#college student avoiding responsibilities

[yuragiku]

mine to miss | jung sungchan, song eunseok

pairing: jung sungchan x fem!reader x song eunseok

plot: you were done with love. you said goodbye to your best friend at his behest, and now, you were a lost soul in a bustling city. your mantra was to divert, avoid, and ignore—and it would've worked well until the end of the year had a spunky, friendly, and absolutely loud-mouthed soccer player barged into your lone seat at a restaurant.

"psst, i need you to pretend you're my date. i don't have any money right now, but i'll pay for all your lunches here from next week onward."

alternatively, the one where the campus hotshot tries his best to make you forget about your best friend back home.

wc: 44.1k

genre: melodrama, coming of age, slow burn, e2l kinda

warnings: R18+ DO NOT READ IF YOU'RE A MINOR OR IF YOU THINK YOU'RE NOT IN THE RIGHT MENTAL HEADSPACE TO READ ABOUT THE FOLLOWING; heavy depictions and mentions of depression, anxiety, and mental illness; heavy discussions of death and s*uicide; heavy depictions of substance abuse (alcohol and party drugs); graphic depictions of anxiety attacks; heavy depictions of rehab and therapy; EXPLICIT SMUT (UNPROTECTED SEX WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT, public sex, nipple play, oral m receiving), heavy discussions of sex; existential dread; hospital imagery; graphic depictions of mild violence; mentions of food and water; a lot of tension really; political discussions of 80s korea

extra notes: THIS IS PART TWO OF never meant. I REPEAT. PART TWO! PLEASE READ THAT ONE FIRST. heavily inspired by norwegian wood (haruki murakami), and american football's lp2. as always, NEVER SKIP THE WARNINGS PLEASE !! YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CONSUME AND CAN BACK OUT AT ANY TIME !! she cooked but i don't know if she delivered. anywho, thank you so much for reading mine to miss, and as always, i don't know when my next story will come out but she'll come out when she has to !! most likely a PART THREE because this has gotten a lot longer than i would've linked :////

COPYRIGHT 2024 YURAGIKU. DO NOT STEAL, COPY, OR TRANSLATE.

During the summer holidays, the riot police were everywhere, seizing all buildings and quickly arresting students and professors in quick succession. This was nothing new. Places for the intelligentsia to prosper always had its fair share of dissidents, and they were the most difficult to dismantle in terms of rebellion groups owing to the amount of funding universities get from the government. Even if Yonsei had been known to be a liberal school, there was always the other half of the staunch conservative faculty who may or may not have served in the electoral college. Around the start of September, the dawn of a new semester, this normalcy had died down. There were no more police everywhere you went in Seoul; you didn’t need to go to the office to bookkeep for the New Korean Democratic Party, and work at the campus library became your main priority. To your surprise, everything in the library was untouched. Each book was still confined in its respective shelf, the reception desk was unscathed and pristine, albeit dusty from a lack of use, and nothing on campus was burned. 

Of course, violence didn’t equate to a passionate, successful demonstration, but you were a little confused at the cleanliness of the university past the June struggles. Books were usually a target during riots, often burned in a bonfire by dissidents who disagreed with authoritarianism. Still, when you walked around the politics section of the library, you found everything in place, as if nobody had entered the library at all since the demonstrations began. 

Upon announcing the June 29 declaration, things returned to normal in a snap of a finger. The same people who were the most vocal during the protests sat at the very front of the lecture hall, seen as martyrs or assholes, depending on who you ask. As if nothing had ever happened, they took their notes in silence, never bringing up the core reason for resistance to a professor who openly admitted his support for the Korean Army’s coup in 1961. The sheer hypocrisy of it all left you awestruck, to say the least. It’s not to say you were avidly passionate when participating in the riots, but consistency was the least you expected from the forerunners of the student demonstrations. Even if things had arguably ended and all their demands were met, a military officer was still elected. Shouldn’t they be mad? What was the entire point of calling for a democratic constitutional amendment and fair elections when a complicit military officer, who was a part of the elite that wanted all of South Korea under a dictatorship, won the elections supposedly “fair and square”? When you dared to ask some of the protest leaders, whom you also worked with at the New Korean Democratic Party office and frequently saw in secret Marxist lectures, why they were doing anything about the election of Roh Tae-woo, they shrugged. 

“There’s no foul play as far as we know,” One of them said. “We can’t really scream about paper tigers.” 

What a joke! At that point, they should’ve just told you they were afraid to lose participation marks! To think that they were the same idiots who passionately beat police officers up, closed down the campus, and led a sit-in hunger strike for a week! 

For a while, you faithfully attended lectures, staying quiet when the professor would ask for your name in attendance. Participation marks meant nothing to you anymore, and to a certain extent, university education started to make less sense. You concluded that people only really went to university when their parents could afford it or when it benefitted them. Nobody went to school to pursue knowledge anymore, and it wasn’t like you had the passion or the drive to pioneer a new school of thought. There was nothing you wanted to accomplish in society that required you to drop out of university, so you had no choice but to attend lectures every day, take notes, read when you could, and spend your free time in the library before and after your shift there. Nonchalance made you an extremely diligent student. 

You kept Eunseok’s room clean in his absence. When you had the chance, you asked the landlord to remove his name from the mailbox and the apartment door, telling him that Eunseok was never coming back. You returned from your shifts at the library and your lectures to clear Eunseok’s belongings bit by bit, repackaging them in neat, large boxes that you dragged to your apartment. You began reading through his books despite having a distaste for fiction, spending each morning with a different novel in hand alongside your regular routine of coffee. With the help of the janitor, you moved Eunseok’s prized bookshelf to your apartment, arranging your furniture like Eunseok did when he was still living next to you. Even if you missed him dearly, the only way to keep him in your heart is through the homage of his book collection. You didn’t know why he left it in Seoul when he would most likely need it for his treatment at the mountainous sanitorium, but you digress. Things unfolded the way they did, and now, you were alone again. 

Directly after your shift, the sun began to set, adding a warm vibrance to the fallen Zelkova leaves trailing along the pavement. You decided to eat dinner outside instead of opting for your usual meal plans after Mirae had told you about an excellent Western place that served delicious seafood pasta and salad for a cheap deal. The restaurant was a little challenging because it was strewn across many intersections and alleyways, but the quiet, faint location made you sure you could relax once you got inside. 

Once the waitress took your order, a group of four students came in, taking one of the bigger tables with velvet armchairs on the edge of the restaurant. Two men and two women in their young twenties, all stylish and had an air of money to them. By the time you finished your appetizer, the group was still arguing over what they wanted, only for one to call the waitress to relay the same lunch deal for everybody. 

Your pasta had arrived, and in between picking up a copy of Heidegger’s Being and Time while slowly twirling pasta on your fork, you noticed that one of the men kept glancing in your direction. Apart from the curvature of his doe, deer-like eyes, he had a sloppily cut mullet that suited his face—the kind that looked good no matter what he wore or how he presented himself. Despite the weather, he wore a white fleece Addidas pullover and baggy jeans. You had no idea who he was, so you went on with your lunch, twirling the pasta on your fork in the same rhythm and timing as your progress on Heidegger. Before you knew it, you placed your book down, twirled another small serving of pasta on your fork, and had the mysterious man sitting in front of you, neck leaning closer and closer until you could see the hazel shine of his big doe eyes. 

“Hey! It’s been a while,” He said with an exaggerated jubilee. You took your copy of Heidegger, playing with the book’s binding while examining his features up close. Even then, you couldn’t remember seeing him at all. If you had met him on the off chance, you would surely recognize him. He was the kind of man you’d notice from afar, especially with his choppy mullet. 

“Are you expecting someone?” He asked, his voice suddenly changing to a low whisper. Uncertain, you shook your head, remaining still while his breath tickled your ear. 

“No, I don’t think anyone’s coming today.” Heaving a sigh of relief, he slumped himself on the chair before you, reverberating a grating thud that made his companions stare. He moved closer again, eyes directly in front of your food, then looked up to give you a smile that was too bright to handle. 

“Looks good,” 

“Your table got the same thing,”

“Oh,” He panicked. “Right… about that.” 

“I don’t think I’ve met you anywhere around campus, and I’m not even sure if we go to the same university,” You blurted. The man in front of you heaved a dejected sigh, extending his long arms around the circumference of his chair. There was a genuine tinge of hurt in his breath, and you put your fork down, taking your copy of Heidegger and stuffing it in your bag. This was the type of conversation that demanded your full, unbridled attention. 

“We were in the same calculus class in first year, then basically took the same courses in the second, and now, we share advanced macroeconomics and econometrics,” 

“Econometrics with Professor Goo just ended, though.” You replied, peering deeper and deeper into his twinkling eyes. He tried his best to do a middle part with his extremely short bangs, making you finally remember who he was. A drastic change in hairstyle had prevented you from recognizing him, 

“Were you in Choi’s seminar? The one that always brought a huge hockey stick to class?” Sungchan vehemently nodded, a bright smile etched on his face.

“I play soccer in the summer, and it bothered me to have hair on my face, so I just got some scissors and cut the front.”

“Looks nice on you,” You said, picking your fork up to twist a few bits of pasta and shrimp together. 

“They don’t think so,” He scoffed. “I thought it looked okay initially, but all the girls don’t dig it. They told me I looked better when I had a clean cut without anything trailing past my neck, saying I looked like the mentally ill son of a war veteran! Could you believe that? The audacity of it all, my god! Why do all girls think a clean cut with a middle part makes you look refined? Because I, for one, know that all those assholes with the same haircut belong straight to the sewer.”

As far as you can remember, you meant it when you said he looked good. It wasn’t just the hair or his bright, doe eyes. He exuded the organic inertia, a force of life, as he sat in front of you. He was like a large deer with strong antlers running around the forest, galloping in the serenity of lush greeneries. His entire being moved with bursting energies of joy, laughter, annoyance, and despair—as if he were the embodiment of explosive emotion. You hadn’t seen such vibrance and color in ages and must admit that you enjoyed seeing him like that. 

“Aren’t your friends waiting for you?” To this, a flip switched inside him, snapping him back to reality. His eyes widened, taking in all the light the sun had given him that afternoon, redirecting all of it back to you in pure, blunt force. 

“That’s why I came here!” He exclaimed, his eyes turning up into shiny crescents. “You see one of those girls there?” He pointed at a girl who wore her hair in a short bob, her white cotton dress barely covering her thighs. You nodded, watching her tall nose go up and down as you predicted the flow of their conversation in your head. 

“My friend, Jaemin, is trying to set me up with her, but I’m not really feeling it. She’s a little too uptight and bitter for my taste, and she would never stop talking about her ex. Like, I get that it scarred her, but why is she here right now, trying to get with me, if she knows she needs time to sort things out on her own?” 

You averted your gaze from the girl, then stuffed your hands in your pockets. You instantly saw a flash of Eunseok in the girl, sensing the same brooding loneliness and desperation he had when he held you. You called the waiter and grabbed another cup of coffee, refraining from adding milk or sugar. The man stared at you in disgust, making a snarky remark about how much of a tryhard you were. 

“Look at me, I’m so cool! I drink black coffee and I read German philosophy!” 

You pressed your mouth in a neat, thin line, opening the book and picking up where you left off. You left a few bites of pasta on your plate, and the man in front of you dragged your tray and your fork, using his long, slender fingers to push the book down until you could see his eyes, which were staring at you with a frightening intensity. 

“Anyway, I need you to act like my date for a bit. I told her I was already seeing a girl, and luckily, you were here before me!” 

“I don’t even know your name.” You said dryly. You were ready to take your bag and leave a tip for the waiter. 

“Sungchan, Jung Sungchan, the most unholy relic you’ve ever seen,” He grabbed his chair and stood up, shocking you a little with how tall he was. You rarely come across people that were his height, and in a sense, you liked that he was tall enough to obscure you from his group of friends. You wanted to dine here alone, after all. 

“What if I turn your offer down?” 

“Then I’ll cry right here, right now.” 

“Cry about it.”

“You sure?” 

“What’s that got to do with me?” 

The determination in Sungchan’s eyes stayed undeterred. Before he could cause a scene, you paid your bill to the waitress, went outside the restaurant, and dragged him along, making a quick, sharp turn on one of the alleyways across the road. You took a deep breath, sharply inhaling and exhaling through your lungs. Sungchan’s innate enthusiasm flickered slightly, but he still looked like he was about to burst with energy. 

“I’m not really in the right headspace to fuck around right now, so please try your luck with someone else.” 

“I can’t.” He blurted. “I already told them your name. Besides, it won’t be too difficult. All you have to do is be with me all the time. That would get Jaemin to stop worrying, and I would basically have an impromptu restraining order on its own,” 

“Restraining order?” 

Sungchan nodded, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, a restraining order. If people saw me with you all the time, started spreading rumors, and have that circulate around campus, then I’m sure I could get a few admirers off my back,” 

By now, Sungchan’s food should’ve arrived at his table, but he didn’t move. He simply stayed put, eagerly waiting for your answer. You didn’t give him any. 

“Come on!” He complained. “I’ll buy you lunch every day. I have no money now, but I should be able to get it soon since I have to coach a children’s match next week,” 

Judging from his stature, it was natural to infer that he played sports. In first year, he had a hockey stick with him at all times, his blades sticking out of his bag like a walking hazard. 

“How did you even get my name?” 

“I looked at our class roster and thought, ah! She’s someone I’ve known since first year!”

“That’s it?” Sungchan nodded, hands still in his pockets. 

The midday sun strewn with his sweat made his mullet stick right onto his temple, giving him the same look as Peanut’s yellow “safety helmet.” The question now was whether he would dye his hair blonde, but you found the dark, jet-black on him a good look. 

“Yeah, and you’re not so bad yourself, you know? I think we could make a cute campus couple,” He joked. 

“The free lunches sound like a good deal, but I’ll pass. Go find another one,” 

“Are you always alone like that?” Sungchan asked. The intenseness in his gaze had softened, and his hands were out of his pockets. You nodded, and before you could leave the alleyway, he blocked the road with his tall stature, head standing right in front of the sun like a golden halo. 

“Nobody likes to be alone, but I’m just tired of it all.”

“Woe is me; you can definitely publish that in your autobiography or something,” You muttered a small ‘thanks.’ Then, you tried to leave again. This time, he walked around to your side, neck leaning down to meet your eyes, keeping a close distance between you. 

“Tell me, do you always wear such tacky clothes?” 

“Yes, I do.” You snapped back patiently. 

“Yes, I do, I love the way you talk. It’s like there’s no bullshit to it. No flare, no theatrics—not even any poetry! It’s so… smooth? Something like a calm river instead of a thrashing sea. Has anyone ever told you that?” 

You shook your head again, trying to hide how taken aback you were by his sudden monologue. He gave you a wide, ear-to-ear grin, taking his pinky out and putting it right in front of your lips. 

“I need to take you out for dinner, that’s non-negotiable. But think the offer through. I know you like being in your own little, solitary bubble surrounded by pretentious books, but if you change your mind, let me know.” 

He ran back inside with his friends after who you assumed was Jaemin came out of the restaurant, nagging him about his food getting cold. He ignored his friend for a little while, keeping his eyes on you as you clutched your bag, ready to take the summer trek along the river to head back to your apartment. He seemed to be mulling over something, then he quickly took your hands in his, squeezed them, and went back inside the restaurant. He had his eyes on you, trailing your silhouette as you disappeared through the back alleyway near the restaurant, using a shortcut to get to the main bridge of the Han River.

In the following week, Sungchan didn’t keep his promise. There was no sign of him in the restaurant, and you thought of waiting for him over the same pasta and salad set, but the place started to fill up, prompting you to leave and go somewhere else. Sungchan was also not there when you attended your afternoon econometrics class. Upon asking your professor where he was, he shrugged and said he didn’t get any word of Sungchan’s absence. 

“He’s the type of kid who always skips, you shouldn’t waste your time with someone like him.”

Walking to the receptionist, you booked an appointment with student affairs, searching their records for a “Jung Sungchan.” Sure enough, his name was listed in three classes you shared this semester: econometrics, quantitative analysis in public policy, and advanced macroeconomics. Then, you found the address to his house and a telephone number. He entered the university in 1984, living in the suburbs of Western Seoul with her family. 

When you dialed the phone, a woman answered. “Jung Records, how may I help you today?” Jung Records? You balanced the receiver between your cheeks and shoulders, twirling the cord around your fingers. 

“Sorry, is Sungchan around?”

“No, he’s not.”

“Do you know where he might be? He’s missed today’s class, and I wanted to see if I could give him my notes.” You lied, hearing some rustling on the other end of the line. 

“He’s most likely at the hospital.”

You thanked and hung up, wondering what he could do at the hospital. Was he injured? Is it from soccer? Was he sick? Many scenarios swirled in your head, and the mysterious calm on the other end of the line worsened your unease. How could he say such a thing so nonchalantly, as if he was just going out to get groceries? Was he the type to always get sick? The questions didn’t seem to end until you reached the door to your apartment. Your body sank onto the couch, and you continued your debate with Heidegger. 

The following week, you faithfully attended the econometrics lecture, sitting at the front of the lecture hall. You still saw no signs of Jung Sungchan, and after scanning the entire room, you took some letter paper from your bag and began drafting a letter to Eunseok. You wrote about the protests, your activities with the New Korean Democratic Party, and the people you had met during your political tenure. 

After filling three sheets, you folded them inside an envelope and addressed them to Eunseok’s house in Jeju. By then, the lecturer had arrived, dabbing his face gracefully with a handkerchief as he began to take attendance. He was a tall, lanky man who walked with so much authority that the class stopped whatever they were doing when he came inside the room. Despite his strict and well-prepared nature, he could do nothing to make a subject such as econometrics fun. Without preamble, he starts the lecture where the class left off last week, explaining the concept of multivariate regression. When the door opened, he had written some formulas and statistical variants on the chalkboard for twenty minutes, revealing a disheveled Sungchan. He was wearing a blue Adidas tracksuit and some loose-fitting joggers. After making a quick bow and smiling at the professor, he sat beside you. Then, he took out his notebook and a small notepad, tearing one of the pages to hastily write something. 

Sorry about yesterday, are you angry?

You shook your head and kept your eyes on the tall, lanky professor filling the chalkboard with more equations, filling your notebook with the same formulas. Sungchan kept his eyes on you while you copied everything down, watching your swift fingers seamlessly jot down everything the professor wrote at lightning speed. 

“Mind sharing the notes with me later?” He asked. You nodded, keeping your eyes on your notebook. 

There were about thirty minutes left of the lecture when you saw two students enter the door, both carrying the same political smell that most of your colleagues at the New Korean Democratic Party had. One of them, a stout, round fellow with prominent cheeks and dopey eyes, took a quick glance at you before going in front of the professor and asking for the room to be accessible for a political debate. 

“I know you assholes are used to the school running a muck for your liberal agenda, but I don’t care. This is my class, and if you’re not fine with that, go leave and find another classroom to bother.”

After clearing his throat, the professor turned to your direction to ask if you had a part in this. You kept your eyes between your notebook and the chalkboard, shrugging off any suspicion the professor may have for you.

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” Sungchan whispered once the class had ended. You gave the stout one quick wave before they stormed the classroom, passing handbills to bystanders on campus election fraud. While you were technically a part of the crowd, you had to admit that the movement had been getting uninspired since the June 29 declaration. Free and fair elections were back as you knew it, and despite local politics, you realized student government didn’t matter. It wasn’t as if the union benefitted you in any way, and most of your insurance was paid for by the government, not by any union efforts to safeguard dental or dermatology. Besides, you couldn’t care less about having perfect teeth or smooth skin. It wasn’t the end of your world if you had to pay a couple extra just to have pearly whites and glass-like, porcelain skin. 

“Do you think they’ll kill us after the revolution?” Sungchan asked when the two of you were outside of the lecture hall. 

“I’m technically part of the problem,” You replied, dodging through a crowd of people to swiftly get to the exit. Sungchan followed suit, using his long arms to push past people who were getting in your way. 

“So you’re a communist who likes German philosophy because you wanna be oh-so-cool, that’s funny. I like it.” 

“I’m gonna go eat lunch,” 

“There’s a place I wanna take you. It’s not that far from here,”

Sungchan took you to the bus to Dongdaemun and showed you to a Russian restaurant with specialty pierogies in a neatly sheltered spot just behind the market. The minute the two of you sat down, they served you some borscht and the lunch of the day in large plates. You had never had Russian food before, but the distance was worth the meal. 

“This is great,”

“And cheap, too. I came here before the Russians when it was still some sketchy, run-down marketplace. This used to be a dumpling place run by some old guy when I was still going to school, and we all had to sneak out since they were so strict about these things.” 

When Sungchan wasn’t busy finishing his borscht, he would rub his sleepy, heavy lids, which looked much more languid than last time. When he wasn’t playing with his chopsticks or hounding the Russian waiter for more soup, he would incessantly rub the corners of his eyes, careful not to put any borscht residue on them. 

“Tired?” You asked.

“Sorta. I haven’t been getting enough sleep lately, but it’s okay, don’t worry about me.” He replied. “Sorry about the other day. Something important came up, and I couldn’t ditch it. I thought about calling you at the restaurant, but I couldn’t remember your name and didn’t know your home number. Did you wait too long?” 

You shook your head amidst a cup of warm tea. “No worries, I’m a woman with a lot of time.”

“A lot?” 

“Yes, way more than I need, to be honest. I wish I could give you some to help you sleep.” 

Sungchan rested his cheek on his palms, a vast, crescent-eyed grin forming. “Aren’t you a sweetheart?” 

“I don’t think so. Like I said, I just have too much time to kill.” 

You thought about telling him you called his house but decided against it. There was always a time and a place for anything, and if he wanted to tell you about it, he would at a particular time in a specific place. While Sungchan was a chatty person, there was a meticulous way that he picked and chose what type of conversation he wanted to have, almost as if directing the flow of his words solely to avoid something he didn’t like to talk about. You felt the hospital was sensitive to it, so you dropped it altogether. 

He took you to his old school, a short walk from Dongdaemun. Passing through the bus stop and the train station, you thought about Eunseok and your endless walks with him. It had all started back home on the beaches of Jeju, and it arguably ended here in the city. If Eunseok had never visited you in Seoul, your life would have been different. Then, you changed your mind. No, even if he never visited Seoul to see you, your life wouldn’t change. He was meant to come to see you; if not, he was bound to visit you some other time. There was no logic to it; it was just a feeling. 

You and Sungchan sat on a park bench together, looking through the tall gates of his old school. Vines of old-growth moss clung to the walls, and pigeons huddled under the rooftop, resting their wings. While the building looked nice, something was brooding and ominous about it. 

“I really didn’t wanna go to this school,” Sungchan started. He shook his head until his eyes had hit the ground. “I wanted to go to a normal State school with normal people where I could just be myself and have fun like a normal teenager, but my parents thought it would look good on me to go to this stuck-up, fancy place. They’re the ones who sent me in here, and I suppose that’s just what happens when you do well in primary school. The teacher tells your parents that you have more potential, and they start considering it too, even if they didn’t have the budget to send me here. I went here for like, six years, and I absolutely hated it. All I could think of then was to leave, and you know, I’ve gotten awards for never being late or having missed a day of school. That’s how much I hated this place. Do you get what I’m saying?” 

“No, not really.” 

“It’s because I hated this damn place so much, that I wasn’t going to let it beat me. Because if I let them get to me even just once, I’d be finished. I was scared I’d just keep slipping down and down. Even if I was sick, I’d crawl to school, teetering at my last breath with a temperature of 39 degrees. When the teachers would ask me if I was sick, I would always shake my head and go to class. When I left, they gave me awards for perfect attendance and punctuality, plus a tennis racket for being one of the best tennis players in the school. That’s why I’m never playing tennis at university ever again. I didn’t wanna owe this school anything.” 

“Why did you hate your school so much?” 

“Did you enjoy going to your school?” 

“Not really, but I didn’t hate it. I went to a normal State school, but I didn’t really think about it at all. 

“Well, this school,” Sungchan explained, using the tip of his index finger to rub his eyes. “Had nothing but upper-class boys, almost four hundred boys from a prestigious background. Rich boys. They all had to be rich and stay rich to survive. Expensive tuition, donations, and extravagant school trips. If we went to Busan, they’d book the most expensive hotel and serve us the best seafood on lacquerware, then take us to a fancy hotel in Seoul to teach us some table manners. This wasn’t an ordinary school at all. And out of a hundred boys in my class, I was the only one from a middle-class background. I looked at the class register to see where everyone else lived, and they were all from a rich area like Gangnam. One boy from Incheon was an heir to a farm that I became friends with, and he was really nice. But can you imagine him feeling embarrassed about living in Incheon? I mean, this was the type of kid that got driven around in a Benz by a chauffeur! And still, he had this inferiority complex. Can you believe it?” 

You shook your head in disbelief. 

