in the distance sitting down on the grass with your feet in the water, “From her.”

Logan follows her line of sight, “You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, kid.” 

“You want to die. Charles told me.”

He scoffs, the name leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, “What else did he tell you?”

“To not let you.” She stands, finally meeting his eyes. “Tell her. If you want to be happy.” She doesn’t stick around for his response, instead making her way back to the car to sleep.

Her words strike a chord in him, he huffs lightly, ducking his head into his chest. What the hell did she know? Happiness wasn’t something he envisioned for himself. No, that often came in the form of alcohol or stupid cage fights. He never let himself indulge in anything else, having learned his lessons from what seems like a lifetime ago. 

The leaves crunching under your footsteps draws his attention, you sit down an arm's length away, prodding the fire with a stick. He doesn’t know how to address the giant elephant hanging in between the two of you. Last night, when you’d asked the question, the answer was right there on the tip of his tongue. So easy and so simple. But he withdrew, in such a cowardly manner too, deflecting as if he doesn’t ache for you with each passing day.

“He taught me how to play chess.”

He studies you for a brief moment, the tear tracks on your face shine against the orange hue of the fire.

“We used to sit every day, in the garden, I’d run straight to him after classes were done.” You continue, a fond smile on your face, “I was convinced he was cheating, you know? I never beat him.”

Your resolve crumbles and sadness washes over you once again, “And I never will.”

It dawns on him too, the finality of what had happened last night. He almost laughs at the thought of Charles, beloved by so many, resting in an unmarked grave in the middle of nowhere. The universe is a cynical motherfucker.

If anything, he hopes the man felt proud in his last moments, happy for all he’d achieved in his lifetime. Logan wishes he could be even half the person his mentor was. He always berated him to reach out to those around him. To you. That joy was but a breath away from his grasp, all he needed to do is let you in. He must’ve sensed how well the two of you would get along, how you needed each other’s presence as a pillar of support.

“Why did you keep coming back?”

The question renders him a little speechless. Memories flash across his mind - Rogue, Bobby, Storm, but mostly, you. The two of you had always tiptoed around each other when it came to feelings, at times getting enough courage to finally say something, but never following through.

You stand up, thinking he’s absolutely not in the mood to talk. You don’t blame him either. That’s the thing between you two - there was always some silent understanding of the other.

“You.”

It leaves him so quietly, he’s not sure if you heard him. He’s already looking at you when you turn around, something in your eyes he’s never noticed before. Tell her. If you want to be happy. There’s no reason to hide anymore.

“I didn’t want to believe it at first,” He starts slowly, “You kept… creeping into my life and I… I couldn’t stay away.” A smile, a genuine smile, appears on his face, one that hadn’t graced him in a long while.

“I’ve been around for a long time - more than I should’ve.” He continues, his eyes never leaving yours, “I always… felt like I didn’t deserve to survive. It shouldn’t be me, standing here instead of someone else. But you, being around you… made me want to try.” A weight forms in his throat, he swallows it down, “Try to live not just for you - but for me too. I can never thank you enough for that. For sticking with me, for trusting me, for letting me… love you.”

You close the distance, gently resting your hand against his cheek. He leans into your touch almost instantly, even that simple gesture is enough for him. But you don't end there.

"Logan... I love you too."

He thinks his heart stops, your admission knocks the wind out of him. The old man was right, everything he'd wanted was right in front of him. He leans into you, tilting your chin upwards and kisses you with a burning passion. All the pain he'd suffered sinks to the back of his mind, nothing but a shadow compared to what he's feeling at the moment. When you pull back, doe-eyed and out of breath, he realises this is it. You're it.

In the distance, he catches a smile form on Laura's face, her eyes still shut as she pretends to sleep.

And we're done! It was always going to be a happy ending.

[heliza24]

Thoughts about Domesticity, Carework, and the American Dream in episode 2.5 of Interview with the Vampire

I’ve been mulling over episode 2.5 a lot. There was so much to love in the episode (the incredible writing, the kitchen sink off Broadway play of it all, the chemistry between Luke, Jacob and Assad, the vulnerability in Eric’s performance). But my mind keeps circling a couple of themes, trying to piece them together. So as usual I’m here on tumblr to try to work it out. 

I keep coming back to the way that Armand was gendered in this episode. His big complaint to Louis was that he was “home picking lint off the sofa”. He arrives with “mop and misery” to clean up the mess. Louis insults him by calling him “the good nurse”. All those things are feminized. They’re also extremely of the era; these are Feminine Mystique, mid-century housewife type complaints. The wife’s job is to make the husband’s life smooth and never worry about her own happiness. Obviously in the 1970s we’re seeing this begin to change thanks to second wave feminism. We’re in the process of trying to ratify the ERA, Ms. magazine has just been founded, and things are shifting. The kind of cheery domestic American dream of the 1950s is definitely shifting, and we see this in the episode as well. Betty Hutton selling sewing machines competes with Spiro Agnew resigning on TV. The watergate scandal signified a loss of faith in American authority, a kind of parallel destruction of the country’s father figure (brought down by journalists, no less). The comfortable lie of domesticity, the “prison of empathy” that Armand has created around Louis is crumbling. Armand is boring but he’s also bored, like a housewife taking valium to get by. The whole episode is set in an apartment that reeks of divorce, according to Daniel, and we’re seeing it play out in real time. When Armand lashes out to hurt Louis, he does it not through direct violence, like Lestat, but by holding his failure as a father over him, telling him that Claudia  never loved him. That jab, in combination with the way he’s edited Louis’s memories (gaslighting, another time honored form of domestic abuse) is enough to get Louis to hurt himself. LIke a wife who is always outwardly obedient to her husband but spends her time exacting petty revenge against him for the way he takes her for granted, Armand’s methods are never violent. They are soft and subtle and targeted.

I have to thank @bluedalahorse for first alerting me to the way the crumbling domestic American dream is threaded through this episode. And after she mentioned it I saw it *everywhere*. 

Obviously there is a level of complexity here in the Loumand relationship that this metaphor cannot fully capture. For one thing, Armand is a man. He was turned in a time before modern understanding of gender and sexuality really solidified, so in some way it makes sense that he would be the most gender fluid of our main characters, but his position would be a lot different if he were a woman, even a woman vampire. And Armand is very powerful. His insecurities and crippling fear of being alone keep him from exercising this power and walking away in a way that would perhaps be healthier for both him and Louis. But he is not trapped economically or socially in the way a wife would have been in this era. (That being said, I get the sense that *something* about the way the fire happened in Paris has made Louis and Armand go to ground. Maybe there is an element of being “trapped together because of fear of exposure”. But even then, I think my point still stands.)

To drill down and become more specific, there’s an extra added layer to the way Armand is feminized in this episode. I’ve written a lot about disability in this show and also the way it approaches eugenics, and those things were very on my mind as I rewatched this episode. (To be fair, they are always on my mind when I watch anything. Being disabled will do that to you.) Anyway, the specific way that Armand casts himself in this episode is as a caregiver. He is a beleaguered, bitter caregiver to those weaker to him. I think you hear this especially when he describes to Louis what happened: “you said the worst things you ever said to me, and then you walked into the sun. And now you are a convalescent.” The absolute sneer on the word convalescent.  The absolute disdain for being put in this position again. The way he denies Louis the blood and keeps him out of his coffin for so long. The “final act of service” in calling Lestat. And then the tenderness laced with fear. Will he “be on suicide watch for the next 1000 years?”. 

Armand is fascinating to me because of the way he seems to instinctively reject people who remind him of his own past weaknesses. Those weaknesses are buried down deep in his characterization, but they’re there and they’re important. He was sick and wasting away when he was turned. And before that he was an abused sex worker. You can see the way he dismisses people in similar situations in the way he treats Daniel in this episode. He calls Daniel a “broken boy” when he’s talking to Louis. He casually rejects the idea that there might be any sort of truth captured in Daniel’s tapes. The interviews on those tapes are with a sex worker and gay veteran and his disabled refugee husband. All of these people are so close to Armand in so many ways. I even think this is why Armand comes down so hard on Claudia, and why he cannot abide the true empathy and love Louis has for her. Claudia was turned when her body was weak. Weaker and more disabled, so to speak, than Armand. But they are not dissimilar. But Louis loves Claudia anyway, and respects her strengths. No one ever shown the love Louis shows to Claudia to Armand. No one ever granted him true empathy. The only way he has been able to hold on to any love at all is to grovel, to manage, to care give. The only way he experiences care is to give it. Of course he’s broken, of course he’s bitter.

So now we come to Daniel. The broken boy who has suicidal ideation and a drug problem, things that make him imminently dismissable in Armand’s mind. But Daniel also has a drive, a passion for life, and a love for the people who slip through the cracks. Louis and Daniel definitely share this great affection for humanity, and it’s what allows them to connect in San Francisco and again in Dubai. And it’s what makes him inscrutable, and captivating, to Armand. Because there really is no greater act of service than telling somebody’s story. Daniel describes himself as a therapist ironically in Dubai, but what he’s doing is carework. It’s real empathy. And Armand doesn’t understand that. Armand doesn’t understand what someone is doing recording the stories of people who were just like him. A whole universe of possibilities opens in the moment when Armand almost starts telling Daniel his story. Out of all the ways Daniel tries to save himself, that little life line of empathy is what almost snags Armand. But then Armand clamps back down, realizes he’s staring into a “black hole”. He’s trying to insult Daniel when he says that, but to me it just sounds like he’s describing himself.

When Armand is lulling Daniel into death, the thing he chooses to describe to him is the American domestic fantasy. He describes it as a fate worse than death. He describes it as a boring trap. And he specifically casts Daniel in the masculine, straight role in that fantasy, with a wife “vacuuming on valium” who “counts down his thrusts”. In some ways Armand is painting his own relationship to Louis as the worst possible fate that Daniel could suffer. (And it makes me wonder– did Armand ever wonder if he would amount to anything? Does he think his life has any meaning at all, if you subtract the vampiric powers? Armand has never stopped to introspect like this, but I wonder what would happen if you forced him to.)

But Daniel is stubborn, and his desire to tell stories and empathize with people resists death. I love that he still defends himself, still claims that he’s “a bright young reporter with a point of view” and that that is worth something. Because it is.

When Louis asks Armand to save Daniel, Daniel unwittingly becomes a symbol of Louis and Armand’s continued marriage. He’s a wedding ring, a vows renewal. He’s emblematic of the continuation of failing vampiric domesticity. And when Louis tries to repair the damage Armand has wrought, he isn’t able to offer Daniel soothing words about his ability to find a spouse or raise children or understand love. Louis doesn’t understand those things, so how could he teach Daniel about them? But Louis has always understood stories and humanity, so he is able to gift Daniel his writing and his reporting back. 

I think you can interpret Daniel’s failed marriages and difficult relationship with his children in a lot of ways. We could say that he was always going to fail at these things, regardless of whether or not he met the vampires, because of the discontent that Armand sensed in him. Maybe the trauma that this aborted gay hookup with Louis created was enough to re-closet him, and send him down a dark road of unfulfilled straight relationships. Or maybe Armand’s words really did echo around in his head and pull him down as much as Louis’s lingered and sustained him over the years. Maybe we’ll get more answers about this as the show goes on, or maybe it will live in the ambiguous world of memory and manipulation the show so often plays in.

Regardless, I think this episode was a masterpiece, and the way it firmly established these themes about the failure of domesticity and the burden and joys of carework are going to really matter, I think, as we hit the brutal conclusion of the season. When emotions are at a breaking point, especially between Armand and Louis, they are going to resonate because they were grounded in this little claustrophobic wonder of an episode.

As a little postscript, I’m not quite sure where we’re going with Devil’s Minion after this episode, or if we’re even going there at all. If a DM timeline happened in the past, it would require additional editing of Daniel’s memory, and I’m not quite sure if that reveal would work structurally. (I would love to be proven wrong about this though, because I would love for young Daniel and Armand to have interacted more, for Assad and Luke’s chemistry if nothing else. They were so wonderful together.)  If it were to happen in Dubai, or to happen again Dubai, however… well that’s interesting. Because older Daniel is disabled. He’s even more firmly in this category of people that Armand is apt to dismiss. And if they were to get together, there would probably be some aspect of caregiving on Armand’s part. And there would also be some caregiving on Daniel’s part, in his ability to listen to Armand. So that has the potential to be really fascinating, and maybe mutually beneficial to both characters. But I think we have to cover a lot of ground before we would be able to get there.

[futureplayboibunnie]

let them bleed for all I care

Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

being fuckbuddies with Miguel O’Hara wasn’t easy when you were both intensely yearning

another angsty so damn wrapped up in romance brainrot blurb piece of this man because i’m still insane. this is definitely a self serve fic but idc i’m sharing anyway. ALSO THERES A PART 2!

warnings: angsty sweet nothings and confessions, mutual INTENSE pining, sensuallll (tehehe), waking up in bed, lil fluffy

A dim glow coated your room and in turn, clutched at your heart. The rows of streetlights outside beaming against the deep dark horizon and peeping through the unsheathed window offered the perfect fuzzy gleam to make Miguel's face look even more perfect. Being twisted and disheveled in bedsheets with a man that struggled with letting anyone in would be a shocking revelation two months beforehand.

Miguel was...untrusting and cold, everyone seemed to come to that conclusion with him. He was a force of nature, something that you once thought was inhuman and unfeeling, that harsh and abrasive exterior being a tremendous cover for the lack of constructive outlets he had. At least he knew where he stood with everyone, living with himself in isolation was a form of self-preservation- and he was fine with it, but he wasn't happy with it. He had a tendency to lose himself in his rage or his panic, his body bore the brunt of it all. He would practically work his fingers to the bone in order to not talk to anyone, it was definitely a highlighted page of his own personal book of dramatic effects. You didn't want to just see the picture of himself he's painted- you wanted to fucking admire it like a lovesick fool. There were so many failed attempts to get closer to him, he was so dedicated to proving himself to be this leader that didn't need the weakness of having anyone, and that in turn only made him spiral into his own misery. Miguel tried so hard to not let you in, it was almost admirable if it wasn't so damn saddening. Every time you thought you were getting closer to him, he dismissed you and bit a clippy ‘’I'm fine. Leave.’’ It wasn't until you took advantage of the fact he doesn't have spidey senses and just swung onto his platform and just hugged him everything just went blank. Ever since then, he's called your name in the dark and contemplated on the zeal in which he would destroy those who would harm you. He had denied every single impulse he's ever had for you out of some misbegotten respect to his own personal impending doom to which he was still so attached.

Being fuck buddies had its benefits, no strings attached. You just had to tamper down your own feelings for him. It was easy enough for a while. You'd fuck, clean up and then leave in different directions. The routine changed though. You'd lay in bed a lot longer, you'd just hold each other and feel each other's skin. Neither of you would talk about it after. Miguel was lonely. He didn't like to admit it but he was. These clandestine moments with you were the only opportunity he had to breathe and let out everything inside of him.

Your head was on his chest, naked bodies tangled with each other as his arms held you steady and embraced you, your leg curled up and rested on his thighs, one hand buried in your hair and the other one resting on the dip of your waist feeling the curve of your skin. You were so warm, so soft, so good. Miguel liked it when you touched him like this, his body just constantly craved your contact.

Romance was never on the table for a man like him so obviously his body acted like it, he hadn't had the time for it until you came into his life and left your everlasting and distinctive mark. You fucked like a pornstar. Miguel's fingers stroked through your hair, breathing in the pretty scent committing it to memory. The atmosphere between you both was heavy and dense like you needed to talk about something but neither of you was committing to budge your will, you gazed at the marks on vour arms. The son of a bitch was so rough... just how you liked it, the punctures in your skin that his claws made only showcased such a thing. Your brows furrowed as you hummed at the sight of it.

‘’Too rough?’’ Miguel raised his eyebrow at your purpose, his voice gritty and not sympathetic in the slightest.

‘’No...perfect.’’ You replied under your breath, slightly saddened that this is all you'll ever be to each other. Just a fuck. The way you said it made his heart cave and a sense of confusion transferred onto his face. Is that what you thought of him? Or just the way he could fuck you. He turned his face to the side to gape at you with burning eyes, you looked so hazy and angelic, he grabbed your face in both of his hands and cradled it whilst using his thumb to smooth out the skin of your cheeks. Your eyes widened at his unexpected action of tenderness, his thumb traveled to your supple lips conveying a desperate and willing look on your face. Miguel's brows wilted sincerely and his mouth unhinged open as if he was going to say something.

“'What is it?”You murmured wantonly, a strange flame of desire burning into your chest, he has the ability to make or break you. He's always had the power to do that, you just weren't sure if he was willing to see it.

“'I've been...having bad dreams.'” Miguel's eyes diverted from yours as if he was embarrassed to say it, to admit that he was afraid. He wanted to ask something from you, he was sure it was going over the boundary of fuck buddies but he needed to ease his straining mind.

“'About?'” You implored but he just gave you a hard scowl filled with hubris. You sighed at his silence and just grabbed the hand that was on your face and kissed his palm. Miguel felt every single hair on his body stands to attention, litter of goosebumps trailed at his back at your ministrations and he felt it echo through his very soul. Both of you were going too far, breaching the terms of your agreement but you were two sad and lonely people trying to fill the void with the warmth of another person's body. “For God's sake, when will you stop being so noble?”

Miguel drank in your question and he uttered the words he knew would get him kicked out. “Can I stay tonight?”

“Miguel-“

“Please.”

Your hands raked through his hair, needy eyes searching his flitting from perfect feature to feature trying to understand if any of this was real. Did he feel what you felt for him? Or was he just too tired to go home? You didn't want to ponder the latter, you captured your lips with his gently as a confirmation. Your head rested against his chest, tracing your fingers against his skin like an odd form of tenderness. You didn't like what you were feeling: you were starting to fall in love with him.

-

Miguel awoke in a daze, his vision blurring into shapes and stars as the nightfall outside seeped into your room. He felt your warmth beside him and it soothed the wits about him, your steady breathing offered an equilibrium that he never had. A wave of protectiveness washed over him- his sentiments have always stayed the same when it came to you. What besides love inspires such pain and yearning?

Miguel leaned in and kissed behind your ear as you mumbled into nothing and your hands slid beneath the pillow as you stretched. Your hair fell with such ease and grace, a hazed-out mess on the bedsheets as your frame indented into the mattress, slivers of skin peeking out as you tangled and breathed. If anyone laid a finger on you it would be his undoing. He'd send them screaming back to hell, the dark thought sliced through his brain and he glanced at you to nullify it. He leaned up and sat on the edge of his side of the bed, Miguel glanced at you again to make sure you were sleeping. He clenched his jaw and a hand ran down his naked back and rested on his neck- as if he were trying to find the words to start a confession. A bubbling of words started to build up within him, he felt a need to just verbally say this out loud to you but without you actually knowing of it consciously. Miguel elbows dug into his legs as he gazed at his intertwined fingertips and let out a breath, finally finding the words he's always wanted to say to you.

“I don't know what's happening to me,” He began “I don't know why I've let it get this far. I shouldn't have given into my own selfish demands. Hell, I've done it once before and a whole fuckin’ universe collapsed...dios mio.” He raked an exasperated hand through his hair at the painful memory that was seared into his mind. “You just had to ruin everything for me, you just had to fuckin’ touch me and I was yours, now what kind of pathetic does that make me? What do I do with all this? What do I do with you?” Miguel paused to regain his self control and calm his frustrations but a sliver of sadness dropped into his chest instead.

“It's funny... You're so easy to hate. You're so easy to love. What the hell do I do with this hermosa? Just tell me what to do and I'll do it, just tell me what you want...tell me what you want from me...cause it feels like you're just taking it at this point. You're taking from me and now I'm fuckin’ broken down and hungry for you like a dog waiting for scraps hermosa. The rational part of me hates it but the other rabid part is just begging at your feet. I'm like a fuckin’ mutt for you...I'm in love with you mi vida.” Those words fit perfectly in his mouth: I'm in love with you. It tasted fucking glorious, it tasted sweet and sad at the same time, it was revolutionary. It was like those words were destined to come out of his mouth, just for you to hear. “It's ironic because you'd probably kick me in the teeth for saying such a 'formidable’ thing but I'm not blind, I can't deny what's in front of me and I don't want to keep ignoring it.’

A soft inhale of your breath ended his confession, you twisted your body to the side as your cheek was planted in the pillow facing him. You stretched out your arm onto his side of th bed as if you were reaching out for him, wanting to find his warmth. Miguel couldn't help but admire you in a trance like state while you were like this, at your most natural, at your most beautiful. He'd seen your face contorted in pleasure when he fucked into you, your body arch into his touch when his face was buried between the sweet valley of your thighs but he had never seen you look like this. Like an angel from the clouds as the white sheet barely covered you- you looked like a painting. Your long lashes were fanned out against your cheek and your lips were parted for your gentle breathing, the swell of your chest rising and falling in a synchronised rhythm. You looked perfect. He hated it.

Miguel slipped back into bed and under the sheets, finding your warmth once again. He held onto you, his palm clutching at your waist as your head eased onto his chest. His brows tensed before he kissed your temple, a thought occured to him. Every day he was with you and had you were the days he would go home and sleep soundly and didn't dream, he hadn't thought there was a correlation, now he connected the dots and the picture became all the more clearer. There was nothing he could do. He just had to suppress his needs and desires and put everything else in front of him.

-

Your eyes seeped in the tiredness the beginning of the morning offered, and the chirping of the birds outside of your window echoed through your ears, serving as a gentle reminder of the night before. A heavy feeling set in your chest as you turned your gaze to Miguel's broad and bare back, worry glazed over your eyes as you remembered the words he uttered last night when he thought you were asleep. You couldn't believe it...you wouldn't believe that all this time you weren't alone in your yearning. You couldn't quite grasp that you had Miguel O’Hara on his knees, begging to love you.

You wanted to take it from him so bad but a pang of guilt started eating at you. Your arms immediately embraced his frame as you nuzzled his neck and inhaled the deep cadence of the lingering notes of cologne from last night. Miguel's soft copper hair was messy and disrupted, without thinking you raked your fingers through his hair. Miguel was already awake, he felt it and he grumbled into it, melting against your blessed touch. Your other hand traced down his broad shoulders and his back, feeling his skin, tracing the pads of your fingers down his warm, golden flesh.

"Hmm." Miguel breathed raggedly at the sensation. “Morning.” you kissed his shoulder as you nuzzled your face into his neck, inhaling deeply. Miguel's eyes widened at your action, unsure as to why you were showering him with affection- it's never been like this before. You've never woken up with each other before. Miguel struggled to leave and get out of your hold and it seemed like you were doing it on purpose.

“Don't leave...”You whispered woefully in his ear, planting a kiss on the base of his neck. “Don't leave me...” Miguel was stunned and it was obvious by the way his brows furrowed, he wasn't sure if it was the fact he just woke up or if it was his half-crazed manic mind playing tricks on him.

He twisted his body to face you, his cheek buried in the pillow and the look you shared was that of pure longing, your hands went to his hair again, tracing the outlines of his face with your thumb. “I heard you...” Your sad eyes were lit by the liquid gold of the sun, Miguel would have been entranced if any other words fell out of those pretty lips of yours. He wasn't so lucky. He heard the exact thing that his very soul was dreading.

“I'm sorry you had to.” Miguel's eyes shot open and glared a hole into your face when he said it, feeling genuinely sorry for you. Instead of saying anything you moved your body and clambered onto his lap and bent down to kiss him tenderly. His calloused palms felt at your thighs and the outskirts of them, your hair fell to the side as your bodies slid over each other. Miguel was confused at what you felt, what you wanted and what you were doing- you were just so damn hard to read sometimes. You nuzzled your head into his neck and breathed him in deeply, his massive arms wrapping around you tightly like he would die if he let go.

"You know, I was never scared of you and I thought that made me stupid. Naive. You name it. You were so good at scaring people off, it was admirable, I couldn't help but be in fucking awe of you when you were being so…dangerous.” You spoke gently as your fingers went to trace something undistinct on his chest. “The others warned me that you'd probably rip my tongue out of my gaping mouth if I ever tried anything at all with you and I was half expecting you to break me in half like a toothpick when I just...held you....for the first time. Even if you did break me in half I would've relished every second of it, I think I've spent so much time practically begging you to just…break me.” Your voice faltered slightly and a smattering of whirlwind emotions started to rise within you. Miguel was hooked on your every word like a dog with a bird at your door. “When you told me you wanted me to touch you and that you wanted to touch me, I felt like... a teenager being asked out by an allstar jock. It was pathetic but I didn't care. It was you...and bit by bit, minute by minute I started to fall in love with you. I thought I was being a fucking idiot because who the hell was I to fall in love with Miguel O'Hara?” Miguel's silence was gruelling and heavy, he didn't want to answer your question becuase if he started he wouldn't be able to stop. His lips pressed against your temple and as always you melted into him.

“Don't think that little of yourself. I don't like it.” He murmured.

“It's not fair to you at all...all of this, I know that. All of these secrets bleeding into each other when you already have the weight of the whole fucking multiverse on those broad and tired shoulders.”

“Let them bleed for all I care.”

[tossawary]

When writing fanfiction, there are a lot of unknowns surrounding Mobei-Jun that I answer based on what I think is compelling, funny, and/or contrasts well against SQH | Airplane Bro. (Sometimes, based on what contrasts interestingly and/or hilariously against Luo Binghe or Shen Qingqiu.) The choices I make for MBJ also depend on what suits that particular story.

An interesting question: "What kind of literature does Mobei-Jun like?" He's Airplane Bro's Ideal Man / Dream Guy! It's fun to think about what Mobei-Jun's relationship might be to fiction.

One choice that I've pulled a few times now is having Mobei-Jun be functionally illiterate, mostly because I think that situation is an interesting / amusing contrast to the guy who technically wrote the world into existence. Airplane Bro was cranking out thousands of words per day to eat, selling out his honest passion for literature, and Mobei-Jun can't / doesn't read.

There are lots of different potential reasons for this! Maybe Mobei-Jun is dyslexic. Maybe he desperately needs reading glasses and doesn't realize it. (Yes, maybe half of his glaring is just squinting.) Maybe his education was really bad because his family tried to murder him too many times. Maybe he just doesn't have any interest in fiction or in reading as a hobby in general, because paper / writing is rare in the Demon Realm for a variety of reasons and he's been busy building more relevant skills.

(Airplane Bro is shocked and offended, yes, but mostly because Mobei-Jun somehow successfully hid being unable to read from him for two or more decades. All of those "you read it" and "you write it" orders suddenly make so much sense.)

Another direction for "Mobei-Jun's relationship to media" that I've been enjoying lately as a premise is that Mobei-Jun is the sort of person who would have genuinely enjoyed "Proud Immortal Demon Way". But, like, in a weird way. Like, maybe Mobei-Jun isn't there for the women or the power fantasy, but he's fascinated by the cage of dissatisfaction, misery, and cruelty that the protagonist is building around himself using empty pleasures and merciless vengeance. Mobei-Jun is there for the tragedy. Everyone else in the comments section would think that he's a weirdo for different reasons, including Airplane Bro, but Mobei-Jun is (by accident) operating on a level where he sees the vision.

Alternate direction on "Mobei-Jun would like PIDW, actually": maybe he would like it because he actually loves trashy drama and stupid catfights. He's there for the comedy. He grew up in an environment where his father stole his uncle's wife and his own uncle tried to kill him multiple times, after all. In PIDW itself, right-hand man Mobei-Jun somehow successfully suffered years upon years of Luo Binghe's harem nonsense, and maybe Mobei-Jun was having the time of his life watching Sha Hualing start shit in the harem, actually!

Maybe in a Modern AU, Airplane Bro would try to sound intelligent and cultured by talking to his rich boss / boyfriend about classy literature, only to find out that Mobei-Jun basically only watches reality television competitions where people are constantly trying to tear each other's hair out for money. If people aren't screaming in each other's faces over a spilled glass of wine, throwing plates at each other over a stolen boyfriend or a ruined wedding, or backstabbing each other via wardrobe sabotage to get ahead, then Mobei-Jun is bored. Fighting matches or extremely dangerous sports are also fine, though, sure. (Airplane Bro doesn't like any of this stuff. He's a fantasy novel guy. He has no idea how to react to this.)

Another funny direction for "Mobei-Jun's relationship to media" is that maybe "Proud Immortal Demon Way" wouldn't actually be weird ENOUGH for Mobei-Jun's tastes. Maybe Mobei-Jun would be like that guy who claims "if I can guess the twist, then it's not suspense - suspense is when I don't know what's going to happen next, period" and reads long-running, amateur, foreign, abstract web-novels that he has to put through an online translator himself. Maybe in a Modern AU with this opinion, Mobei-Jun loyally watches telenovelas and Bollywood soap operas. Airplane Bro comes into the room and says, "Wow, not even any subtitles? You can understand what they're saying?" and Mobei-Jun says sincerely, "No. You have to figure out what's happening without them. This is the intended viewing experience."

[ultimategenshintournament]

Ultimate Genshin Tournament: Round 5

Propaganda below cut

Venti:

calls the Traveler "his warrior" plus he's like our long-time friend??? He basically asked us out during the alchemy event???? You can choose to bring him up during the fight with Signora????? He's the best idc

He. Is. Amazing. So many layers, so interesting...So much trauma and potential...Not to mention look how AWESOME he is generally!!! He's kind and caring towards everybody, and also carefree and mischievous!!! How can you not love him??

he’s TOO GOOD for this world- he’s just a little guy!! Like he cares for his nation and the people of Mondstadt SO MUCH it hurts when people say he doesn’t. Like, my poor trauma-driven little mega-powerful war god who’s actually just a tiny little wind spirit honoring his dead friend!!!! I love him so much

his lore means he gets brought up almost every patch. he convinced a bunch of the most lethal women in Teyvat to have tea instead of screwing him up. he would always rather take the path of least resistance. he’s the three time best bard in Mond. he never seeks glory, only wishes to offer it to others. he was a better father to Diona than her real one five minutes into meeting her. he gives Glory whispers of what the world looks like so she can navigate. when a nun of his own church denied his identity he decided to run a heist to steal back an item that is only holy because it is his. he keeps his misery and loneliness trapped within, and does his best to bring joy to every person he meets. how can you not love him? 

He's Venti. How do you beat that? Answer: you don't. You can't. 

they say that an nation is most like their archon but is the anemo archon a god that took after the people's traits or did the people take their archons traits (the only correct answer is that venti took after old mond's people traits and it's so disgustingly sweet, he's a lil baby who cared so much that he kept old mond's wishes heard and their dream a reality — of freedom (without a god, as much as he could) where humanity leads trust. he left mondstadt because he trusted that humanity would do that right thing always but then he got betrayed by the Lawrence clan but he forgave them???! the anemo archon gave them no punishment , but mondstadt did . venti has me ugly crying

Kaeya:

He's cool, he's mysterious, he wears an eyepatch, he has a super tragic backstory, he's good with kids, he takes care of his friends, what's not to love!!!

despite all the hardships he’s suffered, he’s still such a kind person 

This is the character of the everyman. Everyone should love Kaeya because he's with you no matter what. He has the great mystery of his origins and his damage with his family and his brother, but he is with you til the end. That's what makes him so special to me

Furina:

girl deserves therapy and hugs and the best life in the WORLD because oh boy she went through a lot!!!! wouldn't pretending to be a god for 500 years with no support mess you up? and yet she still kept on going for her people!! she wanted to save her nation from a doomsday prophecy and she DID

After act 5 she deserves the world :(

“If all the people of Fontaine are on one side, and I am on the other…is it not obvious where the scales of suffering should tilt?” NO IT ISNT YOU’RE JUST ABNORMALLY SELFLESS AND INCREDIBLE AND PERSISTENT. Even the Archons praise Furina’s name and say she is a human with strength and capability worthy of an Archon. That’s not even to speak of Focalors. She snapped at Arlecchino only when the Harbinger implied that Furina had done nothing to preserve her people from the flood. Meanwhile every minute she was working to prevent the prophecy. A month after we took her to court and almost got her killed she agreed to help us direct a play, a favor for a favor

[spacebarbarianweird]

The Dragon Made of Threads

Synopsis: Astarion is making a gift for you.

Tags: fluff

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Astarion’s mind doesn’t let him rest. 

The reverie is supposed to be a blessing, the only way for the True People to remember their long lives. But his long life was nothing but misery until  very recently and he keeps being dragged into the darkness.

Oh, Astarion was so naive to believe it could have been over by killing his master and having the “rebirth” experience on the grave. 

His past haunts him.

“You are tired,” you touch his forehead as if trying to sense fever. “You need some rest.”

“My sweet, elves can survive without trance for a week. And I am undead. I am fine.”

“You don't look fine. You have dark circles and your eyelids are puffy again. You need to rest.”

“No, I don’t!” He tries to sound confident but instead his voice resembles a rebellious teenager.

You are right, of course. The elves can survive without reverie for a week, the same way non-elves can make it through one or two sleepless nights. Then, the body and mind collapse. 

But entering the reverie… Reliving tortures and humiliation… Feeling the same sense of misery and horror and hopelessness… No, he can’t do that. Not now. Not ever.

You are ready to sleep - it’s the first time in a month that you sleep in the room, not in the tent - the thick curtains protect Astarion from the merciless sun. 

“Please,” you yawn. “Meditate.”

“I will.”

“Don’t lie to me, please, I know when you are dishonest.”

Astarion grins. “Oh, my sweet, I am no liar. I am going to reverie once you fall asleep. I just like watching you when the dreams take over you.”

“Astarion, when you say the truth your eyes are wide open. When you smirk, you lie. Listen, maybe I can do something? Something to make you… think about something pleasant? It’s been a year! There are a lot of good memories to relive. Let’s just find a way to point your mind in the right direction!”

A year of good memories. Well, a little bit more. Four months of having a tadpole in his brain, experiencing freedom and sunlight, falling in love, learning how to feel again, and how to be alive. All these memories are precious, even the ones he is embarrassed about. For example, using you in his own favor. It doesn’t matter you’ve forgiven him - it still hurts.

Astarion sighs and lies beside you. Your arms immediately wrap around him. The familiar warmth is so tender that Astarion lets himself slip away into the reverie.

He is indeed tired.

He needs to rest.

But instead of grasping a good memory, a pleasant or at least bearable, his mind collapses into the abyss.

Chained to the wall. Bleeding. Hurting. He can’t scream anymore. It’s an old memory from when he was still hoping. He begs for mercy but no one listens. Hunger. Pain. Blood. Again, again. 

The master is whistling, carving the symbols on Astarion’s back with a silver dagger. The cursed metal feels like melted lava.

Astarion doesn’t need to sleep, neither does the vampire lord. 

This is your life, forever. You are doomed. No one will save you.

No! No! It’s not true! It will end! It will take two centuries, two long and miserable centuries, but it will come to an end! 

Astarion screams in the past until his throat burns.

“Astarion! Astarion!”

He feels the warm hands shaking his shoulders. He returns to reality like a drowned man from the dark waters, numb and restless.

You don’t say anything and he collapses into your arms, crying like a lost child.

“I can’t… I can’t… I need to rest… But I can’t…”

His back… His back is still bleeding, he can feel it, but your fingers caress the scars. It’s all over. It’s been more than a year. He will never return to those dungeons. No one will ever mutilate him again.

You let him go and pick up the travel sack in the corner. 

“I bought something at the potion merchant. I think it might help.”

“Please, I - I can… handle…”

You take out a bottle with a golden liquid. 

Angelic sleep potion.

The only way to make an elf experience regular sleep.

“No.”

“Astarion, what choice do you have? One more day like this and you won’t be able to walk on your own. You need it.”

“No! I am not drinking this! My mind keeps bringing me real nightmares and I have heard  all about the creepy dreams and nightmares the sleeping mind can weave!”

“But it won't be reality! Besides, when a non-elf is exhausted like you, they don’t see dreams.”

“But I won’t be able to escape it. With reverie at least I know it’s a memory!”

You sit beside Astarion and hug him. “Please. If you don’t want to do this for yourself, do this for me. I can’t see you suffering like this.”

Astarion sighs. “You are manipulative, you know?”

“Learned from a professional”.

Astarion adjusts himself back on the  bed and opens the bottle. The potion smells intoxicating. “But I do this only for you.”

“And I am grateful for your sacrifice.”

Astarion drains the bottle and before he manages to acknowledge anything, sleep takes him.

He sees visions and images. Places and people. Some are familiar, and some are not. His mind weaves the dreams out of emotions, memories, and experiences. 

Astarion dreams of a dragon.

It’s an ancient species of dragons, otherworldly. A majestic creature capable of carrying a dragon rider on its back.

Astarion rides this dragon above the Trackless Sea. There is nothing but the water and open blue skies.

And the sun.

It feels like cat fur on his skin, gentle and warm. 

Astarion wakes up still dizzy with the unrealness of what he saw. 

And he feels amazing.

His body is rested, and his mind is clear. The dream was so vivid that Astarion would believe he was once a dragon rider if he didn’t know about the weird fantasies of non-elven dreams.

He looks at you, sound asleep in the bed. His. You are his. And he is yours. What a sheer amount of luck made you meet each other? And how lucky he is you chose him.

It is still afternoon, hours before the sunset and he knows too well you won't wake up till evening.

Astarion needs to occupy himself with something. He gets up, stretches his arms, and then sees your traveling cape on the floor. 

“Such a messy little thing”, he chuckles. Astarion picks up the cape and notices a hole in the fabric.

Astarion takes his sewing kit from the traveling sack. He loves repairing things for you - complaining all the way, of course - but he never lets you sew yourself.

And then the idea comes to his mind.

Instead of black threads, he picks the red ones. It takes him a few attempts to understand how to do that but then the stitches come naturally from his fingers.

A dragon soaring in the skies. A divine creature from other planes. A beast that came to him in his dreams.

Astarion carefully embroiders the body of the dragon, then the wings and a stream of fire from its mouth.

He still has a lot of threads left and he starts embroidering the other dragon on the opposite side of the cape. 

Then he notices something has changed.

The curtain is wide open and the moonlight streams inside the room. You sit beside him, smiling at his work.

“Oh, sorry, my sweet. I’ve been carried away…”

“It’s all right. I like watching you sew. But it’s the first time I see you making something like this.”

“Do you like it?”

“Of course!” you touch the embroidered dragons. “So real! I didn’t know you could do such things!”

“I- I’ve seen them. In a dream.”

The tender fingers touch his curls. “You’ve rested, haven’t you?”

“Yes. I have,” Astarion hands you the cape. “If you want, I can add more. I just need more threads”.

You smile and kiss him. “Of course, I do. Thank you.”

--

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui @asterordinary @darkarchangel96 @locallegume @brainfullofhotsauce @coffeeanddonutscafe 

[reve-de-sang]

i love this a lot. i wanted to do a series of oneshots with lestat v florence. i wanted shade that would darken the earth. it was going to be fucking hilarious.

but first my brain forced me to get him in the house somehow.

getting this man in the door again, let alone living there? for my brain it takes Paul making a different choice and Lestat going all in. and Louis, with no tragedy to torch his life, facing his own misery. and a little more sex.

--

“You still doing business with that man Lestat?”

“Nah. Didn’t work out.”

“That’s good. ‘Cause he the devil.”

“You think everyone’s the devil.”

“He’s here to take souls. He told me so. He spoke to me without moving his lips.”

“He got tricks is all.”

“Mortal sins must be confessed, Louis.”

“Ain’t never gonna see him again, Paul.”

Paul nodded thoughtfully.

“You think Levi loves her enough? You know, Grace needs a lot of love.”

“I do.”

“Do you think he’s givin’ her everything he’s got inside him?”

Louis nodded. “Mm-hmm.”

Paul sighed, and stood up from his perch on the rooftop adjacent to Louis. “Mother made a good party for Grace.”

“Mm-hmm. Yeah, they gon’ talk about this one for years,” Louis grinned. 

Paul considered Louis. Louis’s face was bathed in the gold of the rising sun as he studied the sky.

“I love you, Louis.”

“And I love you too, baby brother.”

Paul made his way over and sat down on the peak of the roof next to Louis. “I ate too much chocolate cake,” Paul sighed. 

They watched the sunrise blossom from pink to lemon.

—

“I don’t take kindly to being avoided,” a voice at his elbow growled. 

Louis tipped back the last of his sazerac and met Lestat’s eyes in the mirror behind the bar. “Most people would pick up on the message in that. You all more direct in France? Tell each other to fuck off?” 

Louis had perhaps had too much to drink tonight. He felt worn thin. Things were supposed to have gotten back to normal after Grace’s wedding. He was back to being the dutiful son, the flawless executor of his family’s estate, the benevolent brother and caretaker, the generous parishioner, the upstanding community member, the ruthless proprietor, the deferential fellow businessman to the white power players who kept him in the orbit of their social circle—but never any closer. Every hour was accounted for, every movement beyond reproach. 

But “normal” didn’t work anymore. It was like having his head shoved back under water. He hadn’t had a breath in weeks, and Lestat looked like the surface of the ocean above him.

Even now he felt his heart pound at Lestat’s mere proximity. Damn him. 

Lestat waited for the bartender to pass them by. They had a miraculous bubble around them from the crowd at the moment, but nowhere would’ve been private enough for the conversation Louis was trying to avoid.

“You send mixed messages,” Lestat said, looking away from the mirror to address Louis’s profile. “Before your absence you made an excellent case for our…continued business dealings.”

“My schedule is full, Lestat. I don’t have time for what you’re proposing. Or interest, either, for that matter.” Louis signaled the bartender for another drink.

“A drowning man pouring even more fluids down his throat,” Lestat mused.

“What do you know about it.” He needed to tell him to fuck off. He was going to find the strength any moment now.

“Quite a lot, actually. By my own experiences.”

A tipsy man and woman bumped gently against Louis’s elbow as they settled at the bar, and apologized. Louis ignored them, and also tried to ignore the weight of Lestat’s gaze on him. 

“Before I came to America, I, too, ran my family’s estate. A town of people looked to me to fulfill a role. There was no escaping it, despite my attempts. It became my identity. I know what it means to suffocate, Louis.”

Louis scoffed. “Yet here you are.” The bartender slid his new glass to him, removed the empty.

“I met someone. We fell in love. My mother financed our escape.”

Louis rolled his eyes over to Lestat with sharp scorn. “So you abandoned your family.”

“Yes. Save for my mother, I despised them. And this person I loved showed me what it was to live.” Lestat laid his hand on the bar near Louis’s elbow, conversationally, not touching, but tantalizingly close. “However, you do not need to abandon your family, or your beautiful city, to live, Louis.”

“I’m doing just fine.”

 <<You are several fathoms deep, I wonder that you have endured so long. Perhaps it is practice. But now that you have had a taste of air, you will not survive like this. You know what it is to breathe, now.>>

Louis was humiliated to find sudden tears burning at his eyes and looked away, trying furiously to stifle them. Knocking most of his drink back. “Cut it out.”

<<Oh, Louis.>>

The woman next to him bumped Louis again as she burst into a gale of laughter, and Lestat steadied Louis’s elbow as he stumbled. Startled at the electric contact, they locked eyes.

“It is too crowded in here, and hot,” Lestat said. “Let’s get a breath of fresh air.”

—

Louis leaned into his intoxication on the walk back to Lestat’s place, inevitably Lestat’s place. He was too drunk to do the right thing, too drunk to remember his obligations, too drunk not to sin. 