“I was the only one in the whole school who came from a suburb like Ichon. My parents were the only record shop owners in there, and when my classmates would say I was lucky to have all the records I wanted to listen to at the tip of my fingers, I would laugh at them! Of course, they expected something big like an HMV, but no! Records have been dying since the Walkman was created, and they would’ve never expected a small, poor, little Jung Records. From the entrance to the cash register, there is nothing but old records from pop stars you’ve never even heard of! The only people who still shop there are the widowed ahjummas who don’t know how to use a Walkman or a Boombox! No Beatles, no New Order, not even Wham! Do you think I’m lucky?” 

When you closed your eyes, you could see the type of place Sungchan was talking about. A cozy, run-down record store in the middle of an alleyway in suburban Seoul, welcoming regulars in the neighborhood who were too old to adapt to a newer, digital age.

“What I will tell you, though, is that it’s not bad business. Everyone in the neighborhood has known who we are for some time now, and we always deliver. Also, we make more than enough to support a family of four. No debts, two sons in university, but that’s it. There are no extras, and they should’ve never sent me to a school like that. It was a recipe for disaster. I had to hear them complain about the uptick in tuition every year when they thought I was asleep, and whenever the school would ask for a donation, they scrambled everything they could to provide even just a tiny amount. I never made friends, nor did I hang out with anybody after school because I was always so scared of running out of money in case they wanted to go someplace expensive to eat. It’s such a miserable way to live. Anyway, is your family rich?” 

You shook your head. “My parents are white-collar working-class people who’ve been working as auditors for a cargo company in Jeju. We’re not rich or poor, and I know it hasn’t been easy on them to send me all the way to Seoul, but it’s just me, so that’s not really a big deal. I work part-time to take the load off them, and our house back in Jeju is just a regular two-story home with a little garden for our dog and a Toyota Corolla parked in the garage.”

“Where do you work, and what do you do?”

“I work at the library in Yonsei. There’s not much to do other than sorting books out and hounding the people that have books overdue.” 

Sungchan’s mouth was agape, doe-eyes glimmering in the sunset as he shifted closer to your frame. “You’re joking, right? I mean, you just seem like someone who’s had an easy life, you know?” 

“It’s not like we ever suffered financially, but it’s not like I had tons of money growing up, either. I’m just like everyone else.” 

“Well, everyone else in my school was rich,” Sungchan replied, squeezing his knees with his palms.

“Now that you’re out of that environment, I’m sure you’ll have a lot of chances to see the normal people you craved so much, you know?” 

“I hope so… I mean, university’s going great so far! It’s full of normal people!” He smiled with the slightest curl of his lip and smoothed his mullet with the palms of his hand. 

“Do you have a job?” You asked.

“Yeah, I work at the campus radio. I make little playlists and recommendations for people who ask, with descriptions of what makes each song special or something like that. We also play songs on the radio depending on what people request, whether they want something romantic, sad, or happy, because those are the three moods that only exist when it comes to music. It’s so easy! Takes zero time and no effort at all. I can come up with an entire playlist and burn it on a cassette tape in a day. All you have to do is master a couple of secrets about the trade, and all kinds of work, regardless of the type, comes your way.” 

“And what are these secrets?” 

“Say, you take the entire mood of heartbreak, for example. Sure, there are many songs about heartbreak, but you need to know what type of heartbreak the person requesting a playlist or recommendations is going through. It doesn’t have to be anything big at all, just some tiny nuance like that. People also love graphic sentimentality, so make sure you’re curating songs and artists that really speak to them, and the money comes decent.” 

“Yeah, but don’t nuances get a bit too tedious? And doesn’t it require enough knowledge of musicians, artists, etc.?” 

“True,” Sungchan replied, tilting his head so that his choppy bangs flowed back and forth between his forehead. “But if you look for them, you usually find them, say, in like a gossip magazine or a music almanac. And if you don’t, there’s really no harm in making stuff up. I never get caught.” 

He said he wanted to hear more about you, so you told him the usual stories you would tell in the first year about Peanut and Mirae. You would tell him precisely about Peanut’s’ neat freak tendencies, her yellow “safety helmet” that she wore alongside several layers of surgical masks, safety goggles, shin pads, and UV-repellant clothing. Peanut especially made Sungchan laugh, wishing he had a chance to look at the dorm back then.

“Now, it’s just me alone with my coffee and my daily paper next to the Han River, either going to lectures, going to work at the library and sitting on my secret spot during breaks, sometimes going to the party office to do some bookkeeping for them sometimes, or sometimes organizing and attending riots.” 

“Does every girl just casually mention that one day she’ll either be a martyr or get arrested by the government for treason?” 

You laughed, crossed your legs, and stared at the clear, open blue sky. “Yeah, I think so. We all love to talk, as quiet as we may be.” 

“Even something as top secret as government insurgency?” 

“Maybe? But what we do at the party, at least as far as I know, has nothing to do with government insurgency. Things have been relatively calm since the June 29 declaration, and although people are somewhat angry at the results, there’s nothing we can do when there’s no foul play in the presidential elections. He won fair and square.”

“I don’t really know much about this sort of stuff when I should, I mean, I don’t know. I couldn’t care less about politics, to be honest,” 

“Well, I guess those ahjummas stopping by the record store don’t talk about it enough,” 

“Not at all!” He replied, laughing. “Anyway, how’s Sunday looking this week? Are you free?” 

“Yeah, I should be. The library’s closed, so I shouldn’t have work, either.” 

“Why don’t you come visit me? At Jung Records? The shop will be closed, but I have to hang around there all day to watch a few things. I also might be getting an important phone call, but that’s beside the point. How does lunch sound? I can cook for you,” 

“I think I’d like that,” You said with a smile. 

Sungchan tore a page from his notepad and wrote the address and the nearest train station and bus stop to his record shop. 

“Really, once you walk straight from the station to the residential area, you can’t miss it. There’s a big sign that says Jung Records. Come at around noon. I should have something ready for us by then.” 

After thanking him, you put the page in your jacket pocket. “I should be getting back to campus now; my shift starts in an hour.”

Sungchan said he had somewhere to be as well and took the train from Dongdaemun.

When Sunday morning came, you woke at eight, made coffee, read the daily paper, did your laundry, and hung the clothes on your balcony. You picked out a lovely, long black maxi dress with thin straps that gracefully went over your shoulders. It was a beautiful day, with the sun shining brightly over everything it touched, adding a spiritual iridescence to things so banal. Ladybugs fluttered everywhere, sitting atop your stretched-out duvet hanging on the balcony. With no wind, the river looked flat from where you were. Despite being a student, the area you lived in housed more families and entry-level graduates, so Sunday wasn’t dead quiet. In fact, it was quite the opposite. While most shops were closed, children were still running around the riverbank, playing hopscotch or tag while their parents watched on picnic mats. Another group of kids just across the pavement were throwing rocks at empty cans. A flower shop was open right next to the train station, so you went in and bought some daffodils. You knew it wasn’t in season, especially with the dawn of autumn, but you’ve always liked daffodils. 

Three old women sat across you on the train, looking at you and your flowers. One of them gave you a smile, and you smiled back. You sat in the train’s last car, watching the ancient houses stack on top of mountains like piles of dominoes. The train was a little slow and flimsy today, but the speed was enough for you to see the laundry deck out of each resident’s window. One of the windows had a small garden with ten juicy, ripe tomatoes beside a big calico cat stretched out in the sun. In the window of another house, a little girl in ribbons was blowing soap bubbles with her mother. You heard a distant Lee Sunhee ballad through the radio from somewhere, and you could catch a view of old men doing stretches at the park below the train tracks. After snaking its way through a large tunnel, a few more passengers got on. Despite that, the three old women stayed still, talking intently about something while huddled together in their seats. 

You got off near Ichon station and asked a staff member if he knew the quickest route to the residential area, as written in Sungchan’s notes. When offered to walk with you, you politely declined, simply asking for directions so you have a good idea of where you were. Any street signs, turns, or landmarks were all you needed to ground yourself in this part of town. 

As you began your journey, the shops you passed by didn’t look too well; they were housed in old buildings with gloomy interiors and faded writing on some of the signs. Judging from the age and style of the buildings, you believe that this area was spared during the bombing raids in World War II and the Korean War, as whole blocks and districts were still intact. Some buildings had been rebuilt, with giant apartments erected in an old neighborhood. Besides, most houses had been enlarged or repaired in certain places, giving off a shabby or tacky look. The entire atmosphere of the place gave you the impression that the original residents had given up on the taxing toll of city life and moved to the suburbs, leaving nothing but cheap, run-down apartment blocks, empty lots, and a few stubborn families who clung to their long-time family businesses. 

A few minutes of walking uphill brought you to a corner shop, where you turned left into a small, albeit dead, market on the right side in the middle of the road, which hung a large sign for Jung Records. While it wasn’t a big shop by all means, it wasn’t the tiny, mom-and-pop locality Sungchan had described. It was just a typical neighborhood record shop, the same ones you used to pass by on your commute to school. A wave of nostalgia hit you as you stood in front of the place, and you grazed your hands on the big, metal shutter that covered the entrance to the shop. You were technically ten or so minutes early, but you didn’t know how you’d kill your time in a neighborhood that seemingly didn’t have a coffee shop, so you pressed the buzzer and kept the bouquet of daffodils snug in your arms. Only a few seconds had passed, and you looked up to see Sungchan leaning over, long arms waving at you. 

“Come in,” he yelled. “Just lift the shutter with the other button there.” He pointed at a button next to the buzzer marked with an ‘x’ over masking tape. 

“Is it okay if I come in? I’m kind of early?” You shouted back.

“No problem. Come in and make yourself comfortable. I’m busy in the kitchen right now.” He left the balcony in a hurry. 

The whirring of the shutter made you drop the daffodils on your arms as soon as it lifted itself up. It flimsily stopped midway through opening itself entirely, so you used the chance to duck inside the shop, then pressed the button with the masking tape again to see if it could close it back. To your surprise, it did, and you swiftly picked your daffodils from the ground and covered your nose with a handkerchief as you traversed through the store. The shop was pitch black inside, and you managed to find your way around by feeling through shelves and piles of records, tripping over square-shaped vinyl jackets on your way to the staircase. You kicked your Mary Janes off and climbed the stairs to the dining table. The only light source entering the living area was a small opening in a matted curtain, making the interior dark and gloomy. 

“Over here,” Sungchan called. To the corner on the right of the room was the kitchen, with all the windows opened. The entire building was old, but something new about the kitchen made it stand out from the rest of the shop and the rooms in the house. You didn’t know if it was because Sungchan regularly polished the counter, or if it was due to the shiny luster in the sink taps, but the kitchen was the only place that felt like it belonged in the current era, while the rest of the building was a bygone relic. Sungchan was preparing food, busy pacing around with bubbling pots and the smell of grilled fish. 

“There’s beer in the fridge if you want,” he said, taking a quick glance in your direction. 

“Make yourself comfortable. I should be done in a few,” You nodded and took a can of beer from the mini-fridge. The beer was so cold that it might have been in the fridge for an entire year. There was a small white ashtray on the table, the daily paper, and a couple of condiments. There was also the same notepad that Sungchan used when he gave you the directions to his place with a pen, a hastily written phone number, and what appeared to be a shopping list written on the side. 

“Wait, I lied. I should be done in about ten,” He said, wiping the sweat off his forehead with his tank top. “Can you wait, or are you so hungry that you could devour a three-course meal in one go?” 

“I can wait,” You replied. 

“Good.” He said with a smile. “Get hungrier, then. I’m making a lot.” 

You slowly sipped your beer and focused on Sungchan as he continued cooking, his broad shoulders and muscular back on you. He worked with quick, nimble movements, handling four cooking utensils simultaneously. He tasted a boiled dish in one pot, and the next second, he was rhythmically cutting vegetables on the cutting board; then, he was crouched over on the fridge, and before you knew it, his back was on the sink washing a pot that he had just finished using. You watched in awe as he was immersed in his craft, never missing a beat or his sense of balance as he gave the illusion of having eight limbs. 

“Do you need help with anything?” You asked, standing up from your seat with an empty can of beer in your hands. 

“Oh, no! No, no, NO! Sit back down,” Sungchan demanded, abruptly turning the stove off and shoving you back into your seat. Then, he returned to his cooking, turned the stove on, and tossed some spring onions in a large frying pan. He wore a slim, loose-fitting pair of joggers that hung snugly on his hips and a tight tank top that went just above his abdomen. The light pouring in from the kitchen window gave his figure an almost Promethean outline, making it extensively clear that he frequented the gym or was extremely meticulous about his health. 

“You really didn’t have to put an entire feast together, you know?” 

“What, you’re calling this a feast?” Sungchan joked. “I was too lazy to do any shopping today, if I’m being completely honest with you. I’m just throwing around what I have in the fridge. Besides, it’s a family tradition of ours to treat our guests well. I don’t know what it is, but it’s kind of like we’re born to entertain. It’s like a sickness because it’s not like we’re especially nice, or we love people or anything, but if someone comes over, we have to treat them like the king of the castle.”

“Does that explain the beers in the fridge?” You asked. Sungchan vehemently nodded.

“My stupid father hardly ever drinks because it’s bad for him, but he stocks up on a lot of alcohol to serve guests! So please, drink as much as you want. It would make him happy knowing his stock is going to be of good use.”

“Thank you,” 

You took the daffodils on the table and handed them over to Sungchan, who immediately grabbed a tall, slim glass from one of the cupboards and placed the flowers in it. 

“I’m not much of a flower person, but these are so pretty,” He marveled, doe-eyes gazing over each petal with gentle care. “What are they called again?” 

“Daffodils,”

“Is it the same as narcissus or something?” He asked. You shrugged your shoulders. 

“I’m not the best at the language of flowers, but I think daffodils belong to the same family or is a part of a family of flowers called narcissus,”

“That makes sense then. I once played piano for a classic Korean production in my old school about daffodils.”

He hummed the melody to Narcissus while plating the food. 

Much to your chagrin, Sungchan’s cooking was far better than what you’d expected. A diverse, fantastic assortment of grilled, marinated, fried, boiled, roasted, and cured dishes using mackerel, radishes, seaweed, mushrooms, pork bone, and sesame seeds, all cooked in the intense flavors of the Southern Jeju style.  

“Wow, this is really good,” You said with your mouth full. 

“You didn’t expect my cooking to be good, didn’t you? Based on how I look or something,” 

“Not really, no,”

“You’re from Jeju, right? So you like this kind of flavor profile, don’t you?”

“Did you seriously change your cooking just for me?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course not! We always eat like this!” 

“Are any of your relatives from Jeju?” 

“No, we’re all born and raised in Seoul, as far as I know. There’s not a single person from the South. We’re all from around the area.” 

“I don’t get it,” You continued, heaping more food from your chopsticks into your mouth. “How can you make this super authentic Jeju dish? Were you taught, or did you go to any classes?” 

“It’s kind of a long story,” He replied, taking apart a piece of grilled mackerel. He used the other end of his chopsticks to start deboning a small piece on your plate, feeding it to you once he was finished. 

“My parents never really had the time to cook, and we always had the business to think about, so it was either take out or eat at a restaurant. When we didn’t have money to eat out, we bought ready-made lunches at the convenience store or nearby butchers. Even when I was little, I couldn’t stand the lack of fresh food, and it wasn’t like my mom cared about changing things up. We just kept eating the same, ready-made lunch boxes, and I grew so tired of it that I taught myself how to cook. I went to the big Kyobo in Gwanghwamun and bought the thickest cookbook I could find, mastering it from cover to cover whenever I had the time. The author also turned out to be from Jeju, which explains why much of what I cook is in the Jeju style.”

“Wait, so you’re telling me you taught yourself how to cook? Just you and a book?” 

Sungchan nodded, pride brimming widely in his grin. He took another bite out of the grilled mackerel in front of him, took a large heap of rice, and swallowed the rest with some seaweed soup. 

“It was only until I turned twenty that I had the money to go and eat at a real Jeju-styled restaurant. My dream is to go to Jeju one day and try the real thing there, but I think the restaurant I went to here in Seoul was close enough and helped me understand most of the nuances and flavorings that I needed to master my dishes.” 

“Wow…” You exclaimed, taking a piece of shrimp into your mouth. “I could never have taught myself how to cook. I mean, how do you do it? Especially when you weren’t able to see how it’s done right before your eyes?” 

“It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows,” Sungchan explained, sighing while chewing on a slice of fried eggplant. “Especially when I grew up in a household where nobody gave a single crap about food. I would beg my dad for a better knife or a decent pot, and he’d tell me to spend my money on something else! I mean, the audacity! You can’t possibly debone a fish properly with cheapass knives, and how can you expect me to sous vide meat without an immersion circulator or some vacuum sealers? Every time I’d make these requests, they’d just look at me like I was crazy for trying to sous vide beef at home. It was hopeless trying to tell them that all the money was worth having good food in the house, so I took it upon myself to save as much as I could and buy the equipment with my own money. Little old fifteen-year-old me spending my entire allowance on nicer pots, higher quality knives, strainers, whatever you can think of. Can you imagine? Other boys are buying cleats and nice jerseys of their favorite baseball players while I’m here, spending every buck I can on cooking utensils! Isn’t that nice?” 

You nodded with every word, swallowing a mouthful of bright red soup drenched in gochugaru with tofu and spring onions. 

“I know this sounds a bit disgraceful, but I’m happy my mom died,” Sungchan continued, putting his chopsticks down momentarily to wipe his mouth with his arms. A bright, orange stain smeared his forearm, leaving an outline of his lips where it touched his skin. 

“Why is that?” You asked. Sungchan’s doe eyes widened, staring into your pupils as if communicating his thoughts to you directly. 

“Because now that it’s just me, my brother, and my dad, I get to take control of the family budget. I bought what I wanted, and that meant completing my set of cooking tools. My dad doesn’t know a single thing,” 

“When did your mom die?” 

“When I was seventeen or so, somewhere around my last year of high school. Some nasty tumor did it for her, but it’d probably be distasteful to joke about which one she had on the table. She was bedridden for about four months, was taken home because she seemed better, and then spent the last six months of her life with chemicals injected in her. I already knew that a part of her had died the moment the diagnosis came in, but by the end of it, she wasn’t even a human being anymore. Hardly spoke, looked like a shriveled-up raisin, had no hair, and didn’t even know who me or my brother were. I think that type of death is the worst kind, where both the patient and the entire family go through a different kind of hell. It wasn’t just awful watching my own mother become a vegetable, but it took every Won in our pockets. I mean, every session was 200,000 down the drain, and it wasn’t like the nurses were there for free either, you know what I mean?” 

Sungchan stopped for a moment, mouth agape and hanging in thought. With his chin resting atop his bone-like knuckles, his doe-eyes formed crescents, bright brown turning into a spectrum of hazel under the rays of the seeping sun. 

“How did we get here?” He laughed. 

“I think it started with the budget and how you’re happy your mom died,” 

“Finish your food and think about my little sob story, will you?” Sungchan said, his smile quickly fading into a solemn, thin line. 

After that, Sungchan barely touched his food, prompting you to put your chopsticks down as well. You thought you would ask him to take some of the food home, as it was too good to waste. 

“Cooking makes me less hungry,” Sungchan started, taking a slim, pristine cigarette stick between his lips and lighting it with a match. His eyes wandered until it hit the bouquet of daffodils resting neatly in a tall, slim glass. 

“They look nice like that,” He said. 

“I guess I rescued them from being stepped on at the riverbank,” You replied. 

He chuckled airily, smoking half of his cigarette and dumping the rest in a small, wooden ashtray. Rubbing his eyes, he grabbed the bright red box of Marlboros and fiddled with its corners. 

“Do you smoke?” He asked. You shook your head, gathering the empty bowls and plates before Sungchan stopped you to dump them into the sink himself. 

“I stopped in the summer,” You replied. 

“Why?”

“I don’t know, I just hated running out of ‘em in the middle of the night.”

“You make it really obvious whether you like things or not,” Sungchan said. 

“I think that’s why people never really liked me,”

“You show it, that’s why,” He continued, resting his head on the curves of your neck. “You show that you don’t care about people, and that type of attitude makes them angry, especially the ones that think they’re important.”

“But that’s what also makes talking to you so enjoyable,” You felt him grin as his lips touched your neck. You dragged him up and pushed the small of his back towards the sink, helping him dry some of the dishes as he began washing them with an abundance of bubbly dish soap. Standing next to him, you did your best to wipe everything in a spick-and-span state, stacking each plate and utensil carefully on the drying rack. 

“Are your parents out today?” You asked. Sungchan nodded, eyes focused on a stained plate. 

“Well, my mom’s six feet under,”

“You told me that,”

“My brother’s on a date with his fiance, probably on a drive somewhere off the coast nearby. They both love going to the beach, even if the weather is horrid up here.” He then kept his lips pressed in a thin line, gripping the sponge until it oozed with more white bubbles. You did the same and focused on scrubbing the plates with a tea-stained cloth. 

“Then, there’s my dad,” He whispered after some time had gone by. You nodded, eyes still on the plates that were now neatly lined up against each other on the rack. 

“He’s off to Thailand, has been since last spring.”

“Thailand?” You asked in shock, as if to ask him what and why his father was in Thailand out of all places. 

“Didn’t really say much about him, but he’s an eccentric one. A friend of his was in Vietnam during the war and deserted to Thailand, running off with a woman. He now has a farm there, and my dad just got on a plane and told us he was settling there. My brother and I tried to stop him—we told him he couldn’t speak the language, didn’t know a single thing about the customs, and how he wasn’t used to a place like that after being in Seoul his entire life. He didn’t seem to care and wouldn’t listen to a single word we said. I guess losing mom made him go a little bit insane.”

There wasn’t much you could say except stare at Sungchan, mouth agape in bewilderment. 

“Do you wanna know what he said after mom died? He said he would’ve much rather lost us instead of her. I mean, how was I supposed to respond to that? You don’t say such a thing to your kids, you know? For sure, he lost the love of his life, his life partner. I get that it’s a super painful thing to go through, something that makes you sad for the rest of your life, but you don’t tell your own sons that they should have died in her place. That’s just terrible, don’t you think?” 

“Yeah,” 

“Honestly, I don’t think that wound would ever close inside me, even if my dad took it back,” He said while shaking his head. “In some ways, everyone in my family’s odd. We’ve got something strange in us, even if it’s just a little bit.”

“I think I’d react in the same way if my dad said something like that to me,” You replied. 

“But despite the harshness of it all, I still think it’s a wonderful thing for two people to be in love like that, no? I mean, for a man to love his wife so much that he tells his sons they should’ve died in her place, then runs off to Thailand as he dumps the two of us right here in Korea.” 

You wiped the last plate without replying, while Sungchan swiftly put everything back in their respective cabinets. 

“So, have you heard anything from him at all?” You asked. 

“On a postcard sent to us back in the fall. The only thing he tells us is the difference in whether or how the fruits tasted better there. I mean, seriously? Give me a break! One dumb photo of him riding an elephant! He’s lost his goddamn mind! He didn’t even tell us the specifics of how he met the guy—the deserter who owns a farm there or whatever. He didn’t even tell us about sending us there once he’s settled, and he’s ignored our letters to him since.” 

“What would you do if your dad told you to come to Thailand?” 

“I think I’d go and tour a bit of it, I mean, by the sounds of it and the guidebooks I’ve been looking at, it sounds like a nice place to be. My brother, on the other hand, would absolutely refuse. He can’t stand dirty places.” 

“Is Thailand dirty?” 

“I don’t know? Maybe? He thinks it is. Like, the roads are full of elephant shit or something, swarming with flies while the toilet is an entire forest. He saw a documentary of the sort and made that conclusion. He can’t stand flies, either, and all he wants to do is drive through nice beaches in expensive cars.”

“No way…”

“I mean, to hell with him! What’s wrong with Thailand? I’d go for sure!” 

“So who’s running Jung Records while he’s gone?” 

“My brother technically, but he hates it. We have a neighboring aunt who helps around here and there, and I help, too, when I have time. A record shop isn’t exactly the hardest thing to manage, so it’s fine. And if it’s too much, we can always sell the place.” 

“Do you like your dad?” Sungchan stopped for a second, then vehemently shook his head. 

“So how can you go with him to Thailand if you don’t like him?” 

“I believe in him, that much I can do.”

The two of you then went up to the balcony of the building, where he rested his palms on your cheek, caressing it before giving you a chaste, slow kiss. A fire had broken out in one of the buildings nearby, causing smoke to go up as he rushed out to see what was going on. Soon enough, sirens began to wail in the empty, suburban air of Seoul, and he nonchalantly made coffee for you while talking about Thailand. You couldn’t recall its proper location, but you knew it was near Vietnam. 

“The Lee family’s building burned down,” He said. “They traded silverware and porcelain if I could recall correctly, but they went out of business some time ago.” 

You leaned over the railings, head resting on his slow, beating chest. A large apartment unit blocked the view, but you could see flashes of red trucks flowing into the streets, about three or four that were parked nearby, dousing the flames with large pipes. 

“Maybe you should evacuate,” You said to Sungchan. “The wind’s blowing in the other direction, but it could always change its course. You can always stay at my place, and I’ll help you pack whatever you need.” 

“Fuck that,” Sungchan spat happily. “I’m staying here. Ride or die. Even if this place burns down, I’ll be right here. I don’t mind death.” 

He looked straight into your eyes, and you couldn’t tell if he was serious or not. The only thing that you felt was the warmth that his arms exuded as he continued to hold you, long, slender fingers caressing the surface of your skin. 

“Alright, I’ll stay here with you, then,” 

“You’re gonna die with me?” He asked, eyes shining brighter than the radiant sun.

“What? No way! I’ll run if it starts to get here, you can go die alone.” 

“Ouch, that’s cold, you bitch!” 

“I’m not gonna die with you just because you made me lunch. If you added dinner on the itinerary, though, then I might consider it.” 

“Anyway, let’s stay here for a while. We can talk about you now if you’re interesting enough.” 

Sungchan brought two pillows from his bedroom, several bottles of beer, and some snacks from the kitchen. He says they were leftover cookies from the week before, but the dough tasted fresh enough that you inferred he made them in the morning. The two of you drank together and watched the thick, black smoke rise from the building. He asked you more questions about yourself that you couldn’t seem to answer, and you slumped onto his shoulder while he gently played with your loose hair. 

“When my mother died, I didn’t really feel sad or anything,” He started, hands now looping through your scalp, as if searching for something valuable. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. I didn’t feel a thing.” 

“Does that make me cold like you?” He asked jokingly. You shook your head, burrowing your face onto the comforts of his chest. 

“I’m sure you had your reasons.” 

“I do, I really do. Things were always complicated in this household, but I always thought that I’d be sad if they died, I mean, they’re my parents, you know? But that didn’t happen. I hardly felt anything when my mom died, and now, I hardly even think of them at all. Sometimes, I dream about it; I see her glaring at me and lecturing me about how ungrateful I am for being happy that she died. But the thing is, I’m not happy at all, I’m just not sad about it. And to tell you the honest truth, I didn’t even cry at all. I cried when my dog died, though, when I was like, five or something.”

The only thing on your mind at the time was how much smoke there was despite the abundance of fire trucks that squeezed into the small boulevard. You couldn’t see any flames spewing out of the area, and it didn’t seem to be spreading anywhere. There was only a column of black smoke that continued to rise into the sky. What could’ve caused it, and why was it burning for such a long time?

“I think if they—my parents—had loved me a bit more, then I would’ve been sadder, you know?” 

“Do you think they didn’t love you enough?” Sungchan tilted his head, leaning over until his forehead touched yours. Then, he gave you a subtle nod. 

“I don’t know, it’s somewhere in between being loved and not being loved, I guess. I mean, I was always so hungry for love, and I always thought about what it felt like to truly be loved, to be fed so much of it that I’d be filled with it inside and out. They never gave that to me. Never. Not once did they pamper me or beg me for something, they’d just push me aside and yell at me, complaining about how much I’d spend on cooking tools. That’s all I’ve ever heard from them. So, I made up my mind. I told myself that I was gonna find someone who would unconditionally love me forever. I was still very young at the time, probably in elementary or so, but I made up my mind and have been searching since,”

“And did you end up finding it?” 

Sungchan watched the rising smoke for a while, pensive in his own thoughts. “I don’t know, I’ve been waiting for so long that I’m looking for the perfect person. That makes it a tough ass search for me.” 

“Waiting for the one?” 

“No, even I know that doesn’t exist. I’m looking for a girl I can be selfish with, like, a girl who will drop everything in a heartbeat just because I said I wanted some cake or something. Then I say I don’t want it anymore and throw it out the window, while she is still there, completely content with the fact that I made her do something for me. That’s what I’m looking for.” 

“I don’t think that has anything to do with love,” You said in utter shock. 

“It does!” He replied, insisting in his odd fantasy as he continued to twirl your hair between his fingers. “You just don’t know it because you’re not a man.” 

“So finding a girl who willingly buys you cake and watches you throw it away is love to a man?” 

“Something like that. And when I throw it out, I want her to apologize to me, telling me that she’s sorry because she should’ve known that I would lose the appetite for cake, and had the intelligence and foresight to refuse my initial request knowing that I would get sick of cake, then go out again to buy me something else, asking me what I would like next.”

“Then?” 

“Then I’d give her all the love she deserves for what she’s done for me.”

“You’re insane.” 

“Well, that’s what love is to me. Not that I think anyone can understand, though.” Sungchan replied, giving his head a little shake. Now, he was lying next to you, eyes twinkling as he held your head into his chest, caressing the small of your back with a soft, gentle touch. 

“I’ve never met a guy who thinks like you,” 

“I get that a lot,” He said, resting his chin on the crown of your head. “But I guess it’s just how I think. Like, I’m honestly just telling you what I believe in. I’ve never really cared or realized that how I think is different from other people. I’m not trying to be different, but whenever I say something that I mean, people just think I’m doing it for attention. When that happens, I just feel so hurt.”

“And you’re letting yourself die in a fire?” 

“No, that’s different from this whole thing! I’m just curious,” 

“About what it feels like to die in a fire?” 

“No, I just really wanted to see what you’d say or something,” He said, resting his forehead against yours again while letting the tip of his nose brush against yours. “But if I’m being completely honest with you, I’m not afraid to die. Like, I’d just be consumed with all the black smoke and lose consciousness in a snap. Just like that. The thought of it doesn’t scare me at all, because it’s not as harsh as the way my mom died. It’s not a long, slow process of pain and suffering. A fire’s quick.” 

Sungchan put a stick of Marlboro between his lips and lit it with another match, watching the black smoke from his lips swirl into the sky. 

“That type of death scares me. The type that slowly eats away at you, taking everything you’ve known and loved until it pulverizes it into a dark abyss. I couldn’t stand something like that.” 

Another hour went by, and the fire was completely put out. The firefighters kept it from spreading out into the neighborhood, and all but one fire truck remained in the streets, whirring its orange siren around the streets, its bright, neon light spinning. Sungchan seemed drained of all the energy left of him, and he barely spoke. 

“Are you tired?” You asked. He shook his head.

“I think I’m just spaced out.” 

He looked deep into your eyes, head slowly tilting until his lips met yours. You felt his tongue slowly swirl into yours, the same sense of hunger and desperation felt between the caverns of your mouth electrifying you to the touch. The slightest rush kept him rigid, but he succumbed to deep relaxation and closed his eyes, hands searching across your back until one rested on your shoulder blades while the other, with a firm grip, felt the curves of your ass. The setting summer sun rested on his cheek, emitting a radiant, otherworldly glow in his trembling lashes. He pulled away as if something told him to stop, and then he held your hands, mouth twitching with difficulty, as if what the two of you did had an element of danger to it. 

“Is there someone you’re seeing right now?” He asked. You nodded. 

“But you’re always free on Sundays, no?” 

“It’s… complicated.” You replied, eyes cast down to your feet. 

And then, the summer had set into early autumn, its breeze casting a cold, lonesome touch to your bare shoulders. You told Sungchan you had to go back home to complete some assignments, asking him to come with you for some tea. He said he needed to stay home in case the phone rang. 

“I’d been here the whole time, waiting for the phone to ring all alone. Sometimes, when I’m like that, it feels like my flesh is rotting by the minute, little by little until I melt into this giant puddle of nothingness. That’s how it feels to be inside all the time, waiting for something that will never come,” 

“I’ll be with you next time,” You said. “As long as you make me lunch again.”

“I’ll start another fire in the neighborhood if it means you’re staying for dessert.” 

Sungchan didn’t come to the econometrics lecture the next day. Instead of eating lunch at the cafeteria or the restaurant, you went straight home from your shift at the library, opting for a light, frozen meal of pasta while you continued reading the daily paper with a cold cup of tea. Then, you stood out of your balcony and watched the glimmering moonlight reflected on the river, flowing with a harshness that you see during high tide. You saw a group of high school girls commuting on bicycles, each with a large sports back nervously balanced on their little baskets as they pedaled as fast as they could. One of them had a stack of CDs from a band you weren’t aware of. A couple was walking near the embankment filled with Zelkova trees, hand in hand as the girl adjusted her scarf to protect her from the cool breeze. Near the bench, there was a group of old men feeding pigeons with stale bread as they talked about inaudible qualms about recent politics. It was, in essence, the usual evening scene by the river, but you sat on your balcony with a newfound attention to detail, seeing the gleam of happiness in everyone’s eyes. Whether they were truly happy or just looked the part was something you couldn’t tell, but they did look happy on this quiet, pleasant autumn evening, and due to that, you felt a sense of loneliness that was new to you, as if you were the only outsider to this picturesque evening. 

Come to think of it, the last scene you could remember being in was with Eunseok and his late girlfriend, playing board games in his room with a wafting feeling of true friendship. His girlfriend had died that night, and ever since, a cold, rigid border was placed between you and the rest of the world. This girl, who you weren’t even that close to, what was her existence to you? There was no adequate answer to such a question. All you knew with absolute certainty was that Eunseok’s girlfriend’s death had robbed you of a crucial part of your adolescence. But what that death meant to you and how it impacted you went far beyond your understanding. 

You sat by your balcony for a long time, watching the people passing through your apartment, hoping, with the same loneliness, that Sungchan would be one of the people passing by. He never appeared, and when the next day came, you woke up early, read the papers, and went to campus early for your accounting lecture.

The next day, you ate a light lunch near the campus library, then used the telephone by the reception to call Sungchan to see if he was alone waiting for another call. You let the machine ring about fifteen times, but no one answered. You tried again in ten-minute intervals with the same outcome. Then, you took the bus back to your apartment, finding a letter written by Eunseok in your mailbox. 

Thank you for your letter, Eunseok wrote. My family forwarded it to me, and it made me really happy. I’ve been making progress, and I’ve gotten to a point where I can write one back to you. 

You quickly took off your jacket and sat at the foot of your bed. You left the windows open when you left, hearing the caws of crows sitting idly by the telephone poles near your building. The cool, autumn breeze swayed your sheer curtains, and you held the four pages from him under the moonlight, studying every word that was addressed to you. The colors around you suddenly gleamed with a spiritual vibrance, painting the dull stillness in your life with life the more you read into his letter. You closed your eyes and spent some time collecting your thoughts before picking up the next paragraph. 

It’s been about four months since I’ve been here, he continued. I thought about you a lot, and the more I did, the more I began to feel that I was unfair to you. I think I should’ve been a better person, seeing the way I treated you was cruel. 

This may not be a normal way of looking at things, though, since boys my age never see things as cruel or unjust. Young boys like me are quite indifferent about these things, and rather than being cruel, they care more about what satisfies them. I think these types of questions are often asked by women like you, but I can’t help but feel that it applies to me now as well. Because questions about satisfaction have become rather difficult for me to navigate now, I find myself asking questions about cruelty, like whether or not things have been a bit too cruel for me or if the world itself is unjustly cruel, to begin with. In any case, I think I was cruel to you, and because of that, I led you on and hurt you. 

In doing so, I’d also led myself on and hurt myself just as deeply as I did to you. I don’t say this as a way to make myself feel better, but because it’s true. If I left a large wound inside you, just know that I’ve also left a wound in me as well. So please, don’t hate me. I’m a flawed person, much more flawed than you’ll ever realize. Which is why I don’t want you to hate me. Because if you were to do that, I would really fall apart. I can’t do you what you can do, letting things pass and waiting idly. I often envied how strong you are, which is probably why I led you on like that. 

I might be looking into things a little too much. The therapy they do here is not anything too over-analytical, but several months of it makes you question things with a certain precision that you can’t find outside in the real world. I can’t tell if this type of analysis is making me see things a lot easier or making it harder for me, but regardless, I feel that I’m getting closer and closer to full recovery than I was before, and people here are telling me that it’s true. This is the first time in a while that I was able to simply sit down and write a letter without biting my fingernails about each word I think about. The one I wrote you about four months ago, before I underwent treatment, was something I had to force out of me (was it a bad read? I don’t know, I don’t remember much of it). This time, though, I’m calm. Very calm. The mountains have been doing wonders for me. It’s clean, it’s quiet from the hustle and the bustle of the city outside, and I’m completely cut off from everything, on a daily schedule of group therapy, personal therapy, and then doing some outdoor activities like hiking and calligraphy to take my mind off things. I think I needed a lot of those to fully function again, and I’ve missed you dearly—missed talking to you, and missed conveying all my thoughts to you, my only person left. I used to dread the feeling of going through my thoughts just to pick out a few things to say, but now, the thought of feeling so much again over one person overwhelms me with so much joy. So now, I’m writing to you. It’s about nine in the evening, and I’ve just had my dinner and my bath. Everything is quiet, and there are no lights outside. I usually see stars out my window, but the clouds make it hard to see. 

People here are different. They talk of stars and constellations because they have nothing else to do, and they also talk about different kinds of birds, flowers, and insects that are in the mountains. When I talk to them, I grow aware of how ignorant I’ve been about the world around me, which is humbling, to say the least. 

There are about forty people in this building, alongside twenty more for in-house staff and doctors. It’s such a vast, wide, open place, so this isn’t big at all. It’s so vast that the place might’ve been empty, filled with nature and quiet living—almost so that you feel that this is how people should’ve truly lived, not in the cramped life of the city or even our small town back in Jeju. I mean, of course, it’s not, but I suppose I get to live this way due to certain conditions. 

In my free time, I do calligraphy with the other patients. I don’t really like moving my body as much as I used to when I was a teenager, and despite the beauty of the mountains, I find that I’m still a bit unwell to hike. Sometimes, the characters start to seem a bit jumbled up in my head whenever I try to paint a word or two, but I don’t know if it’s the medication or if it’s just the state that my mind is in when I’m concentrating on a specific word. Today, I tried “acceptance,” which ended up in a blotted mess. I told my doctor about this, and he told me that this blurriness I’m feeling sometimes is not something to be afraid of. It’s not a deformity or an issue I have to fix, but rather, it was something I had to get used to, that we have to accept these blurry visions that we see. Just like each person carries their own quirks and traits, people have their own little ways of feeling things, even if you think you have to correct them. You can’t force these things or else they go funny. Of course, he didn’t go into much detail and simplified a lot of the details, but I think what he was trying to say reached me. This blurriness might be permanent, and we all come here for some clarity in certain ways. As long as we’re here, we can live our lives without having to spread such blurriness to other people because we know that we are blurry in our existence. That’s what separates us from those that are outside: most people are unaware of things going blurry, while in this small, little mountain villa, it’s a necessity to have that blurriness in us. We are open about it all, and we live in peace and quiet so as to not inflict or spread this pain on each other. 

Calligraphy aside, I also join in growing small crops like tomatoes, cucumbers, and spring onions to make the dishes the chefs serve us. We grow everything ourselves, and the people that are here know a lot about farming. They even read books on cultivation, and we have experts come by to give us talks from morning to night about how to properly harvest and take care of our crops. I’ve grown to love this little part of my life, and it’s been a great happiness of mine to watch what I planted grow into something more, getting bigger and bigger each day. Have you ever grown tomatoes? They sprout flowers and then turn into this small, green bulb just before becoming juicy and bright red. 

The one problem about this place is that it’s so picturesque that you don’t want to leave, or rather, you’re afraid to leave. I feel like I’d lose the peace and calm that I’ve had here if I ever left, and even if I think I’ve recovered, I know that I’ll lose all that once I come out of it all. My doctor has been urging me to talk to other people—normal people in the normal world where you live. When he tells me that, the only person I see is you. I don’t really want to see my aunt or whatever family I have left. They never felt like that to me anyway, and hearing about them puts me in a bad mood. I have many things I want to say to you that cannot be put aside any longer, and I hope that you won’t feel burdened by what I have to say. I don’t want to be a burden to anyone, and I can sense how you feel about me. You make me very happy, and I hope that my happiness about your feelings for me has been conveyed in this letter. It’s what I need in my life. You’re what I need in my life. Please forgive me if I’ve written something that upsets you in this letter. As I’ve mentioned, I’m more flawed than you think I am. 

Sometimes, I wonder. I wonder if I never moved out of our neighborhood, wonder if I never met my girlfriend, if we stayed in the same school and lived our lives together, commuting day to day from our houses to school and back. What would’ve happened? Of course, hindsight is never accurate, but I’m trying my hardest to not be cruel to you anymore. It’s all I can do, and I hope I conveyed at least some of my feelings through this letter. 

This place has free visiting hours, unlike a normal hospital. As long as you make an appointment through the phone, you’re welcome at any time. You can even stay with me in my room. Please come and see me whenever you can. I really miss you. 

Attached to this letter is a map of the place. I’m really sorry if this letter got a bit too long. 

You read Eunseok’s letter through and through, reading it again until the sun rose. After that, you went out onto your balcony, watching the sun rise as you sipped a cup of coffee, ignoring the daily paper to read Eunseok’s letter again. You put the pages of his letter back in an envelope and neatly laid it on top of the dining table. Your name and your address, along with your apartment number, had been written out in perfectly messy handwriting, too messy, in fact, for a man who had been practicing calligraphy for about four months. You sat at your dining table, looking through every crevice of the envelope under the dim glow of the rising sun. The return address on the back was Ujeong Inn. An odd but appropriate name for a sanatorium, especially considering that ujeong means friendship.  Leaving the letter on top of your dining table with a half-empty cup of coffee, you slipped on a loose shirt and went out. You were afraid that if you continued staying within the vicinity of the letter, you would lock yourself in your apartment and read it until you’d memorized its entire contents. You walked across the embankment of the Han River without a single destination in mind, just as you would when Eunseok was still in Seoul. You took many sharp turns, keeping the river within your sight, picturing every word that was written out in his letter while pondering each sentence in your head. When the sun fully rose up, you ran back to your apartment and made a call to Ujeong Inn. The high-pitched, nasally voice of a male receptionist answered and asked what you were calling about. You asked for Eunseok and if you could visit today or tomorrow, leaving your name and your address so the receptionist could call back later. The same man called the phone after thirty minutes. Eunseok was available, he said. You thanked the receptionist and hung up, shoving a few clothes and a copy of Adorno’s Aesthetic Theory in your backpack. Then, you opened the envelope again, reading Eunseok’s letter with a glass of wine, waiting for sleep to seep in. You stayed up until three in the morning, washed your face, and waited again while reading Eunseok’s letter until it was five, leaving your apartment to catch the first train to Gwanaksan.

You took the 5511 bus to get to Gwanaksan before noon, following the instructions that Eunseok put in the envelope after getting off at the Engineering building at Seoul University. Initially, you believed that Eunseok’s facility would be housed under Seoul University’s psychiatric department, but upon realizing it was an independent inn that acted under another medical center that specialized in psychiatric care, you were somewhat relieved. Most university hospitals operate under strict, often rigid conditions, and from hearing about Eunseok’s activities and the freedom he experienced at Ujeong Inn, it was a relief on your end to know that he was in good hands. The trip took a little over an hour, and before you knew it, the ridges and cracks of a great mountain range rose over your tiny little frame, an overwhelming sense of the power of nature striking you stuporous against its vast superiority. The autumn winds, which were calm in the city, seemed to roar and wail with the rustling of dense trees, home to a flora and fauna that was extinct in the asphalt and tar of the city. You began your twenty-minute hike up the inn after stopping by a small bookshop across the road, leaving with a pamphlet that showed specific landmarks around the mountain’s main trail, which was a straightforward, linear path that went uphill to the peak of the mountain range. Along the way, lush, large oak trees lined up the dirt path and the bridges that led to the inn, coupled with a plethora of loons and petrels that added a dash of color to the bright, blue sky. Most of the sun’s light was filtered through the foliage of greeneries, reflecting its pigmented tint in the shadows that cast downward onto the surface of your sneakers. No wonder it was such a quiet place, because the inn itself was basically deep inside the mountains!

A large, mounting metal gate covered the inside of the inn, along with thick oak tree stumps that acted as pillars to the entrance. The fact that the inn was situated in the middle of the forest made it seem like the whole world had been buried under it, lost to the civilization and rush of the busy streets in Seoul. Troughs and hills of mountain ranges continued to stack onto each other, giving you an image of an endless visage of scenic nature that you could never find elsewhere. On the left side of the gate, sparse fields of rice that were turning into a light shade of yellow spread out in all directions, cutting through a pristine, clear river that played with the rays of the sunlight. There were no houses around the area; the only thing you could see was a large sign that read UJEONG INN PRIVATE NO TRESPASSING. 

At the crook of the gate was an empty post made of wood, its once bright yellow paint stripping off to show the bare, splintered ends underneath. The presence of a freshly crushed cigarette in an ashtray, a steaming tea cup, and a silent radio on the desk gave you clues about the guard’s whereabouts, and you gave yourself ten minutes to wait for anyone to come back. Soon enough, a guard dressed in a knockoff security vest slipped into his post and asked for your last name and the patient you were seeing. When you replied with Eunseok, he used the pager strapped onto his breast pocket, lifting the gate with a single button that whirred and disturbed the natural silence of the forest in quick succession. 

Once you were inside, you were greeted with a small car park that had a minibus, a large Range Rover, and two dusty Toyota Corollas near the front door. The car park looked like it could hold around twenty cars at maximum, but for today, it seemed like there were only three vehicles there. 

The actual inn itself resembled an old, Korean-styled house made with rustic, pointed clay laid out in a geometric, square pattern. It had a well-maintained Zen garden with shiny pebbles as floors lining a small footpath with stone lanterns. Your guess about the place was that it was once a country house for Japanese or Korean aristocrats during the occupation period, considering the vast, four-story height that it boasted. There was something simple and sleek about its design, but there was also a slight tackiness in the bright red and green paints that adorned its walls. 

Upon reaching a large, stone gate, you were greeted by a woman in a nurse’s scrub. “Are you here for Eunseok?” 

You nodded, and she smiled while guiding you inside the building to sit on a small, beige sofa. As she left to use the plastic answering machine on the reception desk, you took the straps of your backpack off your shoulders, slumping it right next to you as you surveyed the place. There was an eerie cleanliness to it, an uncanny luster that reflected your face in all the furniture and the items strewn around the lobby. The paintings were minimal in color, sometimes having none at all, showcasing simple shapes on a white background. The floor was polished to perfection, almost as if a shiny, waxy sheen had been above your soles to ensure that you wouldn’t leave any dirt as you walked along, absorbing all the dirt and mud that you accumulated to hide it from the cleanliness of the entire building. 

“He’ll be here soon,” The nurse reassured you with another gleaming smile. You nodded, taking note of the deathly quiet that surrounded you after you finished speaking. There were no sounds of any kind, only a white, static silence that murmured underneath your ear canals. In this building, the people, animals, insects, and every microorganism were all sound asleep, even in what should’ve been a busy afternoon. 

Before long, you heard a pair of weak, rubber soles gliding through the slippery floors, and Eunseok was in front of you in a loose shirt that was buttoned halfway. He sat next to you on the beige sofa, its weight only slightly shifting from the impact. At first, you thought he was a hallucination that you conjured up from the fatigue of traveling all the way up into the mountains, but it was the real Eunseok. 

“Tired?” He whispered. You shook your head and gave him a gentle smile, head still shaking slightly from the apparition that was Eunseok. You wanted to reach out to him, feel his fingers against yours to truly confirm that he was real, but you decided against it. You still didn’t know if he was in a state to hold your hand, let alone be here right next to you to talk to you, but an unwavering calm aura that wafted around him gave you the reassurance that you were at least allowed to converse with him once more. 

“How have you been, Eunseok?” 

“Good,” He replied with a little, ghostly smile. “I’m sorry, but I’m not supposed to be here right now. I’m supposed to be back in one of the recreational rooms to do some calligraphy. I just slipped out for a minute, and I have to go back right away, so I’m sorry if I look like a mess right now.”

“Not at all,” You said, doing your best to reassure him with a gentler, softer tone. “I think I like your clean cut.” 

Eunseok’s hair was perfectly trimmed to ensure none of his strands reached the collar of his shift, bangs pristinely sliced just above the edge of his eyebrows. It suited his face very well, framing his angular features and accentuating the roundness of his eyes. He looked as if he had always worn his hair that way, a handsome rendition of an aristocratic schoolboy during the height of the occupation period. 

“I had one of the nurses cut it for me, but do you really think it looks nice?” 

“Yes, I do.” 

“My aunt said it’s too… childish.” He ruffled his hair and let some of the strands topple over each other, creating a mop of disheveled, black hair that was tousled meekly. 

“I wanted to see you just as you came here, not that I had anything urgent to say, but I just wanted to see your face and get used to having you around. If not, then I might have some trouble getting to know you again, even if we’ve practically known each other since birth. I’m just so bad with people, and I think the desolate nature of the mountains made it worse for me. I can hardly recall my aunt’s face now, and I don’t even know what my parents look like anymore,” 

“Well, do you think the treatment’s doing you any good?” 

“I think so, yeah,” He replied, fiddling with his hair again. “But I have to go.” 

You saw him off to the recreational room, and before he slid the door open, he took your hands in his, studying each crevice and line in your palm with his slender fingers. 