He wasn’t drunk enough.

He was far too lucid as he pounced on Lestat the second the front door clicked closed, and was the one to drag them, guide them up the stairs as they feverishly slipped their tongues and lips together, pushing each others’ clothes away from their bodies. If it was inevitable tonight, Louis didn’t want to fuck around with music boxes and glass tumblers of expensive whiskey and talk.

Lestat took him apart in his bed once more, yet Louis felt power in being the one to cause Lestat’s hands to tremble, to inspire Lestat’s worshipful kisses down his body, settling between Louis’s legs like a supplicant. 

Louis couldn’t deny his own hand in this, how powerfully he needed it to happen. As they merged together, Lestat at his throat and buried in his body, Louis coaxed Lestat to greater heights—harder thrusts, stronger pulls from his neck—chasing the exquisite joining and obliteration of isolation in his own body.

Louis’s lungs were heaving like a racehorse as he came down in the aftermath. Like before, Louis had the sensation they were of one mind as they stared, dazed, into each others’ eyes. Louis’s skin was a continuation of Lestat’s, and Lestat trailed a palm over his hip, an extension of himself. Lestat’s still-hard cock was Louis’s, sheathed deep within him; they shivered in unison as Louis squeezed down to stoke the pleasure again.

<<We should live like this forever,>> someone thought, and they agreed. 

—

And then it was morning.

The windows glowed lilac before sunrise. Louis stirred; he’d maybe had an hour of sleep, but he felt more alive than he had in years.

Reality hit him like a blow. 

He needed to learn how to cut all of this out of himself all over again.

“No,” Lestat rasped, coming awake with Louis's thoughts. <<Louis. Choose us. Choose us,>> he pleaded.

Louis curled away. They both groaned in pain, and Louis dug the heels of his hands into his eyes.

“Can’t.”

Lestat shifted to press his forehead to Louis’s shoulder blade. <<Then take me into your world. Don’t leave me here.>>

Louis froze. “What?”

“Louis. My dowry would eclipse your family’s fortune several times over.” He pressed a kiss to Louis’s spine, skated his knuckles down Louis’s ribs. “Give your mother one more son to keep her in the life to which she is accustomed. A stronger safety net for Paul. And you…the companion heart you have been longing for.”

Louis reached back to still Lestat’s hand, clasp it. “That’s not going to work here. I don’t know what you get up to in France? But you have to know that’s insane.”

Something about the sunrise felt urgent to Louis, but he pushed it from his mind. He turned in the bedsheets to face Lestat. He forgot what he was going to say as they cupped each other’s faces. 

“Say yes.”

“I— I don’t— The world doesn’t work like that.”

“You make me want to try.”

“What?”

“Louis,” Lestat murmured. “You know that money opens most doors. And you must know the things I can do—” a frisson of power washed over them, “—has depths unfamiliar to you. But more than those things, if we are for each other, we can have a life we neither of us could have dreamed of.

“I want to tell you a story, Louis. I was sworn to secrecy, and the man who demanded my oath would kill you if he learned of this. But I swear to protect you with my life. You see—I have witnessed the kind of life we want. It was on an island, far from here. I will tell you how we can have something like it and make a home.” He stroked his thumb over Louis’s cheekbone. “There is danger in this knowledge. The choice is yours.” Lestat hesitated, looking uncertain, hopeful. Desperate. “Do you want to know?”

“Lestat. I— What the fuck is wrong with your head.” 

—

Louis’s distantly related cousin was overjoyed to find a family relation in New Orleans. They regaled their usual fellow card players at the Fair Play of their chance discussion of their ancestors, and their excitement at discovering kin in front of them all along.

“To have a likeminded ancestor travel from Auvergne to the new world—no wonder the journey called to me,” Lestat reflected as he lost a round of poker lavishly. Tom knew he was being buttered up with the winnings, but was off-balance as to how to treat the burgeoning union before him. 

Tom didn’t care what kind of money this ridiculous fucking foreigner threw around, there wasn’t room at the societal table for du Lac to move up in the ranks. Fenwick, when he sobered up, was going to throw a shitfit, but for now he seemly dimly ambivalent.

<<I would rather have your support than your ambivalence, Tom,>> Lestat’s voice rang in his head. Tom felt a sense of vertigo as he noticed the sudden stillness of the other players, frozen in their movements. Du Lac and Lioncourt alone were animated, smoking their respective cigar and cigarette, regarding Tom the way he himself was used to appraising those who worked for him. How drunk was he?

<<We’re so glad that you know a good opportunity when you see it. And that you’ve decided to take us under your wing as we expand our interests in the city,>> Lestat’s voice continued, everywhere and nowhere at once. He ashed his cigarette and studied Tom with his eerie cold eyes. <<Your generous offer to sell us the Fair Play at such a bargain—well. It feels like the beginning of a beautiful friendship.>>

“Uh, yes,” Tom stuttered, knuckling an eye. He felt like he was in a dream. He’d always liked Lioncourt, and du Lac was a decent fellow. Seemed a shame not to cultivate a strong relationship there. “Happy to, happy to. I know a good opportunity when I see it. I’ve decided to take y’all under my wing as you expand your interests in the city.” Tom sniffed, absently felt for his tumbler of whiskey. 

“Feels like—well. To the beginning of a beautiful friendship,” Tom said, giving them a jaunty toast and draining his glass.

—

Louis absolutely refused for Lestat to use his tricks on his family. Anyone outside the house: fine. But not on his family.

“You’re doing what?” Florence’s polite voice could have frozen over hell. 

“Lestat will be moving in with us, Mama.” Louis perched on the edge of the sofa in the parlor. Lestat’s posture next to him was more relaxed, but Louis sensed his tension. Florence sat across from them. In Louis and Lestat’s planning for this, Lestat had insisted Louis was not truly asking for permission, and Louis agreed. They both knew they were lying to themselves. 

“We’re going to be working closely on a large business proposition over the next several years. Developments in the city,” Louis continued. He glanced to Lestat. “Lestat will be merging his fortune into ours.”

“Madam,” Lestat began, plucking an envelope from his inside suit pocket. “I have had my attorney make an accounting of my assets that will soon be at the du Lac family’s disposal. However, we would like your blessing.” Lestat offered her the envelope. “Does this meet with your approval?” 

Florence received the envelope as if she had been handed someone’s soiled handkerchief. And it smelled.

She delicately lifted up the flap and extracted the fine parchment. Florence tucked the envelope behind the document as she unfolded it and regarded the accounts.

Louis cut his eyes to Lestat. Narrowed them. No tricks, he willed Lestat to understand. Lestat gave him a tense smile in return. No tricks.

The silence was very long. Florence’s face was stone. Lestat imagined he saw a journey in her eyes as she made massive shifts to her priorities and sensibilities and tolerances. It was a breathtaking fortune after all.

“Well, then,” Florence intoned in her melodic voice as she returned the document to its envelope. “I’m sure Louis will make adequate accommodations for you in the carriage house. It’s been recently remodeled.” She tilted the envelope back to Lestat, and he took it. “Welcome to our home.”

“Oh, he won’t need the carriage house, Mama,” Louis smiled firmly. “We’ll be sharing my quarters. We’ll be working on a lot of business propositions. Wouldn’t want to disturb the household.”

Florence’s tight smile could have frozen over hell.

Paul glared at them from the hallway as if they’d just dipped communion wafers in dogshit. Louis gave him a hopeful smile. Lestat gave him a wink.

[lurkingshan]

Love for Love's Sake Episodes 7 & 8

Well holy shit, that went in some directions I never imagined, and it was very dark indeed. I can't believe this intriguing little show is already over. So let's unpack what happened here.

My interpretation of everything we learned in these final episodes is that Myungha already died by suicide in the real world after a series of hardships, including the death of his grandmother, a long-term struggle with depression, and rejection from his ex and his mother, and the author gave him a chance to live again in the game world. The ending suggests he will now stay in the game world with Yeowoon and get another chance at life where his core objective is to make himself happy, and any expectation we had that he would have to return to the real world is out the window, because his life there has already ended.

But what exactly is this game world? I don't think we'll ever fully know for sure. Certainly, the show did not explain the how of it, or tie together all the vignettes we saw of Myungha and the author discussing their philosophy on life in a clear throughline to how we got to the game. The game world was purportedly based on the author's fictional novel, but all along it has taken on the features of Myungha's real life, including all the significant people we saw in his first life flashbacks. His grandma is here, his mother is here, his ex is even here in the guise of Yeowoon's agent. Myungha's memories and consciousness seem to inform the way this world was built, even as he did not create it. The author is given the role of Creator, somehow designing this world for Myungha to try to find happiness via seeking to make someone with very similar experiences to his happy.

Now, on this point, I don't think everything that happened in the original iteration of the game totally holds up. The way the author was messing with Myungha and forcing cruel choices on him really does not track with a desire to help him find happiness, and the point where Yeowoon seems to discover the game and somehow intervene to pull Myungha back in was lacking some clarity. And I wish the show had grounded us in Myungha's experiences earlier on rather than holding everything back for the sake of mystery--I do think that choice got in the way of a more coherent emotional arc for our protagonist.

But despite those quibbles, I still was able to connect with Myungha's struggles. This is a boy who has been so mired in his own misery that he doesn't know how to let anyone else in. He is too afraid to trust and let someone care for him in the way he cares for others. I wanted to reach through the screen and strangle him when his own emotional paralysis caused him to destroy the game--Yeowoon was telling him exactly what he needed, but he couldn't find the strength within himself to give it to him. And this is why knowing Yeowoon is exactly what he needed to see a different path for himself, because Yeowoon has experienced many of the same hurts but still finds within himself the ability to trust and rely on Myungha. Yeowoon is the stronger of the two of them, and Myungha needed to learn from him to overcome his own cowardice. Their happy reunion in the game world felt earned, and I believe in Myungha's ability to try again at both life and this relationship without holding back this time.

This show definitely wasn't perfect, but it really did some interesting things and left us with a lot to think about. I am looking forward to reading everyone else's interpretations of these final episodes, and Myungha and Yeowoon will be staying with me for a long time.

[neeweekeewee]

HEALER FATESPEAKER AU

An alternate universe where Fatespeaker becomes a healer and a therapist at Jade Mountain Academy. Due to her having weak mind reading abilities, she is considered to be an empath. When she arrived at the Night Kingdom, she was overwhelmed with sadness over seeing the condition of her tribemates, feeling helpless that she couldn’t do anything to help alleviate them of their injuries, diseases, and emotional misery. After Flame gets injured by Viper’s venomous tail barb, she becomes extremely distraught and full of grief over his life threatening injury. She would check on him periodically when she wasn’t helping Starflight. She became interested in healing when she was watching the healers do their work. While in the rainforest, she was was overwhelmed with fear, grief, and helplessness over Starflight’s injuries. She promised herself that she would anything she could to save those around her, so that she never feels helpless again. Since a whole other tribe is now living in the rainforest, the RainWing healers needed extra help. She was brought on as an apprentice to help out the healers with the sudden influx of patients. Due to her weak mind reading ability, she can sense emotions of the patients around her. She is a natural at healing due to her sheer passion and interest to learn and her bubbly and extroverted personality. She feels as though she has found her calling. She was proud to forge her own path and not be just a “back up Dragonet of Destiny”. There were already Dragonets of Destiny. And they were good enough. She was glad to be helping dragons and saving lives in a different way.

Flame is the first to wake up from his injury, he is still very weak from the potency of the venom. Fatespeaker comes to care for him. He is hostile and skeptical at first, refusing to let her touch him and told her to get away from him. Due to how busy the healer hut was, no one was available to help dress his wounds. He watched Fatespeaker care for other patients. He sees how sweet, bubbly, and energetic she is with them. It’s almost as if she’s able to sense their pain and negative emotions without them even saying anything or showing it. She was running in every direction, attending to every patient as quickly as she could, which was much quicker than all of the other healers. Flame’s wound was becoming more and more painful until he was writhing in his bed in agony. Fatespeaker immediately responds, not able to handle feeling his misery anymore. He continues to act extremely rude to her which finally makes her snap at him, saying: “I have never once said anything nasty or bad about you. I have always treated you kindly even when you were rude or when you would call me names. For moon’s sake can you just be kind to me for one day?” “I can tell you’re in a lot of pain, there is no other healer available right now so you’re stuck with me. Even though you are a really rude dragon, I cannot stand to see you suffer like this, just clamp your jaws shut and let me do my job.”

Surprised by her firmness in her tone and the tears in her eyes, he listens to her. He started feeling guilty for treating her with disrespect for so long, realizing that she was never once rude to him or even muttered a negative comment about him.

After coming to this realization, he started being more kind to her; allowing her to dress his wound and check up on him. The healer hut was often boring, he started to miss his mother quite a ton. When Fatespeaker would sense his deep loneliness, she would often stop by to keep him company. Even when she was super busy, if she sensed that Flame was upset in any way, she would come to help cheer him up. This helped build a close bond between them both. They started making inside jokes, and having long conversations when Fatespeaker had a break. Flame started missing her badly when she wasn’t around, especially at night. He would even get jealous when other patients got more attention than he did, especially when it came to Starflight, who was still unconscious at the time. Fatespeaker wasn’t oblivious to this, since she could sense his jealousy. She felt giddy inside for some reason that someone wanted her attention so badly. No dragon has ever had feelings for her before. It also warmed her heart that she finally built a bond with one of the members of her group and that her care had been helping heal their wound.

The moment Flame knew he loved Fatespeaker was when his mother came to visit him during his stay at the healer’s hut. She thanked Fatespeaker relentlessly for nursing him back to health. The two hit it off very well, talking for hours it seemed.

The moment Fatespeaker knew she loved Flame was when he became interested in her field of work after she nursed him back to health. He became her assistant healer. He also tried his best to work on his temper because he knows she doesn’t like it.

When Starflight woke up, he was bewildered to find out that Flame was working beside Fatespeaker to help heal him.

After the end of the war, Flame and Fatespeaker were the healers and therapists for the students. Occasionally, they travel to other tribes to help out. Flame is also a part time student to learn better skills on tolerance of other tribes.

[audible-smiles]

So, I think I may have accidentally found the worst book ever written by a human being.

I don't know if you guys have ever heard of Savitri Devi; she was a Hitler stan who moved from Greece to India, got really excited about "Aryan" racial mythology, changed her name, and tried to fuse Nazism with Hinduism. A lot of her ideology is patently absurd (e.g. Hitler is an avatar of Vishnu), but none of it is funny because she spent her entire life actively trying to build a coalition of the most violently racist people you can imagine. Hindutva paramilitary groups, American neo-Nazis, early ecofascists; you name them, she probably went to their meetings and wrote propaganda for them.

So, knowing this, it makes one feel particularly deranged to learn that she also wrote fiction about- and from the POV of- her many cats.

The book in question is called Long-Whiskers and the Two-Legged Goddess, or The True Story of a "most objectionable Nazi" and half-a-dozen Cats.

Published in 1965, this text features a protagonist named "Heliodora", who Devi admits in the introduction is just her lightly fictionalized self-insert. In the beginning Heliodora heroically rescues a stray kitten and its mother, but then the narrative grinds to a halt to explain the weird racial theories that brought her to India, before it picks right back up with the cat fancying. Here is an excerpt that may convey a little of how jarring these transitions can be:

"An unexpected thought crossed Heliodora’s mind, like a flash of lightning: “Had I gone to Europe in 1939, or even in 1940, 1 should not have had this lovely creature, nor, in fact, any of these cats to which I have given a home. They probably all would have been dead, by now — would have died of misery, in some gutter, without love, poor beautiful felines!” And a strange question followed that thought: “Was it for them that I was fated to remain here?” She knew the thought was a nonsensical one and the question too. For of what account was the life and happiness of any creatures, nay, of any human beings, including her own, compared with the Service of the Aryan Reich and of the Cause of truth?

It is all. Fucking. Like This. There are grim descriptions of feline suffering contrasted with long, ecstatic descriptions of her cats learning to trust the only nice human in the world (her). There are passages on the virtue of vegetarianism and the evils of (especially Kosher) slaughterhouses. She thinks it's a great idea to do medical experiments on criminals rather than animals! She thinks kids who throw rocks at cats should have their hands cut off! She starts chapters with direct quotes from Mein Kampf! When her favorite cat runs away she writes the (fully imaginary) story of his adventures on the streets, including him having cat sex. Here is the cat sex:

"The coquettish she-cat jumped up and ran away, only to stop again some twenty yards further and again to roll in the grass, calling for love, — and again to ran away as soon as the lover was about to take her. At last, however, — after many an unsuccessful leap and further and further galloping in the moonshine, Long- whiskers overcame her faked resistance and possessed her. He forgot himself, and she — his black silky panther — forgot herself. Their individualities ceased for a while to exist, and in him, the eternal He-Cat, Creator and Lord of everything, and in her, the co-eternal, sphinx-like, dark Feline Mother, Lady of all Life, once more mingled their opposite polarities and took consciousness of their double Godhead, as they had been doing for millions and millions of years. And once more the divine spark — the Creative Lightning — flashed through their furry bodies, and the daily miracle took place: there was life in the female’s womb."

Sooooo......anyway...........the lost cat finds its way back to her, but has caught feline distemper and dies in her arms, but then he is REINCARNATED IN ENGLAND, as a kitten in a decent (white) home where his family loves him. Heliodora is coincidentally going back to Europe at this time (she lists her religion as "national socialist" on the travel paperwork), which means we get pages and pages of her obsessing over every 'misstep' in the war, and Germany's tragic loss, but more importantly, she meets a random cat and he is (unknown to her), the reincarnation of her beloved Long-whiskers, the Cat Who Fucked. She sees that he's well-fed and happy and is like "I finally understand why Hitler was so nice to the British; they treat cats well so I guess they're Aryan too". I am not making any of this up:

“They have poured streams of fire over Germany; betrayed their own race; identified themselves with its worst enemies ...”

“Prrr, prrr, prrr,” purred back the cat; “that is because they had been (as they are still being) misled, deceived. But one day they shall wake up from their delusion, tum against their bad shepherds, and help the people of their own blood to build up a new Europe — the very Europe of your dreams, in which we creatures will all be happy — for they are good people at heart; good people like Aryans generally are, taken as a whole. Prrr, prrr, prrr . . . The proof of it is that they have taken such good care of me! Prrrrrrrrr . . .”

This version of her cat grows old and dies. Meanwhile, Heliodora is arrested and imprisoned for distributing Nazi propaganda. When she gets out, she meets the reincarnation of a different cat she had left behind in India. (All of her cats want to find her again after death because they love her so very much.) In between her banal, mundane descriptions of caring for this new cat, she describes her various arrests, interrogations, and brief periods of imprisonment. And then she moves, gives that cat away and gets another fucking cat. It is at this point where I completely lose track of which cat is meant to be the reincarnation of which other cat; this woman goes through cats like potato chips. She says she doesn't even love them as individuals, but as one piece of "the intangible Essence of Catdom", so I guess it doesn't fucking matter whether I know their names or not.

This woman's primary thesis is "human suffering doesn't matter, only animal suffering matters" and she beats it into the ground. Her secondary thesis is that national socialism is the one true religion and will save the world. Not only is this a deeply self-obsessed, morally incoherent, grotesque piece of writing, it is also boring as hell. It's half stories about how people who are mean to animals all deserve to get murdered, and half a travelogue where the protagonist goes on screeds about race-mixing every time she visits a new city. While you're reading it you feel as if time has stopped, and you will be stuck reading this terrible book for the rest of your life. All she knows how to do is repeat her two ideas over and over again. Honestly, it reads like heavy-handed satire of a very specific type of white woman. Heliodora wears golden swastika earrings.

I'm exhausted. Never read this book.

[the-obnoxious-sibling]

birthday countdown 2024, day 5: rescue snippet

the birthday countdown continues to tick down! today, i have for you a beckman pov scene in need of a fic; the scrivener document title is “this belongs in a plottier story,” and i stand by that description:

Giving Shanks a look somewhere between misery and murder, Buggy mutters, “You have no idea what it's like.” “Mm, I don't know… people having a lot of undeserved expectations sounds pretty familiar to me.”  Shanks moves to fidget with the brim of a hat that he no longer owns. “Oh come on,” Buggy scoffs. “I mean it!  I was—Buggy, I was a child when the captain gave me that hat.  I wasn’t an exceptional pirate, or a prodigious fighter, or anything like that.  He didn’t give it to me to declare me his heir, he gave it to me because I was a kid on his ship, who thought his hat looked cool, and asked if I could wear it.”  A wry smile on his face, Shanks says, “The difference between me and you is I learned how to work around expectations, instead of being dragged in their wake.” “There are way more differences between us than just that,” Buggy mutters.  “Like number of functioning arms.  Or braincells.” “Oh, yeah,” Shanks says, faux-thoughtfully.  Beckman quietly braces himself.  Buggy bristles; he clearly recognizes that tone too.  “Underwater, I guess I do have more of those than you.”

(1.3k below the cut)

Beckman is in an early morning meeting with his captain, another in a long line of meetings with not a smile to be seen—not with so many big names anchored close by, their men cohabitating, waiting for a decision to be made—when a faint cry from on deck has Shanks shooting upright in his chair.  He turns an eye in that direction, his unerring observation haki telling him something that alarms him.

Beckman casts his own senses that way.  It feels like conflict between a couple low-level crewmen, with one gone overboard.  Concerning, but nothing serious enough to warrant Shanks’ personal intervention… but Beckman hasn’t been first mate of the Red-Haired Pirates this long for no reason.  When Shanks runs out of the room, calling over his shoulder, “Get Yasopp and a life preserver—actually, make it two—port side, as fast as you can,” Beckman’s already on his feet, doubting that they’ll make it in time.

Luckily Yasopp is quick to find—he prefers to be at the highest point of the ship when they have strangers on board, keeping an eagle eye on enemies and friends alike, and by his frown he has more of an idea of what's happened than Beckman.  Luckily Beckman just finished orienting new crew on the places where they store safety supplies, so the life preservers aren't blocked off and hidden by the barrels of supplies they brought on the day before last.  Luckily Shanks left a trail of his discarded cape and sandals that's easy to follow, easier still when it ends in a pair of foam-mouthed crewmen collapsed against a wall.

Beckman hears the quiet plup of a diver with excellent form entering the waters below without a hint of a splash, and leans over the railing to see a faint pale sliver of a figure swimming down, down, and away…

Yasopp measures the wind, hefts each life preserver consideringly, and nods.  “When he surfaces, I'll be ready,” he says.  “You go ahead, get those two out of sight.”

Beckman nods.  Whatever these men did, it riled Shanks up enough to use conqueror’s haki on his own crew.  It's worth a private interrogation, if nothing else.  Without saying a word, he hefts one over either shoulder and strolls back across the deck.  And if any of their guests notice, and pass word along to their home ships… that’s one less thing for Beckman to deal with.

“Well?” Shanks asks when Beckman returns to the main deck, not quite half an hour later.  He's ruffling a towel through his hair, which is going to dry in awful salt spikes later, but he appears, essentially, fine.  You'd never guess by looking at him that he'd gone in the water for anything more than a passing fancy.

His rescuee, on the other hand, is a miserable, bruised, half-drowned rat of a man.  His disembodied hands wring seawater out of his clothes and back into the ocean as he shivers under three oversized towels, but the glare on Buggy the Star Clown’s face would almost make you think Shanks had been the one to push him overboard.

“Spies for Blackbeard,” Beckman says.  Shanks frowns.  Disappointed, but unsurprised.  “Apparently Buggy caught them at it and attempted to blackmail them rather than turn them in.”  Buggy scoffs under his breath.  “They knocked him out and tossed him over the side of the ship, intending to claim he'd made an escape by—”

“I know what they intended,” Shanks says.  His chipper demeanor is long gone.  “Buggy, how did you spot them?”

Buggy scoffs again—or maybe coughs, his voice is so hoarse with saltwater that it's hard to tell.  “I didn't!  Those idiots assumed I was one of them, and came around to brag about how much progress they'd made in getting close to you.”  He coughed again, turning to hack a wad of phlegm overboard.  “The disrespect!  As if the Genius Jester Buggy would ever deign to work for that overgrown weasel.”

Shanks stays quiet; on a hunch, Beckman follows his lead.

“And of course the spies decided that I had intentionally tricked them into revealing themselves,” Buggy continues to rant, “and that I must have done so to blackmail them into handing over Blackbeard’s secrets, which outraged and offended them so much that before I could split myself they were beating on me until I blacked out.”  He rubs at a bruise-dark temple gingerly, then says, “I woke up just as they were hefting me overboard.”

A faint hint of a smile curls the corner of Shanks’ mouth.  “Things like this really do just happen to you, don't they?”

Gesturing expansively, Buggy says, “They really do!  People assume all sorts of shit about me, and whether I want to go along with it or not they don't let me get a word in edgewise, and then before you know it I'm a Warlord! or an Emperor! with no actual power to back up my position!”  Giving Shanks a look somewhere between misery and murder, he mutters, “You have no idea what it's like.”

“Mm, I don't know… people having a lot of undeserved expectations sounds pretty familiar to me.”  Shanks moves to fidget with the brim of a hat that he no longer owns.

“Oh come on,” Buggy scoffs.

“I mean it!  I was—Buggy, I was a child when the captain gave me that hat.  I wasn’t an exceptional pirate, or a prodigious fighter, or anything like that.  He didn’t give it to me to declare me his heir, he gave it to me because I was a kid on his ship, who thought his hat looked cool, and asked if I could wear it.”  A wry smile on his face, Shanks says, “The difference between me and you is I learned how to work around expectations, instead of being dragged in their wake.”

“There are way more differences between us than just that,” Buggy mutters.  “Like number of functioning arms.  Or braincells.”

“Oh, yeah,” Shanks says, faux-thoughtfully.  Beckman quietly braces himself.  Buggy bristles; he clearly recognizes that tone too.  “Underwater, I guess I do have more of those than you.”

“Barely!”  Buggy snaps.  Beckman takes the opportunity to grab the clothing Buggy had started to neglect during this conversation and pass it along to a crewman already headed for to the laundry.  He has a feeling Buggy’s charming personality won’t become more bearable if he drops his only outfit overboard while he’s distracted.  “And who the hell asked you to anyway?!  You’ve got a ship full of people who obey your orders, supposedly, why didn’t one of them, with the proper number of arms for rescue swimming, pull me out?!”

Shanks blinks.  “What do you mean, ‘who the hell asked me to?’  You asked me to.”

Buggy blinks.  Then blushes.

Yes, Beckman realizes, thinking back, that cry that first drew Shanks’ attention had sounded a bit like his name.

“I—that was—“ Buggy visibly fails to think of another word he could have possibly said in that moment.  He snatches away Shanks’ towel to bury his head under it and sigh, “An old reflex.”

Shanks crouches down, taking the towel back and running it over Buggy’s hair with more care than he’d given his own.  “After all this time, you still trust me to keep you from drowning.”  He waits for Buggy to look at him before saying, “How could I do anything less than honor that trust?”

Beckman feels, far from the first time, like he's interrupting something here.  The last time he’d asked, Shanks had just laughed.  Which was, he’d thought at the time, a very roundabout but unambiguous answer to the question.  Looking at Buggy’s face now, Beckman thinks he understands why.  Whatever it is he’s interrupting here, Buggy is aware of it too, and he’s terrified of it.

Poor Shanks.

[thefrogdalorian]

The Best of Both Worlds: Chapter Ten

Din Djarin x Female Reader Modern!AU

❁ Series Masterlist ❁ My Masterlist ❁ Read on AO3 ❁

Word Count:  9833 Rating: MATURE (18+ MDNI) Summary: The realities of the secret he is keeping from you begin to weigh heavily on Din's mind and he seeks advice from a certain curly haired co-star on what his next move should be. Things don't go exactly according to plan, not least because of the typically awful English weather... Content Warnings: Alcohol consumption, reader passes out from drinking too much and Din lifts her up (But made clear how strong/athletic he is, I struggle to imagine it for myself anyway!). Smut (non explicit, a lot of implied action but it gets a little steamy). Author's Note: Thanks for being patient while waiting for this one! It took longer than I hoped to publish it becaus I wanted to get it juuuust right as this wis a very important chapter for Din and Sunflower. I'd love to know what you think of his decision.... 👀

10. There's A War Inside Of Me - (Din's POV)

Din Djarin was in a bind. A terrible bind. Since meeting you, he had weaved a web of half-truths. The unbelievable, ridiculous set of events that had introduced you into his life had led him to this position: ensnared in the centre of a tangle torrid of lies that formed a web of his own making. Din knew that the position was becoming untenable. But he did not have the faintest idea of where to even begin to untangle himself. All Din knew for certain was that every second that the lie continued brought fresh agony to his anguished soul. 

The misery of not being in your presence was only compounded by the knowledge that you did not truly know who he was. 

Things did not get any better when Din spent time with you. Every time Din was with you, he feared that the truth would inadvertently slip out somehow and the secret he was keeping from you would be revealed. His fears were well-founded as, throughout the short time you had been dating, there had already been several close shaves. Moments when Din had come precariously close to having his cover blown.

Like on that night in the hotel when a bottle of champagne had almost brought everything crashing down around him…

✯✯✯

Din watched in horror as you raised the bottle in his direction when he entered your suite, after briefly leaving you alone to check on Kuiil and Grogu. His astonishment was not merely because you had, somehow, gotten your hands on more alcohol. It was directed in equal measure towards the little gold envelope you were clutching in your hand. 

“Din!” You shrieked. Din was completely bemused by how your previously sober – or at least sobering-up self – had been replaced by the giddy, giggly girl from the noodle shop. 

“They knocked on my door and gave me a bottle of champagne! Me! A bottle of champagne! Can you believe that?” You giggled breathlessly. “They gave me this envelope too, addressed to some guy called Jim Freeman! How funny is that? Do I look like my name is Jim Freeman?”

Din still stood there by the door, unmoving, rooted to the spot. You had realised, he knew it. You knew exactly who the man bearing that name was. It was the final piece of the puzzle which had led to you figuring out Din’s true identity. He knew with absolute certainty you were about to confront him about the secret he had been hiding from you. He braced himself for everything to come crashing down around him. When it did not, and you took another swig from the enormous bottle, Din employed his most convincing tone and attempted to steer you away from your current train of thought. 

“That’s pretty funny, Sunflower,” Din said with a nervous, awkward chuckle.

“It is!” You giggled. “It’s really funny. Did you know that the guy who created my favourite show has the same name?” You slurred, swaying slightly. There it was. Despite your alcohol-addled brain, you still remembered who the creator of The Mandalorian was. Din briefly tensed up, waiting for that particular train of thought to continue. When it didn’t, he felt himself relax as he realised that your drunken brain was too foggy to piece together the implications. Yet, Din was not yet out of the woods. When you spoke again, his blood ran cold. 

 “Wait!” You exclaimed, eyes widening as though a lightbulb had just switched on in your mind. “Do you know him? Is Jim Freeman your boss?” 

“No, he’s not my boss. It must be a common name. Perhaps they got the wrong room,” Din said quickly, hoping you wouldn’t press it further. He looked around the room, frantic for a distraction for your inebriated mind, which shouldn’t prove too difficult, considering how far gone you were. Din noticed a door leading away from the main room of the suite, giving him the perfect opportunity to change the subject. “Have you seen the bathroom yet?”

“No!” You squealed delightedly.

“Come on, Sunflower,” Din smiled, extending his hand to you. “I’ll show you the bathroom. It’s incredible, it even has a hot tub!”

Din felt himself relax a little as you grabbed his hand and followed him into the bathroom, squealing with delight at the promise of the luxuries which lay beyond the door. He hoped that in your intoxicated state, you had put down an envelope addressed to the writer of your favourite TV show sharing a name to mere coincidence. Of course, it wasn’t a coincidence at all. Din always asked Fennec to book hotels using Jim’s name. He didn’t have much longer to fret about it, though, distracted by your drunken antics as you clambered into the hot tub, fully clothed.

When Din had finally convinced you to dress in the swimsuit you had packed and joined you in the water, he delighted in the enthusiastic way you grabbed him and kissed him as the two of you sloshed around in the hot tub. The intimate moment certainly helped to put his mind at ease, though he did not allow things to escalate much further given your vulnerable state.

During a break in your slightly sloppy make-out session, Din watched, dumbfounded, as you clapped your unsteady hands against his jaw, cradling it in your hands. 

“You know, Din. You’re sooooo nice and kind, just like my favourite character Mando!” You giggled, clearly finding yourself hilarious without any idea of just how much your words terrified the man at your side. You sighed, staring at him contemplatively, and added, after a hiccup: “You kind of remind me of him.”

Din trembled with fear, despite the temperature of the water, as the implications of your words sunk in. He fretted that somehow, you had noticed the similarities. That even underneath the armour, with a distorted voice, he had failed to conceal his mannerisms once out of it well enough to fool you. Of course he had, you loved the show passionately. He should have foreseen this moment. He should have been honest from the beginning.

Mercifully, before Din could panic any further, he watched silently – with a stunned expression on his face – as you moved your hands from his cheeks down to his shoulders.

“And LOOK! Look at these broad shoulders!” You said, stroking his shoulders with a sleepy smile on your face. “So strong! You’re so strong, Din,” you slurred, before curling yourself into Din’s side and leaning down to rest your head on one of the shoulders that you apparently so admired. Then, you promptly fell asleep there, alerting Din to the fact when you began snoring loudly.

Din sat there, utterly baffled at the events which had just unfolded. At first, he panicked that you were making some kind of profound comparison between him and the character. As he considered it further, it seemed much more likely that it was your drunken ramblings, brought about due to your crush on Mando. Despite how far gone you were due to the baijiu and champagne, you had come terrifyingly close to the truth. You would never know just how correct you were.

Once he had ascertained that you were out for the count, Din realised that he needed to move you to bed. He sighed as he disentangled himself from your embrace and climbed out of the hot tub. Din scooped you up in his strong arms and was thankful that he adhered to such a strict exercise regime, perfect for lifting the dead weight of an adult human, passed out in a drunken stupor. Din laid you on the bed and towelled you off gently, before carefully tucking you under the crisp sheets. He dropped a gentle kiss on your forehead, before standing back and gazing at you sleeping soundly, blissfully unaware of the inner turmoil that your words had provoked within him. Din’s heart contorted in pain, as he realised his predicament. Tonight, a line had been crossed. Din knew that he had finally lied to you for the first time. How could he ever look into your eyes again? Your sweet innocent eyes, which gazed at him with so much devotion and admiration. If you knew who he truly was, the secret he was hiding from you, could you ever love him?

After Din left your room, he had lain awake for hours, tossing and turning in the luxurious suite next to yours as Grogu slept soundly in a travel cot by his bed. He couldn’t help but worry about the implications of the night, of the lie. The words he had said due to the golden envelope with Jim’s name on it. Din fretted about what would happen if you ever connected the dots in a way more profound than your drunken admiration of his shoulders. Would he lose you forever?

Din tried to push those depressing thoughts far from his mind as he looked at the little boy who was sleeping soundly by his side. He hoped for both of their sakes that he hadn’t blown it with you. That Din had been able to successfully explain the name away to your tipsy self. Din loved spending time in your company. He was stunned by how natural things felt with you already. Since meeting you, he had felt freer within himself than he had for a long, long time.

If he had ruined things with you, Din Djarin knew that he would never forgive himself.

✯✯✯

The following week, however, it appeared that Din had not ruined anything. Far from it, in fact, if the fact that he was currently making out with you on your couch was any indication. Din’s lips were pressed against yours while your fingers tangled in his hair and lightly scratched his scalp as Din explored your mouth and face with his kisses. He felt himself grow hard when you panted into his ear and asked him whether he wanted to take this to your room. It was a question that only had one reply.

As Din followed you to your room, he grinned as he felt your hand in his, leading him to the place where he hoped your relationship would finally reach a new level. Finally, it seemed that Din would have the opportunity to show you how attracted he was to you, to show you how much you meant to him. His pulse rate quickened as he thought about how he would get to explore every inch of your body with his lips and convey how much he adored you with something more than his words. He thought back to how frustrated he had been that night in the hot tub, when you had been so close to him wearing so little. It had been the sweetest torture. Tonight had been torture of a different kind. Feeling your body so close to his as the two of you had been gradually getting closer to each other as you cuddled and watched a movie. Din had been patiently waiting for you to make some kind of move, some suggestion to take things up a notch. Now that you had, it seemed that he would finally have his chance to worship your body the way he had wanted to since he had first laid eyes upon you. Din couldn’t believe how beautiful you were, how right it felt when he held you in his arms. He couldn’t believe he was lucky enough to get close to you. If the man who first laid eyes upon you at the convention could see himself now, Din knew that he would scarcely believe how lucky he was. 

Now, Din was achingly close to having you all to himself as you guided him to your room. To your bed.

Din could barely contain himself when you whined into his ear, begging for him. Especially when you took the lead and pushed him up against the door, searching his mouth desperately with your tongue. The feeling as your hands snaked underneath his shirt and roamed across his skin was intoxicating, every inch of his skin was on fire.

He threw his head back against the door in ecstasy, euphoric at your gentle touch. When Din’s eyes briefly flickered open again, he glimpsed it. He knew immediately what it was. He immediately seized up in fear, hoping for one, brief moment that he had been mistaken and the two of you could continue along to where Din’s mind and body was screaming at him to take this. Unfortunately, as the endorphins left his body, Din accepted exactly what – or, rather, who – the poster depicted. He recognised the pose with an intimacy that only the man who had served as the model for the artwork would know. 

It was as though Din was staring into some kind of horrifying, twisted mirror, and seeing his own reflection. He stared in horror at the enormous figure of Mando, looming over the bed. Your bed. The image of himself towering there, omniscient, omnipresent and watching the two of you embracing almost sickened him to his stomach. It felt as though Din, as Mando, was judging himself from behind that dark visor. It was a bizarre, out of body experience. 

Din felt a sharp stab of pain, as though he had been winded in a stunt gone wrong. He was instantly transported to the time during the filming of season one, when he had been punched in the ribs after an actor had accidentally struck a gap between his plates of beskar. Just as it had been back then, all the air had been knocked out of Din’s lungs when he looked up above your bed and saw the poster you hung there. The effigy of himself, of the character he portrayed, known to millions of people around the world – including you – hanging there, right above where he wanted to take you. Din knew he couldn’t make love to you underneath a poster of himself. That would be sick and twisted. The thought of the black t-visor boring down at him, staring at him judgmentally as he took you on the bed… it was sickening.

It was then that he had pulled away and ran away, like a coward, rather than telling you the truth…

✯✯✯

Things had not gotten any easier for Din in the days that had followed since that evening in your bedroom. His soul was as anguished as ever, as he realised the precariousness of his situation. It had taken all of his strength and experience to make it to the end of another week of filming. Between takes, however, his mind wandered as he fretted about what to do, about where to even begin, were he to tell you the truth. 

Events from that night at your flat in particular had been weighing heavily on Din’s mind. It wasn’t as though Din had ever been in the dark about your love for the show that he was the star of, but seeing an image of himself in your bedroom, right above your bed, had rocked him to his core. It had made him realise what a dangerous position he had put himself in by being reckless and exploring a relationship with you. The worst thing was how much he cared for you. He was at constant war with himself, wondering how he dared to have the right to say he cared for you after the way he had purposefully hidden something from you. After he had lied to you.

Of course, when he thought of that night, Din was frustrated at how close the two of you had finally been to taking your relationship to another level, only to be stopped short by unforeseen circumstances. That frustration paled in comparison to how terrible Din felt at the thought of how personally you might have taken the interaction. 

He had tried to make it clear that his reason for backing away was not because he didn’t want you or was not attracted to you. Din knew that if you knew some of the ways he thought about you, you would never think such a thing. It broke his heart to think that you may have ever considered such a terrible thing to be true, when in reality, he wanted you more than anything.

Din ran, in part, because seeing the image of a version of himself staring back at him – a character that you loved and had passionately defended that day at the convention – freaked him out due to its looming presence over your bed. He also ran because seeing that poster was a stark reminder of the secret he was hiding from you. Din realised that he could not in good conscience take things any further without first being honest with you about who he really was. 

Lying to you was one thing, a matter he still bitterly regretted but actually falling into bed with you without having first had the guts to tell you the truth about the secret he had been keeping from you? Well, that would feel, to Din, like a betrayal of you. So, despite how much Din had ached to stay and allow himself to fall in bed with you, the pang of terror that he felt as the steely, unrelenting gaze of his own T-visor stared back at him had sent him running for the hills.

Try as he might to push it from his mind and distract himself with filming and taking care of Grogu, thoughts of that night and his near-betrayal of you continued to feature prominently in Din’s mind, even when he was on set. Between takes, he would think of how he was going to cut himself free from the tangle of lies he had weaved for himself.

Every scenario that he ran through in his mind of how to move forward seemed to have some downside. There was to be no way out of this particular predicament. A real bind, in every sense. 

Din was in an incredibly difficult position. Albeit one that he had only himself to blame for putting himself in. He knew at the time that pursuing something with you, even after he knew how big of a fan of Mando you were, was probably not the smartest idea. Yet, not having you in his life was unthinkable. You had bowled him over with your attentiveness, your intelligence and your kindness towards Grogu. Just being yourself had caused the ordinarily stoic and composed man, a trained warrior, to lose all rational thought. His Sunflower, his beautiful Sunflower, had brought so much vibrancy to his life. 

It was better to tell you the truth before you figured it out yourself. Din knew that if he left it too long and you figured out who he was before he had told you, it might hurt you. He had already had more than enough close shaves. There had been a couple of occasions when things had gotten too close for comfort for Din’s liking, especially for a man who always liked to be in control.

It wasn’t just the envelope that had brought you dangerously close to uncovering the truth that night in the hotel. There was the other moment when the two of you were splashing around in the hot tub. He remembered how you had insisted that he reminded you of Mando. It was more of a comparison to his physical attributes, rather than any concrete theories. But still, Din had panicked, frantically wondering whether the bottle of champagne that had been delivered in Jim’s name had made something click for you. He tried his best to maintain an air of calmness outwardly, while inside, Din was frantic that you hadn’t been in an entirely drunken stupor when he explained the name away. 

Mercifully, the following morning when you woke up, Din discovered that you had been so out of it that you hadn’t even remembered whether you had slept together and had been utterly convinced that you had gone to the spa. If you couldn’t remember those two things, there was no way you remembered the envelope or the comments you made to him in the hot tub. It had been too close for comfort, but you had not brought it up on subsequent dates and it seemed that it was long out of your mind.

Din wondered if these close calls, the way you had unknowingly come close to uncovering the truth, had perhaps been a sign that he needed to be honest with you. He considered how, if your hands had roamed just a little lower than merely his stomach when the two of you were kissing in your bedroom, things would have passed a point of no return. Din wanted you so badly that he was sure that even having seen the poster, he would have been left with no choice but to stay with you. To finally get close to you and feel your body against his, without any barriers. Just the two of you, finally becoming one. 

Perhaps it was for the best then, that he had spied the poster when he did. That there was possibly a hint of hesitancy in your ministrations which had bought him some time. Instead of focusing on his frustration, Din wondered whether he should be grateful that events had played out the way that they had. He would never be grateful that he had pushed you away and upset you, of course. But perhaps this was the wake up call he needed, an opportunity he should seize as now, he had no choice but to address his bizarre behaviour. 