“I really wanna thank you for coming all the way here to see me. This makes me very happy, but I don’t want you to feel like I forced you to come here. The last thing I wanna be is a burden, and this is a special place far removed from what you’re used to. If you feel uncomfortable or lost in here, please tell me and be honest about it. I won’t be hurt by it at all. In this place, we can be completely honest with each other.” 

“Of course, I’ll be honest,” You said with certainty. 

Eunseok’s hands trembled as he gently took your shoulder, pushing the small of your back in his direction until your head was leaning on his chest. When you circled your arms around his back, he took his chin and softly placed it on the crown of your head, staying like that for a time and absorbing your body’s temperature into his cold touch. Holding him made you feel warm in your chest, and he suddenly stood up without saying a word, disappearing into the recreation room as quietly as he had come down to the reception desk. 

With Eunseok gone, you went back to the reception and took a nap on the sofa. You didn’t intend to, but you fell into a deep sleep that you hadn’t been able to experience in a long time, filled with a sense of Eunseok’s presence. In an instant, you were transported back into the small comforts of his apartment, in the bathroom where his toothbrush and toiletries were, with the library of books that were on his shelf, and in his sparsely decorated bedroom, lying next to him in his bed. Sleeping soundly in his apartment, you felt the fatigue from your body disappear bit by bit, dreaming of an albatross flying in the distance, in the dim glow of the summer sunset in Jeju. 

When you woke up, the clock on top of the reception desk points at six in the evening.

The lights had changed into a dim, yellow glow, the wind had died into a silent stillness sans the ruffling of tree leaves, and the shape of the clouds was distorted into lines and streaks that symmetrically bordered the moonlight. You wiped off the sweat on your forehead with the hem of your shirt, quickly changing into a long-sleeved sweater in the absence of people. You went into the kitchen by following the signs, getting a paper cup, and filling it to the brim with water while watching the night sky fade into a dark abyss in the absence of light in the forest. There was no sign of anyone around, and no sound penetrated the thick walls of silence that surrounded the entire building. It felt as though you were isolated in a void. 

“Hey, sorry for being gone for a while,” Eunseok’s voice was barely a whisper, and it startled you to the point where you dropped your cup. He tried to pick it up, but you swiftly bent down in a panic, using a crumpled pile of paper towels to soak up the remaining water that spilled out of your cup. Your copy of Adorno’s Aesthetic Theory slipped out of your backpack’s front pocket, and he picked it up to hand it back to you. 

“How could you bring such a book in a place like this?” He joked. He was right, of course; all you could do was shrug. 

“I don’t know, it reminded me of the sort of books you would read back when you were in Dongguk.” 

To this, he chuckled—the first you’ve heard in a long time. Almost so that it shocked you to the spine, giving you an electrifying tingle every time you heard a tingle or a shift of pitch in his voice. He took your hand and dragged you to a large dining hall on the main floor, passing you a tray filled with lush, green salads, boiled vegetables, rice, and seaweed soup. 

“I’m sorry, did you want something else?” He asked. “There’s some pasta, and you can always go eat outside if you wanna go for a smoke,” 

“I’m alright, Eunseok, I quit in June.” You replied with a small, soft smile. His eyes widened with an unreadable expression. Then, he pressed his lips in a firm, thin line, averting his gaze back to his tray of food. 

Twenty other people entered the dining hall, while a handful began to pack their trays and left. Apart from the variety of ages, you pictured Sungchan’s private all-boys school in the dining hall, filled with men in hospital gowns instead of uniforms and speaking in a much lower volume than a large room of electric adolescent boys. There were no loud voices or whispers, nor was there anyone laughing out loud or crying. There was no yelling, and the only type of conversation that was present in the room was hushed and serene, with people either nodding to each other or softly humming with interest. You couldn’t tell what anyone was saying, but the way they spoke reminded you of the secret conversations you would see among girls in your time at the dormitory in your first year, confiding deep, dark secrets in the form of low whispers. You wondered if Eunseok spoke like this with the people he did calligraphy with, and you felt a twinge of loneliness mixed with jealousy at the proximity that the people here had with Eunseok. 

Two doctors sat behind your table with Eunseok, one a sheepish, nervous balding man with glasses in a white, neatly-pressed lab coat and the other a much younger-looking man with slightly greying hair, donned in bright blue scrubs and a surgical mask resting on his chin. The two were immersed in a battle of nodding at each other, with the occasional ah and oh really thrown back and forth. You listened to the way they spoke, and the more you allowed yourself to be a part of their conversation, the more it became apparent to you that the bald man was a doctor and the younger man was on his last leg of residency. 

Nobody in the dining hall paid any special attention to you, nor did they realize you existed at all, almost as if your being there was a natural part of their daily lives in the mountains. It was either that, or the sheer vastness of the nature around them that made people seem almost insignificant—small and irrelevant. 

Just then, the balding man in a white lab coat was now behind you, tapping you on your shoulder. 

“How long are you here for?” He asked. 

“Only two nights,” You replied firmly. “I’ll be leaving via the first bus in the morning on Sunday.”

“Well, if you ever come back, then do so in the winter. It’s really nice here in the autumn, but the snow caps on the mountian ranges adds an even nicer touch to the scenery.”

“I’ll probably be out of here by then,” Eunseok interjected with a forceful, yet gentle smile. 

“But still, the winter makes the place really nice.” He repeated. You weren’t too sure if he was a doctor anymore. 

Once the bald man left with the younger man in scrubs, you turned your attention back to Eunseok, who finished what was on his tray. His slender fingers trembled as he fidgeted with an empty bowl, unease written all over his face. 

“What do you talk about up here?” You asked. Eunseok hummed, pondering your question as if it was a bizarre one to ask. 

“What do you mean? We just talk about normal things like our daily routine, the books we’ve read, tomorrow’s plans, stuff like that. Don’t tell me you think people here talk about crazy things while jumping up and down with an imaginary marching band!” 

“No, no, that’s not what I mean,” You replied hastily, but Eunseok didn’t seem to stare at you the way he did whenever you felt you said something gravely wrong. Instead, he folded his arms and smiled at you, leaning his back on the plastic railings of the chair. 

“If you’re thinking about the noise level, then it’s just what it is. People talk quiet here, and there’s no need for you to talk so loud or draw any attention to yourself.” 

“I guess not,”

You took Eunseok’s tray and stacked his empty plates with yours, clearing the table as he dabbed his mouth with a folded handkerchief. When you put the trays back to a small window into the chef’s kitchen, you found yourself surprised by how much you’ve missed the low hums of people or the white noise that buzzed in one ear and out throughout your daily life. You wanted to hear boisterous laughter and people screaming for no reason, saying ridiculous things that only made sense after a few bottles of beer. Sure, it was the kind of environment you lived in since moving out of Jeju for university, but sitting with Eunseok in an eerily quiet dining hall made you uneasy and anxious. You couldn’t relax, and the more people began to leave the dining hall, the more you likened the experience to that of an empty art exhibit, where the people eating were caricatures of what an alien species thought human life was like. 

Instead of going back to the guest room in the left wing of the inn, Eunseok insisted that you stay in his room while he finished his bath, which was located in the opposite side of the guest rooms. He had his own shower in his room, but he insisted that you use his. 

“The thing is, most of the patients here are men, and I’m not too sure about using the staff bathroom since I don’t know where it is.” He explained, before making the trek to the other side of the room with his toiletries. 

After he was gone, you decided to play the first record that was on his shelf, unaware that it was his own copy of the Johnny Cash album that he gave you for Christmas—the very same one that he cried to on his birthday. To think that it had only been six months since you celebrated Eunseok’s birthday and slept with him was a puzzling realization. It felt more remote than it was. 

Maybe it was because you thought about it too much, distorting your sense of time and rearranging the timeline of memories in your head. 

The moonlight’s low beam was fluorescent enough for Eunseok’s room, leading you to turn his lamp off, legs streteched below his study desk as you immersed yourself into Johnny Cash’s voice. Shadows danced around the white walls of Eunseok’s room, playing with the items that were on his table and turning them into random blotted patterns across the room like a Rorscharch test. Taking a shiny metal flask from your backpack, you allowed the taste of warm wine to sit on your tongue, swirling it around and letting the warmth spread throughout your body. After a few sips, you slipped the flask back into your backpack, body slightly swaying with the shadows that continued to dance in Eunseok’s room. 

“It’s so dark here,” Eunseok suddenly murmured. Instead of standing up to greet him, your arms and legs felt heavier than usual, sticking like glue to the edge of his wooden seat. His light, wispy chuckles echoed back and forth between your eardrums in a trance-like reverie, making it harder for you to believe that Eunseok’s presence was indeed, real. 

“I wanted to turn the lights off because I haven’t seen such a bright, full moon in a long time,” You explained, feeling the apples of your cheeks for more warmth. 

Eunseok brought a large, white candle from the kitchen, striking a match to light the wick. Its bright, orange glow swayed with the shadows that it illuminated, further distorting the lamp and books strewn around Eunseok’s room. As the two of you sat facing each other and the candle amidst the disquiet silence of the mountain, it slowly began to feel like the candle transported you and Eunseok to the edge of the world, far, far away from anything that could disturb you. Eunseok shifted closer until his arms touched yours, causing you to flinch. 

“You smell like wine,” He laughed, resting his head on the crook of your shoulder. 

“I still have some in my flask if you’re allowed to drink in here,” You replied with a blase hint of surprise.

“We’re obviously not allowed to drink in here, but it’s fine. If the nurses and doctors can smoke, then we can also break the rules, no?” 

“Right,” 

“I even have drinking parties sometimes with the guy next door,” Eunseok murmured shyly, concealing a hint of mischief in his tone. 

You took the flask out of your backpack again and handed it to Eunseok, who slowly took the cap off and placed the opening of the flask between his lips. When the record ended, he took the flask in front of your eyes and shook it, signaling its emptiness. You took the flask back into your backpack, and Eunseok began humming the tune of a nursery rhyme that was all too familiar to you. 

“I still think Johnny Cash’s version is the best one,” you remembered him saying at fourteen, messing up the English lyrics to “My Grandfather’s Clock” so badly that it came out in a jumbled mess. A year later, when he turned fifteen, his voice was a little too deep to reach the higher parts of the song. Since then, he opted to hum it every now and then, leaving a distant performance of intimate warmth blended with a sorrowful loneliness that could only be heard in the timbers of his voice. 

He hummed the song again, closing his eyes as he buried his face closer to your neck. Eyes on the candle, feeling the wine circulate across your veins, listening to Eunseok’s peaceful humming, you felt all the tension inside you slip away. When he finished the song, a sheer silence engulfed the two of you in the stillness of the moonlight. 

“I don’t know why, but for a nursery rhyme, the song always makes me feel so sad,” said Eunseok. “I think it’s because I can see a giant, tall, old clock, just me and the thing in a vast, empty room with nobody else.” 

Eunseok, as per the letter he sent you, did look a lot healthier than before. Instead of the ghastly pallor that you were used to, his skin was kissed with the sun’s golden glow, his body firm and rigid with oozing vigor from all the exercise and farming he does in the inn. His eyes still contained the same, deep pools that always put you in a reverie, and his plump, luscious lips still trembled with hesitance, but there was an overall change in him that evolved him into a mature man. The sharp, thin edge of his jaw had disappeared into a more inviting, soothing calm. You couldn’t put a finger on how you felt about this newfound view of Eunseok, but it moved you to think that someone could change so much in just under half a year. You felt even more drawn to him than ever before, and never again would he have the brooding mystique of his former self, one that set him apart from the rest of the pack wherever he went. 

Eunseok had asked you about how you spent the last six months, demanding every detail of your life since she was institutionalized. You discussed your political activities in detail with Mirae, and how the riots have subsided since the June 29 declaration. While Mirae was a recurring topic of conversation between the two of you, you never told Eunseok about Mirae’s involvement with the New Korean Democratic Party or the underground Marxist lectures. To him, Mirae was simply an eccentric roommate notorious for sleeping around with as many guys as she could. Explaining this new side of Mirae to Eunseok proved difficult, especially with the complicated nature of her unique philosophy and what she believed in. Despite it all, the way you wanted to describe Mirae seemed to reach Eunseok, and you hid any mention of Sungchan from him. 

“Wow, I didn’t know Mirae was a staunch Marxist,” Eunseok cooed. “Do you still like her after all that?” 

“I don’t know,” You replied. “I don’t think I do, and Mirae is beyond liking or not liking. She doesn’t try to be liked or unliked, and I guess her honesty drew me in, but I wouldn’t say I like her.” 

“Honest while sleeping with all those men? You’re weird for that,” Eunseok said, stifling a loud chuckle. “How many boys has she slept with?” 

“God, I don’t know. I haven’t been getting updates from her lately, but last I’ve heard, she’s nearing one hundred.” 

“And you call that honest? Is she being honest with those other men?” 

“Yeah, for her, it’s sort of like the increasing number makes the crime less meaningful in some ways. Like, if she told a guy from the get-go that she was sleeping with other people, then to her, that nullifies whatever personal attachment that she might’ve had with the man she was sleeping with.” 

“I think she’s a lot more flawed than me,” Eunseok murmured after thinking about your description of Mirae. 

“I think so, too,” You replied with a nod. “But she’s the type of person way too logical for her own good. If you brought her here, I don’t think she’d last a day. She’d crack the code, tell the doctors she knew what they were doing, then leave after lecturing them on how she already understood her flaws and how to fix them. People don’t like her, but people definitely respect her in some way or another.” 

“I guess I’m the opposite of her, then,” Eunseok said. “I still don’t understand what they’re trying to do to me here, which makes me think that I don’t understand anything about myself.”

“It’s not because you’re not logical or clever.” You explained, grazing your fingers on his tanned arms. “I think you’re quite normal, and even I have things that I don’t understand about myself. I think everyone does to a certain extent, and that’s what makes us normal.” 

Eunseok rested his head on your lap, the same pearly eyes staring straight into yours. His thumb grazed the edge of your lips, but instead of leaning forward, he remained still, head firmly pressed on your thighs. 

“You’re the first person I’ve ever slept with,” He whispered, watching you with clear eyes. You kept your lips pressed firmly, rigid in your seated position. Sweaty palms seeped through the carpeted floor, becoming one with its acrylic fibers. 

“I was ready to sleep with her, I really was.” Eunseok started, fiddling with the ends of your hair, making your body slowly lean closer to him. “We wanted each other, that much was real. We tried everything we could—lube, moisturizer, oils—but it never worked. I don’t know if she was afraid of losing her virginity, but I wasn’t. Even then, I couldn’t get hard, and she couldn’t get wet.” 

You were now lying next to Eunseok on his bedroom floor, a flash of his room back in Jeju fusing with visions of his apartment in Seoul scattering through the white walls around you. 

“It always hurt me because she was always dry, and of course, because I couldn’t get hard, there was simply no way I could get inside her. We tried masturbating; she would jack me off, and I would use my fingers to play with her, but even that started to hurt, so we stopped.”

You nodded in silence. Eunseok cast his gaze at the moon, which started to look bigger and bigger between the shiny luster of his pearlescent eyes. 

“I never wanted to tell you this, but I came here to be honest. That night on my birthday, I was rock hard when you walked into my apartment. I’d been getting hard every time I saw you. I just wanted to hold you in my arms, take off our clothes, touch you all over, and fuck you then and there. I’ve never felt that way before, and I guess it confused me because I loved her so much.” 

“And not me, right?” You said, trying to hide the bitterness and pain in your throat. “You want to know why you were so turned on by me even though you didn’t love me like that, right?” 

“I’m sorry,” Eunseok repeated. “I know we’ve been friends for a long time, but she and I had a special bond, almost as if we were conjoined to the hip at birth. It was like we couldn't let each other go when I moved out of town and into her neighborhood. We were always together, and we understood each other perfectly. When we kissed, I knew we were connected somehow, maybe through an invisible string or a spiritual destiny. She ran to me and cried like a baby when she had her first period, and she was the first person I talked to when I had my first wet dream. After she died, I didn’t know how else I could’ve been able to relate to other people—including you, and I’ve known you longer than I’ve ever known her. I didn’t know how to love another person the way I loved her.” 

Eunseok remained silent for a while, then suddenly burst into tears, trembling in spasmodic tremors. He buried his face under your chest, gripping your waist tight as his hot breath tickled your abdomen, sporting the same suffocating violence that he had brought with him on the night of his birthday. You caressed his back, smoothing the loose wrinkles of his shirt as he clung to you like a baby. For what felt like a few hours, you held Eunseok in your arms, soothing his back every now and then whenever he would wail or hurl, his cries piercing your heart in palpable agony. His candle was now extinguished, and the moonlight was covered with thick, dark clouds condensed in the deepest shade of navy. The night was chilly with silence, slicing through the air with a whir of disquiet that spoke louder than Eunseok’s cries. The mountains were so quiet that they seemed to drown out any noise that stirred its way, the winds flowing from the curtains swaying all sense of sound back to its earthen ridges, to be absorbed in the soil as nature hurls back in a stupefied haze. Eunseok slowly climbed up, tugging at your shirt before planting a soft kiss beneath your ear amidst sniffles. 

“Sorry,” his voice barely a whisper. “Sometimes, I get so confused that I don’t know what’s happening.” 

“I’ve been getting that a lot recently, too,” You replied, returning the gesture by grazing your lips on his cheek. You felt his lips curve into a small smile, and then he placed his palms on your temple, attempting to massage whatever fear and anxieties you had. He gently twisted his hands into yours, intertwining his fingers in the webbed crevices of your palms. Then, he softly tugged at your arm, leading you to his bed, where his entire body lay languid, clinging to your side.

“I’d like to hear more about your life here. What you do, who you meet, everything. Of course, if you’re not tired.” You asked. 

Eunseok smiled and began talking about his daily routine in the inn, speaking in short phrases that were crystal clear. Wake up at six. Feed the cats before breakfast. Go to the cafeteria and eat. Clean out the hallways. Water and tend to the crops grown in the garden. Trim the garden’s bushes. Pick some ready vegetables. Before his lunch, he would have an hour and a half with his doctor. In the afternoon, he spent most of his time reading or doing calligraphy as a group activity. Sometimes, he would dabble in cooking classes. 

“I started playing the piano again,” he said. “There’s a music teacher that comes from Seoul University every week, and sometimes, we all take turns as teachers or students depending on our expertise. I don't have any, but I teach literature to some patients when I can. Some of the patients who specialize in a language like French or English step in to teach for an hour or so, and I’ve picked up some techniques on how to knit, so if you could bring the scarf that I gave you last Christmas, I can adjust it so it won’t be too big for you.” 

“That sounds fun!” You exclaimed in a whisper. 

“What do you think you’d teach if you were here?” He asked. You pondered at the thought, realizing that economics wasn’t necessarily the most therapeutic topic to teach at a place like Ujeong Inn. Ujeong was home to those who wanted to be tethered from the real world, and something like economics was too tied to real events that broke the facade of a peaceful commune—a society of its own that didn’t need to worry about money or value. 

“Honestly, I don’t know. I think I have nothing to offer,” you finally replied. 

“I’ve been putting a lot more effort into studying here than I ever did when I was a student at university. I work really hard to understand new concepts and even complete whatever homework I get on time. It’s nice, and I’ve grown to enjoy it.” 

“So, what do you do after dinner?” 

“Read books, talk with some of the patients, go to their rooms, and play board games. I also go to the music room and play piano, and at night, I like to sit down and work on my autobiography,”

“Autobiography?” 

“No, I’m just kidding. We sleep at ten sharp. It’s a pretty healthy lifestyle, no?” He laughed. You stared at the small, analog clock on top of Eunseok’s desk. It was a few minutes before nine-thirty. 

“Isn’t your bedtime coming soon?” 

“We can stay up late today. I haven’t seen you in so long, you know? I wanna talk more, so please, talk.” 

“Sometimes, when I’m all alone, I think about the old days,” you explained. “When it was the three of us in your room. Do you remember when I had your girlfriend struggling to ride the back of my bike to visit you at the hospital near the sea? I know we pretty much live right next to it, but that one was right next to the shores.” 

“Yes! It was for my appendicitis surgery!” Eunseok recalled with a smile. “I saw you struggle to pedal through my window, and you brought me cake, but it was all smushed up! It was practically inedible, but I tried to smash it up even more like baby food and swallowed it all up! God, that seemed like such a long time ago,” 

“I think you were trying to write a novel then. Your desk was filled with loose-leaf paper, pretty much scattered across the room!” 

“I like to think that there’s a time in a boy’s life where all he does is write and think,” Eunseok nervously uttered. “What made you think of that all of a sudden?” 

“I guess I just miss the smell of the sea a lot. This year, it rained a lot more in the autumn, and for some reason, I can just smell the salt of the sea every time it rains. Before I knew it, I would spend my mornings thinking about that specific hospital visit. Did she ever visit you afterward?” 

“Absolutely not! We had a huge fight after the two of you visited, and that was it. She never showed her face in the hospital again. Terrible! Something about hating hospitals did it to her.” Eunseok laughed. “She was always a kid about it. Nobody likes hospitals, but you swallow that feeling if it means making the one that’s actually stuck there feel better. I don’t know, she just didn’t get it.” 

“But she wasn’t so bad when she was with me.”

“It’s because you were there,” he said, a growing edge to his timbre. “I know it may seem like the two of you weren’t that close, but she was very fond of you. When it was just me, she struggled to keep her weak side hidden. Something to do with your presence made her hide that side of her very well. With me, her mood switches with a simple snap of a finger. She let her guard down in front of me a lot, and she could go from talking about the weather to throwing a long, screaming tantrum. It happens all the time, and has been happening since we met. She did try her best to change, though.” 

Eunseok readjusted his position, lifting his head from the crown of your head to face you. His arms went loose around your waist, and his palms were no longer firmly pressed on your back. 

“She tried hard, but it was no good for her at all. It’s like the more she tried, the angrier and moodier she’d get. She was already a beautiful person, but she never found the confidence to realize that. It was always ‘I need to change, and I need to change fast,’ always thinking about how to better herself every single second. How awful!” 

“I don’t think I’m the best judge of that, but now that I think of it, she did always show her best side when I was around. Whenever I’d come visit your room, she was always smiling, doing her very best to join and play the board games you’d pick out. She wasn’t a sore loser at all, either, and took punishments with grace.” 

Eunseok’s smile grew brighter, eyes crinkling between his lids and his cheeks. “She’d be thrilled to hear that, you know? Even if she never made it obvious, you were her only friend—apart from me, of course.” 

“And both of you were my only friends,” you replied. “I don’t think I can call anyone that now.” 

“That’s why things felt so right when the three of us were together. I was with you, and I could see her best. Whenever you’re around, I can stop worrying about her and relax, see her have fun like a teenage girl. Our board game sessions were my favorite moments in life. I don’t know about you, though.” 

“If I’m being honest, I was restless. I could never tell what she was thinking, and I was always worried if she didn’t want me there or anything. Something about being a third wheel and making things more awkward, I guess.” 

“Well, to me and her, it was the perfect circle. So perfect, in fact, that we knew it was never going to last forever.” 

He sat up, back resting against the bedframe. There was a shadow cast over his eyes from his bangs, which hung loosely on top of his brows. The moonlight illuminated his cheeks in a way that showed its hidden sorrows, dyeing him in blue hues as he put his thumbs together, circling them back and forth. He started, then stopped, his breath falling short whenever he opened his mouth. Then, he looked at you with a sad smile, eyes filled with an ocean of sorrow wallowing within the single tear that rolled down his cheek. 

“Sorry, can we talk about something cheerful now?”

Having moved out of your dorm in first year, nothing you could talk about was cheerful anymore. Peanut was most certainly out of your life, and Mirae had gone from an odd roommate with a penchant for sleeping around into a tour de force of complex, contradicting ideals. The best you could do now was talk about the people you would observe through the balcony that you and Eunseok used to share by the Han River: the group of old men who would feed pigeons and talk about their life, the joggers who brought dogs without leashes to run across the embankment with them, the vibrant high schoolers in bicycles who did tricks with tennis rackets strapped on their backs, and the plethora of oddballs you’d see at night, drunkenly singing hymns from a bygone era. To you, they were nothing but a routine, but the little tidbits of life you encountered made Eunseok smile. To think that he once shared such realities that were now foreign and new to him baffled you. After that, Eunseok attempted to impersonate some of the patients he encountered at the inn. Then, a giant yawn preceded his collapse into a deep, peaceful slumber.

The room continued to glow white from the moonlight, illuminating its rich, heavenly light on Eunseok’s face. Whenever you closed your eyes, you could still hear the faint echo of Eunseok’s low hum, the tune to “My Grandfather’s Clock” faintly leaving your eyes, lingering with a slight reverberation until it completely disappeared into the empty silence of the dark night. That night, when sleep finally carried you in Eunseok’s arms, you dreamed of the sea. It wasn’t the same one in Jeju, with its calm, gentle waves, the smell of brine and wet sand wafting through your nose, and dark skies that swirled into a misty pastiche of white, ocean waves. The breeze that the waves carried was cold to the touch, wrapping its layers of chills around you in a shrill, almost lifeless temperature that made you taste what death would’ve felt like. No matter how much the winds howled and the waves crashed, though, the sea itself remained calm. Why was that? Your ears could hear the roars of crashing waves immolating into a cacophony of distant cries, and yet the sea was flat like a river, calmly carrying its waters back to shore. You tried to throw a stone, and it only skipped three times before sinking into the deep end, bouncing back to the sand where your feet were. 