But every time he imagined himself telling you the truth, Din felt himself trembling with nerves, in stark contrast to his usual stoic nature. He wondered how he would ever get the words out, how to even begin to tell you the truth. It was such a ridiculous, unimaginable predicament that someone as ordinarily calculating and meticulous as Din had gotten himself into. 

It didn’t help that he could not shake you from his mind, either. 

No matter how hard he tried, visions of your face would not stop flickering through his mind. Even when he was not with you, Din longed for your presence, to feel you close to him. To press more kisses against your soft lips and traverse your soft skin with his hands. He could not stop thinking about you, no matter how hard he tried. Not when he was on set, or alone at home with Grogu, or lying awake at night. You were all that was on his mind.

✯✯✯

Somehow, despite how distracted Din had been, he had successfully made it through another week of filming The Mandalorian without another disastrous day like the one he had after encountering you at the museum when he had been sent for an early lunch. Well, almost made it through. It was Friday lunchtime on set and Din found himself sitting alone in his trailer with only his racing thoughts for company. The silence gave him an opportunity to quietly contemplate his next move. It was a warm summer's day, so Iggy had taken Grogu to a local park to get some fresh air so the little boy wasn’t cooped up in the studio all day. In his absence, Din felt his emotions all the more strongly, with no one there to distract him from fretting about how he was ever going to tell you the truth. 

At the peak of his despondency, there was a knock at the door. Din placed his helmet atop his head and padded across the room, and discovered a certain eccentric, curly-haired co-star at the door. 

“Heard Grogu wasn’t around, figured you might want some company,” Peli offered as she marched across the room and took a seat on the plush sofa. 

“Thanks, Peli,” Din nodded, before taking a seat next to her. He sighed. Din was grateful for her presence, the distraction she would provide from his anguish, but he was struggling to keep his emotions in check.

“You seem a little stressed,” Peli noted.

Din shrugged. He wasn’t always the most skilled at talking about his feelings, especially not with someone who could be as abrasive as Peli.

“How are things going with your girl, Mando?” Peli asked. If Din had been able to drink the coffee that he had been sipping before Peli had entered the room in her presence instead of needing to hide his face behind a helmet after she entered, he was sure he would have spat it all over her.

“I… uh, fine,” Din stuttered.

“You don’t sound so sure,” Peli said, raising an eyebrow.

“No, things are great. She’s great. Fantastic, intelligent, beautiful. So funny and caring towards Grogu. It’s just… me,” Din sighed. 

“Why? Did something happen?” Peli asked, her voice full of sympathy.

“I haven’t told her the truth, Peli,” Din admitted. “I can’t, I’m too afraid of losing her. But I fear if I don’t soon, I might push her away.”

Din elected to omit the steamier details of just how and why he had ended up in your room, knowing that Peli would never let him live it down otherwise. He could already imagine all the ways she would tease him, so he continued with his retelling of events, minus the salacious details:

“I was at her flat last weekend. We were having a lovely evening but then I saw, in one of the rooms, that she had a poster of me, of Mando. I knew she was a fan but just seeing it, I freaked out,” Din winced at the memory. “I ran away. I feel like I can’t lie to her anymore, but I don’t know how to tell her the truth.”

“Oh, Mando,” Peli said sympathetically, squeezing Din’s arm just underneath his pauldron in an attempt to console him. “It seems as though you’re really in a tough spot.”

The fact that Peli wasn’t laughing or teasing him, somehow made Din feel even worse about the whole thing. At least if Peli had made some teasing remark or joke about it, things would have felt far more normal and less intimidating to Din. Instead, the fact that Peli actually felt bad and was comforting him, was a testament to the seriousness of the situation.

“I know. I don’t know what to do, Peli,” Din admitted. 

“Can you tell her?” Peli asked. “I mean, are you allowed to? Is there anything in your contract that would forbid you from telling other people?”

“No,” Din replied, honestly. “I can tell whoever I want, but others are forbidden from naming me. There are only a handful of people that know my identity.”

“So if you wanted to, right now, you could take your helmet off and show me your face?” Peli said, clearly stunned at the information.

“I could,” Din confirmed.

“But you’re not going to.”

“No, Peli. I’m not going to,” Din agreed, relieved that the question was hypothetical, that she was not pushing him.

“Well, that’s interesting to note,” Peli said with a smirk and Din found himself relieved that the characteristic teasing tone he was so used to was back. “No, seriously, Mando. I think you just have to come out with it and tell her the truth. Does she talk about the show a lot? I mean, does she talk about it enough that after telling her the truth, you would feel like she was only staying with you because she’s a fan of the show and not because she likes you as a person?”

“No, not at all. Our connection goes deeper than all of this,” Din said, gesticulating towards his armour. “She mentioned Mando once when she was wasted. She said that I seemed as nice and kind as him and something about how I had broad shoulders. Which I suppose are all compliments. And I didn’t realise that people paid any attention to my shoulders.”

“Oh yeah, absolutely,” Peli nodded, her eyes glazing over slightly as she agreed. “I mean the suit! The suit just makes you look broad!”

Din smirked behind the helmet and shook his head at the kooky woman before him. Peli could be ridiculous sometimes. Din always felt as though she was an older relative, always keen to look out for him. Until sometimes, when she would make comments which led Din to believe that she possibly had a crush on him. Theirs was a confusing dynamic, but ultimately Din knew how deeply they both cared for each other. 

“Anyway, Mando. I think you have to tell her before things get any more serious between the two of you. If you wait, she might feel as though you lied to her. Maybe she’d even resent you, after finding out the truth. I don’t think there’s any way around it. Being The Mandalorian is such a big part of your life, I can’t imagine you hiding that from anyone. I mean, have you considered the fact that you will probably leave the country soon, after filming finishes?”

“No. I hadn’t even thought of us leaving. Um, I was considering sticking around since Grogu seems to love it here so much. It’s quiet and peaceful. I was thinking Grogu and I could build a life together here, with her.”

“Awwww, Mando. Look at you, settling down, putting down roots!” Peli teased.

Din huffed a laugh from underneath his helmet, but truthfully Peli’s words terrified him. Could he ever truly stay in one place and allow anyone to occupy his heart entirely? Din knew that if anyone was going to convince him to finally make a home somewhere, it was going to be you.

That thought should have excited him, thrilled him as he imagined your future together. But as he went about the rest of his day and finished filming, all he could think about was the terror of losing you forever when he finally told you the truth. Lying about the name on the envelope, deflecting questions about his job, while you ranted about yours. Would you ever forgive him?

Seeing Grogu after he arrived home did not even help his anguished soul, either. Even as he played with his son that night, visions of your face contorting in pain and rage as you discovered the truth about his identity played in his mind, over and over.

Despite understanding that telling you the truth was the best course of action, Din was still absolutely terrified. After putting Grogu to bed, he sat on the couch and texted you, laughing at the humour that shone through in your every word as you caught him up on your week. With each string of letters and message received, your words unknowingly only added to Din’s anguish. The feeling that he continued to live a lie was never far from his mind. His guilt for starting something with you when he knew that he was hiding a secret that would surely change everything loomed over him. 

Din knew that he had to tell you the truth about who he was. Telling the truth was the right thing to do. A man as honourable as Din valued the truth above all else. He knew that it might cost him everything, but he couldn’t stand to see you hurt if he waited any longer to tell you the truth. Din knew that coming clean could change everything between the two of you. He was aware that you might even hate him after discovering that he had not been entirely transparent with you, but it was a risk he had to take if he was going to secure any kind of future with you. Din knew that healthy relationships could not be built upon lies and deception. At least not without them crumbling eventually.

It wasn’t going to be easy, though.

As he went to bed that night, Din fretted that the next time he laid his head upon his pillow, he would have lost you forever. He feared that you would never speak to him again after he finally came clean and revealed the truth…

✯✯✯

Ding dong.

Din bounded to the door enthusiastically after hearing the doorbell ring, leaving Grogu momentarily unattended in the kitchen. Despite the part of him that was dreading the news that he knew he would have to impart on you, he couldn’t wait to see you. Din had been practically giddy all morning, the thought of finally having you in his house was an electrifying prospect. 

Din hoped that telling you the truth wouldn’t change your relationship in the long run. He supposed that you would probably take some time to process his revelation, and he wouldn’t be able to blame you for that. Din imagined that discovering that the guy you had been dating for a couple of months was secretly the actor from your favourite show would take some time to wrap your head around. For a man usually so meticulous and deliberate with his actions, surprisingly, Din hadn’t thought precisely about how he would tell you. He just hoped that he would slip it into conversation perhaps gradually with some hints that would lead you to hopefully connect the dots without too much intervention from him. 

The first sight of you, after Din opened the door, caused all thoughts of telling you to flee far from his mind. You looked so beautiful, even though you were not dressed for anything more formal than a casual afternoon with Din and his boy. He stood there for a second, transfixed at the way you wore your hair and how your clothes complimented your features perfectly.

“Earth to Din!” You giggled, waving a hand.

“Oh!” Din shook his head, finally realising that he had been standing there wordlessly admiring you. “Come on in, Sunflower.”

Din’s heart swelled as you smiled and stepped over the threshold, gracing his cottage with your presence for the very first time. It only expanded further when you wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned in for a kiss. When you finally broke away for air, you leaned your forehead against Din’s and smiled shyly.

“Hi,” you whispered. “Been wanting to do that all week.”

“Me too,” Din smiled, enjoying the intimacy of the moment. “Come on, I’ll show you where we’re having lunch.” 

Din stepped back from your embrace and began walking through the corridor which led to the kitchen, eager to see his son.

“Grogu can’t wait to see you, I made us–” but Din trailed off when he realised he did not hear your footsteps behind him. 

Din smiled at the way you had stopped in the corridor, a look of awe on your face as you glanced out of the old paned window towards the rolling lush green hills that lay just beyond the window. When he had first moved here, Din had found himself just as awestruck as you were. Somewhere along the way, he had forgotten just how beautiful the view was. Life had gotten busier, his schedule more hectic... but thankfully you were here to bring some peace back.

“In under an hour I’ve gone from the sprawl of the city to something as peaceful and scenic as this,” you whispered in amazement. “It’s beautiful.” 

“Not as beautiful as you,” Din breathed as he walked up behind you and placed his strong arms around your waist. He nuzzled into your hair, enjoying your scent and delicately kissed the top of your head.

Din was happy to hold you in that embrace for a few minutes, holding you closely and tightly as if he were scared that you were going to slip away from him somehow. He felt as though you might, given the enormity of what he had yet to tell you. Plus, he wanted to make up for the way he had pushed you away the previous week and underline how attracted he was to you. Din probably could have stayed there all afternoon, holding you close and feeling the calmness and warmth that spread throughout his body whenever you were in his arms. But it seemed that his son had other ideas. Grogu let out a loud babble from the kitchen and Din released your waist, not without one final kiss. 

“I’m afraid that my cooking skills are not quite as good as yours,” Din admitted as the pair of you walked to the kitchen, hand in hand. “So I just made us some sandwiches.”

“Sounds wonderful,” you smiled as you entered the kitchen. “Hi Grogu!” You said cheerfully to the little boy who was sitting patiently in his high chair at the table, clearly eager to commence with the lunch that his father had lovingly made for him.

Din loved the way you greeted Grogu, you spoke to him as though he was a person and not just a cute child. Din knew that somehow, Grogu sensed the world around him on a deeper level than most children of his age did, due to his past. It was something that both broke his heart but made him incredibly proud to be this little boy’s guardian. 

“Those sandwiches look like they were made by someone who loves you very much,” you said, nodding towards Grogu’s plate before smiling at Din.

Din found himself blushing as he realised that you had noticed the way he had prepared Grogu’s food. He had painstakingly cut the crusts off Grogu’s sandwiches and chopped them into triangles. It was just how Grogu preferred them, he couldn’t resist spoiling the little boy and giving him pretty much everything that he wanted. If there was something that made Grogu happy, Din would not hesitate to accommodate him.

✯✯✯

After lunch had been eaten, Din was about to suggest going for a walk. He thought that he could perhaps use the stunning scenery to his advantage, to distract you from the wrath that you would no doubt wish to reign down upon him after you discovered the information that he had been hiding from you. But you were first to speak, and your words struck terror into Din’s heart.

“You know, it’s funny because I thought I recognised the name of this village for some reason, and when we drove over here, the driver was telling me that there are some film studios here,” you babbled excitedly. “He told me that this is where they made the original Star Wars movies. I didn’t realise how close it was to where you live, Din!” 

Din was frozen by your comment, utterly blindsided by your words. Was that a hint, a question? Was it wrong that he desperately hoped it was? At least he wouldn’t have to begin the conversation himself, then. Plus, Peli had suggested that he take a run-up to the reveal by perhaps first telling you that he worked on the show and then eventually saying that he was in fact The Mandalorian. Din knew that this would be the perfect chance to slip it in, tell you that yes, he did work at the studios and what was more, he worked on your favourite show. Instead, Din felt himself frozen, paralysed by fear. Despite the moment which had fallen into his lip, he could not seize the opportunity.

“Oh, sorry,” you mumbled, looking down in embarrassment. “I forgot you don’t like Star Wars.”

Din breathed a tremendous sigh of relief, the moment had passed, without him even needing to intervene.

“It’s fine, Sunflower,” Din smiled. “I never realised just how close it was,” Din shrugged, busying himself with clearing the plates.

It was another lie. They were almost becoming too easy now, too habitual. If you weren’t currently speaking to Grogu and making the little boy roar with laughter, perhaps Din’s mind would have been spiralling and berating himself for his lies. Instead, he was smiling back at the interaction as he tidied the mess from your lunch away and thinking just how perfectly you had already fitted into life in his cottage…

✯✯✯

Din felt the comforting weight of Grogu in his baby carrier, nestled against his chest as the three of you strolled through the stunning countryside. It was a presence that Din attempted to ground himself with, to draw strength from as he thought about beginning to tell you the truth. The words ran through his mind, over and over. But he could not bring himself to vocalise them, to begin telling you the truth. Din peered down at Grogu’s curly hair, feeling his heart constrict when he thought of all his son had been through in his young life. The child had seemed happiest here, in this location, out of the numerous places they had lived together. Not only that, but Grogu had seemed at his happiest with you. How could Din ever bring that crashing down for him?

As you strolled up a hill towards a particularly stunning view that Din enjoyed hiking up to whenever he had a day off, Din considered that now would be the perfect opportunity to just come clean to you and inform you that he was in fact, the man behind your favourite TV show. Something was stopping him each time. It was the way you looked, your complexion glowing against the landscape. It was the way you felt, your soft hand in his, fingers laced tightly together. It was how you made him feel, the warm presence in his chest whenever you were near. No matter how hard Din tried to visualise him saying those words and finally vocalising the rough script that had been turning over in his mind over and over… Din just could not do it. He was utterly terrified of losing you, of ruining this thing that had become so precious and had been just what you both needed. To ruin that, to potentially cause himself and Grogu to lose you, it was unthinkable.

So he stayed quiet. Din realised he was doing something he utterly despised: being a coward. But he rationalised his decision as he looked down at his son, realising how calm and serene Grogu was at this moment. There was no way Din could contemplate sacrificing his son’s happiness.

Din’s silence caused his heart to flutter with anxiety when the two of you approached the crest of the hill and the grey buildings came into view. Once again, he had inadvertently put himself in a position where Din and Mando’s worlds were coming dangerously close to colliding.

Din regretted his decision to suggest this particular route almost as soon as the three of you made it to the crest of a fairly sizable hill about half a mile from his house. His regret did not come due to the grey clouds that had suddenly rolled in across the horizon. It came because he realised, far too late, that his place of work was on full display from up here. The grey buildings that comprised The Volume were visible, even behind the tall ferns that had been planted to try and obstruct the views. Din knew that since you were such a big fan of the show, you likely knew full well that it was not only the original Star Wars movies which had been shot here, but The Mandalorian too. Inviting you to his home had been a risk for numerous reasons, but this walk had been downright reckless. 

Din glanced over at you, wondering if you had connected the dots. He found your expression impossible to read, but probably one of awe due to your surroundings rather than realising the significance of the buildings. If you had realised their significance, however, you had not vocalised it to him. Din hoped, as you stood there appreciating the view that you were too busy focusing on the rolling hills and lush greenery to realise the importance of the buildings before you.

Mercifully, the climate of Din’s temporary home country was here to bail him out. It was early August, but that did not stop the typical English weather from being as unpredictable as ever. The grey clouds that had rolled in suddenly looked more ominous than they had when the three of you had first reached the crest of the hill. Din noticed that the air was suddenly incredibly peaceful and still. 

But not for long. 

The heavens opened, and thick raindrops were suddenly pelting the three of you. Grogu let out a squeal as his father moved to place a hood over his unruly curly hair. Din looked around, fearful that you would be cold and upset that your walk had been ruined. But instead of finding you despondent or enraged, Din was relieved to see the enormous grin that had swept over your features. As the pair of you began to take in your predicament – stranded on top of a hill with a toddler in tow as a storm swept in – Din found that he could not do anything except laugh. He was almost bent double, hands on his knees as he dissolved into fits of giggles. Din had not been this carefree, he had not laughed this much for a long time. But, here, with you… in this stupid situation that would have probably completely freaked him out if he was here with anyone else on earth… he could do nothing more than laugh. It was a freeing, welcome experience and he soon found that his cheeks ached after all the laughter.

“There’s a tree over there, should we shelter underneath it?” Your suggestion finally snapped him out of his glee. The idea of waiting out the storm underneath a tree seemed palatable at first, but Din soon realised that this might be a storm of such veracity to include lightning. After all, the rumbles of thunder had been the last sounds before the heavens had opened.

“What if there’s a bolt of lightning?” Din replied, having to shout slightly over the noise of the rain. He suddenly realised that despite the time he had spent outdoors in his life, he did not comprehend storms as well as he should have. The English countryside was rather unfamiliar terrain to him, after all. 

“Good point,” you agreed. 

Din looked at you quizzically as you reached out to take his hand in yours. Although the two of you had walked up the hill, hand in hand, he had dropped it in all the commotion of putting the hood on Grogu and making sure his son was okay. The rain was pelting down with a vengeance now, hard enough that Din was momentarily concerned that it was going to leave bruises. He was just about to open his mouth to ask you why you had taken his hand, when, without warning… you started running down the hill. Din almost found himself knocked off his feet, fortunately, his reflexes meant that your actions did not send Din and Grogu tumbling down in a muddy heap.

Perhaps it was the adrenaline of running hand in hand with you, or the distinct giddiness that rain has a unique ability to cause, but Din could not stop laughing the entire way home. Even as your pace slowed once you did not have the slope of the hill to assist your journey home, he was still breathless with laughter. The rain slowed somewhat as the three of you made it to the village, and had almost stopped when Din’s cottage finally came into view. Din was soaked to the bone and fretted as your teeth began chattering as you walked up the path.

“The heating should be on,” Din offered as he pushed the old wooden door open.

“Excellent!” You squealed, making a beeline for the radiator. “I’m staying right here!” You sighed, clinging to the radiator for dear life.

“Alright, I’m just going to bathe Grogu and then put him down for a nap,” Din explained.

“Okay, see you later Grogu,” you smiled. “And well done for being so brave.”

Din grinned as he ascended the stairs, his heart soaring at your words. Some people may not have even picked up on how scary a storm could be for a child as sensitive to Grogu… but you were different. You stunned Din with the depths of your capacity for love with every interaction.

✯✯✯

When Grogu was bathed, dried and settled for his nap, Din descended the stairs. A smirk appeared over his features when he realised that you were still in the same position. His smirk dropped as soon as he realised that you were wearing significantly fewer clothes than he remembered.

“Sorry, I had to take my shirt and jeans off,” you shrugged. “Couldn’t bear the feeling of wet clothes.

“It’s fine, Sunflower,” Din nodded, but his brain was struggling to comprehend the sight before him. Of you, topless, in his house.

“Din?!” You exclaimed, Din snapped his head to look at you, not realising that he had been ignoring you. “I said, is it okay if I take a shower?”

“Oh! Right, sorry of course you can. I’ll get you a spare pair of pyjamas.” Din said, mouth slightly ajar as he regarded you in just your underwear. He had seen you in only a swimsuit that night in the hotel, of course, but that had been a few weeks ago. And you had been wasted. Ogling you then had felt like he was taking advantage of you… but now you seemed to know full well what you were doing. Your shy smile indicated exactly that you knew the impact you were having on his body. 

That night in the flat, when you had been about to finally fall into bed together until the poster that hung above your bed had stopped him in his tracks, was a distant memory. Din had cursed that poster endlessly since that fateful day, now perhaps he would curse it no more. Every day since then, he yearned to touch you, to taste you. Every time he had gotten himself off quickly in the shower when his thoughts had become too much to bear any longer, it was you who he imagined as he pumped his length with his fist. Your mouth around his throbbing cock, so soft, so warm…

“Hello! Din!” You said, waving a hand in front of his face.

“Uh, shit. I’m sorry.” Din said, absolutely mortified that you had caught his mind wandering again.

“I was just asking you to show me where the bathroom is, so I can take a shower. My eyes are up here, mister,” you added, with a flirtatious smirk.

“Sorry, yes, of course,” Din quickly recovered and moved in the direction of the stairs.

As he ascended them with you following closely behind, Din took a deep breath in an attempt to steady his racing pulse. He had invited you here to tell you the truth about who he was. Now, thanks to the weather, things had taken a risque turn that he had certainly never intended.

When he reached the bathroom, he pushed the door open and switched the light on. You stepped inside and murmured your thanks.

“Enjoy your shower,” Din breathed and then turned around to leave.

Din jumped as he felt your fingers close around his wrist, stopping him in his tracks. You pulled him back towards you and placed your fingers into his curly hair. For a moment, Din wondered if he was going to pass out as you played with the damp dark brown hairs at the nape of his neck. He sighed and gazed at you adoringly. Then, Din groaned as you tilted your head to the side to kiss him, firstly on his mouth and then along his jaw. 

“I didn’t say you couldn’t come with me,” you purred, your hot breath washing over the shell of his ear. Din shuddered with want.

Din nodded and took you by the hand. There was no going back now. No Mandalorian posters to stop you, no revealing secrets to halt this moment in its tracks. Din was already hard, throbbing with the weeks of pent-up desire that being close to you without having the opportunity to act upon it had produced.

Din wanted you, badly. 

As the two of you stood there in the bathroom, Din was vaguely aware that he didn’t want the first time he had you to be in the shower. He wanted to take you to bed, worship you with his lips and tongue, show you how special you were to him, how much you had changed his life. Din wasn’t sure that pushing you up against the tiles of his bathroom as the hot jets of his shower cascaded over your naked bodies was quite what he had envisioned for your first time together. Then again, there were many ways that you had taken Din by surprise throughout your relationship. The more he considered it, the more desperate your moans got as he continued the steamy makeout session in his bathroom with you, the more Din was certainly coming around to the idea.

When you reached around your back to peel your wet bra off your body, all protestations had left Din’s mind. You were so perfect, so beautiful, you clearly wanted him so badly given how your cheeks were flushed, your lips parted and your eyes darkened in desire as you gazed at him through your eyelashes. How could he deny you what you wanted?

“You’re beautiful,” Din rasped as he gathered you in his strong arms, bringing his lips to your neck and kissing a trail down towards your chest.

“Let’s get in the shower,” you panted. Din was pleased that you had somehow maintained enough brain cells to remind him of why you were in here in the first place. Neither of you particularly needed any warming up anymore, but there was a feeling of griminess that lingered after being caught in the rain like that.

As Din stripped out of his remaining clothes, discarding them alongside your soaked underwear in a heap on the floor that he would deal with later, he almost tripped in his haste to climb in the shower alongside you. Knowing that you were waiting for him, naked, and how badly you wanted him was enough to almost make him lose coordination in his desperation. Din could hardly believe this was happening, this was real. Although at the time he had cursed the English weather for being so unpredictable, it seemed now that it would be a blessing in disguise. You had ended up exactly where he had fantasised about you. Except this time, Din wouldn’t be stroking himself as he moaned your name desperately into an empty bathroom. This time, you would be moaning his name as you finally came together as one.

Din entered the shower and practically moaned at the sight of your naked form under the water. He grinned at the sight of you waiting for him, a perfect vision…

✯✯✯

Din’s breath hitched in his throat as he walked into Grogu’s bedroom and saw the sight before him. After the shower the two of you shared – which had devoted far more time to pleasure than actually cleaning off, but it had suitably achieved its initial goal of warming both of you up – Din had given you a pair of his pyjamas to change into while he went to make a hot drink. The sight of you wearing his old maroon flannel pyjamas had sent a bolt of desire coursing through him that almost sent him stripping you straight back out of them.  A task he would have relished, were it not for Grogu’s mewling over the baby monitor. Din had looked at you apologetically, but you had waved away his concerns and instantly gone to assist his son.

When he returned holding the steaming mugs, he saw you sprawled out on your stomach on the floor of Grogu’s bedroom, playing dinosaurs with him. It was a scene so shockingly domestic that it set every single one of Din’s nerve endings alight. You were being so attentive to Grogu, playing with him as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Grogu was giggling and clapping his chubby hands together. Din knew that he had had every intention of telling the truth, but it seemed as though the threat of missing out on moments like this was too great a risk to contemplate. Din set the mugs down and stood back to continue observing the scene before him.

“Thanks,” you smiled, before returning your attention to the boy.

“Come on Grogu, let’s play with this,” you said, leading Grogu to the corner of the room where a small wooden train set lay once he had become uninterested in the dinosaurs.

Observing you there with Grogu, Din felt as though the pieces of his life had finally fallen into place. Everything was too perfect. The hours Din had lay awake, worrying whether he was doing the right thing for Grogu by introducing you into their lives seemed like a distant memory now. Now, in you, Grogu had finally found someone he was comfortable with and happy with.

Din loved watching the two of you play together, swallowing a lump in his throat each time little giggles filled the room. That boy had been through too much in his life. To see him so happy was a miracle. Din knew that he couldn’t do anything to jeopardise that. If he told you the truth, he would potentially lose you and the love you had for Grogu, leaving their lives all the poorer for it. He would lose the love he hoped you already had, or would one day have for him, too. 

Din had lost his nerve. He should have been disgusted by himself, for cowardice was not the Mandalorian way. Family was, however, an integral part of being Mandalorian. Din knew that he had taken this decision for the good of his family, so he reasoned that he should not be too harsh on himself. The time for processing the decision he had made could come later, for now, it was time to appreciate your presence.

Din grabbed a brightly coloured wooden carriage and sat cross-legged on the fluffy carpet, smiling at the way the two of you seemed so thrilled he had joined in the game you were playing. The way you had fitted in with his home, as though you had always been here, it was difficult to believe that it had just been him and Grogu for so long.

As he pushed the wooden trains around with you and Grogu, Din almost dared to dream that the three of you were becoming a family.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @toxic-seduction @survivingandenduring @readingiskeepingmegoing

[mochilatae]

Me Time (Namjoon x Yn/Reader)

Word Count: 7.23k

Pairing: Namjoon x Y/n

Rating: 18+/Mature/Explicit

Warnings: Kissing (french and other), oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, clit/pussy sucking, orgasms (multiple, yours and his), flirting, seduction, semi-missionary sex, intense sex, dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampie, Namjoon has money/a nice place/is a rich guy in this one. If I missed one, it is what it is. 

Genre: Strangers to Lovers, PWP

AUs: None

Summary: You head to the woods for a Me Day. When you encounter a handsome stranger more than once, it becomes an ‘Us’ day that you could get used to. 

Author’s Note: Glad to be back and I’m happy to have my comeback be a Namjoon adventure. This was requested by @worldwideseal a bit ago and I've been trying hard to finish it.

Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed it, let me know in a comment. 

Tag list: @askkrisachan @kiestrokes

It was a solid battle. A contemplation in the drinks aisle, door open and chilled air rolling over your sun warmed skin. If you were accused of debating too long, it wasn’t something you’d deny. The cool air felt nice on the sting of what had clearly proved a bit too long in the midday sun. 

A wonderful way to start your weekend: an unexpectedly challenging hike that was supposed to take less than 30 minutes from the parking lot. But that proved to be for those initiated types–the ones who made a hike with a considerable grade look like a jaunt. 

For you it was a bit more like a gauntlet of misery. So you’d more than justified it to yourself, leaning against the drinks cooler door frame, letting your profile crush against the frosted surface. 

You hadn’t heard the footsteps approaching but the voice came through. Clear. Amused. No need to look because a grin stretched the distance between the few words over your shoulder.

“Contemplating life or flavors?” 

You straightened, grip finding and holding the door handle. The chilly rush over your cheeks did something to help the panic, which helped a little. You couldn’t blame that kind of tell on lack of sunscreen or an unplanned too-long-hike in the sun.

“It’s rough.” You barely replied. Eyes popping, you grabbed the brightest color visible front and center: blue ice. Lowest on your list, but it was in your hand and you stepped aside.

A large hand grazed your own as grips traded on the door handle. 

The form stepping into your spot in front of the open case was just obvious enough: Big. Broad. Tanned just right. The kind of golden that said it was real deal stuff. No spray tan or tanning bed nonsense. 

The man leaned forward, eyes closing as he hummed into the same cold air your pores sucked up earlier. 

You swallowed, eyes lingering on the necklines. And the biceps, rounded, stressing the cuffs of his white t-shirt sleeves just enough. Suddenly you were hungry–the handful of crackers and cheese burned up long ago in the car. You’d eaten fast and should have prepared more, but now you saw something meaty. 

Something in a healthy, hunky shape, grinning your way, eyes finally open and meeting your nervous stare. Your eyes widened again. At least you kept your mouth neutral–an even line. 

He had a nice smile as selected the same flavor you’d chosen, nodding your way.

“Good flavor. You like it too?” 

You looked down, turned the bottle over in your grip, and looked back up.

Shrugging, you waved the bottle a little. “It’s up there.” 

One perfectly thick brow arched as the man offered a timid smile. He didn’t move much, but his bangs still lolled. The tips feathered his forehead, hypnotizing your senses for a moment. You’d barely noticed the world huffing up the winding trails outside the store, melting under your tank top and workout leggings.

He had the faintest sweat–something normally unappealing. He’d managed to make a biological response magical. The slickness on his skin looked good.

“Up there? Not your go-to?” 

In the middle of the only store for 45 minutes in either direction, there wasn’t room to be choosy.  Trade offs were made for a weekend away from your city apartment. A lot more space. A lot LESS amenities. 

But sometimes there were unexpected perks—exhibit A standing just within reach. 

Blue Ice traded hands as he reached into the case again. This time he selected a considerable bottle of Evian and shook it, like you’d done before. Both his cheeks developed dimples as he beamed.  

Your fingers tightened on the cold plastic bottle that you now gripped for dear life. Your throat was tight enough. It wasn’t the only part suddenly unable to relax. The reason was familiar and longer overdue: Attraction. Raw and unbridled. Washing over you.

“Can’t beat water. Perfect palette cleanser.” Murmuring, his fingers wrapped both bottle necks with room to spare as they overlapped.

“You’re not local.” He added once his assessing gaze finished at your face. 

A scoff dislodged the lump in your throat, allowing a breath.  

“Is it that obvious?” 

You boiled inside all over again–as warm inside as the surface of your skin felt outwardly when a wide, warm smile changed the entire handsome face in front of you. 

If he was a local you’d eat the map you’d grabbed from the gift shop ‘section’ of the store. 

“Maybe.” He added a wink, then looked beyond you, towards the clerk leaning into the counter by the register, yawning her way through the local paper with low lids. She hadn’t looked up when you came in, but she couldn’t have missed this guy.

“Are you?” It was natural to ask so you didn’t feel awkward about it. 

“Yes and No.” 

“I don’t live here year round. I visit now and then.”

“What’s that mean?” You watched his free hand go into a pocket, then come back out with a square of leather.

His head jerked towards the end of the aisle and you took a step, matching his as he walked and talked. 

“Family?” Your eyes scanned the shelves as you moved along, trailing the man but also debating just how hungry you felt before it was too late and you were back into the hike back to your car. It seemed just a touch too far away right now and those Oreos on the upcoming end cap looked all too tempting. 

“No.” He chuckled, glancing at you, then following your eyes to the Oreos. With a rakish grin, the man grabbed two packs and they joined the drinks, tucked against the inside, pinned in place by the inside of his arm. 

You suddenly wondered what that arm would feel like around your neck. Maybe bent over the counter, with his lips along your ear, his hips screwing slowly against your ass. Bold and full of fire. 

That kind of body heat wouldn’t be the worst thing to suffer. You were piping hot in a few places as it was. 

“I own a place up the hill.” He was stopped at the aisle end. You thought about going around, but didn’t. No need to end this encounter any sooner than it was going to be over. It wasn’t getting any less hot outside either. 

“Yeah?” You returned a smile. 

“Mmhm. What’s your name?” 

You hesitated, bringing the drink bottle to your neck and rolling it along one side. You kind of like it more than a lot that his eyes followed the motion. His patient smile didn’t falter but something flashed in his eyes. 

“Y/n.” 

“Nice to meet you.” He said. “I’d shake your hand but—”

Your hand shot out. Until now you weren’t the type for hand shakes. How quickly that changed. 

“Namjoon” He pumped your hand as he spoke again. That big palm was warm and smooth. Silky and dry. By contrast you wondered just how dewy your palm still felt. You’d spent quite a bit of time wiping palms on your thighs as you’d paused all too often on every hill during the hike. But he didn’t have to know that. 

Namjoon gave no indication he minded, if anything was amiss. “Nice to meet you.” 

Finally he moved again and you watched his back as he stopped at the counter. The employee barely looked up, coming away from the counter to situate herself mostly behind the register. The beep of each scan started. In between Namjoon made more conversation, which was a relief because you couldn’t keep your focus on talking with the way your eyes feasted on his ass and calves.

Everything from his hips down looked impossibly tight in his light gray workout pants. 

“You hiked up here then?” 

Leaning around him, you stole a look at your chosen drink still on the counter, then sighed. 

“Yeah.” 

Namjoon moved your bottle towards his selections. The girl was efficient, scanning so fast you had no time to protest. With a single blink you pointed. 

“...That’s mine.” 

He had to forget. That was it. Best to remind him. Just like him, you’d queued up to pay. Reasonable for how you expected things to go. Even if you hadn’t expected to meet someone in the middle of choosing. But that was life sometimes: unplanned, bringing pleasant surprise on the back of undesired situations.

“I know.” Namjoon opened his wallet. 

You noted several cards in various colors. Even black—you knew enough about people who owned a black card. It took a certain level of financial security and comfort to get one of those. 

He’d already paid and turned towards you again with your drink held out in offering. You took it. When he passed a pack of Oreos along after, you sputtered. It wasn’t an insult to injury for the extra sugar, or the worst thing. The cheap energy would help your dreaded trip back down the hill. 

Still… How he’d decided to be so kind. To a stranger. 

“Why?” You inquired, low and confused. Feeling all kinds of knotted up inside at his kindness and that flame still going inside your chest. 

Namjoon stepped around you and started for the door, taking your focus with him as you turned, and paced him with your stare. Looking back, he held the door open and spoke. 

“I wanted to. Be careful out there.” 

---------------------------------------

You kept replaying things in your head, carefully shuffling sideways down the steep hill. There hadn’t seemed to be so many on the way up, but the grade felt a lot more intense going the other direction, towards the store. 

Now, having some distance from the store, you felt a little sheepish over quietly cursing your decision to come up here. It was a lovely day outside, instead of the boiling, sun soaked hell you’d sworn it had become earlier.

Unscrewing your drink cap you took another healthy swallow and swatted at the tinny whine of a mosquito hovering near your ear. You slapped another away from your shoulder and marched down the hill again, taking more cautious steps. 

As you came around a corner, you noticed a form and barely glanced further beyond, where the hill sloped down again, into the shadows of forest canopy. Darkness and coolness was promised and you couldn’t wait. 

You made your way by with measured steps, almost shuffling to keep from tumbling down the trail, treading on the loose gravel and natural divots of long dislodged rocks.

It wouldn’t be attractive to go the rest of the way down on your backside. 

“Y/n?”  A curious voice, tinged in muted surprise.

You looked towards the voice as your pace slowed and  the figure turned to greet your approach. Clear as day: the tall frame with white t-shirt impressively stretched over a broad front. 

Namjoon’s face, still fresh as it’d been meeting him a bit ago, beamed. 

His sunglasses were off, resting on his head and he wiped a hand on his thigh, then extended it. You tried wiping a hand too, missing a good amount of the dirt kissed palm. Namjoon shook hands anyway. 

As he glanced where you’d been heading, you stole a once over. Namjoon didn’t look any more sweat soaked than he’d been. The hill grades weren’t a challenge for him. If he’d hiked to get to that store too, he was in MUCH better shape. You’d never have guessed he’d just come up these hills, looking unflagged in front of the drink cooler.

“So you didn’t drive to the store.” You voiced the determination, earning a raised brow. 

“Is that bad?” 

“No.” 

“I DID drive to the parking lot down there.” Namjoon motioned in that direction. “The road is too long and winding through the woods to get up there safely. From the parking lot it’s an easier walk.” 

An easier walk. You scoffed softly and wiped the back of a hand across your brow. 

“You parked down there too?” He continued, casually wiping trail dust off his shirt. 

“Not quite.” When he looked up again, both brows rose. The least you could do was a little more explanation. Lamely you added “..My friend dropped me off. I have to meet her back down there in a little bit.” 

“That’s nice of her.” He murmured with a smile. His cheekbones had a brief glimmer. Even the overhead sun couldn’t do a thing to dim his appeal. Sweaty or dry as a bone. Rain soaked. Something told you that Namjoon was all-weather handsome. 

“Yeah.” You agreed.

You watched your sneaker toe bully through the dirt in an uneven line. Your muscles protested menacingly from this tiny action. Much too much. Burning and twitching had found a nice home there. The croissant and half a coffee you’d wolfed down for morning fuel hadn’t left a single ounce of energy by now. You were paying for it now, even with half a sports drink down. 

“You should walk down there with me.” 

You were equally surprised and thankful he asked. The  company was welcoming and you needed to see his car. Having several cards in his wallet and looking so good even after a moderately intense hike? Namjoon wasn’t driving a beater. 

“Sure..” You responded, waiting just long enough to look like it’d been a little debate. 

Namjoon pushed upright from the leaning he’d been doing against a tree just off the trail and stepped towards you. Turning to face downhill, he strode forward and you followed, falling into pace. His strides were long, but he went slow enough. It was like he sussed your flagging energy and mounting fatigue. You weren’t exactly projecting boundless energy.

However long the hike felt going uphill, time bent again and it seemed over all too soon as you paced Namjoon to the parking lot’s asphalt edge after coming around the last trail bend a short time later. 

As you stood next to him, looking at the few cars in spaces scattered across the lot, Namjoon turned his face up to the sun and let his head fall back.

You slid your pack straps off both shoulders and brought it around to your front. Namjoon rifled through his pocket, doing the same to free himself from his mid-size backpack. The keys jingled as he looked away from you, to a far corner of the lot. 

“Your friend here yet?” He inquired, squinting.

You scanned. Nowhere did you see the familiar rust nibbled Isuzu. An antique by some measure but it served her father well in college and he’d maintained the interior parts enough to keep it going even now. The car got you up here and you were fairly confident it’d get you back to town. 

“Not yet.” You thought about calling but didn’t go for your cell phone, setting your pack at your feet instead. Namjoon noticed, double taking. 

“Well..” He began, leaning down and grabbing a strap, then lifting the pack like it was empty. It certainly hadn’t felt that way going up OR down the trail. “..Let me drive you? Where are we headed?”

“You don’t have to–” A tut cut you off toot suite.

“I want to, Y/n. Where are we going?” 

Inhaling, you almost choked on trail dust still lingering at the lot edge. The dread of the trip back home in a car without AC was pulling you down into despair. In spite of your friend's optimism, all the windows down had not helped nearly as promised and it wouldn’t be better now, sweaty and tired. 

You glanced at Namjoon after a moment.

“...Well.. Where are you going?”

Namjoon’s smile was cheeky. “Me? I have a place about 20 minutes drive from here. You’re welcome to hang out there and wait for your friend.” 

“I could do that.” You should, not wanting to go all the way back up that hellish trail, to the store. No way you’d make it. No need to even delude yourself. The Isuzu and the trail would not see YOU again, for now. 

“Yeah? I know it’s cliche. Stranger danger..”

“Maybe but.. What the hell. It’ll be nice to see your place and find out there’s more than a few damp cabins out here. So long as it’s not a rotting shack in the pines, we’re golden.” Your mind supplied endless visions of bugs, bears and poison oak. It was anybody’s guess what you’d encounter but there was 1 of those 3, minimum. 

“Hmm.” A playful glare leveled your way. “There’s not much land value in a moss covered single level dwelling these days. The market wouldn’t bear it and I’m not into that kind of ambiance.” 

“Thank goodness.” 

Namjoon reached where he’d been looking: the lot corner, and a cobalt blue sedan parked there. It was dusty but otherwise in great shape. MUCH better than no-AC and AM radio only.

You followed, keeping within a step or two. As you both made your way, Namjoon spoke again. 

“You can call your friend when we get to my place and hang out until they get there. Deal?” 

You nodded.

He opened the passenger door first and watched you climb in, then moved to that back passenger door and opened it. A gentle lob had both your packs situated across the back seat.

As Namjoon settled into the driver’s seat, you buckled your seatbelt,then let your legs stretch out. The footwell was roomy too. This was proving to be a good decision the more time went on. You wouldn’t have bet on this kind of luck turn hours ago.

Namjoon was smiling, watching you get comfortable. The car came to life. He adjusted the rearview mirror.

“I wouldn’t object to some food too.” You suggested, watching him study the mirror’s reflection, then glance back as he reversed out of the parking spot. He shifted to drive, jaw muscles briefly flexing before he spoke.

“I can take care of that.”

---------------------------------------

You finished the last bite of apple and chewed, staring out the picture window. 

Namjoon had more than a ramshackle place with walls, windows and a few doors. It was like something out of Mountain Living magazine–of which you were sure you’d seen a few issues neatly stacked on the coffee table in the living room when he’d led you through. 

This kitchen was spacious. More than any other cabin you’d spent time in.Even if that number wasn’t high, THIS place was impressive. It shouldn’t have been a shock, spotting all the cards in his wallet. That was plenty of foreshadowing. 

Even if assumptions weren’t fair.

You swallowed and turned away from the view, setting the remains of the apple on the kitchen table and headed for the living room. You took a loop around the perimeter, studying the bookshelf, paying close attention to the single shelf dedicated to what looked like photo albums. 

You were tempted to pull one off and go through it. But you didn’t, turning your attention to the photos on the nearby wall: lots of candid photos of nature. Namjoon’s selfies tended to be unique: his form standing in the distance of the shot, back to the camera. 

Or in silhouette barely at the edges. You liked a particularly vibrant one of his bare back to the camera, shorts soaked to the skin with water, flesh glistening in the sun against the expanse of a sky so blue it hardly seemed real. 

It looked like some kind of lake. You wondered where this body of water was, hopeful it wasn’t far, then went to work pondering how it would have been behind the lens, taking the shot.

...And what would happen after, when the picture was done and Namjoon turned around with that smile. 

A smile you’d grown to really like A LOT since the store. 