When you opened your eyes, you felt as if you were still within the world of your dreams, Eunseok’s room drowning in the calm waves of the sea. The dark skies trembled with the wavering shadows cast by the bright moonlight, and on reflex, you stirred up and got out of bed, searching for the stone that you had just thrown into the ocean. What you saw instead was an image of Eunseok, who was also awake, sitting out the windowsill. He had drawn his knees up to his chin, shoulders relaxed in a hunched state. Judging from the glow of the moon and the color of the skies, you assumed it was about dawn, perhaps four in the morning. A violent thirst clutched your throat, but you remained still and watched Eunseok by the window. He wore the same, blue pajamas that he wore before the two of you went to bed, and his hair was held in place by a small, glowing hairpin, reflecting the glow of the moonlight with his forehead. 

Eunseok stayed frozen in place, his pearlescent eyes directly staring at the moonlight. In his hunched state, he looked like a vulnerable prey hiding from a formidable monster in the sea. The outline of his nose and lips were accentuated with the shadowplay of the moon, forming a fragile, yet crystal clear imagination of his dreamy features, almost pulsating with the gentle beat of his heart. His lips pursed open, as if he were murmuring his deepest secrets to the night. The hungry thirst you felt was drying up your throat, but in the stillness of the night, every single noise you made was bound to reach his ears. A single sigh was all it took for him to quickly spin his head towards you, feet gliding back to the bed as his large, pearly eyes were fixated on you. You stared back at him, but there was a ghastly transparency in his eyes revealing a portal to another world, and the more you peered into him, the more you began to realize that the portal led you into an empty husk of nothingness. Your figure was no longer reflected in his pupils; he was light years away from you. 

When you reached out to touch him, he trembled, quickly running away and disappearing into the shadows. Then, he was on top of you, all seven buttons on his blue pajama top unbuttoned, revealing a lanky, tanned chest bathing in the soft light of the moon. His body had the heartbreaking shine of newborn flesh, the shadowplay revealing all the details of his skin in perfect clarity; the curves of his nipples; the hollow lines of his collar bones; the depth and pulsating muscles of his arms; the soft indent of his navel; his protruding hip bones; shapes which keep morphing with the light and shadows that danced on the surface of his body. He was simply nothing like the body that you held when he cried with agony that night, all imperfections no longer marring his flesh. He was beautiful, of course, but there was a fragile rigidity that clamped him shut, making the act of holding him alone awkward. Even if all you were doing with him that night was joining your body with his, there was an inkling of thought that consumed you. For no matter how much you had him inside you, Eunseok could have never shared his imperfections with you. The only thing you could’ve done was hold him tightly, feel what he truly felt inside you, letting all of his sorrow and heartbreak out into your caverns. 

Eunseok’s body before you was different; reborn through the many phases of the moon. All sense of boyishness had been stripped away since his girlfriend’s death, replaced by the metamorphosis of a mature man. There was nothing sexual about it, and you could only stare in astonishment at the perfection of each detail that he showed you—a spectacle of raw authenticity. He stripped his pajama pants down, exposing his naked truth. Then, he disappeared once more, this time out the door, leaving it swinging ajar. 

You stayed sitting upright on the bed for what felt like a very long time, until it occurred to you that you had to leave. You took your jeans on the floor and hastily buckled them to your hips, silently rushing to the kitchen in the main hall for a glass of water. You took the time to stretch your amrs and legs, letting the tension of your dream go while you thought of the vivid richness of what you saw. You went back to bed and found Eunseok sleeping soundly, careful not to stir anything. Sleep never came until dawn gave you a taste of the first orange luster of sunlight, letting all the shadows from the moon disappear all at once.

“Good morning,” You felt a cold hand touch your cheek. 

“Good morning.” You replied. Eunseok had to hold your hand and support your weight all the way down to the dining hall. Your eyes never met his, and you tried your best to feel the touch of his skin, comparing it with what you saw that night. 

“How did you sleep?” He asked.

“Alright, I guess,” you said. He tilted his head in concern, hesitating before rushing to the start the kettle. Next to him was a large box filled with teabags and instant coffee pouches. “Your eyes are red, though, did you not get any sleep at all?” 

“I woke up in the middle of the night,

“Oh no, is it because of me? Did I snore?” Eunseok asked with concern. 

“No, not really, I just had a weird dream about you. Something about us on the beach back in Jeju, this time as adults.” You lied with a smile. At first, you thought that Eunseok had caught on, acting embarrassed about revealing his body to you, and then, you realized that the transparency you saw was gone, your silhouette hazily etched into his irises. 

“What was it about?” 

“I don’t know, just us walking down the beach as usual when we were children,” 

“Did anything happen after that?

You shook your head, letting the discomfort of the dining hall’s plastic chair ground you to the earth. Eunseok brought a tray of toasted bread, butter, and a salad, and you couldn’t bring yourself to touch your food. 

“We should go back to Jeju together sometime, when we’re both not like this,” Eunseok said hastily, as if he was in a rush. 

“I think we should,” you replied, not knowing what to say. There was a slight hesitance upon Eunseok bringing Jeju and the past up a lot more than he did before, but you supposed Ujeong was a place where he had to confront all of that—even if it hurt him in the process. 

“I know it isn’t much, but would you like to go to a picnic with me? There are no seas out here or anything, but it might make us remember a time when everything was alright, you know, when we were both just kids growing up in Jeju,” He asked almost pleadingly. 

“I’d love that,” you replied with a smile. 

“I have to tell the superiors that I want to cancel my schedule for you, though, is that alright?”

“Of course, take as much time as you need,”

After breakfast, Eunseok took you to a room on the other side of the building. It was a spacious enclave with scratching posts on every corner, scattered around with many cat toys that had vibrant colors of feathers on them. Two men who looked a little bit older than Eunseok were already present, feeding the cats and playing with them. One of them was rolling on the floor while a large, tabby cat had tangled its claws in his hair. Eunseok muttered a small good morning to the pair, and they returned the greeting with glee. The windows were large, encompassing the entire room as the curtains were drawn to reveal the back garden, which was well-manicured with a varying flora of flowers. Spotting Eunseok, a slim, black cat began to strut towards him, rubbing its head on his ankles. He crouched down and gently patted the cat’s head, watching it roll over to reveal its pale underbelly with low purrs. 

“Do you do this every morning?” You asked Eunseok. 

“Yep, the facility says petting cats or any animal is good for you, so they try to make it the first thing we think of when we wake up,” he explained, scratching the cat on the bottom of its chin.  “I don’t know why, but the entire inn has a fondness for cats. I was indifferent to them before I came here, but I see why they’re so loveable now. They’re not like dogs who demand love, they just come to you when they know they can get love.”

After quickly telling the cat to go away, he went to one of four litter boxes and scooped up its droppings, shoveling them into a large, plastic bin nearby. He then replaced the litter box with new, clean cat litter, his task quickly disrupted by a beige white berman with deep, blue eyes. When you tried to pick it up to assist Eunseok in his task, the cat retaliated by scratching your hands. 

“Don’t worry, he won’t hurt you, even if he looks like he would. Kokuma is one of the friendlier cats here.” He picked Kokuma from you, its demeanor immediately changing upon being held from Eunseok. Rather than the slanted, deep blue hues of wariness that Kokuma gave you, the black, shiny luster in his pupils grew to encompass its entire eyes, softening into large pools of twinkling yearning. Eunseok’s smile at you while he stroked Kokuma’s chin was so radiant and blinding, carrying an infectious weight to it that made you grin from ear to ear. You were still wondering about your dream and whether that was the real Eunseok or not, but you still weren’t certain if the Eunseok that was in front of you, filled with the vibrance of life, was the same one that coldly showed his raw nakedness that night. 

“I’ve started to like mornings a lot more, you know?”

“Yeah? I remember you used to hate them back home, and I had to go all the way up into your room to wake up and go to school together. Then, when you moved out, I would sometimes cycle to yours just to wake you and your girlfriend up!” You said, picturing a perfect scene of your younger, uniform-clad self, clutching a backpack and kicking your bike down Eunseok’s garden to barge into his room, incessantly banging on his door until he got up to open it. 

“Yeah, I remember that,” he replied with a smile. “Mornings used to be so bleak, like a reminder that you’re alive for another day. Now, it’s a reminder of anything fresh and new, and I start to get sad around the afternoon, when the sun starts to go down.”

“I think it’s just a reminder of us getting older, no?” You interjected. 

“I guess, but I don’t think I mind. Getting older is also something fresh and new in its own way,” Eunseok continued playing with Kokuma until it went away to drink some water out of its bowl. He whistled to the tune of “My Grandfather’s Clock,” attracting two cats his way with his low lullaby. Whenever you tried to pet one, it retaliated and demanded nothing but Eunseok’s touch. 

I envy you, you sly, sly cat, you thought, watching the gleaming grin plastered on Eunseok’s lips as he toyed with two cats at the same time. 

“Do you wanna come eat lunch with me?” He suddenly asked, eyes perking up to you while trying to distract the cats who began meowing for his attention. 

“No thanks, I have to work on some schoolwork. I’ll join you when we go out, though,”

You slipped out of the room and went to Eunseok’s bathroom, washing your face and trimming your nails with the inn’s nail clippers. You expected his bathroom to be simple, but the hospitality of the inn added an impeccable array of expensive soaps, facial creams, and moisturizers by his sink—almost to a point where you wondered if he was truly alone in his room or not. While most of the patients were male, there were a few female patients who were often situated by the music room, either playing piano or guitar as they sang songs that were at least a decade old. Albeit a taboo, you also thought of a nurse coming in past ten in the evening. All speculations disappeared the moment you rinsed your face with another splash of cold water. Eunseok wasn’t the type to sleep around, especially now that he was tangibly confused between his feelings for his girlfriend and you. Closing your eyes, you thought of her, and how relaxed she was whenever with Eunseok. It was a new form of trust that transcended everything you knew about emotions—something that was likened to the fusion of two entities into a cellular level. She never needed to worry whenever she was with Eunseok, because he always got straight through her, reading her mind and understanding her on a molecular level. 

Tell me, did you ever get jealous? Of me? Of anyone that Eunseok was with? Did you ever speculate if he was with others when the two of you were not by each other’s side?

No way! You can hear her respond in your head with a vigorous shake of the head. That boy can hardly go on without having to worry about me all the time. Do you think he has the capacity to create space in his mind for other people! No! No way! 

You must be lucky, then! Because he still worries about you even when you’re dead! 

When you blinked, you saw her outline through the mirror, still wearing the school uniform that she shared with Eunseok. She still looked the same as she did then, with an innocent youthfulness that paled in comparison to what you and Eunseok went through in the throes of young adulthood. Almost as if flaunting the permanence of her age, you can imagine her laughing with good, yet prideful intentions at the thought of Eunseok seeing other women in the facility. 

You know, you’re stupid to think of such things! Don’t you believe in him wholeheartedly the way I do?

I don’t know, really. I want to, but it’s a little difficult right now. 

Entering the kitchen, the image of Eunseok’s dead girlfriend nodding and waving goodbye transferred into the ripples of the coffee you made. As you swirled your mug, she would swirl, too, swimming in a black pool, sloshing away until you pressed the mug onto your lips. You took your macroeconomics textbook open, quickly tossing your sweater aside in favor of a white tank top in the sunny kitchen. It was a little odd trying to memorize graphs on a kitchen table that wasn’t yours. 

Eunseok came back from his calligraphy lessons ar noon, taking a quick shower and changing his clothes. He joined you in the dining hall for lunch, then walked you to the front of the gate. The absent guard was now in his little post, listening to a static-ridden radio while reading a book. He waved at the two of you as you walked past the gate, and you returned the gesture with a friendly sentiment. Eunseok went to the logbook and wrote the details of his outing while entertaining the guard with casual small talk. 

“It’s gonna rain later in the evening, so make sure to come back by then. The valley gets very wet and muddy during those times.” He said, mouth stained with the residue of nicotine gum. “Take care,”

“He seems nice,” you said, looking behind you as Eunseok placed his hand on the small of your back. 

“I think he’s a little bit like me,” he replied, tapping his head.

The guard was right about the weather—almost so that the sky’s piercing blue hues served to hurt your eyes. The only trail of white clouds that was left was a limp cluster that looked like torn-up cotton balls stuck to a technicolor backdrop on a child’s art project. Instead of taking the dirt path down the hill and into Seoul University’s engineering building, Eunseok took you up on a hike, traversing through large oak trees leading to a steep, narrow hill. He climbed with a confident stride, legs maneuvering the area with perfect, crisp memory. With hardly a single word uttered between the two of you, Eunseok concentrated on his hike, his bomber jacket hoisted up his left shoulder. 

You watched his frame solemnly move from side to side, his jacket miraculously staying in place despite the nature of the hike. Sometimes, he would look back at you and smile, ensuring that your eyes would meet. 

The trail ended after another ten minutes of upward walking until the two of you reached a flatline. Near the edge of the path, there was a small bench situated at another town’s entrance, and you rested there, wiping your sweat with the hem of your shirt while dousing yourself with water. Then, the two of you got back to walking, this time on a dirt pavement that lined an empty neighborhood of old, Occupation-era houses designed for cheap, communal living away from the main hub of the city. The dead, yellow grass reached your waist and covered a quarter of the houses’ height, alongside dry grubs of pigeon feces that lined the tarnished clay finish of the roofs.

“There was a farmland around here, as you can see with the barren fields. They used to grow rice here, but all of that’s been cleared out since. It’s not really that easy to grow anything out here when the winters get too harsh, and the soil’s been degrading because the weather hasn’t been too nice to it. Everyone migrated towards the city, abandoning this place into an empty wasteland of sorts,”

“Some of the houses here still look like they can be used, no?” You asked. Eunseok peered at one of the bigger houses next to a barren, empty field marred with nothing but dry soil, then snapped his head back to you, as if remembering a crucial detail. 

“There are rumors that the Unification Church used it as one of their communes, but I think they’ve moved down South since. It’s either they couldn’t handle the weather, or they got sick of the mountains. After all, most of the people in that cult are city folk.”

A little beyond the moat and the barren fields was a clear, pristine view of Seoul’s city skyline reflected in the deep depths of the Han river. From the corner of your eyes down to the scope of your peripheral vision, you began to mentally trace the vastness of the city with your pupils, black dots going back and forth as each building merged together with the blurry haze of the autumn sun. Eunseok continued to follow the fence that lined the abandoned houses, unfazed at the city in front of him. With downcast eyes, he continued to trot along, light steps posing symmetry with the rustic, worn-down fences beside him. 

“This reminds me of the old days, just without the sea,” Eunseok whispered. He tilted his head, glassy, beady eyes meeting yours. Somehow, his eyes blinded you more than the beaming sun.

“Well, if it makes you feel better, we did try to revive this ritual when you moved from Jeju to Seoul. We were practically walking back and forth between the entire city!” You cheered, jogging to his side to match his steadfast pace. 

“Even that feels like ancient history to me now.”

At that time, you couldn’t muster a response. You wanted to stop dead at your tracks and pull him into a hug in the middle of the dead roads, holding him with all the delicateness you had in your heart. You wanted to tell him that ancient history is always relevant in the present, and that the past doesn’t have to continue to define your trajectory with him. 

Eunseok-ah, we can go on those walks again—hell, even walk through all of Seoul once more, but it will be different once you’re out. We’ll be walking and revisiting history like a sacred, respected tourist spot, full of all the things we’ve learned and understood about each other. 

Then, Eunseok walked further again, and you felt that he was too far away from your fingertips. No matter how hard you chased after him, he was always two steps forward, only looking back to flash you a fragile, broken smile.

The dirt path came to a halt, and what was beyond the two of you was a lush forest filled with the coos of distant autumn birds and a flora of old growth trees expanding into the edge of the mountain range. There was nothing beyond the point that Eunseok began walking, and yet it was endless all at once. The city you were so familiar with slowly turned into a green haze, and once you looked back past a point where the green, prickly grass began to reach your waist, the beige finish of the dirt path disappeared completely. Eunseok continued treading onward, then stopped to slowly sit down on one of the barren, empty hills that expanded into an infinite illusion of greeneries.

“Sorry about last night again, I don’t know what got to me. All of a sudden, I was this giant ball of nervousness, and I couldn’t control the tears anymore. It was a bit selfish of me to unleash that after you’ve come all the way from Seoul.” He began, eyes focusing on the piece of grass he twisted between his fingers. You took the empty space next to him, maintaining a loose, spatial distance between him. Whenever Eunseok was like this, he was always difficult to get close to. 

“It’s all good.” You reassured, flashing him a warm smile.  “We both have a lot of things and feelings we want to straighten up and get out into the open. So if you need anyone to spill everything on, then spill it all on me. After that, we can understand each other better.” 

“What will happen after that? After we’ve understood each other?” 

“It’s not a question of what then, it’s just a little selfish thing of mine. People have certain fixations, like how Peanut is focused on being a neat freak, and Mirae has her own rigid, albeit complex philosophy that she wants to follow. Mine just happens to be trying to understand you as best as I could, and as best as you’ll let me.” 

“So it’s like a hobby?” He asked, widening his eyes at the prospect. 

“No, not really. I think most people would call that friendship or love, but if you want to think about it as a hobby, then that’s fine by me.” 

“Why do you always end up liking weird people like me?” 

“I don’t see you like that, to be honest.” After a few seconds of silence, you pursed your lips in a long, slow sigh. 

“But I am weird. I wake up in the middle of the night so scared, even when I don’t have any nightmares. I don’t know why, but it’s this feeling of never getting better again. I’ll always stay in this weird, blurry haze, never having a clear head, and grow old like this, wasting away in the inn and the mountains. When I think of that, I get these horrible chills that make me stay up all night.” Eunseok replied, the fragility in his voice grating your ears like grass. You cautiously shifted closer to him, leaning your head on his shoulder as your wrapped your tiny arms over his broad, wide shoulders. He remained frozen, eyes staring into a blank fixture of green hills as he unconsciously unwinded the twisted grass from his fingers. 

“Sometimes, I feel like she’s calling to me in the darkness, haunting me because death parted us. I can hear her voice calling for me, calling me out to join her because she can’t stand being alone. I don’t know what to do,”

“What have you been doing?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, please.”

“I won’t.”

“Sometimes, I go to the bathroom and stare at myself. Then, I stare at my penis, thinking of you. And I cry, cry so hard that some of the tears drop while I stroke myself to feel any sense of warmth around me. Is that sick?” 

“No, I don’t think it’s sick at all. I just wish I was there for you,” you replied. 

“Be here for me now, then. Right here.” 

Eyes looking deep into his for answers, you began shifting your weight to his side, slowly laying his head on the soft grass. He laid flat on the ground, hands shivering as his fingers explored the small of your back, searching for something that can never be found. You dipped your head towards his temple, forehead grazing his as the tips of your nose touched. Your eyes found his, silent permission awaiting his imminent approval. Once he gave you a quick nod, you closed your eyes and kissed him, the edge of his mouth feeling light as a feather. The apprehension in your bodies quickly started to fade away, and a lonesome desperation consumed Eunseok. In an instant, he grabbed your body close to his, letting all of him fuse with you in a microcosmic level. A sweeping breath from his lungs tingled in your ears, reassuring you that this was what he wanted. This was what he needed. And yet, the hunger in his tongue delving deep inside the caverns of your mouth made you apprehensive. He responded to every single inch of your body with a bottomless hunger that was difficult to keep up with. Hands threading your hair, tangling within your locks, he pulled you in deeper—and in an instant, it was almost as if he dyed you with all the dark colors that plagued him since you last saw him in Seoul. 

“You don’t need to hold back,” you whispered, trying to hide the nervousness that overwhelmed you. As if knowing this, a deep stare engulfed you within the prison of his psyche, enveloping you into his austere smolder. 

He slid further down into the hem of your dress, tugging at it and pushing it upward to expose your bare skin to the gentle, autumn breeze. He was warm yet cold at the same time, fingers grasping your waist and never letting go. His rough tongue never left an inch in your stomach, appetite increasing as he found his hands under the cups of your bra. In a quick motion, you raised your torso up and helped him unclasp it, slender fingers desperately squeezing each line and curvature of your breasts. His free hand made its way to feel the cotton of your panties, sneaking past the binding elastic to feel the soft moisture of your slit. 

“Tell me something,” He whispered. 

“What?” You replied with bated, agonizing breath. 

“Will you wait for me until I get better?” 

“Of course I will,”

“Will you do me a favor and stop saying of course to everything I say?” 

“Sorry, I’ll stop.”

He continued to play with your clit, thumb pressing lightly on its surface while his fingers found its way into your entrance. His lips found its way to your perked up nipples, grazing his tongue around its shape to memorize its outline in perfect clarity. You grabbed his hair, shaky fingers desperately trying to unzip his jeans. 

“You’re still wet,” He smiled. 

“You’re warm,” You replied, gaining the courage to meet his eyes as you pressed your palm on his crotch. 

In one, swift motion, you gently slid his trousers down to his knees, with Eunseok awkwardly kicking them to the side. As his fingers entered your walls, searching around them as you clenched yourself tightly to his electrifying touch, your hands played with the hem of his boxers, casually slipping your fingers in and out until a heaving, longing snarl escaped his hungry lungs. 

“Do you want me to touch you?” You asked. A flimsy nod was enough for you to take his girth within your fingers, thumb placed at his tip as you slowly moved up and down, feeling him grow underneath your grasp. He sucked his breath in with your every touch, occasionally losing focus and pulling his fingers out of you. 

Gently, you stood up and laid Eunseok on the grass bed, licking his abdomen until your tongue found its way to the tip of his penis. With two hands, you continued to clasp your fingers around his member, one tightly held at his shaft and the other firmly gripping his length. You took him all in, breathing in his intoxicating scent as you let him reach the entrance of your throat. 

“Stop,” he murmured. “I want to make you feel good,”

“You don’t have to,” You whispered with a smile, your breath tingling beneath his girth. 

“We can make each other feel good, Eunseok.” 

Intertwining your fingers with his, you led his stiff length to your core, slowly bucking your hips in response to every jolt and jitter from his member. He held your hands tightly, throbbing and crying with lustful pain as you continued to move your hips to a pace that didn’t overwhelm him. Soft cries of desire and loneliness filled the barren, empty fields of green, and the uncomfortable prickle of grass disappeared, replaced with the needy warmth of Eunseok’s body inside yours. He sucked in a breath, hips rocking forward in a desperate attempt to follow the motions of your hips. Your chest heaved, and your breath began to run out, but you continued to ignore the beads of sweat that trickled from your chin down to his exposed abdomen, wet palms gripping his in the damp grass surrounding the two of you. He whispered his girlfriend’s name underneath his breath, eyes covered with locks of deep, jet-black hair. Despite this, you continued to move your hips, adjusting to every single twitch that you felt inside you. 

“Eunseok-ah,” 

The immense pleasure building up between your legs loosened into static bliss, feeling Eunseok beneath you, attempting to unlatch himself from your feverish grasp. Now, he was on top of you, firm hands gripping your body tight while your fingernails scratched into his bare back. Just when you thought the wild tensions in your legs began to fade away, the sensation was suddenly replaced with a wave of euphoria. Being filled with Eunseok’s warmth gave you a mixed temperature that blended his cold loneliness with his aching, yearning heat. The rise and fall of his chest and the faint heartbeat that reverberated with it fused with yours; this was the closest you had ever been to Eunseok. 

“I never told you about how my dad died, didn’t I?” Eunseok said, breath hazy and interrupted with quick pants. 

“I think you did. It was during the war, right?” You replied, removing his limpness outside of you as you watched some of his cum trickle down your thighs. 

“Yeah, but I never really went into detail about what happened after that.” 

Eunseok cleaned up after himself with his shirt, zipping his jacket all the way up to his neck to defeat the cold. He offered the piece of cloth to you, and you did the same. 

“After my mom found out my dad’s body got washed up in Vietnam, she was never the same. Of course, I was a kid, so I didn’t really know what was going on, but I was old enough to understand what it meant when she would lock herself in her room every night, crying and praying all the time. We always fought and bickered before that, but since then, she has never fought with me. She was always so quiet, serving me my meals and picking me up from school.”

To your recollection, Eunseok’s mother was someone inviting and chatty, always updated with gossip looming around the parent’s association. Unlike the other housewives who were often lonely at home, Eunseok’s mother was a radiant beam that shonen even brighter once her husband came home. 