Hearing a door close, you turned towards the dark hall where the sound had come from. There was a little motion under the door at the far end, shadows moving across a sliver of light at the bottom. 

A moment later the door came open and Namjoon’s form filled the newly made space. Not long after his footsteps came towards you. When he came through from the dark into light, your senses reeled. 

Namjoon was flushed and smiling, hair wet and slicked back, cheeks plumped in a shy grin. He’d changed shirts. This one was thinner and more ivory than optic white. You knew that shape at the front of his chest and the tiny perking points. 

You blinked away the stun and smiled back. 

“You reach your friend?” He asked, walking towards, then around you, heading for the couch. 

You turned. “Yeah.” You’d hit voicemail. It wasn’t your best message and you probably sounded breathless, describing what had happened on your hike and trying to summarize Namjoon in the space of 30 seconds. 

Lord knows how your friend would take it. 

“I…” You paused and Namjoon’s head turned your way. 

“Hmm?” He’d paused arranging the couch cushions, even though they looked perfect to you. “What is it?” 

God you felt…dumb admitting this but it was best to spit the truth out. Time would betray you eventually. 

“I wasn’t sure of your address so I couldn’t leave one on the voicemail.” 

Namjoon chuckled warm and slow. You wanted to grab a throw pillow nearby and stuff your face into it, to swallow up the responsive squeal aching to escape your throat. 

“I guess I hadn’t thought about that.” He motioned to the magazines. “You could have done it the sneaky way.. That’s got my address.” 

“I’m not a sneaky type.” You replied. Namjoon nodded. 

“Appreciate that. Well.. “ He inhaled and picked up one of the smaller pillows, then lobbed it at the far end of the couch. “...If you want to call them back, I’ll give you my address–officially.” 

Did you REALLY want to call your friend right now? This place was pretty damned nice and so was the company. Mulling it over, you finally shrugged. 

“In a little bit.” Namjoon’s brows dropped. You fumbled, continuing. “...If that’s okay? I mean…I can—” 

“It’s fine.” His brows were soft arches over dark, comforting eyes again. “I like the company.” 

“Me too.” It was exciting how the confession sent heat through you. Rubbing at your neck, you realized how sweaty and icky you still felt. Namjoon’s head cocked as he walked closer to you. 

“I’m really glad we met today, Y/n. I like the isolation here but…Having another person around is even better, when I’m in the mood.” 

“Is it?” You croaked, swallowing a lump. Your nod was almost a twitch. “..You’re in the mood to have someone around today?” 

“I wasn’t at first.” Namjoon’s pause dragged on until you met his stare, gazing into the depths of his eyes right there, just above you. “..That changed…” He snickered and softly murmured “...for some reason.” 

You could tell he was being cheeky and it was delightful. You couldn’t help giggling too. 

“I wonder why..” You sighed. 

After a minute, Namjoon looked around. “Let’s get a little more comfortable then. You want to go clean up? My shower’s back there..”

He indicated where he’d come from, with a nod. As if you hadn’t watched him go there prior, the apple pressed to your lips and heart pounding as you drank in this entire place. 

“Thanks..” Was all you managed, head bowing a little. You slipped past him. Namjoon’s turn to watch you go briefly clear in your peripherals. 

“Just pick whatever out of my dresser. Plenty to choose from. See you soon.” 

“You have a beautiful bathroom.” You confided, watching Namjoon standing next to you. It was getting to a really nice addiction: you and he, just sharing this space. It’d only been a few hours but it was like a lifetime away from the rest of the world.

Namjoon looked away from the living room window and smiled at you. “Thanks.” 

What you’d WANTED to say was ‘This whole place is amazing.’, but you weren’t psychic or brave enough to voice that–just yet. 

Combing wet strands back, you shook your hair out again. It was still a little damp from the shower, but you felt so much better with the grime and sweat washed away.

You hadn’t realized just how much you’d collected tromping up and down the hills out there. Not until you’d felt the rivulets of perfectly hot water winding down your body under the massive shower head, did you really conceive how messy you’d gotten. 

The whole shower experience here left your skin humming and nicely warm. A far cry from your apartment’s modest water pressure and scalding or ice cold temperature poles. If you were honest, you could get used to this. 

“I appreciate the compliment.” Namjoon finally said. “I wasn’t sure about the head but it’s got your approval. Think I’ll keep it.” 

When you locked eyes, he winked, grin wider than before. He was more handsome with dimples. 

“What else do you do out here, alone?” You voiced your curiosity this time. Maybe it was the inhibitions washed away with the sudsy heat or something else at play, but it was out before you could regret.

Namjoon took it well.

“Alone? Hmmm. Sometimes I sit out on the back deck or soak in the hot tub outback and stare at the sky. Listen to nature. Ponder the big questions in life..” 

It all sounded pretty damned good. Beat the hell out of your couch and the usual television fare. 

“Hmm.” You stared at him again. Another question slipped out as quickly as it had popped into your mind. “...And when you’re not alone?” 

You matched the way Namjoon raised a brow. When he chuckled your chest went light. 

“Bit of an intimate kind of question, isn’t it?”

“Maybe.” You retorted. “If what you do is something intimate.” 

Like storm clouds rolling across a sky, darkening the beauty with impressive danger, a shadowy energy flitted through Namjoon’s eyes. But you weren’t scared. You were absolutely riveted. For once in your normally gun shy, socially conservative life. 

“And if I said it was something intimate?”

He was good, dodging a direct answer just enough. He knew just how to feed your interest with words and the things between them. You licked your lips, feeling them twitch as your tongue rolled along. 

“..Sounds like a good time. Care to share?” 

Who were you, suddenly digging for details? Normally this was kosher for your friends. You’d earned the right, but with a basic stranger like Namjoon? You knew you had a lot of nerve. And you were taking a HUGE gamble. 

“Mmm.” Namjoon stepped close again, not much space now between the front of his body and your own. You didn’t back up, lifting your chin to keep eye contact. His smile shrank. 

“I do whatever I want. Or..my guest wants. I’m interested in being the best host I can, if I have company.” 

“Yeah?” 

Namjoon nodded. He let you take another breath, then continued.

“You’re my guest. What do you want to do? What’s your pleasure?” It was really, REALLY sexy the way Namjoon was opening his place to you. And from the energy you detected, he was willing to give himself too. 

“Have you ever done it here?” 

“Done ..’it’? What’s it?” He queried, teasingly. Your forehead felt hot again. You blinked and Namjoon leaned down a little.

“..You mean sex? Are you asking me if I’ve fucked here?” His breath washed across your lips. You couldn’t help nodding or the whine that escaped. Namjoon’s hungry stare burrowed into your soul. He nibbled briefly on his lip.

“I have. Plenty of times. It’s been a while, though.” 

“Has it?” You squeaked as he ran fingertips along your jaw and added pressure at your chin, tipping your face up more. 

“Mmnhmm.” Namjoon’s smile unfurled again. “..Has it been long for you?” 

You stammered, suddenly amnesiac over the last time you’d properly fucked. Of course you had, and the experiences rated ‘okay’ by usual standards, but work and life wedged a lot of time between each session. Forgettable was too perfect a way to describe how it all seemed now.

“It’s been a minute.” You finally managed. 

“Want to remedy that?” 

Maybe it sounded corny coming from anyone else, in a dark, muggy club dancefloor or bar, but Namjoon’s suggesting it now came off only as unadulterated heat. And something you wanted so very much. 

“Yes.” It was a gasp. Maybe a plea. 

“God Y/n..” Namjoon watched your fingers circling his broad wrist. You pulled his hand closer to your lips and grazed them over a few fingertips. You tingled as his lips parted and his lids lowered.

Whatever he was trying to say you were sure it was the same feeling flooding through your entire body. Pulsing inside you, ending right between your legs as they trembled like they’d never done before. More than any hike could ever induce. 

You cut him off.  “..Relax me, Namjoon. Make me forget everything for a while.” 

It was like the shadow darkened hallway stretched on forever as Namjoon moved, carrying you. You couldn’t wrap around him more, but you wanted to try, tightening your thighs around his waist. 

He didn’t have wide hips, but they were sturdy as he walked, pacing slowly across the wood floor in a leisurely path to the bedroom. You dimly knew the space waited beyond that doorway at the far end. And you wanted time to condense again, to bring you both where nature said you should be: in Namjoon’s bed. 

Doing things that nature intended for two people at the mercy of attraction were fated to do. 

Namjoon didn’t pause kissing you as he opened the door, then bumped it wider with a hip. You were in the bedroom, the setting sun’s rays barely filtering through the treetops outside the nearby window. 

As he paused at the bed, then leaned over it, the kiss broke. Reds and fiery orange hues outlined Namjoon’s triangular upper body as he braced a palm into the bed, finally leaned over enough that your back met the mattress. 

“Let go.” He whispered. 

You fell entirely into the bed, grateful for the cushioned fall. Your hair and limbs splayed. Namjoon’s eyes stayed on your, enjoying your slow wriggle as he grasped his shirt and hauled it up, then off. It met the bed nearby. 

Your own hands clutched down the length of your body, finding the shirt you’d chosen from his offered selection.

“Don’t.” Namjoon growled, dropping his bottoms next. Then his briefs, unbothered at the ferocity of his erect cock springing vertical on escape. He mounted the bed on one knee, outside your hip, then the other one joined and he loomed over your again, head to toe bare of a stitch of clothes. 

Sure you’d pondered how he looked in that shower when he’d taken his turn. And under those tight workout pants in the store. Now all was coming clear. All was on a platter, right in front of you—or over you, as it were. 

Your body arched, breasts jostling. Namjoon cupped the outside of a breast and stroked his thumb across the nipple. It perked and he studied the shape through the t–shirt. A garment you desperately wanted to lose. 

In the game of ‘naked’, he was leagues ahead of you. 

“I’m…Namjoon, please–” You sputtered, then groaned loudly when he pinched that tight nipple between his thumb and forefinger, then tugged. His touch was gone in a blink and he gathered your shirt, pushing it higher, up to your neck. Head bowed, he backed down towards the foot of the bed a bit more, until his mouth stopped above your navel. 

“Let me.” He purred, peeling down the boxers you’d borrowed too, and taking them to your knees. While one hand pushed them to your ankles, then off, Namjoon’s nose spiraled your mound. 

You heard his inhale. The groan he let out was sinfully needy too. You bent your right knee, drawing that leg up a little more and lifting your ass off the bed. Delivering your pussy right against his wide open mouth, swooping in to latch onto your clit. 

Namjoon sucked deep and tight, lips perfectly sealed. Then the pulsing started. He was quiet enough, only making a pop sound when he pulled away now and then. 

It wasn’t like he needed to suck your clit or slide his tongue through your folds to open them. It already felt hot and slippery. Your flesh ached in a way that said making out had long since done the trick. 

But Namjoon was enjoying himself and explored with his pointer finger, tracing it through you, stopping down at your opening. Teasing the winking muscle until it clenched again and your thighs shook. 

“You’re so wet..Y/n. You like this don’t you? Are you always this ready when it’s been a while?” 

You nodded. You couldn’t be sure it was true but if that’s what he wanted to hear, if felt like the truest answer you could give. He seemed to accept it diving down to lick, then stab his tongue deeper into you, pushing through your muscle. 

He scooped your widening thighs up and wrapped them over his shoulders. Hugged them against the sides of his neck as he moaned, jaw dropping wider open. Pushing into you, lifting your hips higher and bringing your ass off the bed again.

A lake of heat was swirling in your belly. You wanted to tell him you were close because you felt like the edge was right there, you precariously toes over and staring down into the fall. 

But you couldn’t get the words out. It was only a long, confused hiss of pleasure as fingers slid into you. Pulled out and dipped in again. Namjoon’s fingers worked to stir you up inside, drawing slick out from the depths, slathering it all over you on the outside. Making a delicious mess. 

When you couldn’t take it anymore and your chest heaved, Namjoon pulled back enough and shrugged your legs off his shoulders. He joined them together and turned you onto one side, hooking them neatly over the bend of one elbow, palm planted deep into the bed with an impressive divot.

It was so much concentrated weight focused into one point, you felt the bed sink just a little. Namjoon’s face came into view over you. He groped between your bodies, finding himself and guiding the tip to nest perfectly against you. 

When his bare cock slid inside you, it was done in a single, firm stroke. It wasn’t about the power of his thrust. It was the unhesitant drive in his hips, planting his cock deep and pushing a strangled gasp right out of you. 

Your upper body twisted, neck and head craning away. Profile bracing into the bed, you inhaled, head spinning off the scent of clean, fresh soap, light sweat and errant traces of Namjoon’s natural scent. 

You keened as he pulled back, slid a hand down your side and cupped the hip facing up, then sunk back in. The pumping was seamless. He flowed in and out of you, building speed but keeping the perfect depth. Hitting spots inside you that sent sparks across your scalp. Sent rails of fire down your spine. Curled your toes, when he circled into you and his hips snapped. 

“You feel so good on my cock.. God baby..that’s it..” Over you, Namjoon’s exhale coasted along your skin, burning hot as he muttered wondrously.

You could only whimper, nails sunk into the crook of his nearer elbow, head rolling back to keep your briefly open eyes focused on the ceiling beyond Namjoon’s rocking head. 

He murmured. Fucked. Pushed your knees high as he folded your twisted body up more. Condensed what little tight, wet space was inside you, more and more. There was only so much room and it was full–slick came out more and more as he pulled out and rammed back in. 

It was an unmistakable wet slap loud and clear over Namjoon’s huffing. He was putting in the work and you were back at the edge, now something invisible wrapping and pulling you over. You tumbled, cumming hard. Cumming quick, seizing around his cycling cock.

Namjoon’s head lolled backwards, but he kept going, through your rippling walls. Working up a froth through the creamy mess building as you squeezed and pulsed. Your throat opened as you groaned out a “P..Please..don’t s..stop…”

Your guts seized so hard you couldn’t cry out when Namjoon heeded your request and let himself really go, fucking you deeper. Harder. Jerking your whole body up the bed as he followed. You weren’t escaping–not from him. Not from the gut wrenching orgasm ripping through you. 

The world whited as your eyes rolled up entirely, leaving you sightless. Your purpose on this earth: to feel every bit of ecstasy rushing through you and sending you to the brink of human experience. 

With the release of pressure a trickle followed down to your ass. Namjoon faltered. His lips dove down to your ear.

“..Inside or…o..out..” 

No time to think meant no room for regret. You HAD to know. 

“Inside. Fill me up, Namjoon..” Your lips joined in a deep, ravenous kiss, gobbling up his moan as he shuddered. A few rough thrusts later, he was still, plunged deep, pulsing. Your twitching pussy probably felt like heaven to him as he emptied every drop into you.

When it was over, Namjoon carefully pulled back. His cock slipped out and you felt emptier. For a moment your muscles stayed open, then closed up tight. Like they were determined to hold onto every ounce of what this man had just given. 

“Holy…shit.” Namjoon wiped a forearm across his brow and laughed slowly, Adam’s apple dancing. 

“You felt..so good.” You blurted out. It took a few moments to see beyond the last rays of sunset through the window. The bouquet of colors was gone, leaving a muted, reddish haze. 

Namjoon’s shoulders flexed back as he rolled his neck. “..If you could understand how your pussy feels.. Fuck..” With a groan he combed his bangs back. 

“Worth the wait?” 

You tickled the downy trail running south, below his navel, then situated both calves on the outside of his hips. Namjoon’s hands rested loose on your hips. He wasn’t shy, eyeing your whole body and wearing the smirk of a job well done. 

There was no doubt he’d smashed your previous experiences. Your insides twitched and your head had barely cleared. You’d just come back to the present, cobbling together enough focus for basic conversation. 

“And then some..” Namjoon hummed, seizing your wrist and bringing that hand to his lips. He tucked a kiss into that palm. Leering down at you, he cupped that hand against the center of his chest. Right between those big, perfectly muscled pecs. 

“Ready to call your friend?” There was a distant hope sparkling in his eyes. You knew as well as he did: No was acceptable, again. 

“In a little bit.” You murmured, then glanced at his bedroom door. He’d left it open. His mouth shifted into a half grin. 

“Something else you want—maybe somewhere else around here?” 

“Well I noticed a hot tub outside.” 

“That’s right.” Namjoon’s muscles shifted under your palm. Your fingers curled along his skin, lightly pressing in, trying to feel more. You wanted more of him, not just the tour of his place. 

“We should try it out.” 

“We can do that. A soak is good for the muscles.” 

“I’ve heard that. ….Got time to give me a full tour after that?” Whatever he might have planned for the rest of his night, he didn’t flinch and his expression stayed pleasant. Welcoming, like his gaze following your legs up to your core and taking a long time to linger there. 

“You’re really changing my mind about this whole cabin in the woods thing.” You added. Namjoon puffed his chest and leaned forward, releasing his hold on your hand as if he knew you’d keep that palm against him. 

You didn’t prove him wrong, adding the other palm as he pressed down over you. A kiss was on the horizon and you tipped your face up. His weight felt good on you–Namjoon’s large frame trapped you in the best way. 

He was warm. His cock was tacky but already semi hard as it inched across your belly. 

“I’m always up for a chance to change an opinion. We can go have a soak and you can think about calling your friend after.” 

You offered a faux pout. “Are you saying I have to leave?” 

“That’s not even close to what I said. Definitely wasn’t thinking it..” Even being faintly chastised felt good. You couldn’t say you had the same take away back at work, in front of your boss or direct report. 

“Good to know.” You snuck a look down to what you could make out of your body underneath Namjoon. It was still damp enough between your thighs. You knew it wouldn’t be as bad as it had been still in the act, but you knew a wipe down was in order before you dared stick a toe in his hot tub. 

Call it respect, but you also wanted a chance to explore what things looked like after you’d been daring enough to ask for and receive what had to be a healthy load inside. That hadn’t happened since your last committed relationship. 

You looked up again, watching Namjoon’s face disappear as he sucked a kiss at the bottom of your neck, where it joined your shoulder. Afterwards he sat up and backed down the bed. He offered both hands to help you up. 

When you stood upright face to face, the bed at your back, you felt shy. Your legs felt surprisingly weak. You swallowed, finding your mouth cottony. 

“Let’s grab a drink too. You can show off your kitchen and the living room? You’re into photography I noticed.”

“What makes you say that?” He tugged you along, taking a step at a time backwards towards the bedroom doorway. If it hadn’t been his cabin, you’d wonder if he’d walked around his place in the city like this. What was that place like? 

You wanted to know more about who Namjoon was beyond this big getaway spot in the woods and his generous many-card credit power. 

“I saw photo albums on your bookshelf.” 

“Yeah.” Namjoon’s features smothered darkness as he crossed the bedroom door threshold into the hallway. “I dabble now and then. Whenever I’m here.” 

“Would love to see it.” 

“We can add that to the tour. I do like to keep my guests happy.” 

“And I think I like this whole day in the woods. Might be time to find out about what a weekend away would be like.” 

Namjoon’s body was against you again as your travel paused midway down the hall. You didn’t have to see, only feel and you knew he was going for a kiss. You surrendered your mouth and he took his time, tongue exploring lightly. 

“A little Me Time…I can support that–in more than one way.”   

[h3rmess]

COLLAPSE

-> 1✰Geto Suguru

LASER LIGHTS ☆

"ignore it 'til I feel alright."

I'm not really sure when it started. It might have been when Satoru and I were sent out on yet another mission, the gravity of which being way too much for people of our age to handle.

Or, it may have been on an earlier occasion when I was promoted to special grade following my evaluation after the exchange event. The gravity of that title held a great responsibility within it : to help the weak.

Gravity. The force constantly acts upon us on a daily basis. The vector quantity that holds both direction and magnitude. The magnitude of the situations only seemed to grow, and I only seemed to be moving backwards, deeper and deeper into a pool of depression.

"Your job as Jujutsu sorcerers is to help the weak. Save those who can't save themselves."

So what happens when I need help? Who's going to save me? Do I rely on another sorcerer to put me out of my misery?

Being the strongest is nothing but a curse. Living every day knowing everyone is counting on you to help when no one else can. Being the first and last resort in all situations. Having responsibilities that, if given to any other human, would eat them alive and leave nothing but blood splatters on the floor.

Why me? Why did I have to be the strongest? I can't save everyone. I can't save anyone.

Satoru seemed to be doing a little better than me. By a little, I mean a lot. He had become the strongest. He was able to laugh and joke so casually about these topics. Meanwhile, they cause my stomach acid to burn my guts. Thank a sheltered childhood for that. Being the family's pride and joy must have been great for him. Not having to climb his way up must have been amazing. Being born the strongest, never once having to doubt his ability because it came so naturally and effortlessly. He must love his life.

He was being sent on more missions on his own. Naturally, this meant that I, too, had to be sent on more missions alone.

Every day was torture for me.

We were unsure of how it came about, but the frequent disaster of the last year probably played a role. Cursed spirits were springing up like maggots.

Exorcise, absorb. Over and over. Exorcise, absorb.

The more curses we killed, the more I had to absorb to remain the strongest. Once you're at the top, you can't back down. Do you know what it's like to absorb curses? It's like eating a rag that's been used to clean up vomit and shit. It makes me sick to my stomach.

Exorcise, absorb. Who am I doing this for?

Maybe it was the pressure of being strong. Or, it could have been the frequency of our missions. Before I knew it, dark circles were forming under my eyes. Sleep became a foreign concept to me. Something that i yearned for dearly. So many people had died.

Soon enough, my meals started to look unappetising too. Revolting clumps of farmed rubbish put together to be consumed. Curses. Revolting lumps of negative emotions put together to be consumed.

Nobody understands.

I kept it under wraps in front of the others, remaining inconspicuous at all costs. The strong can't help the strong.

It seemed to be getting better for a while. But then, Gojo was evolving. He was learning things I knew I could never do. His pace was immense. He picked it up so easily. I tried to keep up. I was losing my speed.

Satoru had it so easy. He never had to think about anything the way I did. His technique was spoon-fed to him, served on a golden platter. He was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. I had nothing. I was nothing. Amongst the entirety of Jujutsu society, not once would you hear anyone say, "Geto Suguru is so strong!" "He's the strongest!" It was always Satoru. Always him who would block my only hope at being the strongest. Always him who would block my chance at being a decent human being. Getting the recognition I deserve rather than being drenched in a boundless sea of tasks once one had been completed. I was never once thanked for my work. I thought I didn't need it. That was until he came and stole it all from me. I hated it. I hated being weak! I hated Gojo Satoru.

Or at least that was my justification for the events that occurred on that fateful day.

I had found myself at the lowest point in my life. I was heavily torn between being able to save one person or an entire population. It was a tough decision to make. Did I want to continue saving people indefinitely, or did I want to get it all done with in one go? To me, the more logical answer was the latter. Re-educating the entire country of Japan would be near impossible. What if there were people like Zenin who had no cursed energy? What, then? Would I be forced to save all the non-sorcerers again?

Then it hit me. The root of my problem. No matter how much I tried to stray from it, it was always right in front of me. The cause of all of my misery. The reason why I was so malnourished. The reason why I found myself in this position in the first place. Those non-sorcerers. The useless beings who couldn't do so much as defend themselves against curses that didn't even qualify for grade 4. The people with no cursed energy who lived their lives in ignorance, not knowing of the mental and physical torment some of us endured daily. Those damn monkeys. Those sub human creatures! They were the issue! The bane of my existence.

And so, my plan to rebuild the nation of Japan was put into action. I needed to wipe out all of the monkeys and build a new world ; a world of jujutsu sorcerers. That way, everyone could defend themselves. I would be putting the weak out of their misery. It would limit the number of deaths from cursed spirits. A small sacrifice like this in the grand scheme of things wouldn't hurt, right?

I killed an entire village. They all went up in flames. It felt amazing. Never once before in my life had I felt such joy, such untainted happiness. I knew that this was for the greater good, and that's what fueled me. That's what drove me to save two girls and build a family where we all shared one common goal - obliterate the monkeys and bring about a change.

Needless to say, I was expelled from Jujutsu Tech, and everyone was after my head. They really didn't get it, did they? They didn't see the bigger picture at all.

And that's when Satoru got involved. He had found out about my massacre and was not pleased, to say the least. Screaming at me on the streets like some uncivil beast. A savage dog spewing bullshit with every word he spoke.

"You know it would be impossible!" He screamed, and I stopped.

I had been blocking out what he was saying, but that combination of words was the straw that broke the camels back for me.

Impossible? He thinks it's impossible? Satoru Gojo, who, with his hollow purple, could wipe out the entirety of Japan. He thinks it's impossible?

Don't make me laugh.

That arrogant bastard. Saying that something is impossible even though he could do it with minimal effort?

How hypocritical.

It must be nice to be so sheltered that you have deluded yourself into completely disregarding your heritage and cursed technique when talking to others. To wholly be able to forget about being strong and try to make yourself appear as if you are anywhere near the level of ther jujutsu sorcerers.

It must be amazing.

He knows that he could do it, and yet he doesn't want to admit it.

Is this the power the strong have? All along, it wasn't about cursed energy or cursed technique, but your ability to manipulate those inferior to you.

Satoru was very crafty indeed.

But two could play at that game. If he thought he was the only one who could manipulate and alter someone thinking, he was dearly mistaken.

"Are you the strongest because you're Satoru Gojo? Or are you Satoru Gojo because you're the strongest?"

The words flowed from the deepest part of my heart, a feeling awakened by his ignorance to his own strength.

No, it wasn't ignorance. It was Satoru being pitiful towards the weak, sympathising with us as if he was anywhere near our level. We are merely lowly peasants compared to him.

He acted surprised at my words, telling me everything I needed to know. If I wanted to progress in my mission, I had to let go of my past self, strip myself down until I was nothing, and rebuild a better version of myself. Only then would I be able to achieve my goal. Only then would it be possible to wake up one day without feeling like the world could come crashing down at any second.

I left my best friend that day. The only one who understood me until that point. It had only been us.

I had to start anew, to build a world in which only sorcerers exist. That way, arrogant brats like Satoru wouldn't have free reign over the weak, and my mind would be at ease.

Just a little longer. Everything will fall into place.

m.list

navi☆

[technologyculturedneo]

Smoothie Trials. Nct Dream

Pairing. Nct dream ft Chenle x Donghyuck x Reader

Synopsis. You find yourself immersed in an all type killing game, whereby your every move starts to become manipulated by your will to live. Within the game you're most cautious of who to trust. It doesn't help that this may be your last time to live and... to fall in love

Dream () Scape series

Chenle has the world’s shittest luck ever. You could put him in a room full of good luck and he’d still manage to make the worst out of it. He always had a correlation with bad luck and misfortune. Nothing ever went his way, and nothing good ever came out of his life. From one trouble to the next. He hated life, but he was too chicken to end it. As he’s huddled in the dark alley corner, nothing sums up his life better as he covers his manhood while taking a beating from a group of rowdy drunk men who thought it was alright to get into bar fights and pick on young boys like him (he was simply minding his own business drinking the pain away). They called him a sissy, pulled him out the bar just so they could have their way with him because ‘why not’.

Covering his head with one hand and the other over his groin, he doesn’t budge or make a sound despite the pain shooting out all through his body. The cracking sounds within his bones makes him toughen up. Something is definitely broken in there, but he can’t attend to it. Aside from his body, his heart has long been broken and now slowly the world seemed to want to crush his soul. He takes in the kicking and mocking laughs around him, feeling like a damn coward. The one thing he’d manage to learn during his brief miserable 23 years on earth was how to never expect anything from anyone.

“Hey! Leave him alone!”

Until he hears a voice.

His grainy teary eyes open up seeing a figure standing in the open alley way. His eyes make motion of a black skirt.

What the hell will a damn girl do to help him? Chenle clothes his eyes again, knowing very well that the big men will ignore you and keep beating him up…

However, he finds himself waiting for a while for the impact to continue, yet he’s astound that nothing is happening, so he opens his eyes again but immediately gets surprised when seeing his surroundings. He’s no longer in the dark alleyway… he’s on a bed. Laying on a bed. In a bright room with a buzz and scent so strong that he can immediately tell where he is. The damn hospital. He shoots up like an electric eel instantly grabbing onto his rib cage groaning when the pain makes itself known. He curses while carefully shifting his legs off the bed. The spot underneath his legs is damp and has faint red on it. Blood. Why do they all smell the same? He remembers this place a lot, whenever his parents would ‘accidently’ beat him up so badly that he’d need stitches.

“Hey, you’re awake.”

Chenle’s ears locate the voice and his head sharply turns around- only to grunt out again as a sharp sting strikes his neck.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry.” You apologize as you draw closer to Chenle with your hands together. Chenle’s eyes squint open in pain meeting your remorseful eyes. He recognizes your face, but instantly holds his guard up. “Try not to move a lot, you’ll only h-”

“I need to go.” Chenle continues to get off the bed, but you’re up on your feet quick to stop him. It proves to be difficult because before you can even say a word he snaps in your direction. “I don’t need your help!” Just like when he was young, everyone that offered him sympathy all turned their backs on him. He can’t trust people.

How he got to the hospital, he has no idea. You might’ve had something to do with it, but Chenle’s not about to place any sort of hope on you. Like his luck, he trusts that it’ll run out again. You may have helped him, but there was no such thing as luck on his side, so he doesn’t want to jinx anything and just cuts out of the bed and hospital before his bad luck can find him and cause him more misery.

The time is 7pm on the dot when he finally enters another faculty, a therapy faculty, trembling and limping. Okay, maybe he should’ve stayed in the hospital. Holding onto his side and trying not to draw attention to himself, Chenle enters the group therapy room where he should be- he takes a seat, just in time for the prayer.

“Father, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things that I can and the wisdom to know the difference.” Dr. Kai, prays together with his group of patients. Opening up his eyes, he smiles, warmth radiating out of him. “Welcome back to week 34 of Healing Therapy.”

Shit. If you’re the one who helped him… does it mean he left you alone with a bill to pay? Chenle suddenly thinks. He shakes his head. He recalls you from being a lady on the bus that he takes around the late nights.

“We’re going to do a couple of things tonight, so I’d like us all to be present in body, thoughts, spirit and mind.” Dr. Kai, with over 8 years of experience relished the ability to help these traumatized people into a process of healing. Upon seeing Chenle in the room, Dr. Kai gets happy. He appreciated the effort of those who tried. His smile cuts short when the door opens and another person enters the room and takes the only available seat right next to Chenle. Donghyuck. Despite Chenle looking like he’s been beat to a pulp, he was a sight for sore eyes rather than Donghyuck, who looked perfectly fine. While Doctor Kai appreciated effort, he wishes that Donghyuck didn’t have to try to come to therapy.

Zhong Chenle and Lee Donghyuck. If it weren’t for their abstract differences, anyone could take them to be blood siblings of trauma, even though they weren’t real siblings or even of the same nationality. It’s funny how trauma took a toll on them. Surely they had problems like all the other patients in the room, and they handled trauma so differently, but still for Dr. Kai, no other patients have intrigued him the way Chenle and Donghyuck have. Knowing these patients for over 5 years, he found them the most difficult to work with as they were a handful without even saying much in his class. While Donghyuck only showed up to pass time, Chenle showed up for actual therapy- yet one thing they both had commonly was how they showed up to therapy but hated participating or sharing anything about themselves.

Donghyuck, with his hands in his pocket leaning so low into his seat, stares into the emptiness of the middle of the circle. Eyes of a man who fears nothing and is void of all emotion. While Chenle sitting has his arms folded looking at him dead in the eye. Yikes. Dr. Kai wonders what happened to him this time around. Chenle has eyes of a man who’s seen it all and has had enough.

“We’ll get into the big book a bit later, but I was hoping we could hear somebody else speak tonight instead of just me.” Even though the Dr. Kai’s eyes move to the other faces, he only has those two names in mind. “Why don’t you talk tonight?”

Sensing the silence, Donghyuck’s eyes come back to his reality, empty and out of touch realizing that he’s been chosen. His eyes switch to the clock behind the head of the instructor. 19h35. He hated therapy.

“You could start, by telling us what you’re feeling tonight?”

“What I feel.” He states rhetorically to himself, staring directly into the eyes of Dr. Kai. Playing mind games with the Doctor, making Kai feel inferior. “Empty.” Donghyuck answers clearly. “I feel nothing.”

The answer is raw and delivered with no emotion what so ever. He’s not even composed, he’s intimidatingly blank. Dr. Kai, manages a brief smile and he answers. “Precision of language; empty. Being empty.” Dr. Kai nods his head. “Are you empty inside?”

Donghyuck in response, blinks once and keeps his eyes unmoving from the Doctor.

“Being ‘empty’ is actually internal anger. As you’re empty, I ask, why are you angry? Are you angry at the world? Yourself? Family? Or is it something else?” Donghyuck stares, not giving away any hints that those words hit a chord of anger in him. He hated when someone tried to speculate what he was feeling. “Why are you angry?” The doctor asks the question.

Inhaling deeply, and exhaling through his nose, Donghyuck angles his brows to one of being neutral. He plays along. “It could be that I despises being the only one who went through what I went through.”

Surprised to have actually gotten that much depth out of Donghyuck, Dr. Kai nods his head understandingly and doesn’t push it too far. “Some experiences are meant for you alone to experience in order to develop your character.” Donghyuck pulls such a dramatic eye roll of disbelief immediately shutting down. Kai senses that, but he doesn’t question it. “See it like this, the next time you feel empty, in other words, aggravated, hostile or hurt, isolated… lonely, I want you to ask yourself this question; How old do I feel? It’s a relevantly dumb question, but it helps in pin pointing roots associated with certain trauma in your life.”

Donghyuck despondently stares in thought and tilts his head to the side nodding, as if dismissing the attention on him. In Donghyuck’s mind, Dr. Kai would never know anything about him, and therapy seemed to be a waste of time. Taking it as a sign to move to the next culprit, Dr. Kai is immediately met with the beady eyes of Chenle. Words can’t describe the dark pit in the abyss eyes of Chenle. The man weighed his heart in his eyes. And his heart was broken, aside from that his body too looked severely injured. “My oh my Chenle. What sad eyes you have, why don’t you tell us how you feel?”

Chenle is blank for a minute, trying to think why he suddenly got picked. “Dissatisfied.” It cuts through so sharply and fast that Dr. Kai forgets his next line prompt. He wasn’t expecting an answer, but since he got one, he thinks on it for a bit.

“Dissatisfied. How come?”

No answer. Unlike Donghyuck who played mind games with his eyes, Chenle didn’t play any mind games, but instead it was his eyes that spoke. He wasn’t going to answer that question. Dr. Kai leans forward on his seat, paying attention to Chenle’s posture, which was guarded.

“I can only venture in thought that you’re someone who’s been through a lot. You don’t talk much, but your eyes…” Dr. Kai shakes his head. “Your eyes say a lot of things… Let me share with you something. You know often, during childhood our minds are trained to shut out what we’re really feeling. Your first thought is what you’ve been taught to think by the circumstances of your upbringing, whilst your second thought is what you actually think.”

Chenle listens. Hears, what the doctor is saying. And in his head, thoughts begin to form. But his mouth remains still.

“So if your first though is dissatisfied. What is your second answer?”

…Lost…

But Chenle doesn’t say it out loud.

“Next, Doyoung.”

-

Donghyuck can only sit in deep thought watching the night life of flashy cars and ordinary people go by while he stands by the bus stop area with his comrades. The therapy session tonight actually taught him some things. He’s curious to how old he’s feeling. Although, he knows very well of how old he’s feeling. Most people turn older and age upwards, but Donghyuck felt stuck at age 15.

When his bus comes, sharp around 9pm. Taking the back window seat with his crew; Jeno, Jisung and Karina he begins to go over the plan for tonight’s scheme. As a means to cover up the trauma, Donghyuck filled up his life with things to distract him from his actual feelings. Such as pyramid organizations, money laundering, illegal trading - he had the wit and logic to pull it off, and because he's never gotten caught, he's feared nothing. It's in that fear of nothing that it helped to shut him out of his head and focus solely on the things he did. So just as the bus is about to take off, his ears are sharp when a particular bus mate tells the bus to stop because one person hasn’t yet arrived.

"There he goes again." Jeno mutters.

Karina giggles tossing her leg over Jeno. "Oh come on babe, you're telling me you wouldn't stop the bus if I wasn't on it?"

"I probably wouldn't even get on if you weren't on it. I’d wait outside. And then when you’d come, we’d take another bus." Jeno snorts a cheeky comment. "But what I'm getting at, is this girl. I’d kill to have luck like hers. Always trying to get everyone to like her so that she can get away with shit.”

“What do you mean by that.” That intrigues Donghyuck… because somewhere in him, he relates the characteristic to his own mother. A woman who always tried to get on people’s good side, so that they’d never suspect a thing of what would happen behind closed doors with her family. “You think good fortune is on her?”

“If I have to count all the times that weirdo shouts out that she's not on it, I'd be rich." Jeno mutters before directly his speech to Donghyuck. “She’s fake is what I’m getting at. People like her, are sketchy.”

“They never get caught though.” His mum never got caught, and Donghyuck knew that if he didn’t leave, he’d become even worse than what he is. Donghyuck inhales and looks away. The bus gets moving, and Donghyuck brings out his ‘damage control, trauma coin’ gifted to him by the age of 10, as a way to cope with indecisiveness.

Even though he doesn’t need it anymore, it’s thoughts and decisions like this that had him tossing it up in the air and with eagerness, he checks the back of his palm when it gets down. Tails.

Which is why upon a heavy 55 minute drive to Neo City, when his stop comes, he nods and tells his comrades to go without him. "I'll catch you mid-way through the plan."

Jisung turns back before he's about to leave. "And what the hell will you be doing Sunshine?"

Donghyuck smirks. "Stalking." It sounds like a joke, maybe that’s why Jisung laughs, but it’s true, Donghyuck plans on stalking you.

The bus goes on, dropping a few more people before you finally stand up by your stop bidding farewell to your bus mates. He acts on his instincts and follows you, but only from a distance. He's curious about your nature. Are you really pure? Or do you harbor secrets?

You enter a fast food restaurant and Donghyuck notes it to be your workplace. Standing outside while leaning on a wall for a while, blinking mindlessly at the door, he brings out the coin from his pocket and he breathes deeply. Flipping it up in the air, it lands on the back of his hand. Tails. He pushes himself to enter.

The store is way too busy during these late hours, and Donghyuck deems it impossible for you to serve him, until he sees you walking towards him an hour later. Even the mere thought of his mother, makes him feel vulnerable… Of course recognition shoots up your face upon recognizing him, but you remain professional and smile. "Are you ready to order sir?"

He doesn't even look at the menu. "A special."

Your eyes flicker from his to your notepad and then to the table with an awkward smile, when his stare is heavy yet so dull. "We don't have a special."

Your voice is warm, and up close your eyes are shining brightly. You don’t give off that vibe that Jeno projected. Instead, you give off the vibe that you’re lucky because you haven’t faced troubles. Donghyuck projects that if you were to have faced something severe… like maybe your heart being brutally heartbroken, or maybe even rape… maybe you’d turn out just like his mother. But hey, you’re just another person from the bus. He shouldn’t have wasted his time on you. You’re just… mid… maybe below average. "Alright."

Donghyuck finds himself getting up and leaving. Walking past you. You try to call him back- your ‘wait sir’ and ‘Do you need me to ask if they can make a special’ doesn’t do the trick, and instead you lose a customer. Yikes. So rude. You go about your nightly duties ignoring the rudeness of that one customer. Why a people so rude. First it was that guy Chenle who you tried to help and be a good Samaritan to, and now it’s this guy Donghyuck who just came to … troll?

Midnight strides in and Chenle is limping his way into the bus when he’s done ‘begging’ by the side of the road. Livingly homelessly had its perks, but nothing good ever came his way. Taking a seat and resting his eyes to sleep, finally about to get some rest he- He spoke to soon. He’s not even surprised that his bad luck found him again, as the bus gets stopped for a few people. Chenle’s beady tired eyes shifts away from the group and to the outside. Now that’s a sight that sore eyes don’t want to see. Donghyuck and his infamous crew of ‘rats’. He begs for them not to notice him… but it’s hard because he’s the only one on the bus.

Donghyuck ignores him and walks over to sit on the backseat, however his crew (being excited from the heist gone well) don’t leave Chenle. Karina pokes the side of Chenle’s head just as Jeno roughly pats Chenle’s thighs and takes a seat next to him. Chenle tries to hide the pain and bites on his lip. “Fuck. Who beat you up this time? Is it just me or you look worse every time I see you?”

“It’s not just you bro, I see it too.” Jisung taunts while Karina is behind Chenle’s seat continuously bobbing his head.

Chenle blocks out everything that they’re saying, already being used to the insults that flaunt their mouths. Was he pickable? Is that why people picked on him when he didn’t even do anything?

“Hey, it’s rude to ignore someone who’s talking to you-” Jeno wildly balls his fists and directs his strength over Chenle’s stomach causing him to hurl forward spitting out blood. Jisung and Karina laugh as Jeno curses. “Now fucking look, you made a mess.” Another punch over Chenle’s abdomen only edges Chenle to a breaking point where he yells and tosses his own beating towards Jeno. Unfortunately, Jeno’s bigger, stronger and faster and not only dodges the hits but howls in sheer excitement grabbing Chenle’s clothes and picking him up banging him against the sides of the window. “Little boy wants to get mad? Huh, is that the best you can do? Get mad.” Jeno laughs with the other two who were busy cheering on. “Hit me-”

“Oh my god.” You cover your mouth, your eyes enlarge upon entering the bus and seeing Chenle at the receiving end of a hard attack.

“Stop.” One word from Donghyuck has Jeno rolling his eyes and peeks at the back seater.

“We’re just getting started. You should join.”

Donghyuck’s empty stare says everything he needs to say without a word. And Jeno clinches his jaw poking the inside of his cheek with tongue. Donghyuck’s eyes then move to the side causing the rest of his crew to take notice of the bus entry.

You stand closer to pole in front avoiding their stare. Damn. This is why you hated going home late, because you’d be met up with things you didn’t want to see.

Jeno rolls his eyes turning his head back to Chenle who was still against the window with his eyes shut. “Next time you won’t be so lucky.” He lightly punches Chenle’s chest-

“Stop hitting him, he’s injured.” You timidly say, instantly looking down when Karina glares at you.

“You fucking bitch, no one’s talking to you. Aish.” She swears in a muttering tone irritated before running her hand past Jeno’s back motioning him to come back with her. Jisung too follows and takes a seat next to Donghyuck. Meanwhile Chenle moves away from the seat near the back and draws closer to the front. Instantly his cheeks heat up and he sniffs angrily using the back of his arm to wipe his face and compose himself, when you look at him.

So close. He’s so close to committing a crime against himself. “Are you okay?”

He snaps out of his thoughts and peeks at you… “I’m sorry for leaving you with the hospital fees. I wish I could pay you back, but-”

You shake your head, your heart warms by his sudden words. “No, it’s okay. You were hurt and I just wanted to help you.”

And that’s something that sticks with Chenle’s when he gets home. ‘I just wanted to help you.’ For a very long time, since birth, he’s hated his life… but your kind gesture tonight… made him take a chance on what the therapist once said: ‘If you feel like you hate everyone, eat. Because the world goes on with or without your hate.’ And that’s what he does, instead of ending it in the bathtub, he gets out a slice of bread and eats, in his shabby one bedroom room.

2 Weeks later.

The usual 9 p.m. bus stops on the Kwangya streets waiting for passengers to enter. Right on cue as the doors open all sorts of people; vibrant, loud and cheerful souls along with the few quiet, mysterious and introverts, all enter and occupy the leather seats of the white and red striped bus that would head to the boogie urban life of Neo City where all of them would drop off. Sometimes it can be packed with familiar looking people, other times only a few people would enter. But no matter what, there’s always people in the bus.

Although the 9 p.m. bus seemed to have the same passengers from time to time, there was always a different driver for different shifts. Each of these drivers knew the familiar faces of the passengers. Tonight’s driver is Lee Sooman, considered to be the quiet driver. He greets each and every one of them, noting that tonight’s ride isn’t that packed, but regardless, he's content that they are some people. He’d still get paid...

The front seats are filled with ladies; slim figures, short skirts and a ray of hot money glowing on their skin, the typical ladies who head into their shady work business trying to make money from hungry lustful eyes. They sit in front, partially for the reason that they’d always leave first. The 3 ladies, known as Irene, Joy and Seulgi.

The next row has two young boys who played hockey and would fill the other seats with their bags of hockey gears. With their obnoxious laughs yet shy demeanor, everyone knew them just to be typical high school boys, Sungchan and Shotaro.

The next seats have a group that only made an appearance every Thursday night. With jobs not known to anyone on the bus, these members always had designer and nice things, wore black, and looked suspicious of doing illegal things. Them being, Karina the black haired pretty female in the group, Jeno the muscles, who had his arm around Karina stating his relationship loud and clear, Jisung the wanna be highschool gangster who always sat next to the nonchalant Donghyuck. This clique right here, had the looks, the money and all the rumors. Donghyuck their accustomed leader always took the window seat and called the shots. His eyes glued to the dark outside world, distant from his crew yet so present to all they said.

Behind the clique was the PDA couple Renjun and his girlfriend, Ning. This couple known by all were the couple who were always getting handsy with each other. It's worse since they always stood and held onto the pole instead of sitting. Their specialty was making people feel single and uncomfortable.

Jaehyun along with his college mate YangYang, also stood, but away from the couple. They constantly discussed every boyish, hip and stylish thing and sometimes even make fun of the people…in German, a language they were studying.

Kun and Taeil, sat behind the college boys and seemed like the only business type men in the bus even though they weren’t. Kun and Taeil were known for always playing ‘Go’ and every night they’d go into the city to gamble their luck and make money. They were the oldest on the bus, but strangely the smartest scammers.

Mark and Jaemin, were known as brothers who argued to be the most normal in the bus. Behind them sat the stoners. Consisting of Winwin, Wendy and Hendery who were always high and faded.

Mark, who was the least bothered, calm and collected person always yelled out to the bus driver to wait. If not him then nobody else on the bus would tell the bus driver that you weren’t on it. Always the last, and always late. Everyone knew you as Mark’s girl, because he always shouted at the bus driver that you weren’t on it. So just as the bus start on its engine Mark, as usual interrupts. "Bus driver Sooman, please just one more minute." He earns a few giggles from the ladies in the front before the bus driver apologies opening up the bus doors. The bus waits for a few more minutes with a few whining that time is going and that they’d be late… until you show up.

You jog up the stairs of the bus in your work attire, a black pencil skirt and white blouse, that needs a bit of adjustment as you’re panting and trying to catch your breath. Apologizing to the bus driver while you pant and apologize to the girls in front who give you skank eyes.

"Welcome Y/n, late as usual," Jaehyun greets just as you pass him anxiously. "What's your excuse this time?"

"Baking cookies," You shrug your shoulders. "Do you want some?"

His eyes move to your hands that move to open your bag, but he beats you to it. “Thanks, but no,” He bites his lip, his eyes locking with yours. “Hopefully, we can meet outside this bus one day and eat together, what do you say about that?”

“I’d actually love that,” Your lips try not to reveal your enthusiasm, but when your lips lightly twitch to a smile, Jaehyun smirks.

“Why don’t you get going, we’ll be moving very soon,”

“Okay,” You nod your head and make your way down the aisle towards your seat, yet you get seriously...confused after seeing were your seat is. Making it towards the near back seats meeting Mark and his brother Jaemin.

"One of these days we'll leave you," Jaemin chuckles.

"Ha ha very funny," You playfully roll your eyes. "I make cookies for my favorite people and this is what I get,"

At the mention of cookies, Taeil and Kun both turn. Looking up at you, as you’re standing and holding onto the pole. "I hope we're those favorites," Taeil smiles.

“7 minutes late. Do you not care for this new job?” Mark shakes his head with a little chuckle. “Cookies won’t solve anything.” Mark checks the time. "You should really set an alarm for the bus, what’re you going to do if I’m not around? And why’re you still standing?"

"Well first of all Mark, thanks for caring. If it weren’t for you I’d be fired, so thank you for partially being responsible for why I’m still working. And to answer your other question, I’m okay with standing.” You answer quietly. The only seat which is available and close to Mark and Jaemin… is next to Chenle...

While everyone knew each other and stayed in their respectful cliques, Chenle never particularly sat anywhere on the bus to claim his spot. Never. In fact, Chenle hardly stepped foot on the bus. And when he did he always looked like he was from a fight. Nobody wanted to associate themselves with a ‘troublemaker’ who was always bleeding on his face. Your heart pings for him. After that night, you started seeing him differently.

The last time you saw him, you tried to stop a bunch of big broad men from beating him up. Obviously your petite frame didn’t do much, but your female privilege prevailed for you. You feigned some tears to the bar’s bodyguard and he didn’t take violence lightly... Thankfully the older men backed up and the bodyguard assisted you in calling an ambulance for the knocked out Chenle.

You take a few steps until you’re seated on the seat next to Chenle. He’s a nice guy who’s been misunderstood so many times that it hurts.

You open up your warm lunchbox allowing for the two elders, Kun and Taeil to take and then you hold up your lunch box to the two brothers. Turning to Chenle’s sleeping figure against the window you tilt your head when hearing a lowly rumbling stomach. “I'm going to give him a cookie when he wakes up-"

“What good would that do you?” Jaemin questions munching on the cookie. “He’s a murderer,”

"Really Jaemin?"

"Yes really." He deadpans. "Rumor has it he might be an assassin."

Mark scoffs. "Doubt that. He looks like he gets the bitter end of it."

"I think it’s stupid how we’ve labeled him based off of rumors." You comment feeling bad.

"It's not a rumor if there's witnesses." Jaemin states.

"So, what? Are you now going to say that half the people in this bus are bad people just because someone witnessed them doing bad? I’m just gonna give him a cookie.” You state.

“Yes, there’s nothing like rewarding bad behavior.”

“Jaemin. You’re being irrational. I’m just sharing a cookie because, everyone likes cookies.”

"I don’t want your damn cookies." Gruff in annoyance, a voice grunts out startling both you and Jaemin, causing you both to remain stiff when turning to your neighbor, you hold in your breaths. "I’m trying to get some damn sleep." Chenle’s irritated voice mutters out. His glare stirs away from Jaemin before they focus on you. Your breath is stuck in your throat by how near he is to your face and how recognition coats his eyes. They simmer down a bit, but he looks away. He gets up on his feet moving past your legs heading to the last row of the bus behind the two stoners. He takes his seat all by himself looking uninterrupted and closing his eyes again.

“If you guys only knew what this guy goes through, you wouldn’t be so quick so talk,” You remark. After eating the donuts, you felt normal conversing with Jaemin and Mark, but then you take a glance out the window… noticing you’re going on a different road… traffic stops upon traffic stop until.

“Hey, are we going the right way...” Your voice fades... as you... struggle to think.

It’s getting quiet on the bus… Slowly but surely all voices die down. In your drowsy state you catch the bus driver with some kind of mask over his face...an oxygen tank mask. Your breath finally gives in to the intoxication over your nostrils and brain and mind and when your head bobs forward swerving just like the other sleepy heads in the bus, you wonder what the hell just happened.

Donghyuck, in and out of conscious gets quietly confused when a loud pounding bangs the closed window. He hears it once...twice... It's fading in and out of his ears... He slowly turns his head forward when hearing the pounding again... seeing a figure up on their feet pounding on the window hard and trying to lift it up, stands Chenle.

“Air- open the windows- air-” Chenle stuffs in his breath trying to budge the windows open.

Donghyuck sensing that something is wrong, with a drowsy posture, tries to open his own window- but his fingers… hands are weak.

Chenle meanwhile sucks in a sharp breath releasing a curse. "Shit..." Especially when the scent becomes too much.

A sudden wave of another unfamiliar smell washes over the bus and both Donghyuck and Chenle fall onto their chairs fully knocked out.

Being unconscious and filled with darkness and oblivion all the sleepy passengers in the bus lay completely helpless. Heads bobbing to one corner and bodies swaying according to the movements of the bus. Those that were standing, now helplessly sprawled all over the floors and those on the edge of their seats are swung back and forth.

By then the 9 p.m. pm bus taking a different route is miles and miles away from the main roads. With various U-turns, continuous pumps of the gas to make all the passengers drowsy as well as traveling difficult roads - the bus engine finally stops. Bus driver Lee Sooman in his forties, a seemingly nice man gets out the bus removing the oxygen mask that was over his face. He gives one last look to the bunch of people who trusted him in his bus to take them to the city, a look of pity washing over his face. The look of pity is wiped from his face the moment another male dressed in general uniform of the army appears, giving him a proper stance salute. The bus driver takes the thick envelope in his hand before opening up the doors allowing some fresh air to gain access.

From the little air that entered the nostrils of the passengers, Donghyuck weakly peels his eyes open only to see masked men in soldier gears rush in and picking up all the weak bodies.

"Shit." His voice barely audible.

Donghyuck allows for his body to float along in the air by a buff soldier before being placed on another seat, yet again the air becoming thick and everything turning black. Under the dark moonless sky, the ship that’s transporting the passengers is swaying sluggishly in the wide open black sea.

On this same night the players will be welcomed to their new and last days of their life.

The 22 people on the bus all heading towards their last nights.

-

At first it's dark.

Nothing but darkness clouds your vision. You shift around feeling oddly uncomfortable until you open up your eyes squinting when a bright light hits your vision. Realizing that your head is flat against a hard wooden desk you grunt and moan. Narrowing your eyes in confusion you sit up sensing something’s not right.

Your heart thuds as you take in your surroundings. The whole place is bright with a subtle buzz sound of the light above. But that's not what stands out. Everyone is by a desk all sleeping looking worn out and heads stiff on the desk... What the hell's happening? Weren't you all riding the bus? So now why are you in a classroom? There's a worn-out blackboard, a large TV above and rows and rows of desks and chairs made of plywood glued to steel tubes. Your eyes desperately peel the classroom again with all the unfamiliar bodies sprawled out. Finally, your eyes land on a familiar black messy hair. Mark. You quickly look away turning your head again seeing that the windows of the small classroom are tainted in black paint preventing you from seeing anything.

You lift up your wrist checking the time. The time reads one o'clock a.m... The date Friday 31. Unless someone messed with your watch then it means four hours has passed since...that strange smell wafted through the whole bus. Something's off. Above your watch you notice something odd, feeling cold and hard. Your attention snaps throughout the classroom seeing the strange chain attached to each and every everyone's desks and hand. Yours is just below your watch almost hidden by your blouse. But that's not it. The boy right in front of you, Jaemin has something around his neck. It's metallic. You reach your right free hand around it to only notice the strange band that's stiffly around your neck, it fits so tight that it's almost so hard to move your neck around. What is this?

You look down trying to see if there's anything entangled to your feet, but you only notice a black school bag that looks full. It's by everyone's feet as well. Strange. You’re supposed to be at your late night shift work but now you’re trapped on a desk in a strange classroom with all the other bus mates.

A loud noise erupts from the door in the front. It opens up with that chamber sound. A man comes in.

Your eyes wearying around him. He's well-built and his attire is something to fear. Your first instinct is to shriek because you think you know what's going on. Your eyes enlarge looking at the chain on your hand again.

The man is wearing a navy dark suit buttoned all the way up to his neck, several bronze and gold patched badges are on his blazer with one that says ‘General Suh’. His hair is styled back in perfection and what sticks out the most to you is his confidential look. He strides confidently, his stiletto heels clapping on the floor to the middle of the room until he turns his whole body to face the classroom. His stance straight, chest puffed out, head held high, feet straight together and arms behind his back. At once your heart stops beating when his eyebrow raise, sternly looking at you. You two stare at each other for at least a full minute, fear in yours and indifference in his. Your eyes cower to the table. Winning the staring contest, his empty glare begins roaming around.

The others are waking up. As expected the ones waking up, are a bit out of focus and dazed in confusion. You look ahead when you feel the stare of a confused Jaemin. Your eyes turn to Mark who's only focus is on his wrist to the metallic chain. His eyes come up slowly as if he feels your eyes. You sense his questionable gaze when looking to both you and his brother.

In a cheerful voice, as soon as almost everyone is up and wondering what the hell is going, the man in uniform speaks rendering all the attention to be on him. "Alright, everyone awake? Hope you slept well." Grunts and confused mummers arise. The man turns around picking up a small piece of chalk and turns to the black board, scrapping the small piece of whites on the board annoyingly.

Suh Johnny. “My name is General Suh but you can call me Johnny." The man introduces himself as Johnny pointing to the board, a charming smile coating his face.

"What is going on here?" A grainy, Shotaro erupts.

"Have we been in an accident? Did the… the bus crash?" Another voice, Irene, the slim figured beau asks in shock. "Oh no,"

"Where are we?" YangYang.

"Did you fall asleep too?" Winwin.

"Are we in heaven? Judgement day?" Hendry.

"What time is it anyway?" Sungchan.

"Do you remember getting off the bus and coming here?" Jaehyun.

"Damn, I don't have a watch," YangYang.

"I can't find my phone!" Joy.

"Who the hell is this guy?" Mummer from Sungchan behind you.

"I don't remember a thing." Taeil.

"Have we been in an accident?" Jaehyun.

"I can't find my phone too!" Seulgi.

No one realizes it yet, you think to yourself. There are others around the room who are in deep silence. Like Donghyuck. Behind his dark brown hair his eyes are calm only staring at the General in front. His eyes don’t even resemble a glare, just calmly blinking not even paying attention to the circle of friends, Jisung, Jeno and Karina who address him

Then there’s Irene who looks jabbed where she’s sitting closest to the door. Her clique of her other friends, Joy and Seulgi are sitting close to each other on the row next to yours. Even though Irene has looks of an idol, she always has this strange lifeless expression on her face. She too stares at General Suh with her arms crossed.

Your eyes then scan for Chenle, you spot him leaning against the wall bringing out a piece of gum and slowly chews on it. Chenle looks as closed off as ever, as he observes the General in the front.

Your eyes then turn to Mark who speaks up loud. "Can you please just tell us what's going on?" At that his eyes move to you. He nods his head and it seems to have a calming effect on both you and his brother Jaemin, as you both had a fearful look.

"Okay. Then be quiet." The General Suh claps his hands twice gaining back all the attention. "If my way of dressing and this classroom isn't a hint already, I'll tell you why you're here."

You swallow back, a bad taste lingering in your throat.

"The reason you're all here..." Johnny raises his brow before a sickening smirk forms on his face. "Is to kill each other."

Everyone in the classroom is dead frozen. Except for Chenle who keeps chewing his gum. No one even laughs.

"Get it," The general faintly chuckles as if there's something to be excited about. "The bus you rode was selected for this year's Smoothie."

"Mother of Satan." Sungchan, who is behind you, blurts out. “No.”

Your bottom lip trembles as you hold back your tears. Everyone knows what the Smoothie trials is. There is no man or woman who did not know what the one word Smoothie meant. The whole world knew it. In the year 1974, there was a system created to eliminate members of the society, at least by a quarter. People chosen where forced to fight and kill each other, until only one person remained. In some rare cases, no one remained. The Smoothie Trial, previously known as The Corona was conducted every 1 in 7 years. And in this year 2030, it seems that the trial has commenced again.

The first time Mark heard about this was his first day of high school. His teacher had played the class a video of the experimental battle. As the world became over populated a solution was designed to reduce the rapidly increasing numbers at least by half. Mark wondered throughout all his years of high school if he'd ever be a part of it. But as nothing happened to him or to anyone he knew, he lost interest in the word.

You on the other hand were introduced to it online through a short reel. It showcased a young bald boy, with a deranged smile. He was ‘crowned’ the last Man standing. Your heart broke for the boy, and wondered what the hell was the Smoothie. Information about it was classified and at school they only stated its reason of being created, they never really said what it was. But upon deep diving on the internet you learnt that it was a free killing spree, people who were chosen had to kill to survive, plenty died from gunshot wounds, majority died from knifes and blade wounds, a few from blunt weapons, and others choked to death, hung themselves or burnt alive. You never imagined to be seated as a member for the Smoothie. It only gave your stomach weird twirls of vomit.

The worst part of the trial is that absolutely nobody could protest about it. Anyone that even dared, winded up in the grave next to another casket and coffin of already rotting decays of another soul that dared to complain.

The Smoothie Trial, was the world twisted way of saying fuck humans.

"This can't be." A chair falls down as someone stands up urgently. "No. I can't be here." Winwin, shakes his head as a soft whimper escapes his lips, he felt high, maybe it was the blunt he took on the bus, but why did it all feel too real? "I'm an actor from China. I’m here for my friends birthday bash. I'm not originally supposed to be here... So I can’t be part of this shit trial." Due to his shaken position and tears brimming at the back of his eyes his words ping and sound just as wounded.

"Is that so? Chinese," the General Suh grins finding it humorous. "I'm sure you must know what equality means right? I mean all people are born equally right? Am I right? Am I right?" Suh rhetorically yet gleefully asks the classroom.

Nobody responds.

"Listen up, some of you here are already in your early 20's and early 30's, but you gotta believe me when I say all people are born equally. Whether you're from America or even Heaven, you are no different than the person next to you. Of course, maybe, after reading your portfolio's, some of you come from rich families, others from poor families. But circumstances like that out of your control shouldn't determine who you are. Don't let things like that rate your worth. China? So now what must we do? Because you're Chinese you're somewhat special then us all? You’re not." The General finds it humorous and laughs. "So let's see, Winwin is it? You can take your seat."

Winwin trembles and peeks left and right. This can’t be happening.

"As you know, the trials are to be done in secrecy. That won't change the fact that this will be announced in today's morning news, but details about who you are and where we are will not. Only the winner will be announced. We’ve informed persons of your household or immediate family. Whoever answered we told them the news of your disappearance." He says. The room is dead quiet as they all stare in absolute shock. "You guys still don't believe this is happening? You think there's a punch line? Like, you've been punked? No. There's no punchline. I’ll show you just how real this all is,”

In response, the door slides open and three men come in. Dressed in black and grey camouflage along with boots. They stand tall, in unison, have their assault rifles strapped over their shoulders and pistols in their belt holsters but they’re all holding onto black large duffle bags over their shoulder. One bag looks like it had spiking pineapples in there you note.

General Suh now stood against the other side of the classroom watching the men before looking to the class with a grin. "Let me introduce these men, who will be assisting with this trial. This is a portion of X-EXO, Chanyeol, Chen and Baekhyun from the Special defenseman soldiers. They have something they want to show you."

Chanyeol stands forward and places his bag on the desk in front where General Suh was once standing. Opening up the bag revealing something drenched in red... liquid-

"AIEEEEEEEE! NOOOOO!"

Joy, who is on the front desk screams out immediately followed by the others just as the desks and chairs clatter with sounds as others asked what did they see.

By instant Hendery immediately stands up in horror. "Does anybody else see this? Or am I still high?!"

You try to move your head around to see past the heads, and what you spot is a blue shirt drenched in... blood, a crimson eyeball poking out with red veins all around it as it striking stared at the ceiling. Grey longish squidy chunks of goop that almost look like brains that are almost falling from the busted head that had a blade- well now stuck in between chunks of the brain and his skull. You gasp and cover your mouth.

The other man, Chen opens his bag gaining another wave of uprising and chaos from the girls in front. Before the last man Baekhyun opens his bag and a lanky blurb of intestines fall into the floor with a loud splash and blood oozing around it.

The General Suh tries to clap his hands and make the squeals and screams as well as hammering of fists to be quiet, but to no avail everyone is panicking and now fully aware of the chains around there wrists.

The man, Chanyeol brings out his pistol fully pulling out and gripping the strands of hair that once belonged to Lee Sooman the bus driver. Everyone can see the dead head now. In a blink of an eye he points the pistol to the already knifed head and shoots twice - the head flew apart with goop pouring out striking fast to the girl in front. Joy. Drenched in dead brain bits of his blood she immediately keeps quiet trembling by the blood over her body.

The echo of the gun subsides and the room is quiet. Even Donghyuck holds in his breath as he stares at the now bloody hand of the man who shot. Chenle honestly expected the man to fire a warning shot to the ceiling or one of the windows, but he sure wasn't expecting for the man to completely blow the already lifeless head into more bits. Mark’s mouth rests open, even the air inside his mouth refuses to escape, afraid. You can only cover your eyes, your shoulders trembling. Irene has her eyes enlarged.

Chanyeol tosses the left over head parts on the floor that lands by Jaemin’s feet. Complete silence.

"I bet no one's thinking that they're on punked now." The humorous voice of the General resurfaces.

Dead silent. No one is screaming. Everyone now knows that this is no joke. The remaining people who are still standing, quietly sit down again, eyes dead locked on the other bloody bags. The soldiers take the bags off the table and dumped it to the side of the classroom closer to the door, as blood continuously oozes out.

"Anyone ever heard of the grave yard of those who tried to protest against the trial?" The General asks, once again rhetorically. "You can guess where he's going to be buried."

The General stands once again in the middle of the classroom, now looking like he's serious. "As you can see the bus driver strongly opposed and wouldn't take any money from us, begging that you guys be set free. To be honest, it was all so sudden. On all cases, the bus driver's take the money and go but he, after holding the money for a brief second started being irrational. I kind of feel bad about it, but it's the law of the world."

Silence.

Jaemin half rises and gazes at General Johnny unsure. You shake your head wanting to warn him that something bad will happen. Jaemin looks as if he's words were failing him. His lips part and only air leaves his lips dry. Mark from the middle of the classroom tense up seeing his brother standing.

"I... don’t have family. So-so who did you contact?" Are the words that fall out of Jaemin’s mouth.

"Ah," Johnny nodded his head with a little smile. "I remember there was someone from the orphanage home helpers. So you must be Lee Mark? According to the report you run the orphanage with So-"

"I'm Mark." Mark interrupts raising his voice. Johnny glances at the other male before looking back to Jaemin. Still in shock, Jaemin turns his scared bloodshot eyes to his brother another wave of tears wanting to escape.

"Oh, that's right. My bad. There's two of you. So you must be Jaemin right, brother to Mark. Well I contacted the orphanage where you were raised. Turns out your brother Mark bought the orphanage and now he’s the one running it. As he’s here with you, the lady who picked up is who I spoke to. That's right," The general suddenly has a twisted smirk on his face. "She argued on the phone and as a last resort we had to visit her before boarding on the boat to come here. She’s very pretty,"

Mark’s face morphs in anger, just as his heart thuds. "What did you do to her?"

"Like the bus driver over there," The General Suh points to the corner of the room that was now covered with blood around its floors. "She was very uncooperative. She didn't accept your assignment and duty to the world, so I left her in the hands of my men. They didn’t kill her for sure, but they did get their point through. I think they may have raped her, but I don’t know, nothing hectic. She was too pretty to kill. Oh, don't worry. It's not like she's dead. She didn't accept money and wouldn't shut up so that's what they had to do. May have threatened to do it again, but she’s alive. And if you kill everyone in the game, you might be able to reunite with her."

You’ve only known Mark for a number of bus ride hours but never have you seen his whole face grudge-fully morphing into a devious rage. "How dare you!" Mark bursts off his chair being held back by the chains forcing him in one place.

On the other hand, Jaemin’s wrathful face was trying to remove the metallic chain around his hand. "You piece of shit!"

It’s impossible to imagine Jaemin getting angry. He’s always goofy with you but never angry. However, Mark knows and has seen when his brother would lose control. But at all the times that Jaemin would get angry, Mark and his girlfriend, Sora always knew what to do. Even though Mark is beyond enraged about what they did to his girlfriend, he knew that if Jaemin didn't stop he'd make the General do something bad. And Mark wasn't ready for anything bad to happen to him or his brother.

"Jaemin. Stop it!"

Jaemin, who was diagnosed with dipolar and schizophrenia disorder doesn’t pay any attention to his brother as he still continuously tries to rip his hands off the chains- being utterly carried away by his emotions. "I'm going to kill you!"

"Oh really? Is that so," Suh says in amusement. "Are you ready to back up your words?"

Jaemin’s bloodshot eyes poured with tears. "Uncuff me and you’ll see! I'll kill you!"

"Jaemin calm down!" Mark yells in a fatherly authority. "Stop!"

"How can I stop!? I'll kill him!" The younger man screeches harder.

Suh claps his hands. "Hey, hey, hey. This is considered going against the rules. Sit down now-"

"Shut up! I'll kill you!"

Mark can no longer contain himself and just when he is about to scream at his brother again, Suh waves his hand to the three X-EXO team. Mark doesn’t notice the three man stand in a dangerous line lifting up their pistols but Jaemin’s bulging eyes do.

The three automatic pistols explode at once not giving anyone around a chance to duck. The gunshots don’t die down until Jaemin’s body – pumped- busted and tippled over to the right crashing in between his desk his head bumping Hendery. Hendery covers his mouth. Just as the gunshots stopped and steamy air left the mouths of the pistols.

Mark’s eyes saw the familiar bulging eyes of his brother that remained fixed on a point at the floor as his body twitched. A bright puddle of blood began oozing out on the floor.

"J-JAEMIN!"

Mark tries to run to his brother just as you who’s closer – you’re quick to stand speeding in front of your desk— your left arm being pulled backwards by the chain on the desk. Baekhyun aims his gun at your feet and pulls the trigger. As if being swept of your feet by the harsh scrapping of the gun wound- you fall face first onto the now shaking body of Jaemin. Nothing prepares you for the gun that’s pointed at Jaemin and another piercing loud echo bounces off the sounds of ears in the room. Jaemin’s head bounces back hard just as your face was splash with red substance that came from something inside his head. Your mouth falls open. Jaemin stops twitching but the open gap on his deformed head that blura with pouring blood and his fixed shocked eyes still on your motionless frame. No… your tear falls onto the cheek of Jaemin’s bloodied face.

“See?” Johnny smiled again. “He was already dying. Now then, please return to your seats.”

Mark realized his mouth too was open as he stared at the scene of his…his brother in-between the legs of the desk. His thoughts are paralyzed as if his own brain had been shot. Memories and more memories of him and his brother flash through his mind; taking care of his baby brother when his parents got into a terrible car accident, getting into the orphanage together and refusing to get adopted if his brother wouldn’t get adopted as well. Mark remembers camping trips, adventures they took to places the Jaemin loved. He recalls the moments when his brother began opening up to him, letting out his soul and secrets to his brother, the early morning rides to school, and even the early stages of Jaemin being diagnosed with bipolar disorder and schizophrenia, the devastating nights that Jaemin struggled to control himself, the horrible sudden attacks, but from there he also remembers Jaemin crying in his arms, the hospital meetings, the silly jokes before treatments, Mark finding Sora and she became a big help in assisting to take care of Jaemin. The tight bonds that were formed with his inseparable brother. Mark remembers them all like broke kaleidoscope of memories, even this morning when Jaemin gave Mark a used butt tissue, but the tissue came out dry. Jaemin had the biggest grin and laughed so hard. But the moment that’s stuck in Mark’s head was hours before the bus ride when Jaemin said: “I don’t say it often but, thanks Mark. I know I’m a handful and sometimes you hate me. But I really appreciate you as a big brother. No homo but I love y-”

“Are you two deaf?” Johnny repeats looking back and forth between the standing man and the lady on the floor with a dead body over your legs. Mark was definitely deaf to General Suh’s words, his ears being deaf to everything going on in reality. He just stared at his brother laying there. Dead on the floor. This had to be a nightmare. A nightmare of his own dreams!

You were indifferent as you stared at the deformed face of the boy that you had grown so close to. Right then, Chanyeol points his gun towards you just as Chen and Baekhyun do the same to Mark. If it weren’t for the flying hand that shot up in the air, you and Mark would have followed in the same footsteps as Jaemin to his death, which would be just as reckless. “Wait! G-g-general Johnny.”

That definitely captured the attention of the general as he signaled the soldiers to halt. This brought Mark back to his senses, well not all his senses but enough to bring him back to the situation at hand. He looks towards the caller.

You looked to the desk that was behind you to Taeil who had his hand raised. Johnny looked through a register. “You must be Taeil, you’re the oldest here.”

“Y/n looks injured,” Taeil speaks keeping a drained look at the General. “I wanted to help her back to her seat with your permission.”

Johnny raises his brow lightly but then nods. “Noble of you, not really necessary but I’ll allow it. Alright, pick up the pace.”

Taeil nods just as the soldier approaches him and removes the metal band around Taeil’s wrist. Taeil stands up from his seat and makes his way towards your frame. As he approaches you, he takes out a neatly folded handkerchief from his pocket and kneels down helping you up from Jaemin’s corpse. He delicately wipes off the blood that’s on your face not daring to look at the young body of Jaemin. You hardly react. He then puts his hand underneath your right arm to help you get up. Then, with his back facing the General and the three soldiers he looks towards Mark, who’s still hunched and half standing over his desk. Taeil’s left hand pushes down slowly murmuring for Mark to calm down. Mark still not at ease but gazing upon the oldest eyes takes a seat stiffly. Once Taeil helps you to sit he returns back to his seat and Chanyeol who saw everything places the cuff around his wrist again. “Very kind of you old man, but from here, it’s everyone’s fate for themselves.”

You seem to be coming back to your senses but you withdraw once again when seeing disturbing bloody face of Jaemin and your eyes brim with new tears just as your stomach tosses in disgust. And you can’t hold it in anymore retching out with sounds so irking. Sungchan behind you doesn’t pull a face like those around you when you hurl chunks of vomit on the ground- you cough out crying out while spitting out. Sungchan behind you takes a look at the corpse. In his mind there was no doubting that now the body was a corpse. A corpse of a friendly guy he would often greet on the bus. His eyes then focus to Mark who is now blaring holes at the General.

The General looks more amused then frightful. “What’d you eat? Looks like cookies.”

Even Chenle from where he is feels a sting watching everything going on, the chocolate cookies you offered... Mark would never forgive. He tries his hardest to remove his eyes from the cruel man and to his table, but his eyes can only glare with tears on the verge. It’s like his soul has been hijacked being crushed endlessly and mercilessly from anger and sadness. The General from the front quietly laughs after peaking at the vomit.

Mark’s jaw trembles, his head pounding with a haste headache. That damn General will never know what it felt like to be an orphan and be different from everybody else who grew up with love. Dammit. Johnny never knew how it felt to hold your only brother at hand, and convince him that life does get better, or that one day he’ll be a great parent to beautiful children or even that someone out there in the world will love him just as hard as him. Mark still remembers the promises he made to his brother, the promises that would be broken now. How could he be gone?

“I have another question,”

“You again?”  Johnny’s chortle turns to a subtle expression as he looks to the oldest.

“Y/n is injured and I understand that we will participate in this year’s trials, but how does this make this game fair?”

Johnny looks amused. “Perhaps it does make the game unfair. Why?”

“Shouldn’t this thing, this game be postponed until she’s treated or until her recovery?” If Taeil’s request was granted this would give them all the time they needed in order to escape.

“That’s a very interesting suggestion,” Johnny acknowledges. “So now all I have to do is kill her to make the trial fair, right?”

You, along with everybody else suddenly freeze. Would this psycho really kill you? The kindest female on the bus would be dying next, even Irene had to admit that nice girls finish last- but not like this. All that kindness gone in vain and put to an early grave. At some point, Irene was jealous of you because even if the you were never friends with her you managed to befriend some of the guys on the bus. You didn’t even have to try to put on a short skirt, or apply makeup on most of the bus rides, or even fake a laugh to get attention. You naturally captured the attention effortlessly with your kindness, but now it would all go away and no one would save you.

Chanyeol who steps forward towards you takes out the rifle that’s on his back holster and aims it down at you. The class faintly murmured incoherent inaudible pleas. Mark’s heart beating fast. “Please don’t do it.”

“No, no, no, no. I take it back. I take it back.” Taeil retreats in his statement pleading with desperate eyes as he looks between the gun and the frozen temple of the woman he had helped a few seconds ago.

“It’s okay Chanyeol,” Johnny who has recovered from his fits of laughter claps his hands wiping his eyes. “It’s okay, don’t shoot. You’re spared again dear girl,” Johnny says with another chuckle. Just thinking of killing you and the pale look plastered on Taeil’s face had makes him lose his composure. This year’s trials definitely has interesting characters. “Alright, everybody, listen up. I take it back, we’re not born equal as it seems. Because each one of you here differ from according to your intelligence and such. So we’re not all born equally. So in the case of Y/n-Over there! No whispering!” Johnny yells -in the blink of an eye he throws a long silver object where Wendy, the back seater was in the process of whispering something in the ear of her friend Winwin, who was sitting next to her.

The object makes a thumping sound and squirting sound of a nail being pounded onto a coffin. Donghyuck turns his head to the side to see past Karina’s shocked expression to the thin white hand knife now placed in the middle of Wendy’s head. He watches strangely as Wendy herself weakly tried to locate the inanimate sharp object causing her to lose balance and fall sideways lodging the knife deeper to the point where the hand part of the hand knife was wedged in between the now stiff head of the girl. Dead.

“Oops. I did that. I guess I really wanted to kill someone. My bad.” Johnny closes his eyes and opens it again, becoming more serious. “That’s against the rules for me to kill, but it’s important for me to tell you all this information. That means no whispering, no standing, no delaying the process,” He looks at Taeil before focusing back to the entire class. “Otherwise I’ll throw a knife at you, I shouldn’t, but I will.”

Mark clenches his teeth and repeats over and over again in his head to remain calm. You also repeat over and over again to remain calm even if there are now two people lying dead on the floor… three if you have to count the bus driver. Mark sensing the thought of the dead looks back on the foot of your table seeing his brother. He feels like he was about to cry.

“Alright. Now let me explain the rules.” Johnny turns around on the board writing something. “You have to kill each other.”

Johnny continues in his composed voice ignoring the odor that’s swamping around. Stenches of vomit and blood pouring out from Wendy’s head, Jaemin’s body and Lee Sooman’s decapitated remains. The smell wafts going unnoticed by the rest of the people in the room with noses. It’s a horrible stench of death.

“There are no violations. You see the bags on the floor? They’re filled with a map, watch, compass, food, water and a random weapon. All the things you need in order to survive in this game. If you think this is a horrible game, picture it from this view, in life you need the necessary resources in order for you to survive in the real world which most of you are probably now aware of, that the world is a violent place. The motto here is I am just like the others and the others are just like me. There’s nothing to be afraid of. But why am I telling you all of this if only one person will make it out alive? Because this is the last life lesson you’ll ever hear. And like all advice you can decide to take it or leave it. Did I forget anything?”

“We’re on an island.” Chen speaks up reminding the General.

“Oh yeah we are. We’re approximately 6 kilometers away. This island has never been used before for the trial. We had the residence evacuate the island, meaning there is absolutely nobody here but us on this island. Which is good for us.” He smiles. “Shall I demonstrate?”

He goes over to another blank black board and draws a rough large diamond shape and writes the letter ‘N’ at the top point. He draws a few simple looking boats around the diamond. He begins placing lines that cross over each other inside the diamond and writes around it, A=1, A=2, etc.

“This is simply a simplified version of what’s in your backpacks.” He says. “First of, as I said we’re on an island and these are ships. They will shoot anyone that tries to escape by sea, so be ware. Next we’ve got this compass direction. Its north meaning this way is north. Once you leave here, you can go anywhere on the island. It’s pretty small, but it’s sufficient. Announcements will be around 6 and 12, both am and pm. I’ll be referring to this map when I make announcements about how many players are remaining and which parts on your map that you should mark as a forbidden zone. You should examine your maps correctly to make sure you’re not on a forbidden zone at the given time otherwise,”

He points to his neck.

“The collar around your neck is a technological device created by Neo Cultured Technologies, you guys were heading to Neo City, well I’ve brought Neo City to you. It’s set to monitor your pulse to tell us whether you’re living or dead and verifies your location transmitting to the mainframe system here in the school. It is completely waterproof and it won’t come off.” He explains. “So those of you who are trying to prey it off, I suggest that you be careful because it will explode.” Everyone’s hands who was on the collar around their necks rapidly move their hands from it. “So you see, the collar’s transmitted signals will tell us whether you’re on a forbidden zone or not. If you are then it will set to explode and you know what that means. We’re doing this so that the game can get a move on, if you stay in the same place for a long time you enlarge the chances of you not being killed, and we can’t have that because it delays the trial which will resort to your own death. Because, after 24 hours if nobody is killed, the collar will detect signs of life and kill all remaining players.”

No one says anything, not even a breath.

“You’re free to hide in any buildings but you won’t be able to use your phones if you have it on you. No signal.” Another smile. “The first forbidden zone after twenty minutes will be this school. If you are seen loitering around the premises - instead of the collars killing you, a group of soldiers in the school will. So instead of sitting there coming up with a strategy on how to take this game down, I suggest you spare yourself some time to enjoy the last moments of your life before you get killed. You again? Shouldn’t it be the other way around? The younger people asking the questions? What it is now Taeil?”

“You said that if no one kills after 24 hours then these collars will go off and kill everybody. But won’t that be defeating the purpose of the whole trial?”

“Good question and very simple answer. No it won’t affect the trial because if everyone dies here then there are no winners and we’ll get to pick another bus and also because we’ll have successfully eliminated a percentage of the world over populations.” Another smile appears on his face. At this point, you felt that his smile was way too bright and cheerful. How could someone possible be happy from the news of death? It isn’t healthy and he needs help, but for now all you can do is listen to him. “I think that’s it. Are you guys ready?” Whether it’s a rhetorical or real question no one answers only watching that smile engulf the general’s face. “You guys should be happy-”

A hand rises before a trembling voice speaks up. “No one’s going to play this sick game. We’d rather die than to kill each other. Right guys?” Karina, who’s been quiet, takes up all her bravery and speaks up, bewildered that everyone is listening to this bull and not doing anything. There has to be a way. Much to her surprise, not a single soul backs her up. Not even her boyfriend Jeno. Voices that want to agree are stuck with fear to speak against the general and his soldiers. After what happened to Wendy and Jaemin no one is ready to lose their foreheads, or life.

“I’m gonna let it slide that you spoke without my permission, but let me address this,” Johnny’s smile turns into a subtle little frown as his eyebrows come together. “You may think that murdering each other is impossible and wrong, but don’t forget that there are others, willing, to do it,” His smile returns as Karina’s bones turn cold from the statement. “Let’s see. Karina. You’re a convict charged with robbery and illegal possessions of weed. I’m guessing you lot are a crew.” Johnny motions to Donghyuck, Jisung and Jeno. He smirks. “Everything you are out there doesn’t matter in here. What matters is how badly you want to live. There are people in this room, willing to kill you if you don’t kill them.”

In that exact moment, something changes in the classroom. Everyone looks around glancing at each other’s pale faces- tension and suspicion roams around the classroom. Would people really take part? This is crazy right? Karina shakes her head.

“Believe it or not beautiful Karina,” Johnny says walking to the board drawing a stick figure. “An average killer's mind is born at the age of 9. You’re how old?”

“22,”

“I need to make sure that you get my point,” Johnny claps his hands. “Under everyone’s table there is a paper and pencil. Take them out,”

Reluctantly hands begin to move around and bring out pieces of paper and pencils. Mark feels a strong urge to throw the sharp part of the pencil in Johnny’s eye and watch him bleed to death. But Mark knows better, throwing that pencil (first of it might not even flow as sharply as Johnny’s knife did to Wendy) will only cause death on his own end, so he follows the instructions.

“I want you to write this down and try to memories this in your brain,” He says. “We will kill each other. Write that three times.”

To Karina’s surprise she hears the pencil scrape on paper and she has no choice but to do as told when seeing Jeno write down. She slumps in her seat and writes down the insane motto suddenly remembering the girl in the backseat, Wendy. She recalled getting into a fight once with her, because she tried flirting with Jeno. She refused to apologize and in the end Karina and her had a cat fight. She looks slightly to the back. Wendy looks miserable and glum being dead. Tightly holding onto her pencil she writes faster.

Johnny continues. “Now write, if I don’t kill, I will be killed. Write that down three times too and also underline the; I will be killed, for emphasis.”

Mark looks up from the insane motto turning his head to the one place his eyes did not want to go to, the same place his eyes still did not believe. Jaemin… I will avenge you. I will kill that fucking Suh guy and find a better resting place for you. “We shouldn’t have taken the bus tonight.” Mark whispers.

He looks back up, only to see the sickening smile of Johnny. “Alright, I’ve covered all the basis of the trial. Now it’s time to leave. Every two minutes one of you will be leaving.  So, seat number one, Shotaro. The soldier will open up your cuffs; you are to leave immediately with your bag that’s on the floor.”

Mark looks up from his seat and glances to his left side…not to Jaemin, but to you. He’ll probably leave first if it went row by row, but if it went column by column you’d leave first. Problem now is could you walk? With that gaping hole in your leg.

“Oh my bad, any last questions?” Johnny asks.

“When does the game begin?”

All eyes turn to the back where Chenle sits with a gaze so tense, deeply staring at Johnny, who had an impressed smile. Johnny gestures with his hand at the door. “From the moment you leave this class. I should mention it’s still dark outside, so you might wanna hide and cook up your own strategies before you get killed. It is now 01h37 a.m. We’ve spent some good minutes together.”

Chenle says nothing, but it’s more than clear to everyone in the classroom that he will most likely take part in this psycho killing spree. Or maybe he wouldn’t.

Shotaro, one of the adored boys, stands up from his seat once his cuffs are removed. He looks shaken and worried, terrified out of his mind. He glances around the class, finding Sungchan behind you. His friend. What curse is this. He picks up his bag and moves towards the door opening it up looking into the dark hallway, a moment later he vanishes into the darkness. His pounding footsteps are heard as he jogs away.

You take a deep breath fidgeting in your seat suddenly feeling the aching of your ankle.

“Now we wait for two minutes. Next will be seat number 2, Irene and so on down the row and then we return back to the top.” Johnny says.

The routine continues ruthlessly as if sending people into an open hell. It might’ve been done by a blink of any eye, but when it’s Ning’s turn, Mark notices that the same sheet of paper that was used to write that awful message is now being placed on top of Renjun’s table. That small sign gives Mark enough hope to believe that it’s a secret message meant for her lover. Of course not everyone will participate in this gruesome game. Mark just needs to find out those that aren’t going to play so that he can form some sort of alliance.  It doesn’t matter who will be in it, as long as he knows that they won’t play.

You of course will be part of the alliance, if he can get Taeil and Kun then it would be better. Maybe even Sungchan and Winwin, Shotaro and YangYang… Jaehyun? But Mark isn’t very close to some of them. Who else can he count on to not join this sick game?