“It was the day I had to go home with you, because my mom didn’t show up. The moment I went home, I could smell something vile in the air, kind of like rotting meat. It made me sick to my stomach, but I went inside the house anyway, calling for my mom, who, by this point I was already used to not answering me. I called and called, I even stopped calling her mom and called her by her full name, but she never replied. With my little hands and feet, I tried to open the door, and when I finally saw it, I didn’t know what to think. My own mother, was suspended in tacky bedsheets that she tied together to the main light in her room. By then, she was so frail and thin that the bedsheets didn’t snap or break the lights. After that, I lived through everything like a blur. Maybe that way, the image of her being strangled to death wouldn’t be in my head forever. I then lived with some relative who I never knew existed, and she was alright. She was a little too old to take care of me, but she made my meals on time and even sent her neighbor to pick me up from school. That was when we started walking to the beach a lot, because no matter how much I told myself that this will be my new normal, it never clicked. I was always going to come home to my dead mother, and that will stay with me for the rest of my life. Going to the beach instead of going straight home was the only way I was able to add a new routine to my life, something that will make me forget about it all.” 

Eunseok stopped at his tracks, taking a few seconds to breathe before moving forward again. 

“The way she killed herself reminded me of how my girlfriend died. They couldn’t stand the grief of losing someone in their life. With my mom, it was my dad’s death that did it. The same could be said about her, even if there was no evidence or indicators that made me understand why she did what she did. I’m not saying she had a perfect upbringing; she was far from it. That’s probably why we got along so well when I moved into her neighborhood after that relative died, and my aunt took me in. From the first day of school, she latched onto me, saying we had the same eyes. Then, I found out her dad died in the war, just like mine, and we seemed to have an automatic, almost spiritual understanding of each other. The more I was with her, the more she reminded me of my mother before my dad died. She liked to read a lot, stayed inside most of the time, and talked. Talked so much that sometimes, it made me forget that my mom had died at all. Her words had a way of filling my brain with things to think about, things to distract myself with. She was the kind of person who told stories that came to life, and I don’t know why I tortured myself the way I did, but whenever I came across a writer who spoke life into their characters, I’d cry. I cried a lot.” 

Whenever Eunseok paused, his fingers would twirl into the tall grass, often picking at them to make long ribbons that decorated his hands. Whenever he was finished or if the grass began to snap with the pressure he put on them, he would discard them immediately. 

“I never found her when she died, but I can still remember it vividly. I came home from the beach with you, and all of a sudden, two police cars were parked outside of my aunt’s house. They came to ask me a few questions, and then told me that they found her dead on the island’s only highway, sprawled out on the road and flattened by large tires. They took me to the coroner and had me examine her body to identify her, and it took me a while, but I think I was there the entire night, looking at her mangled corpse. I tried talking to her, to see if, by some miracle, she was alive and would respond to me. But the more I conversed with her, the more I felt that I was just talking to myself, so I left and went home. She had the school uniform that we wore, and her dirty bag was sealed in a plastic bag with scribbles and labels that I couldn’t read. I demanded to look through her stuff, but the police had told me they found nothing. No suicide note, no plans to die, nothing. Absolutely nothing. It was just her schoolbooks and a board game that she wanted to play. For the longest time, I believed the incident was an accident. I just thought she took a wrong turn and happened to exit the highway, since it was en route from the school to our neighborhood. Of course, that’s an illusion I fed myself with. How the hell could she turn to a blocked-off highway with large, concrete walls around it to make sure nobody dumb enough would climb it and end up being run over like her? The police later came to me that week and told me they found a grappling hook! A grappling hook! Disposed at the edge of the highway! Why the hell would she have a grappling hook!” 

With this, Eunseok slowly shook his head. 

“I haven’t seen you since then. I just couldn’t talk to anyone at all until the funeral, when I forced myself to meet you.”

The two of you were back at the entrance to the dirtpath, the marmalade glow of the setting sun dyeing the entire, empty neighborhood in warm hues. 

“I’m telling you, I’m a lot more flawed than you think I am. This sickness that I have is a lot worse than you think. It’s not just my girlfriend, but it’s everyone around me. It’s like I kill everyone that I end up getting too close to. And that’s why I want you to move forward, without me. Please don’t wait for me anymore. Sleep with other men and live life. Don’t let thoughts of me hold you back. Otherwise, you might end up dead, too, and that’s the one thing I don’t want to do. I don’t want to interfere with your life like that. I care about you too much to ever want to tarnish you like that. All I want is for you to remember me and come see me when you can. That’s it.” 

“But that’s not all I want, though,” You replied. 

“You’re wasting your life away by being involved with me,” 

“How do you know that? I’ve known you since I was nine, and I’m still here, alive and well, right next to you,” 

“But I might never recover. Are you still gonna be there then?” He asked. You couldn’t tell if he was desperate or curious anymore. 

“You’re letting yourself get scared by all these things: the dark, the dead, the sickness. You have to let go and forget them to recover, and I’m sure you will.” 

“That’s if I can,” Eunseok replied, shaking his head. 

“Once you’re discharged, do you wanna live with me?” You suddenly asked. “Then I can protect you from everything. I’ll be there for you when things get too hard, and I will always be right next to you so you can hold me whenever you’re feeling lonely. It’s no sea or anything, but it’ll be just like Jeju. We’ll walk up and down the Han River until we reach the end of it.” 

“That would be wonderful,” 

Eunseok pressed his languid weight against yours, lacing his fingers underneath your palms.

The last thing Eunseok said to you was a faint “goodbye,” and then, your time at Ujeong Inn ended just as swiftly as it had begun. It rained when you had to leave, and Eunseok didn’t see you out the door. He was right about the inn and its facilities, for it took a while for you to adjust to the “real world.” Unlocking the door to your apartment and entering what was supposed to be your home suddenly felt unfamiliar. Sometimes, apparitions of Eunseok would start to appear at the kitchen table that the two of you shared when he still lived next to you, listening to his meager record collection while making dinner on a Friday night. Now, you lay in bed in a daze, watching a stream of abstract colors wash and waver around your eyes. It took a few blinks for them to disappear into your empty, white ceiling, and before you could sleep, the ungodly hour struck at three in the morning with fifteen-minute intervals of blaring sirens outside your open window. The ghost of Eunseok’s presence was felt strongly in the empty spaces of your bed, as if any minute now, he would come crawling next to you, resting his head on your chest while sharing each other’s warmth. You could feel his tender, jolting skin next to yours, the ebbs and flows of his shaky breath coming up and down with each contraction of his chest. In the darkness of the night, you returned to the inn and the visions of your dreams there, smelling the fresh, lush greeneries a distance away. You thought of his naked, frail body, picturing him playing with the cats at the inn or drawing beautiful renditions of calligraphy with his slender fingers gently gripping the tip of the brush. Your fingers slowly made their way to your entrance, pushing more fingers until you could fill yourself up with a loose pastiche of his girth until you came. That managed to help you sleep a little, but before you knew it, your alarm clock rang in your ears, signaling your true return to the real world. 

The next time you saw Sungchan was a week later, after you had eaten lunch at the cafeteria on your way to your macroeconomics lecture. Sungchan was with a group of other boys, presumably soccer players, as all of them had been wearing cleats. When he saw you, he approached you alone. 

“So, what’s going on with our deal?” He asked.

“You mean your so-called restraining order?” 

“Ditch macro and come eat lunch with me.” 

“I already ate.” 

“So? Don’t care. Order a coffee or something. Just come with me.”

The two of you ended up at a nearby cafe, where he ordered a giant plate of pork cutlet while you had a serving of coffee. He still wore a sweaty, soccer jersey with shorts and knee-high socks tucked underneath a pair of tightly-laced cleats. He seemed to enjoy the cutlet and took three or four bites at once while quickly drinking a glass of water. 

“Things haven’t been good at the record store, sales have been rough and I practically had to be home waiting for calls. Something about negotiating the building being sold off and my dad from Thailand calling at weird times to talk about it,” 

“Any fires lately?” You asked. 

“That was fun! We should do it again,” Sungchan had another glass of water, took a breath, and stared into your eyes for a while. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Sungchan said, snapping his fingers around your eyes. “You look like you’re not here,” 

“I’m alright, I’ve just been tired from a trip.” You replied. 

“Where did you go?” 

“Gwanaksan. Just over there.”

“Why?” 

“For a hike?” 

“Did you meet other boys there?” 

“What’s that to you?” 

“I don’t know, I can’t stop thinking about when we kissed.” 

“That’s nice.” 

“Not even a proper reaction? God, you talk so weird.” 

“Do I?”

“Yeah, anyway,” Sungchan snapped, taking the menu in his hands while holding his free arm up high to call a waiter. “I was thinking, right, that if I could switch things in my life around to make it more ideal, then I would’ve absolutely been happier if my first kiss had been with you. Then, I would wonder later in my life about you, asking about that one first kiss, not knowing where the hell you went off to. Wouldn’t that be nice?” 

“I guess?” You replied. In a few minutes, a large pint of beer was slammed onto the table. Sungchan gave a quick wink to the waiter before gulping half of the glass down, careless of the white foam that lingered around his lips. 

“Why are you so spaced out?” 

“I don’t know. Probably the mountains and nature doing things to me, but I just feel like nothing’s real anymore.” You replied after another round of silence. 

“People are strange when you’re a stranger,” 

“The Doors? Really?” 

“What? It’s my job to know many songs, and you just happened to perfectly describe this one request I’m working on for the radio: something about loneliness and isolation in the city.” 

“Right,” 

“You really need to come to Thailand with me,” Sungchan said. You’ve always known him as the type to take charge of the conversation and mold it into whatever he wished, but you found it difficult to keep up with him. 

“I don’t think that’s a bad idea at all,” You replied, chuckling lightly as your eyes scanned the drinks menu. Though it was still midday, you realized that a drink or two could ease your apprehensions about the inn and Eunseok. 

“Come on! Ditch everything, I’m sure it’d be a nice, wonderful change to go somewhere where you don’t know a single soul.”

After calling the waiter for a cool mojito, you turned your attention back to Sungchan. 

“Sometimes, I feel like doing that. I just wanna escape life, get whisked somewhere far, far, away. Live like those super-rich men who have a ton of babies everywhere they go, and I’d live happily with them, watching them roll on the floor and coo with their little big eyes.”

“Babies…?” 

“I guess you don’t want a lot of babies yet,” Sungchan groaned, eyes tracing the plate of fries that was freshly placed in front of him. He took a handful and stuffed his face until his cheeks puffed out, leaving you in a laughing fit. 

“I don’t know, motherhood doesn’t sound too bad, but not right now.” 

“It’s alright. You don’t want to have them, so there’s no point.” Sungchan took another handful of fries and loudly crunched on them. “What’s the point of going to Thailand anyway? All they have there is elephant shit. Elephant shit everywhere. A shit here, and a shit there. Hey, do you want some of my skewers? Take my skewers.” 

Sungchan was especially enigmatic today. You couldn’t put your fingers around why, but it slowly helped you pull yourself out of the lingering memories you had with Eunseok. Now, you were here, with Sungchan blabbering on about whatever came into his mind. You had a cool glass of mint mojito next to you, and the more you drank its chilled contents, the more your throat responded positively. Perhaps you were just parched, or perhaps it was something more. Regardless, you were coming back in the now, chin resting on your knuckles as you watched the plate of fries and skewers quickly disappear, its contents successfully transported inside Sungchan's mouth. 

“Sunday was too nice to me, almost like a dream I never wanted to wake up from. Watching someone’s house get on fire, drinking beer—I don’t know how long it’s been since I felt something so relaxing. People are always forcing me to do things, like, the minute they see me, they ask me, ‘Hey Sungchan! Do this!’ or ‘Sungchan! Can you sub for a left-back today?’ The least anyone can do is not force things on me like that.” 

“I don’t think I know you enough to force you to do stuff for me,” You replied. Once the plate of fries was empty, Sungchan popped a few ice cubes in his mouth, crushing it beneath his teeth as he whistled at the waiter for another heaping of chicken skewers and two bottles of strong rye whiskey. 

“You mean, if you knew me better, you’d force me to do things like everyone else?” He asked, eyes staring straight into yours. This was the third or fourth round of drinks, and the waiter seemed visibly annoyed at the growing pile of empty glasses next to Sungchan. He rested his chin on his large palm, fingers tapping his cheek to the rhythm of Echo and the Bunnymen playing in the background. Once you finished your glass, you kept still, quiet as ever. Closing your eyes, you immersed yourself in the soft strums of “Lips Like Sugar.” The restaurant began to pile up with more customers, but it was only your table that had begun drinking alcohol. 

“I mean, isn’t that how life is? People build relationships by forcing stuff onto each other.” You explained, after ordering another glass of mojito. 

“But you wouldn’t do that. You’re not the type.”

“How are you so sure of that?”

“I can just tell. I’ve become an expert in these things, seeing if people will force things on you or not, and you’re nothing like that, which is why I feel so relaxed when I’m with you.”

“What kind of things do people force on you?”

“Do you wanna get to know me better?” 

“I just asked,”

“What kind of answer is that?” Sungchan exclaimed, angrily popping another ice cube in his mouth. 

“Okay, yes, Sungchan. I do wanna get to know you better.”

“Really?” 

His crunching halted, a few drops of melted ice trickling down his chin, dampening his palms in the process. 

“Yes.” 

“Even if what I might say ends up getting you in prison?” 

“Seriously?” 

“Are you free on Sunday again?” He asked. 

“Didn’t I tell you I was always free on Sundays?”

“Okay, come hang out with me on Sunday, then.” 

“Sure,”

“I’ll come to your apartment, then we can go somewhere from there. I’m not sure what time, though, but I’ll be there when I’ll be there, ringing your doorbell.”

“Yeah, sure. That’s no problem.” 

“Do you have any idea what I wanna do right now?” He asked in quick succession, a fresh batch of chicken skewers sliding onto his side of the table. With a clean swipe, he took a piece and used his teeth to remove all the meat from the burnt, wooden stick. 

“No, my head’s blank right now, if I’m being honest with you.” 

“Okay, so first, I wanna lie down in a bigass bed, wide and comfy with fluffy blankets. I wanna get so drunk and cozy, not having to think about elephants and their shit at all, and I want you to be there, right next to me.”

“And then?” 

“I think you know the rest,” 

“Oh boy…”

You couldn’t count the amount of drinks the two of you had, but you were sure that Sungchan was not in the right headspace. He was staggering from his seat, eyes squinting at the bill as he complained that the text was too small for him to read. Regardless, he slapped several five thousand Won notes on the leather casing that held the thinly-veiled receipt. 

“It’s okay, think of it as a treat. I was the one who asked you to skip class for me anyway, unless you’re true to your party’s goals and have a credit card, refusing to let a man pay for you.” 

“No, I’m not like that. It’s fine, really.” 

Lifting Sungchan out of the restaurant was already a hassle in itself, but his staggers worsened as soon as the two of you began to walk outside. You couldn’t tell if he was tipsy or if he was already drunk, but he almost missed one step, and you did your best to carry his weight on your shoulders, making sure that you didn’t fall back into the hard, concrete wall with him. The layers of violet in the sky were now embedded in a deep, dark glow, emanating the low dim of the crescent moon that flickered with the neon lights around the alleyways. The two of you wandered around for a while, ending up in a small parkette with a few swings and benches. 

“Do you think if there were any tall trees in here, I could climb it?” He asked. 

“Yeah, I mean, you’re athletic and all, I’m sure a tree would be nothing to you.” 

You looked around the parkette to ensure that your eyes didn’t fool you, and you hummed in vague concern upon realizing that there weren’t any trees at all in the parkette. The only thing that remotely resembled such a tree was the neatly trimmed bushes that lined the entrance of the parkette, exaggerating in size with the shadowplay of the night. Sure, some of them had outlines of twigs and branches sticking out of them, but in the end, there was nothing that Sungchan could climb—especially given his stature. 

“Well, too bad. All the trees here are too damn short for me.” 

He got up and grabbed your hand, fingers clasped tightly on your wrists as he led you into the main shopping district. The more you were engulfed in the bustle of the city, watching each mannequin outside of a store feel more alive and in tune with the world than you were at the moment, the more concrete everything around you began to feel. The streets felt real, even more real than before when you had just moved to Seoul. It was a stark reminder that you were no longer there, but here, in the city, with a woozy Sungchan flailing his arms as he walked with an invisible tune in his head. 

“I’m glad I ran into you.” You whispered under your breath.  “I think I’m back in the real world now,”

“That is true,” Sungchan replied, stopping in his tracks while peering straight into your eyes. “You finally look like you’re here. See? That contract of ours is doing you wonders. I get to have a restraining order so I don’t get any creepy stalkers anymore, and hanging out with me does you good by pulling you all the way back to the ground from whatever sky you’re at.”

“Sometimes, I hate that you’re right,”

The large clock looming at the center of the intersection in the shopping district pointed at six in the evening, and Sungchan said he had to go home to make dinner and prepare for a match tomorrow. You told him that you would also call it a night, allowing him to walk you to the bus stop. 

“Do you know what I want to do now?” He asked, taking the seat next to you in the waiting area. 

“What?” 

“I want to go to Somalia. Get captured by pirates, you and me. They’d tie us together in tight ropes and make sure we can’t escape.” 

“Why the hell would you want us to get captured by pirates?” 

“I don’t know. Maybe fucking you in captivity is a hot fantasy I’ve let myself think about a bit too much,” he said. 

“Pervert.” 

“Then, the pirates, even though we can’t understand their language at all, would tell us we had an hour to go before they would either shoot us or, by some miracle, have some coastal guards from the US find us and save us.”

“Then?” 

“And then we would use that hour, rolling around while trying to take our clothes off, me trying to put it in with our hands and legs tied together,”

“That’s what you wanna do now? Really?”

“Yeah,”

“Good lord, Sungchan,” you said, shaking your head. By this point, Sungchan was sober enough to get up and walk back to the station. As the door to the bus opened, he reminded you of your meeting tomorrow, staying seated in the waiting area until your bus took a turn to the other lane.

It was seven in the morning when Sungchan visited your apartment. You had just woken up and had time to fetch the daily paper at your door, but you didn’t have the chance to wash your face or properly start your day with a cup of coffee. Before you could go back to the kitchen table or take a glance at today’s headline, someone loudly pounded at your door. Tucking the paper underneath your arm, you peeked through the door viewer to find Sungchan peering straight into its small, circular lens. His form wavered and swirled each time you blinked, the glass reflection of his eyes seemingly spinning in graceful pirouettes. 

“Hurry up and let me in, or else I’ll get hit on by all your neighbors! Including the ahjummas who were totally staring at how nice my face looks!” 

Once you opened the door, you were greeted by Sungchan’s beaming smile. Beads of sweat lined his furrowed brows as he used the hem of his shirt to wipe down the mist that gleamed under the rays of the summer sun. 

“Was I too early?” He asked. 

“No, not really. You came here right after the guy delivered my morning paper, come in, and I’ll make you some tea.” 

Sungchan kicked his shoes off, lining them neatly next to your sneakers before entering your apartment. 

“Nice place for yourself, is that the bed where you finger yourself? Or do you do it on the couch over there?” 

At this point, you were used to his crudeness, but the level of crass he can muster always leaves you with a second of stalled thought—almost as if time had stopped whenever something dirty came out of his mouth. 

“Come on, Sungchan. It’s like, seven in the morning. Don’t you have anything better to say?” You replied

“No, not really.” 

Before the kettle on your stove could hiss and breathe steam, you rushed to turn the switch off, hastily opening the window and fanning the smoke out into the open. Sungchan sat on one of the chairs of your dining table set, eyeing the stacks of newspapers you’ve saved somewhat morosely. 

“Tea’s ready, what kind do you want?” You asked. 

“The same one you’re having,”

“Okay,” 

You added an extra portion of milk into his tea with a cube of sugar. Normally, you’d prepare a pot of orange pekoe or rose hip, unbothered by the periodical cool of the tea whenever you would leave it to brew for too long to head to the university. Rather than out of practice or habit, it was more so a neglectful absence that didn’t require atonement. To you, it was just a pot of tea. If you were so eager to have it nice and warm, you could just pour a cup full into a saucepan and add a little bit of milk or fruit jam, stirring it and drinking it with a spoon instead of transferring it back into the pot. There was no routine to it at all. Tea was tea. 

However, the man in front of you, crass as he may be, was your guest. Even if it were at his request to have whatever you were having, it would probably be wise for you to brew him a fresh cup. After all, he was a guest, not a customer. It’s not for him to know how you like to have your tea—cold and bitter. 

“So tell me, what do girls living alone like you do?” He asked, ceaselessly blowing on the tip of the mug as he waited impatiently to devour the drink. 

“I don’t know, that’s a very creepy question to ask, you know?” You replied between sips of hot tea, placing your mug down on a coaster as you crossed your legs, dangling them on the side of the chair. “Also, don’t you have a girlfriend to ask this to?” 

“Just like you, we’re a bit complicated right now.” He said, eyes looking at the slow, rising steam wafting back and forth from his mug. “Besides, she’d yell at me if I asked her these things.”

“That’s perfectly normal.” 

“I know, but I’m just curious, and you seem to answer all my questions, no matter how bizarre.”

“That’s because you won’t shut up unless I do,” You retorted. Sungchan took the mug back into his hands and towards his pursed lips, giving the rim a light peck before drinking half of the cup and jingling it around to swish the leaves that rested at the bottom of his mug. 

“So tell me, what is it that you do here all alone?” He asked again. His doe-like, brown eyes protruded through you as if you were transparent—practically invisible. Rubbing the goosebumps off your arms, you cleared your throat and took the mug between your lips, gently blowing at it before taking a sip. Once you let it down, his bright, brown eyes glistened into a greenish hazel you as the sun hit his frame through the sheer slip between the curtains. You pushed your seat back and continued to hold your mug, this time anchoring your elbow to the table to increase the distance between him. 

“Well, I get up, read the daily papers, drink tea or coffee, depending on what I have, then take the train to school. When I go home, I take a shower, brush my teeth, study, and then go to bed.”

“What about your sex life?” 

“That hasn’t been active lately,”

“Isn’t it easier for you to just bring men here?” 

“Yeah, but I don’t feel like it,” 

“Am I not hot enough?” 

“No, you’re a hunk, trust me.”

“So then, why don’t you invite me here more often?” 

“Because, dumbass, I think of you as a friend. Why would I want to invite you over and—”

“You have someone else waiting to be invited back here,” Sungchan retorted. You could feel your chest tighten at every second that passed in silence. 

“Well, yeah, I guess,” You replied, exhaling each word as you turned your gaze to the fuzz of your worn-out slippers. “You’re surprisingly proper when it comes to these things,” 

“That’s what I like about you. But still, you couldn’t even invite me over for a quick fuck? Something to let some steam off? I wanna be here even just once, helping each other relieve our stress or something. I’m asking you because we’re friends. Who else can I ask for something like that? I can’t just walk up to anyone and say, ‘Hey, do you live alone? Can you invite me over so we can fuck for a second?’ It’s because I see you as a friend that I’m asking,”

You let out a sigh. 

“If you’re that desperate, you can come over again next week, and we can sort something out. What do you like?” 

“Well, I don’t know. I don’t want you to get the wrong impression or anything,” You said, watching him stand up through the corner of your eyes. “You already have painted yourself as a sex-crazed freak,”

Sungchan began pacing the room, letting his loud steps echo throughout your walls and back into your ears, equally matching the quickening thumps of your heart that rendered you deaf. He then turned his heels with a screech, and you watched his toes' heavy, languid steps draw closer to the tip of your slippers. He took a finger and lifted your chin to meet his gaze, a swirling depth of hazel underneath the glimmer of the sun. Before you could lean, he took his finger back and stuffed it in his pocket, hunching back into his seat with a ‘thump.’ 

“Whatever, anyway, I’m just curious. I was in an all-boys school my whole life so I really don’t know anything about women, even if people have spread rumors about me being this playboy. I want to really know what women think, not just through gossip and stories from other boys.”

You tried to suppress a groan, but allowed him to continue with his ridiculous train of thought. 

“The thing is, the girl I’m seeing right now doesn’t really like it when I ask her these things. She gets angry, calls me a nympho or a crazy person, and she wouldn’t even let me eat her out. Something about being a hardcore Christian makes her want to wait and see these things as impure,” 

“Right,”

“Have you been eaten out before?” 

“Yeah,”

“Do you like it?”

“Yeah, but can we please talk about something else? It’s such a beautiful Sunday morning, where I was meant to sip coffee in the sunrise while reading my morning paper. I don’t want it to be ruined by talking about fucking and getting my pussy eaten out. Let’s try to talk about something else, like your girlfriend or something. Is she in the same university as us?” You asked. The cup clasped onto your hands was empty, and you didn’t have the appetite to offer pastries that you’d left in your bread box two days ago. 