“Next YangYang,”

Maybe it’s all in Mark’s head, but it probably didn’t matter if anyone was friends or not. The qualifications for teaming up together was the will to survive and escape. It wouldn’t hurt to include him, after all Jaehyun was smart. Now the only problem was where could they meet, would anyone be waiting outside, to talk sense or would they all start hiding?

Irene, Donghyuck and Chenle all leave the same way, with indifferent attitudes towards Johnny and the trio of soldiers. Irene, Mark knew her to be a bit of an airhead, but amongst her friends consisting of Joy and Seulgi, Irene seemed to have more brains then them. When Johnny said that there are others willing to kill, Mark suspected that maybe Chenle would be the only one to participate since he asked a question, Mark knew that that was the next level threat of already creating an army or group of people who’d fight for their survival. Already having rumors of killing people, Mark knew that nothing would stop Chenle from killing. Irene looked like she’d fight for her freedom. She would definitely kill- Mark thinks. He didn’t trust Karina even if she looked scared, because she looked like she had Jeno with her. And Mark most certainly did not trust Donghyuck himself.

Upon Chenle leaving the class he was cursing his existence and entire life. How could his life come to this kind of stop? Was he really worthless? Could he not get even a grain of luck on his side for once in his life? Why him, of all people to be picked for this stupid Smoothie trial? Stomping down the stairs he doesn’t give two flying rats when another guy (Shotaro) calls out to him asking him to team up. He simply walks aimlessly finding himself by a backyard with a smiling pool and multiple trees. There’s no point cooking up a strategy or trying to do anything. At this point he doesn’t care and just wants someone to come and end his miserable life. There’s no point looking forward to anything because he never had luck on his side-

Chenle’s eyes pause on a certain object on the ground. It’s a red box with thorns over on all sides. He’s tempted to kick it… but something about it is cynical and arouses his curiosity. He walks closer to it looking down. Squatting and examining, he takes it in his hands. It’s heavy and so spikey due to the vines sprawled around it with thorns. His eyes scan the area before he pricks at the thorns and slowly pulls them away trying not to hurt himself while trying to get a crack at the box.

Dream ( Smoothie ) Escape.

Is what is written at the top of the box once Chenle manages to scrape the rest of the vined thorn off it’s front. Eagerly his fingers ravage to try and get the box open- even ignoring the little cuts and bruises formed by his fingertips caused by the piercing thorns. The box finally opens, and Chenle’s eyes enlarge… He blinks twice. Three times. And then he cups his mouth dropping the box down- hurriedly picking it up again. The box… is a mine field of gold. Aside from the little syringes of black liquid labeled poison, spraying bottle of intoxicating gas, a whole deck of cryptic cards with the title ‘Smoothie’ and a bullet proof vest, Chenle’s hand specifically reaches for this one golden apple that said ‘immunity’. He has no idea what it means, but for the first time in his entire life he feels…lucky. Immunity has to mean something positive… right?

Chenle picks it up, finding a place to stuff it in his bag before going through the cards… surprised that they contained information in greater detail. A bunch of little clues to get him to avoid death, but more importantly immunity and a great power... ‘To stop the game and spare your life alone, you can trade this apple. But it comes at a cost of killing (at least) 5 people. Make sure to come back to the school to reclaim your prize after killing 5 people.’

Time passed.

A few people cried when they left.

No one could blame them.

Two minutes passed and Jisung is called next, Chanyeol opens up his cuff and walked away. Meanwhile, Jisung timidly got up already with swollen eyes from quietly crying. His hiccups drew more attention and he tried to control himself but he couldn’t. Right there his voice broke and his eyes ran with tears again. He was gonna die. He had no faith in himself. No faith even in his gang. His eyes couldn’t handle it anymore, before he reached the door he spotted Wendy’s corpse on the floor with the knife painfully wedged deeply on her forehead. He wished to be as brave and remove the knife, but the only thought in his head was how he was going to die out there. That only caused him to have fits of high rolling tears. His mother warned him about joining that damned group. His mother warned him countless of times that he’d be trapped in situations that he wouldn’t be able to be free from. He didn’t listen.

“Poor kid. Jisung was it? He’s screwed.” Johnny acknowledges. “Poor thing.”

“General.” Chen calls after two minutes, snapping Johnny out of his trance.

“Oh I apologize.” Johnny returns back to his charismatic smile. “It is now 02h05. Kun, it’s your turn.”

Finally, after 6 minutes. Mark’s name is called. He felt his hand relax when the chain was off. Instead of heading directly to the exit, he made a beeline to the opposite isle away from the door. You watched as he approached you, your tears whelming in your eyes all over again.

“Mark.” Johnny raised another knife ready to throw it. “You’re heading in the wrong direction.”

“Jaemin was my brother. My only brother. Can’t I pay him some respect before I fucking leave?”

At that, Johnny smirks seemingly impressed. “All right then. Respect the dead.”

Mark stops in front of your desk, where Jaemin is laying on the floor still with his left hand being strongly held by the metallic chain. Brother. Now that he’s up close he doesn’t know what to do as he takes in the sight. There were wholes on his body as damp blood lingered still pouring out, there was an even bigger whole on his forehead were the bullet was blasted, causing Jaemin’s eyes to even bulge out further. Mark’s knees weakly give out as he kneels down onto the dark blood as well as vomit that covered the floor. Anger overwhelmed him. There isn’t much time for him to spend with his brother. Mark wiped the dried out tear that was on his young brother’s face before lightly brushing his fingers over his brother’s eyes closing them. Throughout all that his fingers were trembling.

As he fumbles, pretending to pick up his bag, he actually pulls out one of Jaemin’s ring on his index finger and he speaks in a low tone. “Can you walk?”

That’s enough to provoke Chanyeol as he reaches for his riffle, but Mark manages to get a nod from you. He turns around facing Johnny and the crew, at the same time he disperses of the sheet that was in his hand onto your table as he slings his bag over his shoulder.

The note that says; I’ll be waiting outside for you.

Sungchan, from behind you, sees the whole movement and gulps, unaware of the relief that washes over his whole body. He doesn’t even know why, but he only hoped for the best and that maybe there were others who wouldn’t participate in this sick game.

Mark moves past the trio and Johnny. “Your brother should’ve just been cooperative. Like your girlfriend, she was very submissive once they had their way with her.”

Mark stops in his tracks trying not to look at Johnny. One look and he wouldn’t be able to control himself anymore and possibly murder Johnny right there. “She was my fiancée.” Clenching his jaw very tightly, he continues walking and heads out the door. If he killed Johnny now, Chanyeol would definitely kill him and you would be left all alone.

The hall is dark, partially due to the lights not being on. With one angry breath he begins walking, following the neon arrows that lead him out of the school grounds. As he jogs down the stairs he notices that all the windows are also sealed with sheets of black steel- that block the outside which makes absolutely no sense since they were going to go outside anyway. There’s another door down the hallway but this time instead of being unlit like the rest of the other rooms, the lights are on. Mark tries to peek but already the eyes of the men in the room are facing him, they are dressed in the same legion special defense forces clothes and all have guns. “Keep moving.” One commands and without a second glance, Mark is walking away towards the other flight of stairs. All these stairs… would you be able to go down?

He keeps on going. If anything, Mark hopes that his backpack will have a useful weapon such as a gun or even a rifle. Anything that will help when he and some others regrouped, in fact he hopes that once he passes the double doors that is at the end of the corridor he will see familiar faces waiting to rebel against Johnny and all those soldiers.

He runs through the dark corridor pushing the double doors open, descending several porch stairs before finally finding himself under the dim moonlight at an empty athletic field the size of three tennis courts. There are woods beyond the field, to his left is a small mountain and on the right if he squints hard enough he will be able to see the flowing ocean and a dot of twinkling light.

Johnny never mentioned the name of the island but according to the knowledge Mark has, he knows that trials were held on vacant islands, small islands that no one knew about. So if Mark guessed, beyond this ocean was his home, Neo City. He had to find a way to get from here all the way there- which looked a billion light years away, especially since Johnny mentioned something about ships patrolling the waters.

As soon as Mark looks ahead he curses inside his head upon seeing no one waiting. This is bad. If no one is waiting, it means that they were hiding and if they were hiding, it meant that they were either playing the game or waiting for some sort of rescue. But before he can look away from the field his eyes do a double take to the corner of the porch stairs.

At first it looked like a bag that was dumped on the ground, until Mark moved enough to see some sort of hair…human hair.

It was a human being, the first person who left the building. The stiff dead looking body belonged to Shotaro. Right on his back, a long thin stick poked out diagonally like a radio antenna, there were four tiny flaps as the end of the stick. Arrows. But who the hell would shoot this arrow on Shotaro?

What Mark should’ve done after seeing the dead boy was to seek shelter, but instead he stood completely still watching the boy as he recalled on General Suh’s words.

“The game begins…from the moment you leave this classroom.”

It’s clear that in someone's backpack there was a bow and arrow. From that bow and arrow, the person probably knew how to use it and thus shot Shotaro. But still Shotaro was the first to come out, so did it mean that whoever did this came out the doors already aiming? Or was the person actually a bad shooter that when he saw someone not running for their life, he shot them but missed? If so, that would explain the several other arrows that were wedged onto the grass field.

Also if that was the case, maybe Shotaro wasn't hit that deeply, maybe he was unconscious. In any case Mark moved down the steps closer to the body. It’s not until, right before his eyes, a silver object whizzed down with whipping great speed. Yes, it came from above. If he even moved any closer to the body, he would have been shot. Swiftly he looked up and shuddered when he realized the person must've been on top of the hood of the exit. Mark snatches up the arrow that was intended to kill him. He ran to his left looking up, seeing a dark shadow looming above the hood, the shadow pointed its weapon ready to shoot- to surprise the figure Mark threw the arrow at the shadow. Thanks to his star javelin throw, the shadow groans and holds his face before he loses his balance and falls down with a loud thud. Mark hears it groan, he dashes to the place where it fell only to see a stash of silver arrows and a motionless body.

Jaehyun?

Jaehyun was participating in the game? What? No- he should've been helping them.

But why?! Why!

He shifts a bit but Mark is ready to run – especially when also hearing the double doors behind him open up. He needs to get out of here- hold on, it was you. You held your breath beginning to come down the steps slowly, limping with a hand on over your leg. Mark run’s towards Shotaro’s body, shaking his head when he feels no pulse on his neck before running towards you. There’s no doubt Shotaro was dead.

He takes you by your hand. "We need to run! I know your leg hurts- but do your best to run, okay?"

You nod your head just as Mark begins running half dragging your hoping and tip toeing figure behind him. Waiting in front of the building for Taeil or somebody else was out of the question, especially since Jaehyun was still there. It was too dangerous to stay there. What if the others were just like him? Ready to kill and not listen to what the others had to say? But why would Jaehyun even participate? Mark had no choice but to change his attitude towards the game, considering others could be brainwashed into thinking that killing is the only way out.

Because it isn't. It shouldn't be at least. Not without trying. Killing isn't the only way out, there had to be some sort of other alternative. Whatever it is, Mark would head towards it or at least, if this was really the end then he would protect you. It's the only way he could let Jaemin stay in his head…because Jaemin had a crush on you. It’s what Jaemin would've wanted to do, remain by your side till the end. Besides, it’s also what he himself wants, to remain close to someone he can trust till the end. Right now, you were the only one left beside him.

Once far away from the tennis court and into the grove and wood trees everywhere you let go of Mark’s hand, begging and panting with tears in your eyes. "Oh god. Please Mark, please stop, please my leg, let's stop. It hurts. It hurts. My leg hurts."

He pants and rests behind a tree as you crouch down carefully looking down at your leg trying to catch your breath.

"Was that Shotaro?" You voice out quietly after holding your ankle in a position that it wouldn’t hurt anymore. Mark nods his head. You shake your head not believing it. "Who could've done t-that to him? Who?"

"Jaehyun."

Your eyes enlarge. "What? Jaehyun?” Jaehyun as in… Jaehyun? The guy you were crushing on… how could he do such a thing?

"What if the others are willing to play?" Mark turns his head towards you, managing to see your hair frizzled all over your face. "We need to get out of here- how did you manage to get out? Wasn't Taeil behind me?"

She nods her head. "The General said I should go next, and catch up with you."

Mark rolls his eyes with a snicker of disbelief, if that General thought he was being noble, Mark wasn't buying it, but he did have to admit that he was happy for you being out with him. “Get on my back, I’ll carry you,” Holding onto you tightly, he carefully leads her through the oak wooden trees. They’d figure something out. As much as he did want to warn the others, he just wasn't sure he could trust them, especially after seeing Jaehyun.

Meanwhile, moments later Jaehyun groans and gives a little stretch before sitting up. His head hurt after gaining conscious, a throbbing pain snatching him away from reality. What was it? Was it playing video games the night before? Or was it drinking with YangYang? Whatever it was he was never going to do it again. Dammit, what was the day? If yesterday was Sunday, then today would be Monday- oh shit he forgot to fetch his little sister from her play date with YangYang's sister. Jaehyun gets up rapidly with a wave of dizziness following him. He holds onto his head trying to maintain composure only to be met with a shocking view of a tennis court...mountains. A dark sky?

All of a sudden, his heart falls to his feet as everything comes back. The General, the bus driver's head, Jaemin’s shocking departure, Wendy's eyes wide open as blood oozed down her face and finally when he ran out the school. Checking into his bag, he discovered a bow gun with arrows. He should kill before he gets killed. He got startled when looking up seeing Shotaro waving at him. “Hey, Jaehyun, over here. Hey man, what are you doing? Let’s team up- I swear I’m not going to kill you, stop running man- come on-”

But Jaehyun wasn’t thinking straight, he climbed the walls with his skills and once he was over the hood of the school exit he peered down. At first he wasn't going to do it. But already, his bow gun was charged and Shotaro’s pleas were extremely annoying. “I don’t know if I can trust you. I’m sorry.” Jaehyun nervously let out. So he aimed and... shot.

It missed, but a high pitched sound left the boys lips. Shotaro was now aware of the arrow that merely shot him. He began to panic before he kneeled down and set his bag down looking like he was about to cry- “Come on man, look I’m defenseless. I’m not going to kill you. Trust me please.” As he was the first one to come out, he hid near the steps and anyone who came out, he’d call them politely and ask them if they’d participate. They all ignored him, and ran. But Shotaro didn’t stop trying. Hopefully someone wouldn’t want to play this stupid game. He was Japanese, he didn’t belong here. He wanted to go home to his family. He should have never came to Korea.

Already with trembling hands and an ear that was muted, Jaehyun shot again, but it missed. He shot again and again before finally the sobs and pleads stopped and there was nothing but the small crickets cricketing through the dark night.

What had he just done?

He killed Shotaro?

His mouth trembled and he shock violently. What had he done!? He killed the boy who was only a month away from entering the best University in Korea by scholarship. The boy who had a single mother, that pulled off plenty of little jobs so that her son could go to Korea. The boy who he, protected one day at the back of an alleyway because bullies were bullying him. He killed an innocent boy, who didn't even raise a weapon at him. He killed Shotaro. The shock soon turned to anger and before he knew it, when he saw a black haired guy approaching- hold on that was Mark! When he saw Mark about to touch Shotaro- he shot.

No. He couldn’t let anyone touch Shotaro. He couldn’t let anyone see that he had killed Shotaro. No one would touch Shotaro until he did. He needed to ask for forgiveness. He needed to make sure that the young boy was still alive so that they could work something out... No. He just wanted to say sorry, because he already knew that the young boy's blood was already in his hands. He killed Shotaro. And he now would kill Mark for interfering.

His eyes widen when something sharp shot towards him hitting the ball point near his eye. Shit! Jaehyun grunted before he scrambled to his feet and tried to blink yet instead of watching his step he missed and slipped to the ground feeling nothing but his whole world turn pitch black.

That was the last of his memory. Mark got away.

He praised the heaven's that Mark did not kill him.

But now, as his memory returned, another wave of guilt washed over him as soon as he turned his head and saw the little boy lying stiffly on the ground.

Shotaro.

Jaehyun sees the arrow on Shotaro’s back, remembering that he needed to get his bow gun back and also he needed to get away from this school before-

His eyes push out and his neck feels a surge of pain making it hard to breathe. His knees, weakly give out and his body falls, already dead before reaching the ground. The same kind of silver arrow that he used to shoot Shotaro and tried to shoot Mark with was now planted deeply in the back of his neck as blood trickled down.

Taeil emerged from the building two minutes after you. He stood by the exit for a bit, watching the bow gun that was already loaded and lying next to Jaehyun. Was Jaehyun dead?

Taeil picked it up, and had no intention of shooting but when Jaehyun’s body flew up- his finger reflexively pulled the trigger. His eyes bulged open as he watched Jaehyun fall to the grass.

Oh shit.

He overcomes his panic and almost immediately runs to their backpacks. That is his only priority. In fact, what he should've done from the beginning was ignore the bodies of Shotaro the young boy and Jaehyun, the guy who he thought was already dead but instead was unconscious... He should've ran but he put the bow gun back into Jaehyun’s bag and soon after carried it to Shotaro’s bag, which he also picked up and then he hurried off. Taeil had read about this type of game, he knew that there was no stopping it until one winner emerged. And even though it was out of character and cruel of him, he was going to participate until the end. After all he needed to live.

It’s been almost ten minutes since Mark helped you. You weren’t heavy, but after long minutes of Mark running, you felt sympathy and opted to run alongside him. He held you by your waist and assisted you. After several minutes, your heart began beating excessively fast and you ran out of breath from the speed and from the fear of what was to happen next. This was really happening and it was no joke. His hand firmly pressed on your hip signaling you to stop. Once the crunches of their footsteps stops, they look around both trying to hear beyond their heavy breath for something, someone that perhaps followed or was following them. You look up to Mark seeing his anxious eyes fixed everywhere. He looks tough and strong but still so cautious. It’s the opposite for you, you feel as if your own heart will stop beating at any moment every time you hear a sound. You’re still in shock. You were about to go out on a date with Jaehyun… but how could he have killed someone else.

The others probably felt the same way, annoyance, sadness, agony, despair but the strongest emotion that overcame all of them was probably fear. But from what you and Mark spoke about, you wondered if really people were playing this game. Again with his arm around you, you both run again, heading to one of the hills, it looks short from a distance but it was actually a good hiding spot since there were trees around. After covering enough distance, running in zigzags, he signals for you to stop again, and after checking their surroundings making sure that they didn’t hear anything out of the ordinary they both manage to relax.

Mark kneels down placing the bags down and feeling an aching pain on his shoulder. “I can’t believe this is happening. Shit.” He slides his back down the grove wall before sitting flat on his bottom as he rests his thighs, while you sit as well placing your hands on your trembling leg. Even though you both were covered by trees, inside the cave felt much better and safer than being out in the open. Mark looks over at you and whispers. “Are you okay?”

You nod your head with a light voice whispering ever so lightly, “Yes." You wanted to stay longer at the cave grove but remembering the general’s words you did not want to test out if the bombs worked. You weakly shift to the side. “Can I look inside the bags?”

“Sure, let’s do that.” He breathes out. “At this point, what’s mine is your and what’s yours is mine. Is that cool?” You nod your head wanting to give him the obvious face. Your hand picks up the first bag, at this point, you don’t know which one is for Mark and which one is yours. The bags were an identical black color with a logo that said: Smoothie. This only reminded you of everything you had remembered from when you woke up in that classroom.

You open up the bag, digging into it, groping around and feel an object that felt like a water bottle. You pull it out and dig right back into the bag, feeling a leather holster. Instantly you pull it out seeing that the leather grip poked out, it’s an army knife. When Johnny had mentioned that there were going to be weapons in the bag, you didn’t actually think that he’d provide the weapons, you thought maybe it’s some kind of draw thing- were one has a weapon and someone else doesn’t… But in any case, is a hand knife really a weapon? You search more in the bag hoping to get something else, but you get nothing aside from bread, a map and a list of names, compass and a flashlight. You pick up the leather holster handing it to Mark. Your attention now on the next bag, which you assume is yours because of the dried up blood, and spots of vomit at the bottom. A cold and painful reminder that the blood was from Jaemin’s body, it soaked underneath your bag. Jaemin didn’t deserve to leave the world like that.

Mark notices how solemn and frozen you become. “You alright?” You can’t tell Mark that you were upset by Jaemin’s death- it’s too soon to speak about and you didn’t know how to react, come to think of it how would Mark react to it all.

“I’m good.” Inside the bag is the same water bottle, map, list of names, compass, watch, bread and flashlight, but this time you felt something oddly long. Johnny and whoever packed these bags were extremely bored or trying to be funny. When last had anyone used this and why the hell was it in your bag as a weapon, was this really considered as a weapon? It was a long and carved stick, maybe even 40cm long.

“Is that a boomerang?” Mark asks in surprise and disbelief.

You sigh. “I believe it is. I forgot its name.”

“It’s used for fighting and hunting in primitive tribes. A village hunting hero might be able to use this to slice off the throat of a rabbit or even Kangaroo.” He informs. “Do you know how to use it?”

“No,”

“Then I guess we’ve only got a knife.” He says, handing you the knife. “Here,"

“No, you keep it.” You say. “I don’t know how to use one aside from cutting bread.” Mark takes the leather holster pulling out the knife; it looks like one of those rulers that was what- 15 cm? That was how long the blade looked at least. He tucked it underneath his belt, this way it would be accessible.

“Do you want some water?” Aside from the bus rides, you’ve never been alone with Mark before. He always seemed to care about you- but only because Jaemin did. And since Jaemin was always afraid to speak to you, Mark would be the ice breaker. This time, in this situation, being alone with him feels... sad.

“A little,” You answer. Mark takes the plastic bottle that only contains 1 liter of so called mineral water. He twists the cap off smelling the content inside it, before pouring a little on the back of his hand and licking it cautiously. He takes a little sip trying to sense if it had any abnormal reaction to his being, before handing it over to you when he sees that nothing weird is happening to him.

Johnny said they wouldn’t be able to use their phones because of the bad connection service, so what about the water system? Would there be water, or would this be all they had? If so, then this would be precious to them. You drink a little because the water feels warm. You return it to Mark and he closes the lid putting it back into the bag. “Now, let me take a look at your leg,”

You nod to his request and stretch your right leg forward. He pulls out the flashlight and cups your ankle carefully as he points to your leg.

The wound is scary, things he only saw after taking over the foster care home with his girlfriend, days when a kid would injure themselves and would need stitches. He hated pain, so his girlfriend would be the one to escort the kids to the pharmacy and clinic. So seeing your wound, the place where the gun grazed on the outer calf, a section of flesh and your skin approximately 4 cm long and 1cm deep had been scraped off. Despite your cut, your ankle is covered in blood, but a thin stream of blood still flowed out the ends of the pinkish flesh wound. He closed the flashlight, already seeing enough of what he needed to see. Your calf needed stitches, but since Mark had never done this before, he decides to remove his black long sleeved funnel shirt and rip off one of the arms.

He dampens the fabric in a little water before prepping himself in front of you. “This is going to hurt,” he says.

You let’s out a nervous breath. “As long as it’ll keep me alive, I’ll be fine.”

A light hiss comes out of your throat when Mark presses the damp part of the fabric over the wound. He mutters a quiet apology continuously tightening up the fabric as he wraps it around your calf like a bandage. “This is going to stop the bleeding for now,” he pulls at both ends of the fabric tightly and ties them into another knot. “Finished,”

“Thanks Mark,” You tightly thank with tears in your eyes and your throat tight from the pain. You inhale exhale before moving your leg a little. “Mark?”

“Mhm.”

“Are you sure about what you saw?” You ask. “About Jaehyun… killing Shotaro?”

Mark nods his head firmly, knowing what he saw. “He was above the exit door shooting the arrows. The same arrow that was found on Shotaro’s back. I threw him back the arrow that he used to try and shoot me with. He fell down and….” Mark’s mind moves into thought. “Now that I think about it, I didn’t necessarily do anything to eliminate Jaehyun as a threat. I just thought he’d be unconscious for a while. Who knows he’s probably back to his slaughtering ways again.”

“It’s almost 5 am,” You say after a while. “The others are probably all out of the building and hiding… unless Jaehyun…” You shake your head, completely in shock. “I never thought that anyone like him would actually try and participate to killing in order to survive. I understand the rules but I really didn’t think that anyone would participate or take part,” You shake your head.  “You might be wrong about that,”

“About what?” Mark questions giving you a surprised look.

“Maybe he was scared. Maybe that’s it. You have no idea who might turn against you. Maybe he was convinced that everyone was coming after him. I think he was really scared. And that maybe if he didn’t do anything then he would end up being…killed.” That idea had already rings. But to Mark, it just sounds like you’re defending him because you had some sort of crush on him.

“Jaemin would’ve been better,”

“What?”

Mark snaps back to reality and shakes his head. “Never mind,” He sighs. “He said something about announcements being around 6 and 12, let’s wait till 6 a.m. Let’s just hear, if people really participated.” Mark brings out the paper with the list of the names, the names being their own names. “So far we know that… Jaemin is gone.” Even the way Mark says it, you feel your heart quench in sadness. Mark doesn’t want to talk about it too. He was still bitter and wanted to kill that General Suh on his own. “Wendy and Shotaro. So there’s still 19 of us.”

Mark couldn’t be further from the truth, because just as Mark loses the fight against sleep, your eyes are beady and straight peering into the dark. Every sound has you turning your head like a meerkat. Feeling tired, anxious and tearful you hold your legs to your chest, burying your head against your legs, the tears stream down your face, as you quietly whimper…

Your little pity party is interrupted, by a little faint curse… ‘shit’

Eyes meekly scanning your surroundings, you’re stuck in a daze, when meeting hesitant eyes peering right back at you. Chenle. Your heart freezes in your chest at the sight of the gun pointed at you. His own gaze doesn’t flatter away from yours… Now that your attention is on him… it seems hard to kill you. He thought he’d be able to do it. To kill someone, because this is what he’s always wanted to do, right? Take revenge on the world because it was so cruel to him, right? The opportunity presented itself as a golden apple. He could do it now. No fear.

Fixing his grip on the gun instead of your teary eyes, he stands firm and holds the gun up. Don’t look at her… he keeps repeating over in his head. Yet, even with his eyes closed, he remembers, a memory so faint but still so profound. He remembers opening up his eyes and seeing your black skirt. You stood in that dark alley alone while he got beaten, and you yelled at those men who were beating you, to stop. You took him to the hospital, and paid for the all the expenses after he left. You even offered him a cookie on the bus… Out of all the miserable years in his life, your demonstration of kindness sorta gave him an anticipation that had long been lost in his heart. A faith that, despite all the awful people he met… maybe there were some who were… good.

His hands agitate as he drops his head in-between his arms. ‘Shit’ he curses lowly again. And turns around cursing himself. How would he save himself, if he couldn’t even bring himself to kill? Chenle shakes his head as he’s away from the little slope, you and Mark were on… No. He can’t imagine killing you, the only person who’s shown him kindness. He can kill others, but he can’t kill you. You didn’t deserve to die after the kindness you showed him. So, as he spots Kun creeping in the dark between streets and houses, Chenle’s rage explodes and he brings out one of the items from the box… intoxication gas.

Meanwhile up, towards the Southern tip, Jisung carefully makes it up the mountain, avoiding any preying eyes. Despite being a crying mess, he had to be strong and rejoin with his friends. Because he knew that Donghyuck had a plan... If Jisung could go back in time and have the option to follow Donghyuck or not, knowing what he knows now, he’d chose to stay as far as possible away from him. Donghyuck was a manipulator who was incredibly smart. Jisung looked up to him, because more than once Donghyuck had been able to save Jisung from terrible accidents. Accidents that only happened because of being associated with him. Donghyuck was a successful gambler, and would gamble in life or death situations in order to get something that always profited him. Upon tossing a coin up in the air, to decide to save Jisung from a group of thieves or not, Donghyuck’s coin landed on heads, and within a blink of an eye he ordered his comrade Jeno to beat up the thugs who picked on Jisung, and after that stole whatever the thugs had on them. Donghyuck approached Jisung and made a deal with him. “I can teach you to fend for yourself, if you help me sell something in your high school.” Jisung accepted because he wanted to learn to fend himself from people who’d always pick on him.

Never would he have thought that three years later, he’d be so deep with Donghyuck in illegal trading and scams. The only nice thing about being part of the gang was that for some reason, Donghyuck really liked him and wanted to keep Jisung around more. He’d give him extra money and would even go as far as allowing Jisung to stay over at his place when his mum kicked him out. So while Jaemin had gotten shot, Donghyuck long noticed the piece of paper and pencil underneath the table, and subtly wrote on it. Carefully tearing the paper in three parts, he sneakily passed it to his three comrades, Jisung, Jeno and Jeno’s girlfriend Karina. The note that had the same drawing like the one Johnny drew on the board, only except Donghyuck circled A6. Which was the Southern mountain. It’s all he sent, and he knew that they’d understand that it’s the place they’d meet up.

Jisung saw Taeil shoot Jaehyun, and watched the two bodies of Jaehyun and Shotaro lay motionlessly on the tennis court. He didn’t want to participate in the game. Which is why he avoided going to the A6 Southern Mountain. But when he noticed that he was all alone, and that Taeil ran off with gear… he became afraid. What if he’d get killed? At least with Donghyuck and Jeno, he knows that they can guard his back like usual… so after much thought, he decided to head to the place Donghyuck had chosen for them to meet up. He becomes increasingly tense as all the trees, boulders, and even shelter he could hide behind were scarce. He was climbing a mountain that was in open view. For everyone to see.

His whole back is covered in sweat as he moves up ahead somewhere on a ledged curve that looked like an extended reef. The reef was much taller than Jisung, blocking his vision beyond it. Glancing beyond it, he saw the sea, islands and other small lights indicating the larger piece of land being far away. He clings to the steep continuing in his path, until he’d get to the top. However, as he’s about to go up another steep path, a voice suddenly addresses him. “You’re here.”

Jisung almost jumps. He turns around and raises his pistol. The fine pistol that was gifted inside of his bag. Putting it down he sighs when he sees Chenle. Donghyuck is in the shadows, lurking next to a boulder. He’s sitting on a protruding rock. “Sunshine.” He calls the nickname of his friend with relief. But… Jisung squints when noticing two lamps on the ground… his eyes immediately widen. The one facing up, glaring at the sky was Karina, and the one laying on the side scrunched up was Jeno. It was surely them, with a dark puddle underneath them, it was black but Jisung could tell it was blood. Shooting his eyes up to Donghyuck, Donghyuck stands up and walks towards Jeno looking down at him.

“What happened?” Jisung cowers forward next to Donghyuck looking down at the crimson puddle that Donghyuck’s standing on. “Did someone else get up here before we did? Did they attack them?”

“You mean this?” Donghyuck nudges Jeno’s head with the tip of his shoe before nudging his shoe on Jeno’s elbow. Jeno’s elbow arcs and splashes into the puddle. “His girlfriend tried to attack me. And Jeno just happened to be here already and watched it happen. He joined in when I slapped her. And together they tried to kill me. Didn’t end up well, I preferred if we had talked, but now they’re dead.”

“You…”

“I killed them.” Donghyuck says it so robotically.

Jisung exhales a shaky breath, being reminded of why he thought Donghyuck to be the scariest out of all of them in the team. Jeno may have had the muscles and Karina had the speed, but Donghyuck had the brains. Big brains that could overpower strength and speed anytime, any day. “They never liked you anyway.”

“I was aware.” Donghyuck nods his head.

“So,” Jisung turns to Donghyuck, who’s still looking at Jeno’s lifeless body. “How are we going to take down that general and this stupid game. I know you have a plan. You always do.” Donghyuck’s head focuses back on the reality. “Just tell me what I need to do and I’ll do it. I’m up for anything now that Jeno and Karina are-” Jisung stops talking when noticing Donghyuck slowly shake his head. “Okay, so are we escaping? We’ll find a boat and-”

Donghyuck calls Jisung’s name. “Listen.” Jisung stops talking. “I realized, I’m fine either way.” Although he heard Donghyuck, he couldn’t read Donghyuck’s expression. Out of all the team, Donghyuck would truly reveal his feelings when with Jisung, but right now, it’s hard for Jisung to read Donghyuck’s poker facial expression.

“What do you mean? I can’t understand.”

Donghyuck stretches his head from side to side before pointing his chin upwards trying to crack it as well before facing Jisung, with his usual empty stare. “I sometimes lose track of what’s right and wrong. So when I came, and found Jeno, I drew closer to him, only for his stupid girlfriend to attack me from behind. I knew she hated me, but in these times I thought she’d be smart. I grew upset and hit her. Jeno came in hard and began swinging.” Donghyuck looks to the ground to a specific area and Jisung’s eyes follow. “Karina grabbed my shirt and the coin fell out.” Jisung knew that coin, the life or death coin that determined Donghyuck’s move. “If the coin came up to tails, I decided I’d figure out how to win.”

As if not expecting the buildup of the story, Jisung falls forward on the ground into the puddle of blood trying to see the coin’s outcome. Meanwhile Donghyuck also crouches down touching Jeno’s spine seeing the bullets riding up to Jeno’s nape.

“If it landed heads I’d find a way to outsmart those bastards.”

“Donghyuck please.” Jisung begs on his knees rubbing his hands. “Toss the coin again please. You know I wouldn’t kill you. You know I’m your most loyalist member. I’ve never done anything to roughly upset you, I told you whenever Jeno would steal from you and all the secret conversations they’d have. Donghyuck please consider me. You were like a brother to me. I spent years in your house because you saved me. Please, this can’t be how it ends.”

Donghyuck felt that. Jisung was right. For a very long time, Donghyuck used to move around emotionlessly, but after helping Jisung out that night, Jisung literally brightened up Donghyuck’s life. One terrible joke a day, made Donghyuck appreciate the presence of someone who could make him smile.

“I know you follow the coin, but please give me a chance. If this is how I’m gonna die, I want it to be your choice. Not the coin. Do you want to kill me?”

Donghyuck shakes his head. “Never. You’re like a brother I never had.” Donghyuck picks up the coin and breathes in. “But… Have I ever told you why I leave my fate in this coin’s destiny?” Jisung shakes his head. “Because the last time I made a decision by myself, it killed my dad. But when my mum gave me this coin… she said it wasn’t my fault. This coin… keeps me sane in difficult decisions.”

“Sunshine please.”

“Heads we team up together.” Donghyuck looks into Jisung’s eyes. Heads is the option he dreaded, whilst tails was an option he wanted to do. Knowing that tails was always rare- Donghyuck liked seeing how rare he’s choices where. “Tails, you play the game as well. Is that fair?” Jisung sniffs back and nods his head. Praying that the probability will be on his side.

Toss.

Flips — Lands.

Tails.

With a smug, pretending to be remorseful gaze, Donghyuck stares at the image of the coin. “Jisung run.”

Jisung doesn’t waste a second when his eyes are bloated in tears as he scampers to his feet and begins running down the mountain, tripping and falling.

Renjun’s ears and Ning’s ears are attentive when hearing weeping and rocks falling. They both turn their heads and see Jisung running down the mountain as if seeing a ghost. Waiting for him to be out of sight, they hold onto each other’s hands and help each other up the mountain. Carefully not trying to hurt. They’re almost at the top of the mountain, when they bumped into Donghyuck. He peers between the both of them having only one bag over his shoulder. Renjun stands in front of Ning and almost shields her. “We don’t want trouble. Just give us this moment together, please.” Renjun says when noticing the two dead bodies on the ground behind Donghyuck… It must’ve been why Jisung ran away dreadfully crying and not believing his reality.

Donghyuck walks past them, not really interested in them. He has a goal in mind. He knows he’s going to win, because he’s played it before. And with the algorithm of the game, he’s at an advantage. If only, he can find that smoothie apple… he’d win. He continues trudging down the mountain.

Renjun and Ning not knowing what just happened simply ignore the bodies of their former bus mates and continue upwards towards the top of the mountain. Upon getting to the top, they sit near the edge, having the whole view of the glamorous night sea before them. It’s over 20 meters high, at the bottom of the mountain, there’s a cliff allowing the flowing waters to crash violently and exploding into mists that drifted.

With their legs hung over the edge, hands over each other, their compasses behind them along with their bags. Just as Donghyuck had said to meet at the Southern mountain A6, Ning wrote at, at the Northern tip on her note. Thank goodness they were able to meet and be alone for a little bit, despite their circumstances, they were lucky to have had each other.

“It’s quiet.” Her pretty profile slowly formed a little smile.

Renjun simply having his eyes on her sadly smiles. “It is,” He turned away from her to look at the view. Aside from the mildly swiftly moving sea, Renjun noticed the floating boats at a distance. It must’ve been those boats that would be used to kill anyone trying to escape. Renjun’s eyes go beyond the scene to the main lands that were lit up by tiny dots of light. Neo City. They were supposed to have their date in the amusement park tonight. Both dressed up in white; Renjun having his white hoodie and white pants, while she had on her white floral dress. They had planned to spend the night together. But now plans have changed… but at least they’re still together.

While they walked hand in hand heading to the mountain, they heard rapid gun fire and knew that the games had begun. When seeing the dead bodies, they observed that life no longer seemed to matter to these loveless bus passengers. Kill or be killed.

“Thanks for this,” Ning looks down to the little bouquet of flowers in her hand, that Renjun got along the way while heading to the meet up before seeing her. They weren’t the most impressive sets of different flowers he found, but it was all he could offer. Despite the lump in his throat, he manages a smile.

“You’re welcome.”

Upon gazing at the bouquet, all the gifts he has ever gifted her crosses her mind, just as the dates and first kisses, first time laying together, first time introducing each other to their parents and first time becoming parents… But he didn’t know that yet. Know that there was a baby in her. “So this is it. We’ll never spend time together again,”

“It looks like it.” Renjun refuses to speak further knowing he’d break down just saying more words. Ning gets the message and remains silent too. Renjun, after composing himself speaks up. “I’m glad we got to meet up before…terrible things happened.”

Ning gulps and holds onto her stomach, just as Renjun shifts closer and wraps his arm around her shoulder, both of them look ahead. “Just yesterday we were riding the bus, and now we’re all killing each other.”

“Donghyuck let us go, but he killed Jeno and Karina,” Renjun huffs out turning his gaze to the skies above. “Even if we had to go back, I couldn’t possibly think of carrying on. At the thought that one of us could… I can’t bear to live without you.”

“Same here.” She sniffs and wraps her arms around Renjun’s torso. “But, Renjy baby, you have to live,”

“No.” Renjun shakes his head. “I don’t want to live without you. You’ve made my life so much better and have brought so much happiness to me. I don’t care if this is my last moment, I’d prefer to end it like this instead of going back without you.”

Tears come rushing out of Ning’s eyes as she shifts and fixes her gaze on Renjun’s tear filled face. “So you watched it. You watched The Stars Align.”

Renjun chuckles lightly. “You’ve been wanting me to watch it for long time. So I did.” Renjun sighs when thinking of the cheesy love romance comedy movie. “I didn’t understand it’s bad rating, I gave it 5 stars by the end of watching,”

Ning giggles when realizing this is how their conversations would be. Ordinary and meaninglessly, but always light and filled with passion. “You know what made me upset more than the rating?”

“The fact that Bonnie continued life without Clyde?”

Ning nods her head and uses the hand holding the bouquet to wipe her eyes. “How could she do that? Give up the love of her life? They could’ve been the real deal, but she left him to die. Left him alone. I wouldn’t do that.”

“I knew you’d say that,”

She laughs bashfully. “When you say it like that, you make me wanna leave,” She kids, causing Renjun to genuinely smile while looking down at her as they carried on discussing the movie. Before Ning looks between his glossy eyes and presses her body closer. “I still remember when you first kissed me, I felt as though I’d already lived thousands of lives with you and we kept getting reincarnated just to meet up with each other. You felt familiar, you feel like home. My home,”

He leans over his head ducking as he exchanges a sweet kiss with her. Tears flowing, hearts yearning for each other and hands with arms securely around each other. Renjun doesn’t know how long the kiss lasts, but he does hear the rustling behind the bushes but continues to kiss, just one more time, one last time. Soon enough, she hears it as well and tenderly breaks off the kiss.

“This is it,” They could’ve fought the intruder together like Bonnie and Clyde, but she didn’t want that. She wanted to leave it all behind before the massacre would begin.

“All aboard,” Renjun breathes in deeply when they both get up hands held together tightly.

“I love you Renjun,”

“I love you Ning,”

Leaping together, Joy peeks her head through the boulder she was peeking from and clasps her mouth when witnessing Renjun and Ning jump. Bodies dancing in the air while falling off the cliff, hands securely on each other. “I’m pregnant!”

Renjun’s ears filled with air hears the joyful news while falling and his eyes enlarge. “My baby-” It’s the last thing he says before stomach first wedges into the sharp rocks where the seas crushed on. Instantly dying. Ning on the other hand splashes straight into the water being knocked out by the heavy speeding fall.

“What happened?” Sungchan questions. “Did they…”

Joy in shock draws near to the edge looking down below. Turning to her own secret admirer Sungchan, she looks back to the disturbing canvas of blood splattered all over. Renjun is hung on the sharpest rock with a large gaping whole from his middle revealing the peaking sharp stone, while Ning’s body swayed roughly with the waters either diving further into sea or crashing into the stones down below. “They jumped.”

YangYang who always had a phone on him, dug it out his shoe when hiding within a little house. He switched on the little button phone hiding it underneath his butt to prevent the sound before lifting it up and dimming down the brightness after a few long taps, shutting down the sound, he places the phone to his ear. His heart pounding in his chest with joy once the phone connects. “Dad!” He whisper yells. “I don’t have time to explain, but I need you to hear me out. I’ve been kidnapped. Jaehyun and I were riding the bus but the bus we were riding was selected for some trial. Dad, I need you to call the police and tell them that we’ve been captured on some island 6 kilometers away. It’s not only me it’s the entire bus. Dad please I’m counting on you, we’re all counting on you to save us. Please!”

Finally, after a deep breath the voice on the other end speaks. “I’m pretty sure I mentioned that there wouldn’t be any phone services-”

YangYang immediately cuts the call pressing the red end button when hearing that demonic so called solider Johnny. Shit. How had he forgotten that they said no phone ser-

“Good. There’s no one here.”

YangYang freezes completely from where he is in the small kitchen. Hearing a small voice, belonging to a female, Irene, he crawls on all fours behind the counter trying to hide himself. Hearing the footsteps wandering around, YangYang's eyes spot the kitchen patio door. If he made it there, he could just run-

Brrriiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnggg

YangYang nearly jolts in sheer panic when an electronic buzz buzzes so loud that it put the volume to shame. YangYang realizes it’s coming from his hand, just as he hears haste foots steps heading to where he is. Answering the call quickly when seeing ‘Dad’ he breathes in deeply frantically whispering. “Dad-”

“No, it’s Johnny again. Just wanted to tell you to switch off your phone, otherwise if I keep calling, the others might tell where you are.”

“Dickhead-”

“YangYang?” Irene’s soft voice calls when entering the kitchen. It’s already too late for Johnny’s warning. Cutting the call YangYang continues to hide in his spot bringing out the knife that trembled like a fish in his grip. No matter what, he’d strike first. Kill or get killed. Suddenly a flashlight turns on and YangYang's caught in the headlights.