“Okay, pause. She’s not my girlfriend. It’s a little more complicated than that. She goes to the women’s university nearby, and we met after I played at her school for a soccer match. We started to talk more after exams, but she refused to put a label on it,”

At some point in the conversation, you began to allow the rest of the world around you to blur in a dream-like haze, wafting back and forth like the steam that has now fully evaporated out of you and Sungchan’s mug. You let your head hang lightly by the headrest of your chair, feeling the wooden spine trudge deeper and deeper into your neck. In these thoughts, you tried to picture Eunseok’s face, but it was rather difficult when Sungchan’s voice would continue to permeate in and out of your ears. What did Sungchan’s girlfriend look like? Would she be a better fit for Eunseok than you were? Why should any of that matter? You didn’t even know the girl.

“Hey,”

“What?” 

Just as your eyes began to adjust to the slow, menial details of Sungchan’s face, the cup on the coaster tipped over to reveal scatters of tea leaves strewn across your dining table, coated in thick, dark hues of deep, foreboding maroon. You hastily searched for a napkin or a tea towel, and Sungchan tossed a pack of tissues crumpled out of his pocket. 

“Just once on a Sunday.” He repeated, and you lost his train of thought at that very moment. 

“No,” You answered, but a part of you failed to recall his initial request. 

“At least think of me when you finger yourself, please?”

Ah, there it is again.

“Fine. I’ll give it a try and write you a detailed report, is that enough?” You said, throwing the empty pack of tissues to the bin by the kitchen counter. 

The two of you took the commuter train to Jongno. When you transferred to Daegok, Sungchan offered to purchase a small, tuna-filled kimbap from one of the stands in the station to make up for the breakfast you hadn’t eaten. The tea you had with him was over-brewed and tasted of the autumn falls blasting in your mouth. The trains on the weekends usually consisted of students in large groups of more than five and families who wanted to take the line straight to the park. There was an odd assortment of bookish girls in long skirts and boys slinging tennis rackets on their backs, rushing to leave the train to the nearest exit. Underneath the fluorescent lights of the carriage, Sungchan’s tank top was so sheer that you could see the outline of his chest and abdomen without any sense of imagination. Occasionally, he would pull the hem of his top-down, tightening its fit to enhance the way his sweat and skin clung onto the transparency of his white top. Some people in the car began staring at him, making you uneasy. This continued until the two of you had to get off at Bulgwang to switch platforms. 

“Do you wanna know what I’d like to do now?” Sungchan whispered while you quickened your pace. 

“Not here, Sungchan, we’re in the fucking train for god’s sake,” You hissed. “What if someone will hear you?” 

“Too bad, this fantasy’s a wild one,” Sungchan replied, clearly disappointed. 

“Why are we going to Jongno?” You asked, attempting to change the topic. 

“Just come,”

Jongno was sparse on a Sunday, full of empty houses that toppled over each other with equally vacant garage slots imprinted in thick, black tire marks. Sungchan slid through the downward slope of the residential villages resembling ancient homes with sleek, angular woodwork, keeping one of his hands in his pocket while interlocking his fingers in yours with the other. 

Without warning, he asked you. “Can you explain the concept of speculative attacks and why that causes a currency crisis?” 

“I can, but you should know the answer to that if you paid attention in lecture,” You replied. 

“Okay, here’s another way to frame it. How could that stuff be useful in our day-to-day life?”

“Unless you’re working in public policy or economics, then no, you don’t really need to know that stuff in detail.” You said after a brief pause to collect your thoughts. “It doesn’t necessarily serve a concrete purpose, but having that extra information in mind is useful for you to grasp things in a more logical, systematic manner.  Say, a currency crisis. It’s a thing that impacts our daily lives. If the government is running a budget deficit, then that means they’re gonna hike up taxes or cut spending. What this means for us is our lives might be harder because we have more taxes to pay, or facilities that we need might not be built. Things like that can give us more pieces to fit in this large puzzle we call life.” 

He continued to hold your hand down the slope, only letting go to carry you up once the two of you reached a point where all the greeneries and mountain ranges looked as squishable as a colony of ants within the palm of your hand. Your breath hitched for an instant, taking in the soft breeze gently caressing your cheeks while staring down into a part of the city that suddenly made you feel so small. Cars and trucks parked down the pathway felt like toys you could animate to life with one push of your finger; families hand-in-hand could be plucked out like dolls; the sky and clouds swirled with the swirl of your finger; the green of the mountains was so vibrant you felt yourself inching closer and closer to the metal railing’s edge. 

“Wow, aren’t you amazing.” He said, keeping his firm, long arms on your waist. “I never really thought about it that way. I’ve always seen what I’ve learned in school as totally useless, a pain in the ass, if you will, so I always ignored them. Now, thanks to you, I have to rethink my whole life. See if I was thinking about things the wrong way,”

“You ignored them?”

“Yeah, like I just thought they didn’t exist. I know money exists because it’s something tangible, but I couldn’t care less about sine curves or differential calculus. Those are just things to me, things I write on paper that I just throw out when I’m done with them.” 

“Then how did you get into university with a mindset like that?” 

“Don’t be dumb, you don’t need to know everything to pass exams! You just need luck and intuition. Most of the time, it’s just picking one option out of the three. One of them usually looks off, so it’s picking between the two that you think is right—and I’m usually right about the answers.” He exclaimed, leaving light kisses on your neck. 

“Unlike you, I don’t think I have too good of an intuition, so I have to be systematic, kind of like how ants work together to carry food back to their colony. It’s a step-by-step relay of going from point A to point B, until I reach the end.” You laughed under your breath, taking the chance to turn and free yourself from him. You leaned on the metal railings, feeling the cool touch of the metal replace the warmth that his arms had left. 

“Is that any better?” He asked curiously. 

“I don’t know, I think it’s easier to understand some concepts that way,”

“Like what? I need examples here,”

“Languages?”

“What good does learning a new language do?” He asked. Sungchan always had a habit of curling his lips inward when he was in deep thought, accentuating the apples of his cheeks and making his sharp features rounder. 

“Depends on the person trying to learn it. It serves some people a purpose to understand French because they’re either going to France or any French-speaking country for work, and others might be here in Korea their whole lives. The main thing, though, is training your brain to dissect things piece-by-piece, making it easier to absorb. It’s not necessarily about the purpose it serves, but often the skills you gain.” 

“You know, you’re really good at explaining things to people,” Sungchan finally said, seemingly impressed with you. He took your hand in his again and took you even lower down the slope. 

“Am I?” You asked. 

“Yeah. I’ve asked everyone in class what the hell a currency crisis has to do with everyday life and why we need it, and not one of them gave me a good, clear answer. Not even the professors are supposed to be experts in this stuff! They go on this winding path of just explaining difficult concepts and never getting to the root of my question, or they just laugh it off and tell me that I should know because I decided to enroll myself in this program. If I had met you a lot earlier, then I would’ve been interested in so many things! Damn, what a life I’ve missed.”

All you could do was hum in response. 

“Did you ever read Das Kapital?” He suddenly asked. 

“Only parts that were assigned, but I never got around to finishing it,”

“Did you understand what Marx was trying to say?” 

“A little bit. I feel like you have to have more knowledge on economics to read a book like that, far beyond what has been hamfisted up our asses by the professors,”

That was a lie. Your first encounter with Marx was with Eunseok and his girlfriend in high school. Being the contrarian she was, she always enjoyed provocative books that got her in trouble. Naturally, after being suspended for three days for carrying a copy of Marx and Engel’s The Communist Manifesto, proclaiming her unyielding devotion to Juche in front of the whole class, the next step for her was to bring a copy of Das Kapital, tactfully ripping some of the paragraphs and stuffing them inside her History notebook upon submission to the teacher. You had only read a few pages of Das Kapital then, but to this day, you could never understand what this book had to do with communism. It was a benign, sometimes aggressive critique of what is now blooming into a consolidated economic system written at a time when there were many avenues that the world could’ve taken. Marx shouldn’t be faulted for what the future thought of his words. 

“Do you think, say, a first-year student who has never been educated in economics would be able to understand Das Kapital just by reading it?” Sungchan asked. 

“No, that’s just a Sisyphean task. Outright impossible.” You responded without preamble. 

“You know, when I joined the soccer team, I expected to simply play soccer. But no, that wasn’t the case. Most of the people on the team were either socialists or those from a more working-class background, people who had been invested in the student demonstrations about inequality and political fraud. And so, whenever we finished practice or ended a friendly match, they would always talk about Marx in the locker room, saying that his view on labor was important for the future of sports. I tried to get a copy and read a few bits of Das Kapital at home, but I couldn’t get it at all. So, when I went back and told them I didn’t get it by the next week after practice, they treated me like an idiot, saying that I had nothing going on in my head. ‘Oh, Sungchan, you’re in the economics program but couldn’t even understand Marx! Hah! That’s funny! That’s what the orthodox system does to you!’ They called me a fraud for playing a working-class sport as a private school kid, all because I had told them I didn’t understand a piece of text. That’s horrible!” 

“Yeah, that is horrible,” You repeated. 

“The thing is, though, their discussions were terrible, too. Empty nothingness by using big words to sound smart, when in reality, they probably misinterpreted what Marx wanted to say, too. Whenever I asked them to explain things to me, they never bothered to. Instead, they’d just get angry, as if expecting me to know all these things by default. Can you believe it?” 

“Yeah, I can, that’s the type of crowd that the underground lectures and student movements often attract,” You replied. 

“Our former captain, who’s now graduated, called me a dumbass with nothing but brawn for my brain, asking me how I live my life the way I do now? That did it. I know I’m not the smartest, and even though I went to a private school, I was also from a working-class background. I am well aware that it’s the working class that keeps the world running and that the working class gets exploited by the bourgeoisie. I don’t think Marx envisioned a revolution where people just throw big, fancy words at each other that others can’t understand? That’s a shitty social revolution if you ask me. How the hell are you able to move people with difficult words that they can’t understand? I believe that if a certain group of people are being exploited, then we have to do all we can to stop it, that’s why I keep asking questions, to know more and to understand how the world works so we can try to make it a better place. Do you think I’m stupid, or what?” 

“No, you’re very much right.”

“A-ha! Those guys are total frauds! All they have in mind is using these big words to impress girls that they run into after our matches. When they graduate, they won’t give a single crap about the class struggle or whatever socialist mumbo jumbo they were preaching! They’d just don a suit and find work in large companies! They’d marry pretty, upper-class wives who have never read a single word of Marx in their life, get kids, drive fast, fancy cars, and give them Western names that are so ridiculous that it makes you want to laugh. Smash the education complex? Fight against election fraud? What bullshit! The newer recruits were just as bad. They didn’t know a single thing about Marx. They just sat there silently in the locker room and pointed fingers at me whenever I asked a question. Then, they told me, ‘Hyung, just agree with whatever they say, it’s easier that way.’ Makes my blood boil.”

You laughed, watching the sparkle in his eyes fester with vigor. “So, what happened after that?” 

“Most of the upperclassmen had graduated by the time I got the position of vice-captain. Since then, I told the new recruits to never talk about things like Marx in the locker room and to treat each other with respect. ‘Ask Hyung if you need anything, and I won’t haze or bully you about it.’ I told them that. Things have been better since, but the captain still wants to keep the so-called revolution going. Something about keeping the original root of the sport and the integrity of the game aligned with the class struggle. Shut the fuck up. God, if ever any of those assholes ran into you, they’d probably beat you up or shoot you because you understood Marx far better than they did.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, believe me. I know what I’m talking about. I’m working class. Revolution or not, the working class will always be the ones scraping by. I mean, look at those communist revolutions happening in Africa! I don’t know too much, but tell me why they’re still poor even after some big guy comes in and says he can change the country! It’s because he uses stupid, big words that nobody can understand! Then, they’d hike up taxes for so-called ‘government expenses,’ when in reality, they’re just inflating their pockets with more money and gold. Tell me, have you ever seen the taxman?” 

“No, never,”

“Well, I have. Too many times. They come in barging into your door with their stupid papers, acting like big game. ‘Oh, how is take out a business expense? Show me all your receipts right now!’ And we can’t even say anything back, or else my dad will go to jail! We even have to give them nice teas and snacks! No matter how cruel they are, though, I will tell you one thing: My dad is an honest man. He has never cheated on his taxes, and he keeps records just as well as he’s maintained the shop since it was handed over to him. If you tell that to the taxman, though, he won’t believe you. He’ll just dig and dig and dig. ‘What’s this ledger?’ ‘Isn’t income looking a little low in this quarter?’ And I wanted to scream to them, scream so loud: Hey asshole! Income isn’t looking too good because we’re not making any money with this stupid business! Go dig into our shop when we make some real cash!”

“The worst part is that they won’t change even after a revolution,” You signed.

“Exactly. Fuck the revolution. It’s just a bunch of bullshit. The only thing I’ll ever believe in is love.”

“I got somewhere to be,” Sungchan said. 

“This early?” 

“Yeah, I have to go to the hospital. My dad’s there, so it’s my turn to look after him,” 

“Wait, I thought he was in Thailand?”

“I lied.” Sungchan said flatly. “I mean, he’s been screaming about it, but he’s not even in a condition to leave Seoul.”

“How bad is he?” You asked. 

“I don’t know, give it a few months? Maybe two?” He replied. The two of you walked on in deathly silence. It was a matter of time until the two of you reached the bottom of the slope, head first into the large, glass doors of Seoul National University Hospital. 

“He’s got the same one my mother had,  just with a different genitalia because he’s a man. God, I don’t know if you can sexually transmit cancer, but can you believe it? Four years after cervical cancer, my dad suddenly gets testicular.”

Once the two of you entered the corridors, the stench of antiseptic wafted in the air. The hospital was busy and crowded for a Sunday, with several lines in the reception and elevators consisting of weekend visitors and patients walking about in wheelchairs or IV drips. The sweet scent of flowers slightly permeated the air, with an inkling of urine and old mattresses. Nurses walked past the two of you, pushing large trays of food, the soles of their shoes rubbing into the floor as they quickened their pace. 

Sungchan’s father was in a room shared with four other patients. His bed was right by the large, open window. Upon inspection, it was difficult to tell if he was breathing and even harder to tell if he was human. Though he was stretched out, the rest was shriveled up like a raisin, cheeks hollow to the touch and eyes covered in folded lids that were always closed. 

Today, he was lying on his side, skinny, bony arms limp and flat on the white bed covers. There were several tubes and needles attached to him, and it was difficult to see him as the kind of man who was once as tall and mighty as his son. The constant drip of the plastic bags only gave you the impression that he could only shrivel up more than he already endured.

For a brief second, you saw his eyes fling open as if aware of Sungchan’s presence and only keeping them open as a greeting that was established between father and son. It didn’t take a doctor or a medical practitioner of any sort to know that he was going to die soon. At least, in part, all it took for you was, in brevity, seeing the rims of his eyes glow a shade of pinkish red, drifting back and forth with the blur of cataracts in his pupils that refused to show him the colors and lines of the world he once saw. There was absolutely no sign of life or direction in his second-long gaze, and even if you were to inflate him like an air balloon with life, it felt to you like there was a punctured hole somewhere in him that oozed out life no matter how hard you tried to pump it in him. It was a short stretch from here to the end—a waiting game of slow decay and demolition. Despite this, though, his thin, white goatee continued to grow like stray bristles on a brush, and you wondered why he grew an impressive one when all other signs of life escaped his body and mind. 

Sungchan greeted each patient by popping his head through the curtains. One lady of about sixty with all her curtains open nodded and smiled in return, dry, flaky lips sealed with a lack of moisture. She tried to suppress a cough a few times, then returned to her bed to shift her weightless form to face the door. 

The view from the window was bleak in comparison to the one the two of you experienced in the middle of the residential area’s slopes. The only thing you could see from Sungchan’s father’s window was a large, electricity pole that covered the sky. 

“How are you feeling, dad?” Sungchan asked, leaning closer until his lips were right next to his father’s ear. His father shook his head and muttered a groan, as any word he formed in his head remain stuck in his throat, choking him dry. 

“Headache?” Sungchan asked, touching his own head. His father nodded in return, trying to open his mouth but to no avail. 

“Well, no wonder,” he muttered. “You’ve just got your balls removed, and they’ve injected you with so much medicine that your head will pound. Of course, your head will hurt. Too bad, but please, try to be brave. Oh, and this is my friend,” 

“Nice to meet you,” You said. Sungchan’s father tried to open his mouth, then proceeded to close it shut again. 

Sungchan pulled a seat from his father’s foldable table and gestured for you to sit. You hesitated a little until he grabbed your arm and pulled you into one of the plastic chairs next to his father’s bed. Sungchan then gave his father a few sips of water, asking him if he would like any food. His father shook his head, and when Sungchan stubbornly insisted that he needed to eat, his father opened his eyes briefly, moving his pupils to point at the food left at the head of his bed. 

Sungchan hoisted a large duffel bag under the table, taking out a change of clothes and underwear, straightening them out, and putting them inside a drawer by his father’s bedside lamp. Once he reached the bottom of the bag, he fished out two packs of dried seaweed, a couple of fruit jellies, and two slices of cream-filled sponge cakes. 

“Fucking hell, really? Cake?! Feeding a man pumped with chemo cake?! I told that asshole exactly what I wanted him to buy! Porridge with vegetables, not cake!” Sungchan exclaimed, angrily shoving some of the food back into the bag. 

“That’s… a weird mixup.”

“Weird indeed. God, he’s insufferable.” Sungchan said. “Dad, want some cake?” 

His father didn’t respond. 

“Are you sure you don’t want anything to eat?” Sungchan repeated louder, resulting in a firm no that his father was able to mouth. 

“How about you?” Sungchan turned to ask you. 

“I’m also alright,” You answered. 

After sitting with Sungchan and his father for a while, Sungchan took you to the smoking area outside of the hospital and slipped a cigarette between his lips, crossing his arms tightly as he held the filter with his fingers. Some of the patients in hospital gowns were also outside, smoking while counting the cars that passed by the entrance’s driveway. 

“That old woman in the wheelchair keeps looking at me. The one over there, with the glasses and a pink nightgown,” Sungchan whispered, eyes twinkling. 

“I don’t know, what more do you want me to say? ‘Oh, Sungchan, you’re so handsome that all the ajhummas in the hospital want you!’ Do you want me to say that?” 

“Maybe seeing a handsome guy such as myself keeps them with things to think about. You know, get them all excited. I be they haven’t felt like that in a long time.” 

“Seriously?” You sighed. Sungchan stared at the smoke that swirled from his cigarette. 

“You know,” Sungchan started, fishing his hands in his pocket and slipping another cigarette from the pack into his mouth. “He’s not so bad. He can say terrible things, but deep down, he really loved my mom with such intensity, even though he’s a little timid and cannot run a business properly. People don’t really like him because he can be blunt at times, but he’s definitely a lot better than the frauds out there who go around thinking they’re tough shit for knowing big words or being in a gang. I’m just as stubborn as he is, so we tend to fight a lot, but he’s not a bad guy.”

Sungchan took your hand as if it were fragile, carefully placing it on his lap. He used his thumbs to rub your palm in repeated circles, eyes looking into yours for over a minute. 

“Sorry to bring you here out of all places, but can you stay with me for a bit longer?” He asked, a soft tinge in his voice begging for you to stay. 

“I can stay with you for as long as you want. I mean, I did say I’m free on Sundays.” You replied with a smile. 

“What do you usually do? You know, apart from reading the daily paper and sipping coffee at five in the goddamn morning.” 

“Laundry?” You replied. 

“What about your boyfriend?”

“Same as you. I don’t really know if I could call him that, and it’s really complicated right now. I don’t really know how to explain it,”

“That’s alright, but do you mind me asking what I think is going on?” Sungchan asked. 

“Sure, I bet it’s miles more interesting than the truth,”

“He’s married, isn’t he?” Sungchan said, unwavering confidence in his voice that convinced you otherwise that his grand fantasies could maybe become a reality. “Forty or something, rich, and was once handsome. Drives foreign cars like a Benz or a BMW and wears shoes made of pure leather, with suits hand-tailored for him from the most expensive department stores here in Seoul. He’s hungry for lust, and he’s into super kinky things. The two of you meet after your shift at the library on weekdays and do all sorts of things to each other's bodies: he ties you up in crazy positions, puts a gag on you, has different kinds of whips, and you sit there enjoying all of that. His wife and kids have Sundays to themselves to eat big dinners and spend time together. That’s why he can’t see you then. Is that correct?” 

“Interesting,” 

“He loves taking pictures of you, too, and has a really expensive camera that he uses to take all sorts of pictures of you in many positions, including when he puts all sorts of weird things inside of you. It’s like every single time you meet him, he gets kinkier. He’s always planning what type of toys and liquids he’d use on you, and he makes you come at least three times in crazy positions that break your legs and twist your body. He then talks about how because he’s older, he’s more experienced, and that you’ll never ever find the same satisfaction in younger boys anymore because he’s satisfied you so much. Makes you feel good.” 

“I think you frequent the porn cinemas too much,” You flatly replied, dreading the next few words that would come out of his mouth with a twisted, mild curiosity. 

“I do, actually. I was kind of worried that I come off that way, but if you want, we can go to a screening sometime soon,”

“Alright, when you’re free,” You said. 

“You’re not joking?” Sungchan asked with an ecstatic shock in his voice that you had never heard from him before, as if you were the first person who had acknowledged his presence in his whole life. 

“Nope. Show me what sort of things you watch.”

“Alright, there’s a BDSM one with pee and shit everywhere. Some pirated German one they found. I’ve never seen it yet, but I do like watching the ones that are a bit more deranged. It’s interesting.” 

“Sounds fun,”

“My favorite ones are the gang bang scenes, because you think to yourself ‘How the hell do they get seven people to fuck each other like that? Swallowing cum and pee at the same time?’ It’s like going to a cafeteria and having people all drink water super loud at the same time!”

When the two of you returned to the hospital room, Sungchan filled the air with his chatty voice, only to be met with a dead wall of silence. The only thing he could get out from his father was a firm nod, a shake, or a grunt—and, if he was lucky, a string of groans. Two hours had passed, and an old, healthy man, presumably the old woman's husband with her curtains all opened, came inside the room to change her gown and peel some fruits for her. Despite the signs of age, he was a tall, athletic-looking man—somewhat stocky but firm in muscle. His face was inviting and kind, and his smile emphasized the lines on his cheeks, brightening him back ten years or so. He shared a lot of small talk with Sungchan, and by the time the two had started talking, a nurse arrived with a tray of needles and medicine, speaking to Sungchan while the old man excused himself out the door. Your eyes wandered around the room towards the window, tracing the trajectory of the electricity pole’s power lines. Every now and then, crows would perch on the lines, elongating their necks in surveillance of the whole neighborhood. Sungchan talked to his father and wiped the sweat around his body, helping him spit phlegm into a trash can occasionally while chatting with the old man, who came back and exchanged pleasantries with you. 

The doctors usually did their rounds at the hour, so you stepped outside with Sungchan in the corridor. When one of them came out, Sungchan’s eyes widened, and he rushed to his side, greeting him with a firm bow and asking him how his father was doing. 

“He seems fine after the surgery, obviously drained from energy, but we’ll still need a few days to assess him and evaluate the results of the operation. If he’s alright by then, he can probably go home, and if not, we’ll discuss further with your brother,” The doctor said. 

“Are you not gonna take his other ball?”

“If you put it that way, then it depends. We can’t know until we’ve seen the results,”

A patient’s condition and prognosis were challenging to tell with doctors. Though you didn’t know too much, it was always the impression that you got from them. Armed with a clipboard that tells you more about yourself than you will ever know in your entire lifespan, yet shrouded in ciphers, you must decode through medical language and terms you would’ve never encountered. There was simply no easy way to tell if you were doing well or not when the doctor couldn’t even give a concrete answer. It was always the good news followed by the bad or the bad followed by a string of intricate phrases and words that you couldn’t care much about as soon as you left the hospital. 

With Sungchan’s father, though, everything was transparent. It was almost as if you could see his fate through the reflection of the glasses that kept inching closer and closer to the doctor’s nose. No matter how much he pushed it up, it always slid down the bridge and onto the tip of his nose, where it dangled until he had to push it up again. He should probably throw those out and switch to contacts. 

After the doctor finished his rounds, a nurse entered the room, pushing a trolley with trays stacked on each other. Sungchan took one and carefully balanced it on his long arms, placing it down after reclining his father’s seat upright. He gently took the hot bowl of congee onto the makeshift table, then used a butter knife to slice up some fruits and debone the boiled fish that came with his father’s meal. With each spoonful he gave to his father, the life that had been drained out of him slowly came back. After four or so spoonfuls, he had enough to slowly raise his hand and stop the spoon from entering his mouth. 

No more, he mouthed. 

“God, you're hopeless, aren’t you? If you don’t eat more, you’re gonna die! You need to have your intestines functioning at least, so you can shit properly and not get constipated,” Sungchan complained, but to no avail. His father fervently shook his head, and Sungchan gave up, proceeding to turn his attention back to you with a tired frown. 

“Come, let’s go down to the cafeteria,” he requested. 