“Oh goodness. YangYang it is you. Thank goodness.” Irene quickly heads over to YangYang ignoring the knife pointing at her and she immediately gets YangYang in a hug. “I was soo scared, you have no idea.”

YangYang's heart sinks when realizing that his humanity survival instinct got the better of him. Was he really going to kill Irene? Was he really going to kill another person? Looking into her worried face, he lowers his knife to the ground and rubs his face in disappointment. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

YangYang mutters in disbelief. “For a moment. I was about to kill you.”

Irene’s eyes open wide but she isn’t shocked. “It’s okay. I understand. In this awful situation, everyone’s guards need to be up. I saw Chenle kill Winwin. I'm terrified that I'll be next.”

“Winwin?” Remorse clouds YangYang's head. “I saw Taeil kill Jaehyun… my best friend.” At that YangYang's tears are back on display. Irene finds herself hugging YangYang again holding him tightly. Comforting him. Her arms go around his neck. “I can’t believe that he killed Jaeh-”

YangYang's surprised when hearing a slashing sound. Violently coughing out with his eyes bulge open - “What a nice knife.” It only took YangYang a second to realize what had happened before the front of his neck was slashed by the hefty knife. When seeing Irene back up standing up rapidly holding his banana curved knife in her tiny hands with a smile- YangYang's eyes widen clutching his slashed throat for his dear life. He springs like a fish on the floor choking and dying very quickly- especially with the squirting blood everywhere and the shock possessing YangYang's body causing him to bounce on the floor like a literal dying fish. “Much better than my useless weapon.” Which was scissors. Irene looks despondently to YangYang before turning around. “I was also trying to kill you. Sorry. Now where’s the food…”

The night breaks into its first dawn daylight when Irene steps out the cabin and sneaks into the nearby trees. She breaks into a squat bringing out the map that was in her bag. Looking at it, she locates where she is and opts to make it to another destination. Upon sprinting her way out- she’s abruptly stops when seeing something swaying on the trees. Covering her mouth to stop her from screaming, she watches the body hanging from the tree by something that looks like a vine. As the body idly turns around, Irene makes out the person to be the elderly man Kun. Ignoring the body, she continues to hike up to her new destination, knowing very well who did that.

However, the same can’t be said for the next person that crosses the hanging body, Taeil. Taeil is in complete shock when he’s frozen in place looking up to his fellow bus mate, Kun. Just as he’s staring at it the speakers located on some specific points, amplify loudly a voice that annoyed almost everyone. “Good morning early birds. This is your instructor General Suh Johnny, here with 6 a.m. morning news and informants. We started off with a bang, from a solid 22 players knocked down all the way to 10. Congratulations, the rest of you alive have made it to the semifinals.”

Taeil’s eyes bulge out when hearing the information.

“Get your pencils ready to cross on your lists. It’s going to be a while. This is in killed order. Jaemin gun wound, Wendy knife wound, Shotaro arrow shot, Karina gun wound, Jeno gun wound, Jaehyun arrow shot, Hendery arrow shot, Winwin gun wound, Kun suicide, Ning suicide, Renjun suicide, YangYang knife wound and just like that the numbers were brought down to the final 10. Amazing isn’t it? I like this pace, by night fall we’ll be done.”

Taeil feels hot and heavy when hearing all the arrow shots. He knows he participated in killing Jaehyun accidently, but Hendery he did it willingly. The guy was out there lighting up and smoking weed, singing how he’s ready to die. So Taeil put him out of his misery. But now upon hearing the names, his heart beats so loud. This game would be over before he’d feel the guilt truly sink in of killing. “Let’s keep it up. Now for the forbidden zones. I will announce their areas and time, so get your maps ready now. At 7 a.m. in sector J=2 Get out. In 3 hours, F=1 at 9 a.m. Later in five hours, I=12. Those are the times. I shall repeat.”

Meanwhile you and Mark sit under the cave being panicked when your position was by the forbidden zone for 9 a.m. But aside from that, all the names are a big shock for you and Mark. Here he was thinking it’d remain 18… but no. “People were killing, while we were sleeping.”

“It sounds like others have impressive weapons.” You adjust your sitting position. “Gun wounds?” A brief image of Chenle’s stance and his gun aiming at you, causes you to hold your hands against your head. You were spared… “Knife wounds? Arrows?”

“Sounds like someone took Jaehyun’s weapon and is going at it.” Mark sits in disappointment. “And the suicide rate… Kun?”

You shake your head looking down. “Do you think that… Renjun and Ning committed it together?”

“Knowing those two, they must’ve been together. I saw them passing notes.” Mark wonders on the couple and shakes his head. “They really must’ve met up.” Dismissing the image Ning passing her note to Renjun, Mark gets out his list to see how many people were left. Indeed, they were 10, but out of the 10 Mark tried to think of who could’ve been doing the killings… He didn’t want to let his mind to wander on the kill or be killed hunt. “I don’t want to judge, but I think Donghyuck is playing… his team of Jeno and Karina are out by gun wounds. So we should most be careful of him, he might have a gun. I have no idea who’s got the arrows, but any sign of bows or arrows, then we need to run. Same goes for the knife holder. Seems like those people are on a roll. Chenle looked dangerous from the beginning. It doesn't help that he asked that question.”

More than anything, you’re glad that you’re with Mark. He’s not only smart, but it seems like he’ll protect you till the very end. “Mark… What if it comes to the point… that we’d need to fight… kill?”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m not planning on killing anyone.” Mark stares ahead. “The only person I wanna kill is that General. But until then, if all hope flees away… I won’t accept death easily. But I’m sure there must be a way.” Mark sighs stretching his neck back before getting up on his feet. “We should get going,”

Just as Mark assists you in getting up, he momentarily freezes in his stance when noticing a frame. Ten meters above a landscape of trees and rocks, Mark sees the body frame of a figure. You follow his gaze, eyes tense. It’s been so long since you’ve seen another person. Your heart should’ve been glad to have finally met another person, however your mind works with lightning speed as you try to figure out if he’s an enemy or not. Sungchan. Just from staring, Mark feels like his vision can go narrow. There’s so much tension, and it doesn’t help how Sungchan bears a hatchet in his right hand. Your eyes then follow to the movement of Mark’s hand heading towards the knife tucked in his belt. “Mark no–”

That seems to set Sungchan off as his hand twitches while he runs- Mark shoves you out the way barely before lifting up his own backpack and using it as a shield against Sungchan who mercilessly strikes! The hatchet breaches into the bag causing the contents to burst out- from the water bottle spraying out to Mark realizing that the sharp of the hatchet scratched him too. A searing pain runs under his skin but he leaps back creating distance between himself and Sungchan.

Had Mark not touched his belt- maybe then Sungchan would’ve not attacked. “Sungchan! Wait!” But Sungchan swings his hatchet sideways only to be met with Mark’s knife- unfortunately it’s still inside it’s leather sheath. “I’m not trying to kill you!” Mark tries again but Sungchan swings again as his hatchet is 5 centimeters away from Mark’s cheek. Mark seeing there’s no means of communication between him and the tall guy- he tosses his knife aside and grabs Sungchan’s right arm from swinging- despite it being halted a bit, it manages to hit the right side of Mark’s head causing the slight wavy hair above his right ear to fall as a sharp tear runs through his earlobe. It doesn’t hurt much but it’s enough to enrage Sungchan into swinging the hatchet off his right hand to the left trying to swing again- he cuts on Mark's right arm but Mark uses his leg to sweep underneath Sungchan's own legs.

Sungchan gasps when his legs sway all the way up before he falls-! But no- quickly Sungchan regains balance holding onto Mark falling with him. The sounds of crushing branches surround them as Mark continues to back away holding onto his bleeding arm moving back- forced by Sungchan’s adrenaline strength. While Mark is focused on the hatchet- he fails to see the fist that swings viscously and knocks him back.

In this unreal situation your eyes enlarge when Mark’s head hits the wall so hard that he falls forward instantly blacking out- as you move closer covering your mouth when Sungchan raises his hatchet and swings it-! "Mark!" - Sungchan is turns to you. Your eyes are blinded by tears as you limp backwards shaking your head as Sungchan takes hesitant steps towards you.

Sungchan darts forward and you lose balance and tumble down but hastily you hold onto Sungchan’s wrist pulling him in the fall as well. The two of you tumble down the slope covered with shrubs. Just as you scream out. Despite it not being that high, around 10 meters or so- your bodies crash with a loud thump! Being out in the open of a field- sunlight shines upon you both. You pant out feeling like a mice trapped underneath a large cat! You needed to get up before he could. You need to find Mark and find out if really he was... You try to get up before Sungchan can- but then…

Something feels strange.

Although Sungchan had come to you with such force…Sungchan suddenly felt limp. As your face is under the lower part of Sungchan’s chest, upon looking up your able to see why there’s no movement from Sungchan. Right above him, the hatchet is lodged into Sungchan’s face. Half of the blade sticks out from his face like the top layer of chocolate on a Christmas cake. The hatchet had landed on his forehead, neatly splitting open the left eyeball (a gooey liquid leaked out with his blood), and a pale blue light reflected off the blade inside his mouth. Sungchan still held onto the hatchet, but you are the one holding his wrists. You feel a horrible sensation running through your body at the speed of light from Sungchan’s face to his wrists. As if tracing the course of this sensation, blood slides down the blade, flowing from Sungchan onto your hand that’s still holding Sungchan’s wrists tightly. You let out a tiny squeak crying out, releasing your hands, your lips get dry quickly as you stare in complete defeat and shock. With your hurt ankle you get out from underneath Sungchan’s body.

Sungchan’s body rolls over, face up, his horrific dead face thrusts into the morning light. Huffing and puffing, you feel a numb urge to vomit… and you don’t hesitate to let it all out. The smell instantly hitting your nose as your throat scratches with every forceful slime scratching your throat to come out. The incomparable horror of Sungchan’s face isn’t a trivial matter, but for you something even more important concerns you. Did you just… kill someone? You killed someone. Worse yet, a fellow student who was also a bus mate. “No, I didn’t.” You shake your head. It’s no use trying convince yourself that it’s an accident. After all—you did everything you could to avoid the blade, and therefore direct it towards Sungchan by twisting Sungchan’s wrists as far back as possible. You can’t breathe. You feel incredibly nauseous, but somehow maintain yourself and your urge to vomit again. You look up the slope you fell from and can’t quite see past the shrubbery.

Gulping back and avoiding the blood on your hands, you shake your head. “It was an accident.” Your hands shake as you look past them to Sungchan’s face with the hatchet. Sucking up your breath you prey Sungchan’s fingers loose off the hatchet.. Thus you grab the handle and try to pull the hatchet off Sungchan’s face… but Sungchan’s face is stuck to it that when pulling off the hatchet you're shocked that a loud squelching sound busts out and you fall on the ground with Sungchan’s head wedged in the hatchet. The hatchet is lodged deeply. With your right hand you pull on the hatchet, which makes a horrible spurting sound as blood sprays out of Sungchan’s face and finally the hatchet comes loose. This is a nightmare, you think to yourself with tears in your eyes, looking at Sungchan. His head is now asymmetrical. It looks too unreal. It looked like a plastic fake.

You give up on trying to close Sungchan’s eyes… His left eyeball and eyelid is spilt open, the eyelid shriveled and swollen so badly it can’t even shut. “Oh my god.” You sniff. You feel sick again, but you manage yourself to be up on your feet, wanting to get back to Mark. To get back, it looks like you’ll have to walk the long way by the foot trail.

However, as you begin moving, you freeze when coming again in contact with another pair of eyes… the girl in a black short dress with wavy long curly hair… Joy… And she’s holding a pistol. Her hair that’s always parted in revealing the extraordinary beauty of her face is now messed up all over her face as she breathes heavily. It’s when you remembered that she had a thing with Sungchan… although illegal, she and Sungchan were always together… She must’ve thought that…oh... no… that you killed him. You snap and jolt out of your own head when a striking sound hits the ground next to your feet (a gunshot). It misses you, but it’s enough to alert you and force you to hop backwards in retreat to the tall grass behind you that makes a fierce rustling sound underneath your back.

She runs for a bit before stopping to aim directly for your chest! You grow stiff. The next tiny lead bullet that gun spits out will kill you! And you’ll follow Jaemin to his death as well as the others.

“Drop it.” Another voice joins. Joy snaps her head back just as your eyes turn to another pair of eyes and a weapon…shotgun. But you still try to get away when hearing another gun fire from Joy. She fires it towards Donghyuck. Without any warning Donghyuck quickly ducks. You hear the explosion from the gun that Donghyuck holds in his kneeling position, sparks flying from the muzzle like a flame thrower, and the next moment Joy’s right arm is gone. Bloody mist shooting into the air. Joy’s gaze shifts to her bloody sleeve from her elbow to the hand that was holding her gun, is now laying on the grass. Donghyuck quickly pumps the shotgun and loads the next shot. A red plastic shell flies out to the side after spitting out its pellets.

“AIEEEE!”

Joy screams like an animal as she suddenly realizes what’s happening. You feel like you can fall to your knees, but you don’t. You stare in horror as if watching a bad horror flick. Joy runs from her arm but still gets her gun with her other hand and aims towards Donghyuck, walking back drunkenly while shooting aimlessly.

“Stop it!” Donghyuck shouts, but Joy refuses and points her his gun at him. Donghyuck wastes no time and shoots again. As if in time-lapse photography one moment she’s flying up and the next moment she’s falling on the ground face up. She sinks into the overgrown grass and remains still. You scramble to your feet. You can almost see Joy’s body between the blades of grass. There’s a gaping hole by her stomach of the and the contents inside looks like a trash bin in a sausage factory.

Donghyuck hardly pays attention to the corpse and aims at you approaching you. You pant up and down nervously as he pumps the shotgun again and pumps at the shotgun again and ejects an empty shell-

You're trembling figure crying out, as you limp back. “Hold on- I’m-” You stop behind Joy’s body trying to stop him but he speaks again.

“Drop your weapon.” It’s when you realize that you’re still holding onto the hatchet that was once for Sungchan. You do as told. The blood-drenched hatchet falls to the ground with a thud.

“Please- please- please, don’t kill me- I swear I didn’t mean it- he attacked Mark and I… and I got so angry, I pushed him but we both fell… I need to get back to Mark.. We don’t fight at all- I promise-” Your fidgety nerves point up to the cliff. “He’s up there…” Donghyuck turns his eyes to you being confused when you begins shouting out into the emptiness... “Mark! I’m alright! Donghyuck saved me!” You end up shouting. Donghyuck’s eyes squint but you repeat it. “He saved me! He isn’t an enemy.”

Donghyuck lowers his muzzle watching you go into a state of shock as you freeze. Have you gone insane? Your vision blurs out Mark's being remembering how he hit his head against the wall... You jolt and cower in fear crying out again. "He-he he’s not dead… he can’t be dead.” Eyes tightly shut, already overflowing with tears. You cup your mouth your body revolting over the sight that becomes a permanent core memory… You don’t know if he killed Mark, but you saw Mark lay motionlessly on the ground. It becomes too much as you hurl and upchuck another bile and bloody retch, it spews out your mouth like diarrhea. Instantly you drop down close enough to your vomit crying out when thinking that you took part in Sungchan’s death. “It was an accident. I didn’t mean to… I held his hand when falling and… and it ended up cutting him.” You say between hiccups.

It’s too much to fathom when you feel Mark comforting you. You're seeing things, you're talking to yourself thinking the dead person is alive and you're also realizing that no one is there. Donghyuck draws close to you his own shotgun going back inside his bag. He carefully moves to you standing beside you. Still, as you break down crying, your eyes pouring, your knees weakening and your vomit emitting your fear in the game… he gently gets beside you and rubs your back. "Hey-"

You jump again backing away from Donghyuck in fright. "W-wh-where's Mark?" You tremble, the tears blocking your vision as your memory hazes in and out. You remember once again the horrid incident that just occurred. "No. No." You shake your head not wanting to believe it. Your watery eyes turn up towards the cliff before you find Sungchan's head on the ground. "Mark." You whisper as you look to your own hands sniffing and sucking your saliva back just as you struggle to keep your breathing under control.

“Hey, calm down okay," Donghyuck crouches next to you. "If you keep crying and making a ruckus, the others will find you. And unlike me, they’re playing this stupid game.” Donghyuck gets up, using his words to cause fear in you. Technically, your emotions are all over the place right now, and you’d be more of a burden on him then an asset, but… you can be an easy kill. Which is why, he wants to team up with you…fragile and vulnerable. Easy kill. Plus the sight of you reminded him of his mother (all thanks to Jeno)- and he really wanted to give his mother a taste of her own medicine. Death.

"Wait. Please wait. Please..." You nervously call out with a trembling voice regaining your standing composure again. You want to scream out 'don't leave me' but you also don't want him to leave after you've said that. “How can you say others aren’t playing when… You shot…Joy.”

“She wasn’t listening.” Donghyuck tilts his head to where Joy’s body is. “Found myself walking here and saw you two fighting. I tried stopping her. But I guess I ended up doing that as well. Literally. Look, I’m not going around mindlessly killing people like everyone else. I won’t kill you if you don’t attack me. I’m just trying to find a way out.”

Fear is still rushing through your body, but you calmly manage out the words, “I’m relieved we've met someone else who's normal.” You agree by yourself nodding your head and turning to 'Mark'. It's the saddest thing to witness you staring into the emptiness before slowly realizing again that Mark is could...

Then he speaks, “So you’re with Mark?”

You protectively answer but your voice comes out so hoarse. “Yes.”

Then Donghyuck asks, “Why are you two together?”

You turn to your side feeling alone, but you still can’t believe it. Then you look at Donghyuck. “He waited for me outside of the building. He was the only one I could trust.” You nod your head sadly when looking down at your bloody hands.

Donghyuck’s words bring your attention back to him. “I stopped that girl from killing you, and right now you’re hurt. Let me help you back to Mark,”

Donghyuck looks like a serpent, a viper ready to attack its prey, and hearing him say that (in the moment) makes you feel really really ‘safe’. At least he’s got a gun. You don’t even have a weapon anymore. So with little hesitation, you nod your head lightly.

Meanwhile, crouching and hurling her way through bushes, Seulgi is panting as she tries to get away from what she saw. It’s dangerous for her to run so recklessly, but she had to escape. After playing back the scene in her head, of Sungchan’s head split widen open and you, yanking out the hatchet from his head- she was terrified! You had killed Sungchan! And you did it flawlessly. Seulgi was transfixed at first, until she saw the blood…and next thing she saw Joy with a gun. ‘Fuck that.’ She remembers saying, covering her mouth, grabbing her day pack, tears welling up in her eyes, before she dashed away. The sound of gunfire followed behind her, but she could hardly hear it given the state she was in.

You lead Donghyuck back to the spot where you were prior before falling off the cliff. You momentarily freeze upon seeing Mark's corpse hidden by some bush shrubs, but his feet are visible. You feel tense and carefully drag your leg moving to him wanting to see if he’s really… no he can’t be dead, especially with the way he’s body is. You left him face first on the ground, but now he’s in between some bushes. You jolt a little when feeling hands gently land on your shoulders. Donghyuck. “Let me see.” He draws closer to Mark, crouching down. Seeing a gaping in the middle of Mark’s head, it’s obvious that he’s dead with that headshot. Donghyuck shakes his head and turns to you.

And tearfully you snort back some tears moving away from the corpse crying on the ground. But you try to pull yourself together… this can’t be happening. You retrieve your bag and pick up the things that were in Mark's bag- since Sungchan's hatchet cut his bag open. You find yourself sitting, watching Donghyuck move around.

Donghyuck circles around some trees with bob wires. He pulls tightly on the bob wire at one end minding his own business, just as you began wondering what he was doing. He makes a notch with the knife into a nearby tree trunk. He ties the remaining wire around the tree trunk in the same manner.

“You can’t trust him.” Mark breaks the silence in your head. You turn your head to the side, so sure that you can see and hear him. But your heart heaves in your chest at the memory that Mark's body is...in the shrubs on the ground dead.

"This can't be possible." You shake your head and clutch hour hands on your face trying to remain calm and cry out. But you can't help it. "Why Mark? Why'd he have to die? He didn't even avenge Jaemin? It's not fair."

Donghyuck hears you moping and sees your trembling figure. He finds himself drawing closer to you and setting his bag down. Not only are you vulnerable, but you’re at your weakest with your leg and hallucination… you couldn’t be more perfect for him.

"Are you okay?" Obviously you're not okay. But it's the only question that Donghyuck can ask you. He has to build up trust in some way. It reminds him of the passing thought he once had about you… If something traumatic happened to you, would you slowly become a monster like him? Or would you continue to use your nice façade as a way to trick people while you hurt them just like his mum? Two ways to trauma. You either hurt others, or yourself.

The question, however, sets you back into presence and you stop mourning the loss of your friend and wipe your eyes nodding your head. To you, you don't even know Donghyuck except that he helped you and even saved you. "M-Mark was asking what are you doing?"

Momentarily Donghyuck decides to ignore your delusional, briefly nodding his head. “That.” he answers in the most nonchalant manner, almost lifeless, causing you to be nervous around him. “You can call it a primitive alarm system. We're at the center. The wire runs around us in a circle with a twenty-meter radius. The wires doubled. The moment it catches someone, this will be pulled and fall from the tree. Don't worry, the intruder won't even notice. It'll provide us with a warning.”

“Where did you find that wire?” You ask.

Donghyuck takes a seat on the ground crossing his legs. “There was a little general supply store. I wanted to get my hands on some things.”

“Supply store. That’s where you found it?” your look of astonishment makes Donghyuck simply nod his head. Of course. No matter how small, the island had at least one supply store. But the thought never even crossed your mind. Of course it wouldn't have been possible for you to wander around given how you and Mark just ran and slept and he had to look after you and your leg and on top of that it could’ve been risky. Donghyuck begins sorting through a day pack that belongs either to Sungchan or Joy. Taking out a bottle of water and some bread rolls, he speaks, “Have you had breakfast yet?”

Still staring at Donghyuck, you shake your head. “How do you have an appetite?”

“What’s wrong? You feel nauseous from seeing dead people?” Donghyuck examines, still looking so emotionless. However, he pauses when seeing you freeze. “Don’t let it get to you." He tries to redeem himself. "Think of the trial as a game tournament. People have to die so that there's a winner. If you don't eat it won't change anything in the game. Other than your health life, which would be the cause of your death since you'll be too weak to fight or move.”

You hope he’s joking, but still it’s offensive because he is joking. You can only think how Mark would've glared at him... Would Mark even agree to Donghyuck being here with you... Why is Donghyuck here with you? Your voice is hoarse when you want to speak so slowly. “So you don’t feel nauseous? This game isn't sick to you? Or did you already kill someone else before Joy?”

Donghyuck merely shrugs his shoulders. “Well, this time around I killed people. Last time I didn’t even dare. I couldn’t. So I know how you're feeling, but you need to eat up.” It’s a strange way to structure a sentence, but you have no idea what’s so strange about it- the fact that he said he killed, or the fact that he said ‘this time around’. If Donghyuck was the rumored gang, delinquent he was said to be then he might be bold in a way that you can never be.

“You know, there’s something I don’t get.” you end up saying, trying to fill the tense air while he eats. He’s so calm about everything and instead of it making you calm too, you’re feeling freaked out. “To think the reason Joy tried to shoot me was because she saw me with a hatchet and Sungchan dead... What I’m trying to get at is that Sungchan came after me even though I didn’t do anything. Mark and I were together, so why did he have to attack us? He could have sided with us too but he just went for the kill?”

Donghyuck shrugs his shoulders and puts his water bottle down and bread plastic down. “He was up for a fight. That’s all. What’s to understand?”

“No, well...theoretically, yes, but...I just don’t get it. How could Sungchan even decide to—”

Donghyuck cuts off your hesitant words, “There's no need to understand.”

“Huh?”

Donghyuck blinks his eyes. “When he fought you, you felt your survival instincts kick in. Maybe he wanted to live as much as you. Maybe he wanted to go back to his family. You don’t actually matter to him, so maybe he was selfish. Or maybe he went insane from fear and lost his capacity for reason. Or there's even this possibility: you were with Mark. He might have thought you teamed up with him. How can he tell whether he’s invited? You and him might have decided he’s a threat. Or if you were actually playing the game, then you could use this same excuse to kill him. Did you provoke him at all?”

“No...” but already in your head you recall what ticked Sungchan to run towards Mark. “Mark touched his knife.” You look to Mark's figure that's a distance away and then to Chenle. "Sungchan was already holding his hatchet. So I think... When he saw Mark reach for his own knife it might've..." But you shake your head. “But that’s not enough to—”

Donghyuck nods his head. “It actually is. Sungchan might have thought, I have to beat you, since you’re holding a weapon. Everyone's fuse in this game is pretty short.” He says as if to concluding the topic, “But in the end Sungchan was up for it. That’s the best way to understand it. Look, there’s no need to understand or dwell on anything. What it comes down to is this Smoothie trial. Once your opponent attacks you with a weapon, you don’t hesitate. Otherwise you'll die. You can’t afford to think about it. The first thing you do is anticipate your opponent. That's the motto anyway, you shouldn't trust people too much in this game.”

You take a deep breath… Did Mark really push Sungchan to do that? How? Mark's dead now. Then again, like Donghyuck said, it’s pointless to think too much about it. “So… Why are you here with us... me?”

Donghyuck ties the plastic of his remaining bread and puts it inside his bag. “I flipped a coin.”

“That’s not what I mean.” you shake your head being slightly confused. “I mean, you saved my life, by risking your life to help me. I’m not suspecting you, I’m just…”

Donghyuck is still for a moment. His sharp gaze on you softens, he tries to relax his face to appear less daunting, he makes sure to not evoke any menacing tactics. “You know what they want? In order to survive, you’d need to stop trusting everyone around you. That's what they want.” Donghyuck nudges the shotgun resting on his knees with his hand. His eyes finally pane up to yours. “Why would I lower my guard and follow you? Do you think I was risking much to stop that other girl? Do you think ordering her to stop would have actually stopped her? Maybe I was already planning on killing her because she wasn't listening. Did I really have to kill her though for you? Or does it seem that it's in my best interests to join you and then kill you off later? I promise you, I’m not against you.”

This guy certainly has a brain functioning. Is some of the intrusive thought running around your head. You quickly look away from him to your empty side before looking down and sniffing back. “So then, why do you trust me? Teaming up with you doesn’t necessarily rule out that I'm against you. You have no reason to trust me. But yet, you're here,"

Something runs past Donghyuck’s eyes, you’re not sure what it is, but it certainly makes you feel nervous. He’s scary in a way that you can’t understand. One minute he looks bored, the next he looks like he’s trying to be there and to care. When he speaks, his tone sounds promisingly cooperative. “You’re hurt and you lost a comrade. You lost two, if I think of the other guy in the classroom. That’s why I trust you. It’s evident you aren’t playing the game.”

You suck in a breath in remembrance of the situation you're in. Mark really lost Jaemin, in just a span of some hours and he also followed Jaemin in a span of some hours.

Donghyuck scans your downcast face before speaking up. “Do you want to avenge them?”

That gets 'Mark's' attention. “I fucking do.” You hear him say in your head. But Donghyuck hears nothing.

“Or do you wanna cry it out?” You don't move and shrug your shoulders. He resorts to saying; “I know a way to do that. To get close to that guy just enough to land a kill.”

“Really?” your ears perk when hearing that.

Donghyuck nods his head. “When the time is right I’ll let you in on it. For now, we lay low. Let the other humans become inhume by killing each other.”

Donghyuck doesn’t hesitate when stretching his hand towards you. “Deal?” His eyes flicker to yours, that gets his heart beating loudly in his ears. Thankfully you don’t reject it, and allow your hand to slide into his smooth one.

“It’s actually nice, to not be alone anymore, just us two.” You smile a little, looking into his eyes. “I would've probably... killed myself. So... Thanks.”

In your eyes, Donghyuck sees serene wash over, you feel assured and the warmth on your hand reveals just how anxious you were. He’s staring at your face for too long. He diverts his attention to your leg wrapped in shrags of cloth. Letting go of your hand he nudges his head to your leg. “Can I stitch it up for you? At this point you’ll feel dizzy and sore, especially since you didn’t eat.”

As if adrenaline is fleeting from your body, the pain shoots up and causes your leg to spasm in surprise. You untuck your leg and rigidly span it over to him. Undoing the cloth bandages from your ankle and allowing the air to blow past it, you sharply inhale by the sight of the wound. It’s like a large shaped eyeball with slimes of yellow skin cells and bloody goop together. Donghyuck pays attention to how anxious you get and tries to reassure you. “It’s just a small wound, I’ll get it stitched in no time.” He says bringing out the thread and digging in his pockets for something sharp. Seeing him bring something out like a needle, your eyes enlarge. He removes the syringe from it and focuses on binding the thread to its end. “You might wanna distract yourself.”

Meanwhile, after a long run Seulgi runs out of breath and stops near a little house shed. She was inside of it, hours ago, but it’s the only place she finds as a safe space. She opens up her bag with tears in her eyes and brings out her weapon, a bat with many sharp spikes on its head, before getting in the house. Upon sitting down and trying to eat, she cries out for a little while thinking how her life is over. She’s avoided death two times now, there’s no way she’d be lucky again. She needed to do something to stop the madness from spreading before others would kill her. She brings out her map and compass. Plotting out something. Finding a little tower on the map, she bags her things and carefully leaves the house begging to run.

Irene hikes from trunk to trunk following a certain person indirectly and as quietly as possible. Zhong Chenle. He was minding his own business walking with his back over his bag, a gun and Warhammer in another hand. The gun belonging to Winwin. But after killing Winwin it became Chenle’s property.

Irene witnessed the killing of Winwin as well as Kun happening. It’s also what pushed her to take heart and attack YangYang too, because if she killed at least one person, maybe Chenle would be interested in teaming up with her. But even as she finds herself in the presence of Chenle again, indirectly, she’s afraid to approach him. Because Chenle did not look like he’d discuss anything. He wasn’t even afraid. Upon seeing Winwin, Winwin who had the upper weapon started shooting while Chenle charged with his warhammer- with sheer strength Chenle flung the weapon with ease and began stabbing and thrashing on Winwin mercilessly, before using the gun to finish off Winwin. Whatever went on in the mind of Chenle during that time, she doesn’t know, but she knows that it was enough for him to see the game through till the end.

When it came to Kun, Chenle had some kind of bottle while he held onto a long vine and began strangling Kun with it, until he passed out. Upon passing out Chenle tugged Kun’s body over a tree and left him there. Poor Kun woke up and fell to his death, only to be hung from the neck. Irene didn’t know why Chenle was coordinating his attacks like this, and when the announcements came, it made no reference to the way the two men were actually killed. It simply stated gun wound and suicide, to which Irene was astonished. Something was surely up with Chenle, and she needed to team up with him because he had some immunity.

Taeil on the other hand, is pressed in the corner a foot away from YangYang's body as he disassembles YangYang's phone with the tools he found inside the house. Despite Johnny saying they’d be no power or any phones working, Taeil knew that he didn’t spend a good 3 years in the world’s best technician school not to utilize all his hard work. He broke parts of the wall phones around the house, any piece of gadgetry he could find, he used it, including a rechargeable heater and a dildo vibrator he found in the house. As long as it had power and electricity by itself, Taeil used it in order to create his own satellite device that could be used to contact outside of this damned island.

Jisung is still. Against a grove shore of a beach, covered in plain sight watching from afar one boat swerve in the water. His mind blank as he thinks on a way to escape.

Donghyuck tosses the needle and thread into the day pack beside him. “I’m gonna use the water again.” Your leg rests on his thigh as the wound is finally all stitched up. Tears blotched all over your face as your chest pants rapidly. While Donghyuck turns to the can that's boiling with water (a can that stood on top of some heated up logs. Branches cut from a tree and a fire started by Donghyuck who suggested warming water would be good for you) you briefly exhale and hiccup along the way, finally opening up your eyes to see the zig-zag stitches over your ankle. Your body is trembling and your heart is beating fast. Donghyuck takes it as an opportunity to look at your face and he pats your cheek in a reassuring. “You did good. It’s all patched now.” his hand slides down your face.

“Thanks.” You hiccup but still ache in tears. It was the most grueling minutes of your life. From the piercing of a hot needle against your flesh with no anesthesia, your calf was sewn together with a coarse cotton thread. You cried through the ten-minute operation. He disinfected the needle and thread with the boiling water, but applying it directly to your wound was out of the question. Donghyuck had already soaked your wound with water before he began stitching the layers around your soft skin.

Getting the water and drenched cloth near your skin again, Donghyuck dabs the cloth on it and squeezes it, he presses the disinfected bandanna on your wound. Then he quickly wraps another bandanna around your leg before finally closing up your wound with a proper bandage which he’d also found in the general store.

“You took the whole general store.” you sniff and your leg trembles when Donghyuck tightens the bandanna again.

“I needed supplies knowing I’d be in the wilderness for long, and just in case I hurt myself, then I could patch myself up.” Donghyuck comments. “Alright how does it feel?”

“Better that it’s over,” you sniff, and that causes some form of pity to form in Donghyuck. Despite his plan, hearing you cry against your own embrace only did wonders to his ears. Hearing a woman cry isn’t something normal or natural, especially when they’re crying out of pain. It’s traumatic for Donghyuck, as the fondest memory he had of his mother was how she’d cry after her husband was killed by him… he also remembers her crying immediately after…the first time that she… He shakes his head. Hearing you cry, he couldn’t bare it... reminded him of his therapist. How old is he feeling right now? 15? Maybe even 10. Those ages were dark times in his life.

Absent mindedly he notes. “I hope the wound hasn't been infected.”

You touch the bandage over your leg, feeling that it’s a bit better now. You show your gratitude to Donghyuck, “That was really impressive.”

"Really?" Donghyuck jokes lightly. "Even though you cried like I was cutting it off,"

You chuckle a little, sniffing back some tears. "I just hate pain. So it's normal to cry."

"You did good though. You didn't kick or beg me to stop, so I was able to do it quick." He nods his head feeling a tang warmth and pulls out a cigarette pack from his pocket and places it between his lips and lights it with a disposable lighter. He offers you, but you shake your head.

“You got it from the general store too?” you ask, to which Donghyuck finds himself smirking a bit too as he rests still while lighting it up. The small space around his hands clogs up with air and he releases a breath away from you. The intoxicating air brings relief to his mouth, the familiar taste allowing him to relax. “It’s almost 9. We should get going.”

“This is a forbidden zone?” You nod your head. Donghyuck gets up and holds his hand out for you.

“I think I can walk,” You try to balance your leg on the ground and thankfully you bare to stand, with his help a bit.

“Just so you don’t sprain anything, I’ll carry you.” Donghyuck ends up offering. “Let me just remove these wires.”

Once Donghyuck finished untangling the wires around the tree, you began walking... Or rather he carried you on his back and began walking. You guys end up moving approximately one hundred meters southwest of your previous position. The sun was high in the sky, and the air smelled like a forest around rainy season. The sea, which was visible as they moved through the trees, glistened a brilliant blue- it’s where they also saw the blinding sight of Renjun’s body staked high upon a sharp boulder and Ning’s body bloodily rested up on the shore. Every single boat that passed by circled around the island at a great distance, tiny as dots, and the nearest one was the gray guard ship in charge of the western region. Even that ship was pretty far, but you could see the machine gun installed at its head.

Crossing out a plot in the map, Donghyuck sets up the wires again before taking a seat next to you against the wall. “What's wrong? You’ve been so quiet now,”

You're hesitant but still ask. “What made them do that?” Of course, you're referring to both Renjun and Ning.

Donghyuck doesn’t even know they’re names to begin with, but he does remember letting them go. But he doesn’t mention it.

“It must suck to be a lover…” You drone out. Donghyuck continues smoking on his last bits of cigarette listening to you mumble. “I can’t believe I’m gonna die a virgin.” You meekly chuckle.

Donghyuck peeks in your direction, at your legs covered in your black pencil skirt. “You haven’t been fucked before?”

You sink on the wall and blush when hearing his words. “I wouldn’t want to be fucked… more like be made love to,”

“Love is overrated.” He comments rolling his eyes.

“I don’t think so,” You timidly say, as if it’s some sort of taboo to utter out those words. “I feel like, love is like the only that makes living, exciting… it’s like you’re looking forward to the next day, just to see how lovely the world is.”

“Said, the virgin.” Donghyuck scoffs and puts off his cigarette, tramping it to the ground before paying attention to you. “Not that I’m looking down on you or the word love, but let me ask you something. Seeing as this might be our last time alive, that’s if my plan fails but, be honest okay… do you really think love is worth all the hype?” Donghyuck asks, a slowly forming smirk flows over his lips.

He watches your face go through different emotions. He reads your hot face and pushes your hair behind your ear. He takes in the sight of your eyes going between his own. His fingers trace the outline of your lips. He realizes that you’re beautiful… just like his mum. You wouldn’t lose your virginity like him. “You believe in love?” He whispers looking at your lips, slowly drawing closer to you. Your head getting light, your heart racing fast at the sudden turn of things. “You think it’s exciting, and it makes you look forward to another day?” His hand goes behind your head as he massages your nape. You close your eyes for a bit, feeling hot by the temperature he’s creating on your body. He leans close, his mouth and tongue over your neck. “You’re probably waiting for someone special… right?” You hear him, but there’s no need to respond, because he pulls away from your neck looking at your lips while you feel your whole face turning red. His eyes dip to your chest that’s covered in your white buttoned down shirt before he looks back into your eyes. It’s been a while, since he’s kissed someone…since someone has kissed him… he wouldn’t even say someone… it’s been a while since his mother touched him… molested him. “We might not make it, so just relax,”

He remembers it clearly, especially when the palm of his hand moves to your clothed chest while his other hand continues to massage your neck. His mother grooming him. He plays with your covered boob, the way he’d play with hers. You hum out a moan just like her. “Donghyuck… I don’t think you should be doing this…”

“You like it don’t you? Plus, I don’t think you should die a virgin. You should try it.” He smirks when you slightly part your eyes, looking at him. Is this how he looked while being groomed by his mother? If you’re like him, you’d do anything and everything in your power to never feel even slightly as he did in times of abuse. But you’re not like him, you’re-

You stop his hand from playing with your boob and hold on to it tightly before leaning away and gasping out, trying to control yourself. “I don’t want to be fucked… I said I want someone to love me.” You avoid his gaze, and undo your hair from behind your ear also allowing him to self-remove his hand from your nape. Interesting… Donghyuck thinks to himself. Trauma affected everyone the same way… but even in these circumstances, you’re still preaching about love.

“After killing Jeno and his girlfriend, and Jisung ran away crying, I counted to 100, and then began moving. But I saw them. The love birds. They both stopped in front of me holding hands and looking like…” Donghyuck thinks of the word ‘love’ for a second. The selfless act named love, dying for another person. What bull. “The guy said to give them a moment together.” Donghyuck speaks as if nothing happened. “I let them go. I didn’t really think they’d commit suicide. Thought they really wanted a moment together till the end of the game.”

You pipe up. “You mean you really saw them together?” You clear your throat, feeling shy to even look at him.

Donghyuck nods his head. “They could have anticipated that they were both going to die either way,” he says. “They probably thought they weren’t gonna stand a chance and we're supposed to kill each other. I guess they trusted each other to end it together. Who knows, maybe they didn’t even do it together. Probably pushed each other.”

You nod your head but direct the conversation elsewhere. “I don’t think...you’re that heartless to think that.”

Donghyuck’s head turns to yours, but you quickly look away feeling shy. He dryly chuckles his eyes turning to the view ahead of him. His head slowly leans on the wall behind him, before he turns his head again. “Look at me for minute,” He rests his eyes on yours for a bit, when you look at him nervously. Even now in this type of situation, your stomach swirls just by his gaze. "The girl had your eyes. Eyes of ‘love conquers all’. Shit. Enemy or not, they looked scared of me getting in between their love."

"But you let them go," you note, wondering what he’s trying to hint at. "That was a kind gesture. Plus, I think they were scared of you for other reasons, for the fact that you look like you don’t believe in love.” you say.

That gets Donghyuck’s lip to tug up a little. “I have to tell you, trauma bore these looks.”

You smile at him in pleasure, a little smile forming on his face. “I hope you’re joking, because you’re not shabby looking at all.” Despite their being eye bags underneath your eyes, you look pretty when you smile, Donghyuck acknowledges. You have a pretty smile too. Perhaps he could’ve seen his mother as beautiful too if she didn’t rob his innocence. Donghyuck suddenly feels himself guarding up again. In a blink of an eye his eyes turn sharp and blocked and he looks away. Angry.

A mixed set of reactions come out of you when the switched occurred, causing Donghyuck to turn so blank and nonchalant. One second he’s kissing your neck, the next he’s smiling to being so moody. In just a blink of an eye. Silence hangs in the air for a bit, he doesn’t try to speak allowing himself to calmly collect his senses… he slipped up a little. Shit. You sway to the side feeling slightly dizzy, but you play it off cool. “So are you going to tell me about how you plan an escaping, or getting to General Suh? Since they’re 7 people left, don’t you think we could team up with some of them?”

“7 already?” Donghyuck cocks his head away as he lights up another cigarette. “And who’re you thinking of?” he balances the cigar between his lip while hiding the lighter somewhere else in his pockets. Before you can answer he inhales deeply and then holds onto the blunt and blowing out air. “They know we’re alive because of these chains around our necks.” Donghyuck points to the thing around his neck, and as if on cue, you feel sweat around your neck. “Believe me, I know this game better then you. And grouping up, is a horrible idea.”

“How?” You ask.

Donghyuck tilts his head to the side in thought. “Do you know what happens to the survivor of this game?”

You shake your head. "I remember there was this one winner years ago. He was just a kid, in the news for a bit before it got taken down." You let the memory go out of your lips.

In the Smoothies trial, they always had to be one survivor. After managing to make it through the absurd game, the Special Defense Forces soldiers shoved the winner in front of a news camera so they can have an image of the victorious winner (“Smile. You must smile.” Donghyuck recalls the words). But after that no one had an idea of what happened to the survivor.

Donghyuck can simply stare at the ground. “The winner's forced to relocate to another province, or country where he or she is ordered not to mention the game and is instructed to live a normal life. That’s all.”

You feel your chest well up inside and your face freezes... How does he know that... unless... You stare at Donghyuck and realize that you're holding in your breath.

There’s a bitter taste in his mouth, he doesn’t have to share anything about himself. The plan is to simply get you to trust him… but he finds himself revealing. “I took a bus one night, after running away from my mother. My plan was to go to kill myself, but, one moment after taking the bus, I found myself in a classroom with chains on my hands and neck, with a bunch of other confused people. I was 15 years old in a classroom of adults bigger than me. And it’s in that moment, I realized that I wanted to live." He adds on. "With nothing but pure will to survive. I ended up winning and I survived the Program held in Korea’s Prefecture 7 years ago.”

"No way," Your cover your mouth. "You're that bald kid who won?"

Donghyuck’s face softens and a soft yet bitter sound sounding like a chuckle leaves his lips. He recalls the baldness. “They gave me a card autographed by the Dictator. What an honor that was. It looked like some kid scribbled on it, though I can't remember the details, since I tossed it into recycling.”

"That's outrageous." You take your hand away from your mouth. Your mind suddenly recalls the moment in the bus when you kept hearing pounding and saw Donghyuck up on his feet pounding on the window- you could only watch him wondering what's going on, but now it makes sense that he probably knew the sleeping gas to be something dangerous.

Donghyuck shrugged. “The game was in July, but because I suffered heavy injuries, I was hospitalized for a long time. I got discharged after 2 years. I was already going through shit in my life, but winning this awful game, ironically made the shit in my life seem irrelevant… It changed me. Forever.” Donghyuck self-evaluates himself.

You recall your recent—actually it was already three hours ago—conversation. When you asked, “Did you already kill someone?” and Donghyuck answered: “Well, this time around, it was my first.”

Your heart only aches for Donghyuck, sympathy washing over you. No wonder he's so nonchalant about everything. He must've been traumatized or even blocked from reality after what happened... Seeing all those dead people... being forced to hide or probably fight and run for his life. He was probably just a little boy. “So those who've been selected...” You try to rephrase your question. “So the ones who've been in it already aren't exempt?”

Donghyuck stiffly smiles. “I suppose not, since I’m here. From what we're told, busses are chosen randomly by computer, right? My experience gives me the upper hand, but I guess the computer doesn’t exclude me. So here’s another case of perverted equality.” Donghyuck drags a really heavy amount of smoke over his lungs. Getting back into smoking despite its negatives, helps him maintain his relaxed stated in the moment with you.

“How could they?” You ask as if you were about to cry. “It’s too awful.”

“Come on, don't be like that.” Donghyuck’s demeanor breaks a little, but he manages a smile when looking at you. “Now I get the chance to save you.” Donghyuck searches his pockets before he takes out a sheet of white pills wrapped in aluminum foil and plastic and gives it to you. “Pain relievers. You should take some.”

You smile and then take the pills muttering a tiny thanks while eating on the bread and drinking the water he gives you. You eat on it, while he gets up to smoke looking at the scenery around and plotting in his head. He can't die. “Hey Donghyuck,”

“Hm?” Donghyuck slowly blows on the cigarette turning to you.

"Did you find those pills at the store too?” You ask.

He nods his head. "I took it out of the first aid kit behind the cash register. It's not a big deal. Just some aspirin called Harlot. What an obnoxious name for aspirin, right? Anyway it'll stop the pain.”

“What else did you get from the store?” You ask.

“Some tools, oil and-”

Someone’s calling. Someone's voice is echoing through the trees. It’s very distant, but you can tell it’s electronically distorted. A voice calling, “Hey, everyone—" 

“Do you hear that? Listen.” Your ears perk and your eyes light up with suspicion, fright and possibly hope. Donghyuck pauses too. 

“Everyone!”

Chenle too hears the voice. After indirectly killing Kun, he got the confidence again. Gripping on his weapons tightly, his legs sprint over the dry crunching leaves on the ground as he runs in coordination of the voice, possibly a female. If he can kill just 3 more people… Of course, he’ll have to put off killing the girl who has been following him for the past hour or so, but right now, he’s ready for the kill. Finally making it out of the heavy tree beds, Chenle crouches and runs alongside a wooden fence drawing closer to where the sound of the voice is coming from. He passes past a few down house blocks, and unintentionally spots the girl who has been following him. How could he not miss her presence- she wore a maroon dress that stopped by her thigh. And she wasn’t wearing any shoes. He’d have to kill her later on. He had plans for her. For now, if he can only kill the girl causing a ruckus. He’d be satisfied. Then it’d be down to 2 people left to kill, and if he killed the girl following him, it would be one.

So much is at stake for him and he can’t afford to miss out on an opportunity like this. Chenle finally sees the caller. He points his gun in plain sight, but hidden from her. Seulgi stands high on a watch tower belonging to a barn that’s supposed to be watching over stock. She deeply inhales and exhales her voice echoing over the megaphone: “Everyone! Let’s stop the game and come together as one! We can beat the game if we fight as one. Please!” She puts the megaphone away.

“Don’t!”

You don’t mean to shout, but your voice screeches out before you can fathom the situation. That seems to get everyone’s attention. The open location of the place has everyone in heaps of vulnerability. Donghyuck’s gaze sharpens the moment Chenle’s hard grip on the gun is directed towards you and him. Seulgi, having the advantage point can see the sudden crowd formed by her calling. “No guys! Please. We need to stop the killing!”

If only she knew that she was about to get shot by Chenle and that you were only trying to save her, then she’d quickly get into hiding.

“Please don’t shoot.” You carefully say- your hands up, peering into Chenle’s dead red eyes- not directed at you, but at Donghyuck next to you. One move and it’ll end up just like Sungchan and Mark… However, concerning Dongyuck and Chenle, something seems fishy. You take notice of the appearing maroon dress that moves carefully from lurking behind Chenle. Irene.

“You’ve got it, don’t you?” Donghyuck audibly voices out, not towards you for sure… but towards Chenle. “I don’t know how many people, you killed, but I need 1 more to make 5.”

Not understanding a thing he says, you can only stand in shock watching the two males. Donghyuck has a sadistic chuckle, while Chenle’s not letting his guard down. He can feel his bad luck creeping in, but he’s not going to cave or give in that easily. Especially not to Donghyuck, who’s done nothing but taunt him his entire life. Not when luck was finally on his side. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh please. You wouldn’t willingly run here ready for the kill if you didn’t know what I was on about. Now,” Donghyuck without a hint of fear, lowers his weapon. “I’m willing to cooperate. If you hand me the apple, I’ll kill one more person, and help you finish off the remaining people in this trial. That way, we both get to live.”

“How do I know you really killed 4 people?” Chenle asks, uncertainly filled with uneasiness. “And how do I know you’ll uphold your word?”

“Let’s see, I killed Karina. Jeno. Some girl. And Mark her comrade.” Donghyuck lists off, causing your entire world to freeze… your mouth slowly hangs open, the revelation of hearing what you’ve heard only has your eyes blurring. “So that’s 4. You can trust me to keep my word, because you don’t look like you’re the killing type. My best guess is that you’ve probably only killed 1 person-”

“Two.” Chenle eggs out, feeling inferior in front of Donghyuck. Even when it comes to killing, he’s still superior. How dare, he undermines him. “I killed two.” It isn’t something Chenls is proud of saying, but in this case, he’s willing to hear the possible plausible way out negotiation.

“I’ll do you one better with another solution.” Donghyuck smirks. “You’ve pathetically only killed 2 people. If you give me the apple, I’ll kill one more and help you take out the rest, that way, as I’m free from the game, you’ll be the ultimate winner.”

In a stir of confusion, only ‘you’ pay attention to their conversation, while Seulgi carefully makes her way down the tower ladder. Spotting Irene behind Chenle, Seulgi instantly gathers confidence. In her mind, after seeing you kill Sungchan, and somehow both you and Donghyuck ended Joy’s life, she felt safer with Irene and Chenle. However, she’s not aware that neither Irene nor Chenle are working together- so when Chenle’s fearful finger holds onto the trigger and in a blink of an eye-

BANG!

BANG!

Shots fired towards the ladder and a lanky body belonging to Seulgi collapses onto the ground just as a horrendous scream escapes Irene! Jittery to run to her friend- her legs freeze suddenly when Chenle turns around directly facing in her direction. She crouches hiding herself- but it’s too late, as the place she crouches in, has nothing covering or blocking her. She gasps, her eyes enlarging in shock. Shit. In a quick move she runs- but it’s too late because once the rapid gun fire leaves the pistol that Chenle is holding- her bare feet trample on the ground colliding her to the pavement of the ground.

Chenle’s darken deadly gaze snaps back to Donghyuck and he growls with tears forming in his eyes. “One left.” He can’t believe that he killed again. His body is trembling. He thought he was excited to take people’s lives because they mercilessly beat him up and treated him like shit. But… now… he’s scared again. He killed someone… two girls. They didn’t deserve it.

Your heart beats exceedingly fast, only taking a guess at what might be going on. It’s evidently clear that you’re in between two people who seem to be left with ‘one more kill’. You don’t know what to make of the summed up conclusion that you’ve drawn, but you’re afraid that as you’re ‘in the middle’ of both of them, they both might kill you… and team up. “What’s going on?” You timidly ask, not sure of your own survival rate. Every moment that your heart spends beating, you fear that it might be your last. “Donghyuck-” You call timidly. You trusted him, but now it seems like the cracks of his facade are slowly falling off his face. “You killed M-Mark?”

“I’m sorry babygirl, but this is where our road ends and you meet up with Mark.” He says. “If I kill you babygirl, I get to have immunity.”

“I-im-immunity?” Dumbfounded you shake your head turning to him- only to be nudged to look forward by the long shotgun he’s holding.

“Eyes in front or I shoot.”

Chenle shakes his head. “Should I remind you, that even if you kill her and don’t have the immunity apple, it’d mean nothing. You need to have it on you in order for that final kill to be processed.”

“So you do have it.” Donghyuck smirks. “Let’s stop toying with each other then. Think about it. Winner to winner. You’ve already killed… 2, plus those two it’d be 4. So now you’re left with one kill. By the looks of it, killing isn’t really your thing. I’m here to offer a solution. Let me take the burden off of you. Give me the apple and I’ll kill her and everyone else left in the game. That way, you’ll still be crowned the winner.”

In a long tense grueling silence, a speaker located at some point revives up with a loud booming voice. “Wow, wow, wow! A thrilling sight to behold as the competition of the plot thickens with more blood. This is your instructor General Suh Johnny, here with 12 p.m. afternoon news and informants. We started off with a bang, from a solid 22 players knocked down all the way to 10 players and finally our walking 5. Congratulations, give it up for yourselves. Get your pencils ready as I state our newly dead people.”

Taeil being quick, instantly plugs his machine to the nearest speaker, feeding his machine from the amplifying power of the megaphone speaker. Seeing the lights turn on and it functioning, he cheers soundly when finally the metal collar clinks off his neck.

“Oh, what’s this?” Johnny speaks over the intercom. “We’ve suddenly been bopped down to 4. Yes, yes, yes. This is what I like. Sungchan, hatchet wound. Mark gun wound.”

That only confirms that Mark wasn’t killed by Sungchan, but instead by Donghyuck. You turn to him in complete disappointment, but he could care less.

“Joy, gun wound. Seulgi, gun wound. And finally Taeil. We’ve got yet to process his death, but indeed he’s dead. So that leaves you final 4. Park Jisung, Zhong Chenle, Lee Donghyuck and Y/S/N. Keep it up and before 6 p.m. we’ll finally crown a winner. Now off zones D=12, T=1,”

As Johnny calls out the off zones, you turn around and in one haste move you punch Donghyuck square in the face out of pure rage causing him to grab your wrist and give you one hard back hand. The motion is enough for Chenle to aim his gun and fire off shots!!

“Oh! Hell! Seems like there’s war- yes!” Johnny speaks through the intercom before it gets cut off.

You duck your head, hearing a hissing sound come from Donghyuck as he’s been hit on his arm. You leap into a sad hop run, as you try to get away from both the guys who point their guns at each other- while Donghyuck hisses in pain on the ground and grunts by his lack of bullets in his shotgun. Chenle peers back, seeing you trying to escape running with a limp. His legs work faster, as he runs towards you and assists you by placing your arm around his neck, helping you run. “Just hop I’ll run!” You only do two hops before Chenle groans carrying you off your feet and thrusting you to the back with a little support from your end. He dodges the rattling sound of bullets shooting out of Donghyuck’s gun by chance! No, it’s by luck that he’s still alive after the stunt he pulled. He runs fast, his legs carrying his weight as well as yours, getting further and further away from Donghyuck.

Jisung, still underneath the grove, shakes his head when hearing the remaining players. Gunshot wounds, only meant that Donghyuck was persistent to see the game through till the end. Jisung shakes his head. If he continues to hide, he wonders how long the game will last. For crying out loud, the island is so vastly huge filled with so many green pastures and little buildings. The best places to hide was in the wilderness. He needed to keep at the shores and not anywhere near the center. Because it seems like all the killings were happening in the center.

Taeil however, picks up his machine.  The microwave. This microwave was not like any ordinary kitchen appliance, after he tweaked it up. Being powered by the speaker that emitted a powerful vibration when activated, now he turns the switch to 0 so that the low humming of the microwave can stop. All it took to work, was him sticking his head inside the machine while Johnny Suh spoke. It may have looked incredibly dumb and stupid, but once the metallic collar pierced and broke into thousands of pieces, Taeil knew he was on to something. Now… He has to find a way to remain as the last man standing…

It might sound cruel, but he had to survive. He needed to find the others and find a way to neutralize them while tricking them to work with him so that he could kill them and finally with no players left, he’d know how to escape, because by then all the players would’ve been killed- while he who was presumed dead could easily sneak away like a ghost.

Panting and breathing feverishly from the run, Chenle drops to the ground after helping you down calmly. He grunts grabbing the edges of his head as he screams out. This alerts you as you hush him down. “SHHH! We’re gonna get caught.”

“Shut up.” He pants out with despondent tears. “Shit I killed them.” Chenle shuts his eyes in disbelief. “I can’t believe…”

You adjust yourself on the footstep of the back porch of a house. The place is a small shack that looks like it was built in the sixties. It’s dark and dusty, and is perfect for hiding as it’s surrounded by various trees. There are two wooden steps leading from it to the door. Seeing Chenle laying on the grass with his eyes shut you sense that he’s been crying while running. Because those tears don’t look fresh. The look he has now, is similar to the one he had when he was about to shoot you.

“I… I killed Sungchan.” You mutter out, gaining his attention but he doesn’t move from the grass. “By accident.” You gulp. “I… Thought he killed Mark… I didn’t know it was Donghyuck. So I can only guess what you’re feeling… having blood on your hands.”

Chenle doesn’t respond right away. His shoulders sag when he opens his eyes staring up at the blue sky, that’s ironic from the tone of the game. He sits up in order to hang his head properly in shame. “Shit.” He curses.

“There’s nothing I can say to console you… but if it makes you feel better… We’re all going out as murderers.” You mutter out, your eyes blurring.

Chenle shakes his head. “For 3 good years, I’ve been on the run. I ran away from my abusive family. I couldn’t take… I couldn’t take all the pain and suffering anymore, and so the only option for me was to run away. For 3 good years, I was on my own. And life alone was even more worse than being with my family. For majority of those years, I slept under bridges, begged for money, barely passed by, but for some reason the treatment from the whole world was just too cruel. I’ve never hurt anyone before but always got picked on… but it’s like running was my punishment. Nothing good ever came from running away except more pain and hardship. I was so stupid to run. Because now looking back, I realize that my father didn’t hate me but tried to build me and prepare me for this cruel world. My mother always spoke ill, but her intentions were never to hurt me, but to make sure that I understand that this world is full of darkness. I’m here in this stupid game… but All I want to do is go home. I’d take that abuse any day over this life. At least at home, I could eat. Even though I was beaten, at least I could eat and they’d take me to the hospital. I want to go home… I promise to be a better boy… To not complain- Now I’m a murderer and I might not get the chance to ever apologize to my mum, or dad for running away… for being born.”

Chenle stops speaking when feeling arms go around his shoulders. “Don’t say that.” You whisper to him, feeling your heart cave in by his experience. Your heart hurts just thinking that other people had life worse. This damn Smoothie Trial was just the tip of the ice-burg. But you wouldn’t let someone kill themselves over this stupid game and their life. Despite everything, you still believe that love… can… open his eyes. “Being born is nothing to apologize for. Even when the odds and luck are not on your side and you might die in an hour… Life is unpredictable, but that shouldn’t mean there was no point in you being born. I don’t know what to say, because I don’t know you, and I don’t know if we’ll make it out alive… but.. you helped me. Even though you killed those other girls, you helped me. If it weren’t for you, he’d have killed me. But, you didn’t kill me the first time you had the chance, and you rescued me the second time too. So, I won’t let you talk down on yourself. The world tried to break you, your parents tried to break you, this stupid game tried to break you, but the fact that you’re still alive... should mean something… Hope that this world isn’t as dark, as you’ve seen it.”

They’re tears by your eyes as you speak those words… but having no faith in your survival rate, you sigh out. No point motivating if you’re all gonna die.

“What do you like doing for fun?” You change the subject, sniffing back.

However, Chenle’s jaws tremble by your words. From a young age, he was told to take it all in. Never to wolf out. But here, right now, in this stupid game he’s felt the need to wolf out so many times… And he’s sick to his stomach that he wolfed out by killing people. But here with you… He’s feeling so many things. Goosebumps come over his skin, and his eyes…the vision blurs. You don’t even know him, but you have hope in his life. Those were incredible words to hear as a last memory... “I like going to therapy for fun.”

“Therapy?” You stare into his eyes and smile tenderly.

He nods his head. “The instructor there, gives really good advice… And I like believing that things will get better. Like you said…” He just never knew that anyone else would say that his life would have hope. “There’s hope.”

“I do believe that there’s hope.” You look between his eyes. You’re both teary eyed, but it’s okay because there’s a sense of warmth among you. “Uhm,” You think on the words he told you… that he was homeless, and he ran away and his childhood was pretty traumatic… what can you possibly ask. “Your life wasn’t that bad, if you could afford the bus rides… It must’ve been nice to ride in the bus and you could explore the world…” Feeling like you’ve over stepped, your anxious when looking at him. Yet Chenle looks ahead, his heart rate leveling down to one of peace especially talking about things other than this stupid place.

“I would beg on the side of the streets… turns out there’s other world in the streets. You meet up with different homeless people, who teach you how to get sympathy from people to guilt-trip them into giving you money.” Chenle closes his eyes. “I… Never really took the bus for exploring places, I took the bus to always go to Neo city because… that’s where my parents lived. I’m always one thought away from going to my old house and knocking on the door, but then I get chicken and leave.”

Your shoulders sag. “No one deserves a childhood like that.” You comment. “You’re strong to have been able to withstand it all. With the bear minimum this trial has shown me, I’d have probably ended my life.”

Chenle takes a glance at you. “In therapy, they always said when the going gets tough, the tough get going. For a moment, I like to think of myself as tough. But then bad luck always found me…”

“Well this time around, you can say luck is on your side, because you get to have a normal conversation.” You gently smile. “Instead of looking at the negatives, my family always taught me to look at the positives.”

“You’re a really good person.” Chenle’s eyes evoke such a pure, honest emotion that sends shivers down your spine. Seeing someone look so sincere in this time, is a miracle. “You don’t deserve to be here,”

You sadly smile. “I try to be good, especially in a world that always takes the good away.”

Chenle reads your sagging shoulders as a sign of doubt and hopelessness. But right now, with you he’s feeling the most hopeful, and he doesn’t want your smile to deplete. “If we make it out of here, what’s something you want to do?”

You chuckle doubtfully and sigh out. “I didn’t even get to say bye to Mark, Jaemin…my family… If… If I had to make it out of here, I’d probably...” You hang your head as the tears finally land over your skirt. You sadly smile. “After this night… I need all the therapy I can get.” You sigh out and turn your head to him.

Chenle’s eyes look to yours and he feels warmth. “I wanna see my family again… Try to forgive them and break this damn bad luck. The therapist always says forgiveness and love and all this is key. I want to make things right, so that my life can be… free.”

“What’s… your biggest dream?” You ask, feeling shy underneath his gaze.

“My dream?” He questions. “I’ve… never thought about it.”

“Well, we’ve literally got all day to discover it.” You gently smile, melting his heart a little. Is this what having a friend felt like? Conversation feeling free like a summer breeze in a world of humidity. For so long, he thought of the world as hopeless. But here you are, claiming to not have made an impact, when literally you’ve been so kind to him and have probably made other people’s day with your smile.

“I used to… like to singing.” Chenle mentions shyly. “I played piano too. I thought it was punishment since my parents took me to lessons and revolved my entire life around being perfect… but in a way, I used those times as I was learning… as an escape. Playing music, listening to songs and just living in the moment of the chords was bliss.”

“Really?” Your eyes enlarge with interest, and point to yourself too. “I like singing too. We should do a duet. I may not hit the note but it’s still singing.” Taking in a deep breath you let out a smooth note, singing a soft melody but you slowly begin to chuckle as your voice breaks and goes out of tune. This also makes Chenle slightly laugh… just looking at your face, another human being… laughing with him… he can’t let this pass him by.

Chenle shakes his head. “Your key is all wrong. You should singing it, in a key you’re comfortable with, like this: ‘Show you off. Tonight I wanna show you off. What you’ve got, a billion could’ve never bought. We gonna party like it’s 3012 tonight, I wanna show you all the finer things. So just forget about the world be young tonight. I’m coming for you.” Chenle’s eyes are solely on you when you join in singing with him. “All I need, is a beauty and a beat. Who could make my life complete. It’s all about you, when the music makes you move. Baby do it like you do.”

His eyes wandering over your face. Your soft features. That little scar across your cheek. How could you possibly be so sweet even after this cruelty? Were you naturally good or had someone forced you to be like this? Chenle doesn’t know the answer but he finds himself drawn towards you. And then he decides to do the same thing you did. Open up himself. This might be his last breath anyway. Seeing the change in his eyes from being closed off to a hesitant look, you become more attentive as your singing voice dies down.

“This smoothie trial…isn’t so bad.” He voices out, causing you to be in surprise. “Especially since I got to make a…friend.”

You have seen people go through so many hardships, yet somehow manage to overcome them all. You know that the others have their own trials and tribulations but what is his story? Even though you don’t understand how he feels, you know that somehow you can still bound with him because he’s a human.

“I don’t think I want to stop singing.” He says with a smile, blushing cheeks and a nervous eye contact.

“Me too.” You nod your head smiling wholeheartedly. “You’ve got such a beautiful voice by the way. I’d pay trillions to see you in concert.”

Chenle chuckles a little. A real one this time. “I don’t know about concert. But I don’t mind singing for you,”

“Yes, serenade me with your voice.” You joke.

-

“How’d you get it off your neck?” Donghyuck finds himself asking while pointing his shotgun at Taeil, who has his hands up trying to answer to all of Donghyuck’s questions. Hours have passed since the encounter with Chenle and your separation from him. After attending to his injury by rolling a bandage over the wound, he began searching in rage for all the other competitors so that he could kill them and get this whole game over with. He realized that with the remaining people left, he had the upper hand and should’ve feared none of them.

So, after hours of trying to find someone, he was turned on by the thrill when seeing somebody. But unlike his intention to kill and move on, he was stunned when he recognized that the chain around the neck of Taeil was gone. But he was alive. Holding him hostage by shotgun, Taeil proposed something.

“We could trick them.” He said. That got Donghyuck’s attention because frankly speaking his urge to kill everyone was fueled by the fact that he got tired of playing this stupid game and just wanted to get out of it. So when Taeil said that, it got Donghyuck on a no bullshitting mode. Taeil stated a plan so enticing that it was brilliantly fool proof. And not to mention, Taeil found a way, to build himself a bomb.

“If you lie to me, I’ll kill you on the spot.”

“I swear to you, I’m not lying. I wanna get off this island as much as you.” Taeil suggests. “But, we’d need to get the others.”

“And how the hell would we do that?” Donghyuck blinks once being bored with the conversation. He had a plan to escape but he threw it out the window when you left. He’d use you till the end, but without you or the apple Chenle had, Donghyuck was in no mood for a reunion.

Taeil points up to the sky. “Firstly. We wait for nightfall. I believe, Y/n is left, Chenle as well as Jisung and yourself.”

“How sure am I that you won’t kill me in the end. And don’t you think, this is a big group?”

“That’s why I suggested my device to remove the collars. They wouldn’t know if we escaped. They’d think we’re dead. I could… remove your collar too. That way you can believe me.” Donghyuck squints his eyes, but agrees.

“Sure.”

With the size of the island, and the “4” people left, Jisung thought that he’d feel the tension of being part of the remaining people… but surprisingly. It sounds quiet. Almost as if everyone has killed off everyone. Was he the last left? The sun was setting and very soon it would be 6pm and the announcements would be made. After hearing the announcements around 12pm, he’d decide what his next move would be. But for now, he stood up from his hiding space and carefully walked around the vastly large evergreen forest making it back into the residential areas.

At first, his heart is beating normally as there’s no one around… but then…

“The rest of the day, I want to count the stars in the night sky. We don’t need nothing. It’s perfect enough. You and me.”

Singing. He can hear singing. Surely he’s not mad. He knows what he can hear.

“Even if you get used to it as time goes, when we’re together, we’ll be shining and pure. The reflection in my eyes, it’s like we just met, eh eh eh. Like we just met, eh eh eh. The warmth of the day, that’s still passing by, forever like this, always. I’ll love you more, it’s like we just met, darling.”

He peeks behind the wooden fence, and surely he can see two figures sitting down close to each other, facing away from the house. The hell? They were in a battle! What were these two asses doing just sitting down and singing? Singing? For crying out loud. Jisung is in too much disappointment to process what he’s seeing, but he ignores the two and keeps walking away. He didn’t want to show his presence, without knowing they’re weapons. What if they’re singing because they’re both good at killing and are waiting on their next kill? Jisung’s confused thoughts, lead him to walk another journey through buildings… until he spots Donghyuck. With large eyes, he sees Donghyuck together with Taeil and he feels tense by Donghyuck’s presence. Jisung wasn’t a killer. But thinking of Donghyuck wanting to kill him, allows him… to be focused when raising his gun. From the distance that he’s in, he tries to aim for Donghyuck-

But Donghyuck walks away from Taeil and enters a cottage. This moment allows Jisung to think of a strategy. If he kills Donghyuck, then he’d… need to kill those 2 singers and Taeil… so that he could win. But didn’t they announce that Taeil died? Whatever… “I’ll kill them.” Jisung’s hands tremble. However, something is weirdly off. Donghyuck is seen carrying something heavy and escapes through the back… Jisung watches Donghyuck creepily leave the cottage while Taeil in front waits. Taeil enters the house once and then leaves it again, waiting.

Jisung wonders if he should follow Donghyuck, because something didn’t look right. “Hey!” Adrenaline rushes over Jisung- snapping Taeil’s eyes to sharply glance all over until he spots the screamer. Jisung runs down the little steep running past Taeil. “He’s getting away!” Jisung yells.

“Who’s getting away?” Taeil looks confused and is tempted to follow Jisung. But suddenly-

Everyone is brought out of the daze they’re in when a loud piercing ‘KABLAMO’ jolts them to the sounds of crows flying out of the trees by the loud explosion.

“What the hell was that?” You question with wide eyes turning around seeing smoke a distance away from where you are. “Was that a bomb?” You watch the greyish black smoke join with the clouds. Aside from the bomb like sound, your eyes enlarge totally by the sight of a person panting while looking at you and Chenle.

Donghyuck’s just as shocked as you- but it’s Chenle standing up with full defense when noticing him.

“Good evening campers! Or should I say final 3!”

“What the fuck?” Donghyuck snaps his head back, as if knowing what just happened.

5 minutes before announcements.

Donghyuck listened to Taeil, as Taeil exposed how he got the chains off. Showing Donghyuck the device and telling him when to use it. Taeil wasn’t expecting for Donghyuck to excuse himself to use the bathroom. Taeil of course waited outside the public toilet while Donghyuck refreshed himself…

Little did Taeil know that Donghyuck had long left the public toilet, only leaving the faucet open. Carefully, from the cottage that he and Taeil cooped up in order to share the plan, Donghyuck stole the microwave device as well as Taeil’s bag and quietly ran out the cottage because he could see right through Taeil’s lying teeth. You can’t outsmart a liar.

Taeil was planning on killing him. Blowing him up. Donghyuck had his collar on, and was aware of the announcements that were made. Taeil said while the intercom came on, he worked his machine to get the collar off. But like Taeil mentioned… he didn’t hear who was left and what the forbidden zones were. So then, why did Taeil lead Donghyuck to a zone that would be forbidden around 6pm?

Taeil kept checking his watch, wondering why the hell Donghyuck was taking long, so all of a sudden when seeing another person cross him- He felt that something was not right. He followed Jisung to try and understand what the boy was saying… but then he noticed that Jisung had his collar on… “SHIT-”

Jisung in the forbidden zone once the clock turned 6pm didn’t even know what caused him to die- but Taeil who was next to him knew that they were in the forbidden zone, and the death that was meant for Donghyuck- ended up happening to Jisung! And to HIM!

“We’re down to 3 players! Poor little Jisung just got caught in a blast right before the announcements. This should be a warning to you remaining 3 to be aware of the forbidden zones. Now, let’s do a final recall of the people who died. First we’ve got-”

“We should run.” You whisper yell to Chenle- But its too late as Donghyuck pounces towards Chenle. Chenle shoots but it misses Donghyuck- yet Donghyuck balls his fists and punches Chenle in the face before dragging him some place. You cover your mouth but fear flushes out of you when you limp run to Donghyuck’s back and hit him.

“Fucking stop! This is your only chance!” Donghyuck yells out as he stuffs Chenle’s head in the microwave.

“Donghyuck please stop! What the hell are you doing?”

Chenle tries to force himself out, but Donghyuck’s grip is mightily strong and using the other hand to turn on the microwave. His eyes don’t move away the machine. Remembering Taeil’s instruction he follows through and once the microwave energizes its energy, Chenle’s surprised that the microwave turns on. Surprisingly! After being in the microwave for 3 minutes the collar explodes and breaks into thousands of little pieces. Not wasting any time, Donghyuck looks to you pleading with his eyes. “We don’t have time. Let’s get your collar off!” - unfortunately Donghyuck misheard Taeil’s logic because as he sticks your head in the microwave it only takes a second for the whole microwave to burn while your collar catches fire!

Instantly Chenle gets you out of their being cautious by the sudden scattering sounds of chain breaking apart. Your collar is off too- and on the ground the microwave burns out.

“What’s this! Chenle and Y/n just died. Death by flames!” Johnny marvels in excitement. “Finally after a grueling 1 day and half! The challenge finally ends with a winner-”

Donghyuck’s eyes widen, just as yours do, and just as Chenle’s eyes do too. Johnny’s voice continues to echo out and speak through the intercom. “What just happened?” You ask Donghyuck in shock of the news. “You… won?” Chenle is hesitant on trusting Donghyuck, and so are you…

However as no one says anything, they’re ears tune in to what Johnny is saying. “Kindly make your way to the school. Where we can properly congratulate you.”

Donghyuck lets out a hoarse chuckle. “Son of a bitch was spot on.” He thinks of Taeil’s plan. This was really it. First of all he didn't think he'd encounter you or Chenle. In fact his first instinct was to kill the both of you... but seeing as you were both together looking scared for your life... he thought of how nice it must be to still have 'hope' and 'love' in your eyes after all this shit. As for Chenle, Donghyuck actually acknowledges the fact that this guy is actually like him.

No matter how messed up life was, he still continued to live. Other times he'd pick on him because he could clearly see that Chenle's life was shit. But despite all of that, he still tried his hardest to live.

Donghyuck snaps back to reality when seeing as they're still standing and looking at him. “You guys are free to run, what the hell are you doing? Go-”

“Go?” You ask with confusion just as much as caution.

“The ships will be making their way back on shore in order to ‘properly congratulate me’. You might wanna wait till they all on land in order to make your escape sweet.” Donghyuck says, his eyes fixated on you. He sees the doubt, but there was literally no time. “Remember the escape plan I had? Well, I modified it.” Taeil did, but no one would know that. “Both of you need to get out of here, get a boat and head South.”

“It’s a trap.” Chenle mentions out, but Donghyuck’s sharp glare shuts him up.

"Trap? I literally used this goddamn machine to help break your chains and you think it's a trap?" Donghyuck glances back to you. “I told you I was already in the game, I know how it works. Why would I go out of my way, to set you free if it didn’t benefit me? Now, if you wanna be mincemeat, you’ll fucking stay here and get blown to pieces. I’m going.”

“But why?” You ask out in shock not understanding his sudden need to help you or Chenle escape. “Why’re you helping us?”

“I'm not just helping you. I'm helping myself. For all the trauma this game caused me, I think a little pay back would make up for Jisung's death." Upon saying that, Donghyuck recalls ow he killed your friend. "Sorry I killed your friend. Now get going. You can't die a virgin, plus someone is going to spot you both if you aren't careful.” His back is already turned as he makes his way through the wild vegetation, heading to the school.

Meanwhile, you and Chenle look to each other, contemplating the words said by Donghyuck. “Should we do it?” Chenle asks nervously. He just can’t believe, the luck. “I’ve got… intoxication gas and poison in my bag…”

“Then…” With dry lips you nod your head- not even bothering to question were those came from. “Let’s make a run for it.”

-

1 DAY LATER.

A tv located in a locals electronic store, plays a familiar anime channel for passers to watch, admire the screen and potentially buy it and some DVDs as well. Standing in front of the tv screen, prominent buyers create conversation over the designs and frame of the tv- but something catches they’re eyes. An abrupt sharp sound- a flashing black and white screen server cuts through the program, alerting every one. Not just those by the electronics store, but anyone who has a tv. Static goes over the tv, tagged with a woman’s robotic voice; “We interrupt this program to bring you The Dirty Taste of The Smoothie Trial.” A face with a mask appears on screen. The mask is black.

“They were thirsty for blood, it’s why they picked our bus. They wanted to suck the humanity from us, it’s why they drugged us and took us away. Beware of the familiar bus you ride, you might be next to the drug. We turned ruthlessly on each other, no more being good boys or girls. Raw and unedited we killed to survive. Trauma faded away after the first bullet was shot. We’re not proud of our actions, but neither are we ashamed. Some killed to preserve their own lives, others we’re killed protecting their friends. The sight of blood like strawberry and sweet cinnamons, blended together it created the perfect smoothie. That's what they wanted, cold monsters who look human. They did it to me, to them, to you. Dirty taste that we swallowed. I’m not proud of my actions, neither am I ashamed of what I’ve done. So delicious but vicious, the Smoothie that opened my eyes. Open your eyes, the bus awaits for its next ingredients to be blended up in a machine. We started off with 22 people. But now we 3 are left, and amongst you.” The static clashes with the sound as a laugh is heard over the electric tone. A distorted woman comes on screen looking like she’s in a news room. Once again, they’re station had been hacked. “We terribly apologize for the sudden inconvenience. We will get back to you, once we know wh- ”

But the damage has already been done. “Does this mean this years trial was a fail? Will they select more people?"

“He kept mentioning bus. Is this how they take hostage of people? In a bus?” Another guy asks.

For those watching from home are filled with dread. Especially Sora, as she watches the screen. Mark and Jaemin were both chosen. And by the state of the messy news report concerning the Smoothie, she knows that it's too late to hope for their return. She can only cry and pray that the smoothie trial burns.

Walking hand in hand with Chenle, you move away from the tv and the sounds of the discombobulated crowd who try to figure out clues on how to avoid any attempts of the smoothie trial. You don’t dare take a turn into the bus by the bus stop. Instead, you keep walking…limping even though your legs feel like they’ll give in any second.

Chenle on your right, with a bucket hat over his head and large black puffer jacket, squeezes your hand a little in assurance. Afraid to talk, feeling like you might get exposed, you squeeze back indicating that you’re okay. Chenle recalls the events that took a night ago. All the boats were getting back on shore, as the soldiers left the boats and headed back on land. After some time, you and Chenle made it on a boat, a smaller motor electronic boat and swayed on the waters as the boat moved away. About several meters away, you and Chenle witnessed a large mushroom explosion from the island. The island was on fire and for the entirety of the night, you and Chenle could only watch in shock of what you had just seen. Hours later, you landed on the main lands, the island you once were on, was not even visible. You and Chenle couldn’t believe it yet, but the reality slowly started to sink in that you were alive and that you had survived. You don’t know what happened to Donghyuck, but one thing’s certain.

He blew up that island with purpose in mind. You don’t think he’s dead, merely because the masked exposer sounds exactly like him. But aside from that, the blowing up of that island was like watching your freedom come back. For Chenle, watching that island blow up was like a curse breaker. Ever since getting back on land, he’s never felt more lucky.

Of course, changing names and staying lowkey for a while would be tough, but as long as he had you. As long as you had someone you had gone through what you have, then you felt confident for whatever would come next.

"3 people remain. But now, they're among you."

“Father, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things that I can and the wisdom to know the difference.” Dr. Kai, prays together with his group of patients. Opening up his eyes, he smiles, warmth radiating out of him. “Welcome back to week 28 of Healing Therapy. We’ll get in the big book right away, but I just want us to take a minute and just close our eyes… while remembering our dearly loved friends, Lee Donghyuck and Zhong Chenle.” A sad smile washes over Dr. Kai. Everyone saw the news last night. The Smoothie Trials were over, but with a shocking twist of fate. “May they’re souls rest in peace.”

[skylerskyhigh]

Ah screw it. Imma rant about my fic

When I started this fic, I didn't plan to have such an extensive theme. But as time passed and I fleshed out some ideas, I started thinking about the themes and character arcs that I wanted to explore.

I'm not sure if I'll be able to write all of the arcs or finish the story, or maybe even continue with the second book, but I wanted to put these ideas out here just in case. It'll be fun to go back to.

SPOILERS FOR "CUT YOURSELF ON MY GLASS PLATE"

Also TRIGGER WARNING FOR SERIOUS TOPICS LIKE SELF HARM, SUICIDE, ETC

Cale and the cycle of self harm

I'll start with the main character for this story. OG Cale Henituse. Throughout the story, he is going through a rough time. Aside from the trauma of going through a war, the crux of his issues is the fact that he had been abused.

Cale had been hurt by a lot of people. Either through neglect, abandonment, or self hatred, Cale had been through a lot. It cut his self esteem into a simple concept of "If I am alive, then I should be useful to others."

He doesn't care about himself. He constantly puts himself after so many people. His wellbeing is always second to someone else.

After the death of his family, Cale gained his Ancient power. A power that turned his pain into power. It is because of this that he put himself through a lot of shit.

With physical proof that his pain means something, Cale will begin a spiral of self harm that expands bigger and bigger as he loses the people he loves. Not only is he grappling with a lot of issues of survivors guilt, abandonment trauma, self hatred, and PTSD, the driving force behind his actions isn't to live. It's revenge. He wanted to kill the person responsible for his family's deaths. It's not about him. It's about avenging his family.

Not only that, near the end of the war, Cale stopped wanting to live. Life stopped having meaning because he didn't have anyone to life for. Cale never lives for himself. Always for others.

He put himself in an abusive relationship, for the sole purpose of turning himself into a weapon. To make his powers strong enough to cause significant harm to White Star. All of it with the intention of dying right after he was done. He didn't want to live. But he didn't want to make his life worth nothing. People died while he lived, so he should do something to make his life worthwhile. Either he dies in battle, or he dies after hurting White Star.

Cale went through a lot. While most of it isn't his fault, some is the direct result of his actions. His lack of care for himself lead him to seek self harm as some form of redemption or punishment. Time and time again he is hurt. He denies help. He seeks out misery like a drug. Self harm comes in many different forms and Cale explored a lot of it.

For Cale to begin to heal, he needed to stop this behavior. He needed to stop seeking out ways to harm himself. He needed to stop his own cycle of abuse. But its not easy to do that.

His theme is exploring that cycle of self harm. The thoughts while grappling with so many complex emotions. The effects of grief, loss, and low self esteem. The spiral that people go through while being trapped in a perpetual loop of abuse. It's not easy to escape such a cycle. For Cale, it's hard to break free from it when he believed that he needed to redeem himself in some way. Or that his life is worth less than the lives of others. Cale cannot justify living if he doesn't use his life for something useful. Breaking free from that spiral isn't easy. But he won't be alone to do it. Not this time.

Choi Han and the sins of the father

Admittedly, I didn't have plans for him at first. But as the story expanded, so did his character arc.

In the original timeline, Choi Han was a bastard. I'm not going to sugarcoat it. He was an asshole to Cale.

(I don't hate Choi Han but narratively, he was a terrible person in this story in the original timeline.)

As the main abuser in Cale's life, Choi Han played a significant role in harming Cale. Even when he was deceived by Cale, his actions are not justifiable. He was abusive, cruel, and irredeemable. A far cry from the canon of TCF. Blinded by his black and white mentality, Choi Han often physically hurts Cale to the point of death. He treats Cale like a villain, but he doesn't give Cale the freedom of a quick death.

All of this is to preface what the current Choi Han has to face against. The current Choi Han did not abuse Cale. However, he has to face 2 issues.

1) Face the consequences of someone else's actions.

2) Grapple with the reality that he could have- and had- become a terrible person.

Let's start with the first one. The concept of the "sins of the father" is a common trope. Think of Pink Diamond from Steven Universe. Even when Steven wasn't the person who had harmed a lot of people, he still had to grapple with the pain that his mother had left behind. The lies, hurt, and trauma that she had inflicted on others. Steven had to answer for the actions of someone else. That's what Choi Han has to do.

He didn't abuse Cale. But another version of him did and he had to face that problem. There are clear signs of abuse on Cale. The fear in his eyes. The vitriol in Hans' tone. The wariness, pain, and terror he has to deal with. Choi Han did not abuse anyone but the pain is still there. There are invisible yet clear scars on Cale and he has to answer for them. He has to fix them. He has to answer for the crimes that someone else had committed. Choi Han has to redeem himself even when he wasn't the one who had abused Cale.

Sins of the father is such a complex concept. There are a lot of factors in play. Not only are the victims of the person suffering from the actions of the perpetrator, but the blame did not fall on the perpetrator but another person. A completely blameless person at that. Yet due to their connection to the perpetrator, that person has to answer for it all.

For Choi Han, the responsibility of the OG falls on him. He needs to redeem himself even when he didn't do anything. Yet he cannot just ignore it when the victim is affected by the actions of the OG. He has to go through a redemption arc but skipped the reason for his redemption. He's not redeeming himself but fixing someone else's mess.

As for the second point, grappling with the reality that Choi Han was a villain.

Anyone would be messed up if they knew that they could become a terrible person. Choi Han was Cale's villain. His abuser. The reason he flinches every time Choi Han shows signs of anger. That would mess anyone up. Imagine knowing that you could become a terrible person who willingly physically harm another person.

While Choi Han has some murderous tendencies, he isn't a bad person. He clearly wants to be good. He saves people. He help others. He has a strong moral code and a sense of justice.

But he also kills people he deems as villains. His view of the world is different. Due to his isolation in the Forest of Darkness, and the constant struggle in a "kill or be killed" environment, he adopts a very "black and white" mentality. Good people deserve to live. Bad people do not. Subconsciously, he treats bad people with less respect and consideration. He can be very vicious, cold, and sometimes cruel to the people he sees as "bad". There is no grey in the world for him.

So when he was faced with Cale, someone who actively portrays himself as a "bad person", his dark side shows. And as the war progressed, that dark side of him grew.

Now the current Choi Han has to look at himself and do a lot of self reflection. He doesn't want to be the person who had hurt others so cruelly. How could he look at himself when he sees the damage "he" had done? He doesn't want to be the person he hates. He doesn't want to become like the cruel people who willingly harms others.

With hindsight and a glimpse into a possible dark path in front of him, Choi Han needs to reevaluate himself and think about his actions more critically. If he doesn't, he might just follow the same dark path. He is a good person. He doesn't want that to happen. To prevent it, he needs to do a lot of self reflection and improve upon himself.

It's not to say that Choi Han is a bad person. But just like everyone else, he has the potential to become one. He also has the potential to become a good person. It's about consideration of others and a lot of self awareness.

There are others but it's getting late for me so I'll cut it here for now. I might make a part 2 with Hans and Paseton, since their character arcs are more recent.