You promptly nodded and followed him down the elevator, letting your nose adjust to the stench of antiseptic that wafted across the entire building. Once the two of you reached the cafeteria on the ground floor, he offered to buy you some sandwiches and rice balls, but you declined. You couldn’t bring yourself to have an appetite when the entire cafeteria was packed with doctors, nurses, patients, and visitors. All the conversations that wafted and stayed in the air all talked about sickness, never health. It passed through you like a tunnel, where one after the other, another form or fragment of injury seemed to fill your head with the worst fate that terminal illness could offer. Every so often, the PA system would slice through the cafeteria with screeching static for a patient or a staff member. 

When Sungchan returned with two portions of rice, cabbage stew, and ban chan, you tried your best to chew half of it, leaving the rest for him to finish. He didn’t look up throughout his lunch, nodding with glee as he hounded his meal to the last mouthful. 

“You barely touched your food,” he asked. This was the first time he’s looked up since he came back with the meals. 

“I don’t know, I’m just not hungry,” you replied. 

“I get it. Hospitals don’t really equate to hunger, especially when you’re not used to the place. I mean, god, the smells! That antiseptic or whatever they use sure keeps you full. Being in an environment with so much stress, anxiety, disappointment, pain, and fatigue—that’s what does it to your stomach, grabbing your appetite and beating it to a pulp until it’s dead. The thing is, though, it’s not a problem once you get used to it. And you can’t really take care of someone when you’re hungry. I know this. I was on an empty stomach when my grandpa was at the hospital for cancer, and then I ate a little when my grandma was here. By the time it got to my mom, I got the routine in my head and ate before going to the hospital. Now, it’s my dad. By this point, I’m too used to coming here, and I can eat here just fine. You never know when you’re gonna have to basically live here, so it’s important to eat when you can.”

“That makes sense,” you nodded. 

“Whenever our relatives come to visit, they leave their food just like you. Then they tell me that I’m strong because I can eat despite being upset. What a load of crap! I’m the only one taking care of him! All they have to do is come every now and then and drop their faux sympathies! I’m the one who wipes his ass and makes sure his balls don’t hurt! I helped change his IV drips and fed him! If sympathy were all it took to clean his shit up, then he would be better by now! Instead, they see me eating here and say all that crap about me being strong. What the hell do they think they are? I mean, they’re old enough to know how this world works, so why are they so dumb? It’s so easy to talk big unless you’re not in the position of wiping some old guy’s ass up. Like, do they not think this hurts me just as much, if not more? Do they not think about it hurting so much that I just want to cry? How do they think I feel when I watch a horde of doctors cut my dad’s balls up, doing it again and again? To top it all off, you see your savings depleted. I was lucky enough to make it to my third year, but what then? He’ll surely die before I graduate, and that’s one more year! At this rate, I don’t even think my brother can afford to get married!” 

“How many times do you come here?” You asked, taking a soup spoon to stir some of the cold stew in your tray. 

“Depends. Usually four times a week, and they do promise all-around care from the nurses, but there’s too much for them to do around here. It’s an understaffed hospital. Some of our relatives come here to help. My brother’s got the shop, and I have to finish university. Even then, he comes here three times a week, and we sneak in past visiting hours when we can. It’s a full commitment, I tell you,” 

“How do you have time to spend with me when you’re so busy?” 

“I enjoy spending time with you,” Sungchan said with a smile. 

“Get out of here. Take a walk or something, I don’t know, just leave. I’ll take care of your father,” you demanded. At this point, you were already stood up. You had both trays in your hands with all the rubbish piled up on Sungchan’s empty bowls. He remained seated, eyes widening enough to encase all the fluorescent lights’ reflections into his brown, swirling irises. 

“What, why?” 

“You need to leave the hospital. It’s not helping you relax,” you explained, sighing. “You need something that can clear your mind up, even just by a little bit,” 

As he prepared his body to stand up from his chair, he sank again, allowing his back to merge with the flimsy plastic touching his bare neck. After a minute, he stood up again and nodded. 

“Do you know what to do, though? It’s a lot of work,”

“I think so. I’ve been watching you do it, and I think I got it. Check the IV drip, give him water, wipe his sweat off, and adjust his oxygen mask occasionally when he coughs, making sure they collect the phlegm. If he gets hungry, I feed him some jellies or the rest of his lunch on the bedside table. If I don’t know what to do, I’ll just ask the nurse,”

“Perfect,” Sungchan replied, grinning from ear to ear. “There’s just one thing, though: he can say weird shit because of all the medication, some jibberish that no one can understand. If he says anything that hurts you, try to ignore it. It’s not him, it’s the medication.” 

“Got it,” you saluted. 

Once the two of you were back in the room, Sungchan told his father that he had someone from the soccer team to phone and that you would be watching him while he sorted things out with the team. His father didn’t move or open his mouth. You figured it didn’t concern him if it had nothing to do with him. He remained lying on his back, eyes shut while his head was cocked up to the white ceiling. Had he not periodically opened his eyes to blink once in a while, you could’ve sworn he had flatlined. 

Whenever he did muster the courage to open his eyes, they were stained with swirls of red, making him look hungover. His nostrils noticeably flared up and down whenever he breathed, and his eyebrows would twitch whenever he had to open his eyes. Besides that, he had little to no movement, and he never tried to respond to Sungchan. 

After Sungchan had left the room, you didn’t know what to say to his father, let alone how to start a conversation with someone who didn’t give you a response. So, you kept quiet for a while, watching him slowly succumb to sleep. You took one of the chairs by the window and leaned closer to look at the way his nose twitched, hoping that he wouldn’t die while you were here. How would it feel to have a strange woman your son had brought to die by your side?

It was easier to sympathize with the dead than a vegetable. 

He was, alas, not dying. He was simply sleeping peacefully, with gargled breath and a twitching nose. You brought your ears closer to his face, hearing his faint, weak breathing. Heaving a sigh of relief, you got up and greeted the husband of the old woman next door. The only thing that came out of his mouth was any good word about Sungchan, assuming you were his girlfriend. 

“Sungchan’s a really good guy,” he said. “He takes care of his father, and he’s so kind and sensitive. To top it all off, he has a face of an actor. I’m sure he treats you right, and always be by his side. He’s going through a tough time right now, and I’m sure you won’t find anyone like him.”

“I try my best to treat him right,” you replied casually. 

“I have kids at home. One’s eighteen, just out of high school, and the other, twenty-two, probably around you and Sungchan’s age. Neither of them want to visit! They said the hospital smells, and the minute they’re out of school, they never think twice about visiting. They just play around, go on dates, go on with their lives. They only come around to ask me for some pocket money.” 

About an hour had passed, and the man got up to wave goodbye. You didn’t know if he would come back, but you could see that both Sungchan’s father and the old woman were deep in sleep. The gentle, marmalade rays of the sunlight poured into the room, and the warmth that wafted in the air made you feel like you were slowly drifting into a benign, mindless nap. The faded pink of the Dahlias by the old woman’s bedside drawer signaled the end of the summer, and the remnants of boiled fish swirled around the room. You could hear the low chatter of the nurses just outside in the hallway, sneakers squeaking and squealing with the wagons they had to push back and forth throughout their shift. Every so often, one of the nurses would poke her head into the room, quietly sliding the door to glance around. Then, they would flash you a small smile. You wished there was a magazine or a newspaper that you could pick up and read to kill time, but there was nothing of the sort nearby, and you didn’t want to bother any of the nurses when you weren’t even a patient at the hospital. 

Oddly, the hospital reminded you of Eunseok. Perhaps it was because of Ujeong Inn, but you could picture him wearing nothing underneath the blanket in one of the beds. You thought of the softness of his jet-black hair and the lean, bony muscles that felt fragile between your fingertips. Then, you wondered why he was here, of all places. The more you thought of him, the less apparent his existence seemed—almost like a wavering, hazy fantasy you conjured up in a daze. And the more you thought of him, the more uncertain you became of the night you spent with him at Ujeong Inn. If you told yourself that it did happen, then it did, and if you thought of it as a daydream, then it was just that, a daydream. Some of the details felt too real for it to be anything you could think of, but too ethereal to have been based in actuality. 

Eunseok and the moonlight; an trick of the eye that trickled to the hairs of your skin. 

Sungchan’s father suddenly stirred up, raspy breaths accompanying a dry heave. You quickly snapped out of your daydream and helped him spit his phlegm out into a handkerchief, disposing of it before coming back to wipe his sweat with a fresh towel. 

“Would you like some water?” You asked. He responded with a weak, but firm nod. You poured some of the water from a plastic bottle into his glass, and controlled his sips a little at a time. 

It was difficult for you to discern if he wanted more or if he wanted you to stop. It seems that larger movements physically hurt him. 

“More?” You asked. He shook his head. 

“Are you hungry? What about some fruits?” 

He shook his head again. You wiped his mouth with the same towel and adjusted the bed flatly before taking the trays and cutlery onto the visitor’s table. 

“Was the food good?” You asked. He fervently shook his head, then deepening the wrinkles of his eyebrows. 

“I know, I know,” you tried to sympathize with him. Sungchan’s father indecisively opened and closed his eyes as he lay completely flat on the bed, turning his head to face you. Did he know who you were? Had Sungchan talked about you to him on his last visits? He seemed quite relaxed to be laying next to a stranger, and he was definitely quieter with you than he ever was with Sungchan. Perhaps he thinks you’re Sungchan? Or someone else? 

“It’s a nice day out,” you started, resting your chin on your palm as you crossed your legs. “Winter’s coming soon, but the temperature hasn’t dropped significantly. It’s still warm enough for me to do my laundry outside, and you’re better off here than out in the city. The pollution’s getting worse because of more factories built up in the East, and the crowds! My god, they’re exhausting to deal with. I’d rather stay home and iron my clothes. I used to be bad at it, almost burning my shirts, but I’ve gotten better. Now, I can make things look perfect, and none of my clothes have any wrinkles on them at all! Spotless and brand new! Today was a perfect day for laundry and ironing, but that’s okay, I can wake up early tomorrow morning and take care of it all. Sundays are always free, and I always have nothing to do.” 

“When I sort out my laundry tomorrow, I go to class with Sungchan. We take a lot of classes together, but econometrics is the one we’re taking tomorrow. It’s nothing really interesting, and I don’t particularly enjoy it. It’s just statistics adapted to fit economics, and most of the stuff we do, like regression analysis, has already been done and mastered in some of the more math-intensive courses.” 

“What I enjoy in most of my courses is reading essays by economists who think beyond the scope of what we think the economy encompasses. I find that economics works better with the math all removed, even if most scholars say it’s the math that adds a solid foundation to it. Sure, I do agree to a certain extent, but you can’t quantify real-life behaviors. I mean, how are we supposed to calculate every one's utility when every person has a different level of satisfaction? People also don’t seem to take into account the difference in culture. I mean, yeah, the American model of capitalism and consumerism relies on so-called notions of freedom of choice, but Korean society consists of savers. We have been taught to save for a very long time, and that’s one thing we can’t erase. It’s rude to spend, and because of that, we can’t just adopt capitalism as a structure. We need to be aware of what makes us different from the rest, and then think about adapting to a new type of accumulation that stimulates overall growth without throwing away the lessons that we’ve been taught by our ancestors. That has nothing to do with econometrics, but that’s pretty much the kind of stuff Sungchan and I study at university,” 

Sungchan’s father had said nothing, keeping his dim eyes on you the entire time you were talking. Of course, it was difficult to tell if he actually understood anything you said to him. 

“Alright, I’ll go now,” 

Sungchan’s father responded in a way that made you remember that he was once a human capable of speech. 

“No, please stay,” he whispered through the lumps of phlegm on his throat. After conversing with yourself, you nodded and returned to your seat, feeling parched and starved. You didn’t eat anything for breakfast and ate half your lunch. Now, you regretted not being able to finish your portion, but you realized quickly that feeling sorry for yourself wouldn’t help you at all. You stood up again and reassured the man that you were staying put, unzipping the large duffel bag by the foot of his bed for something to eat. Rummaging through the pockets and corners of the bag, you only fished out some cough drops and an unopened pack of instant congee. Then, your eyes flicked back onto the slices of cake that were just beside you on the table. 

“Do you mind if I eat this piece of cake? I’m getting a bit hungry,” you asked. Sungchan’s father didn’t answer. You took a slice of chocolate cake and pulled a small, heaping piece with your fingers, careful not to leave any icing between your nails. 

“Delicious, but decadent. Too much cream, and it’s a little too sweet! I think they got this from the French bakery that just opened near the station,” you remarked. You scraped off more of the icing and siphoned off a second heaping—this time, a larger mouthful than the first. The only thing you could hear in the room was your teeth gnawing at the soft sponge. After this mouthful, you decided to take a break, taking another fresh towel from the bag to wipe your fingers. You boiled some water in a kettle by the end of the corridor and made tea for the two of you. 

“Do you want something to drink?” You asked, coming back with two mugs filled with corn tea. 

“Cake,” he whispered. 

“Alright, a small slice like that will do. What side do you want? The end bits with more cream, or the middle with more sponge?” 

“Sponge,” he replied with a nod. You adjusted the bed again to how Sungchan had left it when he felt his father. Then, you used a pair of disposable chopsticks from the duffel bag to cut the cake in quarters, flying it into the patient’s mouth like an airplane. After a stern, unreadable expression, Sungchan’s father’s mouth moved from cheek to cheek, finally swallowing the piece after a while. 

“Is that good?” He nodded. 

“Things are better when food tastes good, no? Tasting good food and feeling good about it is kind of proof that you’re alive,” 

He had an entire slice of cake. After he was finished, you filled his glass with water and controlled his sips. He motioned for the bathroom as soon as he was done with his glass, so you took a cup from the foot of his bed and held it under his penis. When he signaled to you that he was done, you emptied its contents in the toilet and washed the cup clean. By the time you came back, you could only throw the tea out where his urine went. 

“How are you feeling now?” You asked. 

“Head… hurts.” He replied. 

“I mean, you did have an operation. I’ve never had one in my entire life, so I don’t know what it’s like.”

“Gongdeok ticket to Sungchan,” he suddenly whispered, saying more than you believed he was capable of. 

“Gongdeok,” he repeated. “Sungchan,”

“Gongdeok?”

“Please,” he said. “Sungchan” 

You couldn’t connect or decipher what he said, so you kept quiet. He, too, was silent for a while. Occasionally, he would muster the exact words again: Gongdeok, ticket, Sungchan. He opened his eyes, peering at you as if demanding your full attention. You knew he was trying to tell you something, but you couldn’t begin to imagine what was so important for you to know. 

All you knew then was that any sign of lifelessness was suddenly animated in his deep, pressing gaze. He now had the strength to raise his arm at you and gripped your wrist tight. This must have had an incredible effect on him, so you returned the favor by slipping your hand in his. With what little remaining strength he could muster, he squeezed your hand and mouthed the word please, now even quieter than a whisper or a secret. 

“No worries, I’ll go take care of Sungchan and Gongdeok,” you responded haphazardly. Then, he suddenly fell flat, chest heaving up and down as a faint snore drifted into your ears. You put two of your fingers next to his lymph nodes to check if he was alive, then, once you felt a pulse, headed out to the hallway for a quick walk. The moment you slid the door of the room shut and allowed the change in environment to settle within you, you realized that you’d grown a liking for this old, shriveled man on the verge of death. 

The old man came back a few moments later, greeting you in the hallway to ask if everything was alright. The only thing you could give him was a frail nod, then excusing yourself to meet Sungchan outside. 

Before you could descend the stairs, you saw him extend a wave toward you at the bottom of the staircase, quickly jogging up to catch up with you. 

“I was just in the parking lot, counting the cars until I fell asleep.” He started. “I did what you told me to do. I just sat there and let my head get empty.”

“How are you feeling now?” You asked. 

“Much better. I’m still tired, but I feel lighter than I ever felt before. I think I’m more tired than I realize.” 

Sungchan’s father was now fast asleep, and there was nothing for the two of you to do, so you went back down to the cafeteria to buy coffee, then stepped out again to smoke. You filled Sungchan in with what happened after he left—that his father slept soundly, then woke up to eat his lunch and a whole slice of cake, then peed. 

“No way, no fucking way.” Sungchan said, startled. “You got him to finish his dinner tray and have him eat half a piece of cake! That’s amazing!” 

“We were all out here going nuts over him starving himself and refusing any food he gave us, but you got him to finish his food!”

“I think he just saw me enjoy the cake and wanted some too,” 

“Either that or you have this thing in you that just relaxes people,”

“Doubt it, I think a lot of people say I’m unsettling,” you laughed. 

“So?” Sungchan asked, shifting the bottle of canned coffee between his hands. “What did you think about my dad?” 

“He’s nice. I mean, I couldn’t have a proper conversation with him, but he seems nice.” 

“He was quiet, wasn’t he?” 

“Very.”

“God, he was much worse a week ago. He went wild in there! Throwing his food around and shit. Telling us that he hoped we’d die. Cancer does that to people. It’s probably the fact that chemo literally kills your cells, but it was the same with my mom. At the last part of her illness, when she was on the brink of death, she yelled at me and said I wasn’t his son. Deep down, I know it wasn’t her, but it affected me so much that I couldn’t bring myself to see her for a while. To think your own mother would say something distasteful, right?” 

“I get it,” you replied, then suddenly remembered the string of words that Sungchan’s father had uttered. 

“A ticket to Gongdeok? What the hell is he trying to say?” 

“Then he said ‘Please’ and ‘Sungchan.’ He either meant, ‘Please take care of Sungchan,’ or he wanted you to go to Gongdeok and buy a ticket. It was such a mess that I couldn’t understand any of it, but who knows? Does Gongdeok ring any bells?” 

Sungchan pondered on the collection of words for while. 

“The only thing I can think of was running away from home, then going to Gongdeok to take the airport link to Gimpo. Back then, when I was ten or so, I was stupid enough to think I could just buy a plane ticket at the desk. I’d heard about a nice aunt who lived in America, so I went to the airport, went to a desk, and asked for a ticket to America, but she refused! Said she would call my house, and I refused to give her an address! Soon enough, though, my dad came to pick me up from Gimpo and then bought me lunch at the airport. He talked to me about all sorts of things, like the war and how he was exempt from conscription because of his astigmatism but still served military service when he was young. Come to think of it, that was the only time I’ve ever had a long conversation with him. God, I wonder what he was like in military service. Lord knows if I’d be like him when I serve.”

“Aren’t you supposed to serve now?” You asked.

“Who knows? I haven’t been called on yet. I think it has something to do with my mom dying, and now my dad being ill. My brother was unlucky, though, he finished his service right as my mom got diagnosed, so he came home from all of that chaos only to find more at home. Anyway, on the train, he told me all sorts of stories. Stuff about the Japanese in Korea, the Americans coming to Seoul, and then, Vietnam! I didn’t even know where that was as a kid, but all his stories always ended with him saying something like, ‘Sungchan, the world’s the same everywhere we go.’ A bit of a depressing conclusion to say to a ten-year-old, but his stories really impressed me.” 

“I see,”

“See what?”

“Why your dad said that,” you muttered under your breath. 

“Did you ever run away from home?” Sungchan asked, cocking his head to the side. 

“No,”

“Why not?” 

“Never thought about it,”

“God, you’re weird!” He exclaimed, as if impressed by your every answer. “Every kid has that point in their life, no?”

“Well, I didn’t.”

“So, what did you say to my dad after that?” 

“I just said I’d take care of you and Gongdeok.”

“Really? You told him you’d take care of me?”

Sungchan looked you straight in the eyes with a grave expression. 

“Yeah, I did, but I really didn’t know what he was saying, and—”

“Don’t worry, I get what you’re trying to say,” he laughed. 

After Sungchan had finished his cigarette, the two of you returned to the room. His father was still fast asleep, and you could still hear his faint snores falling up and down into your ears, as if you had pressed them near his mouth. As the skies turned violet, the lights in the hospital flicked to a dim shade of yellow, reflecting the colors of dead leaves. The flock of birds once perched on the utility pole had all fluttered away. You and Sungchan sat by the window next to his father’s bed, trying your best to exchange words in low conversation. He took the empty mug where you dumped out your cold tea and attempted to read the fortune written in the black specs that adorned the white ceramic, and told you that you would go past a hundred, get your heart broken in a divorce, then die. At the same time, everyone watched you get a heart attack in the grocery store. 

Sungchan’s father woke up at dusk, and Sungchan took his chair, moving it next to his father’s bedside drawer. He wiped the sweat off his forehead, gave him some water straight out of the bottle, and asked him about any pains in his body. A nurse had come by a few moments later to take his temperature, record any of his vitals, and check the IV drips for any faults. You returned to the cafeteria and watched the news on the television. 

After an hour, you returned and told Sungchan you were leaving. To his father, you told him that you had to go back home to study. He turned his head towards you and twitched the corners of his mouth. 

“Thank you so much for today,” Sungchan said when he walked you to the exit. 

“I mean, I didn’t really do anything at all, to be honest, but I’ll come by next week. I’d like to see your father again,” you said. 

“Really?” 

“Being alone in that apartment can get to me from time to time, and who knows? Your brother might bring cake again,”

Sungchan folded his arms and tapped his feet. 

“Well, I’d like to go out with you again,” he said, a valiant smirk etched on his face. 

“What about the porn cinema you promised?”

“We can do that first and then go out to eat while talking about the usual disgusting things that we talk about,”

“You’re the one who brings it up!”

“Sounds like a plan, no? Get super drunk in the afternoon and then pass out in bed,”

“What other fantasies do you have in mind?” 

“We’ll see,” you replied defeatedly. “But I’ll pick you up next week. I’ll try to beat the daily papers, and we can come here together.” 

With that, you bade Sungchan farewell.

post mortem: THIS IS PART TWO OF NEVER MEANT. I REPEAT. PART TWO! GO READ THAT ONE IF YOU HAVEN'T YET. PART THREE COMING SOON

[thothunter-420]

someone next to me in my english class last week was buying weed and then logged onto tumblr right after and that inspired me to come back. hi everyone

[lesbiansandgayssupporttheminers]

So, the DfE have released their non-statutory guidance for schools on "gender questioning children". I know much has been made of the idea of outing trans children to their parents, but I think the guidance actually has far more concerning sections. And by concerning I mean "deeply transphobic and fucked up".

I know some people are happy it's non statutory, but let's be explicit, this document is transphobic, it's dogwhistle politics, and it's existence will directly harm trans people.

Ironically, the DfE's own lawyers have advised that this guidance is likely illegal and contravenes the equality act.

I think the idea that there are lots of students who are fully transitioned in school but not out at all at home is a bit of a strawman from both sides. In my experience (and I've mentioned this on tumblr before), a school would not normally encourage this if a student was genuinely at risk at home if outed, because even if all the teachers knew not to out the students, you can't control the behaviour of other students/parents etc. I think it's a bit of a right wing scare tactic "Schools are transitioning your kids without your consent". It's a fascist dog whistle.

In my experience as a teacher, the vast majority of trans kids I've taught were transitioning socially at home and school. Some did only use their chosen name/pronouns in school, but parents were aware.

But this straw man has been used to build a document which is deeply transphobic and wide reaching and will defacto exclude some trans kids from school, or from school sports, or from attending a school where they feel comfortable.

Trans kids exist. Kids can know they are trans from a young age, and there is no harm to anyone from allowing social transition at a young age. Some kids transition back to their assigned gender at birth. That doesn't mean anyone was harmed. But this guidance explicitly presents the idea of transition as both harmful to the person transitioning and those around them. Which is fucked up.

The new guidance has some really concerning bits in it which will seriously negatively impact all trans students. Here are some quotes below, with my comments in italics. Please note I'm quoting directly from a document that uses transphobic language:

-Primary school aged children should not have different pronouns to their sex-based pronouns used about them. (This is fucked, I cannot stress how fucked this is. These kids exist and simply pretending they don't is awful in the extreme. The idea that children can't socially transition at primary school is really messed up. )

-schools and colleges should only agree to a change of pronouns if they are confident that the benefit to the individual child outweighs the impact on the school community. It is expected that there will be very few occasions in which a school or college will be able to agree to a change of pronouns. On these rare occasions, no teacher or pupil should be compelled to use these preferred pronouns. (How does a child using pronouns of choice impact the school community? It doesn't? In my experience, teens are much more accepting of trans classmates than some adults. Also giving teachers explicit permission to misgender kids is fucking dangerous).

-schools and colleges should exhaust all other options, such as using firstnames, to avoid requiring other individuals having to use preferred pronouns. (My initial response to this was "why the fuck" but a trans friend commented that the purpose is to make trans people's lives as difficult and as miserable as possible, and they're going after the most vulnerable trans people- trans kids)

-If a child does not want to use the toilet designated for their biological sex, and the school or college has considered all the relevant factors outlined above, they may wish to consider whether they can provide or offer the use of an alternative toilet facility. (this is weird because I'm pretty sure it contravenes the equality act, I'm pretty sure there is a legal duty on schools, and certainly colleges where over 18s attend to provide gender neutral toilet facilities if required. Also, not having an appropriate toilet defacto excludes children from school).

-Schools may have different uniform requirements for girls and boys. Some specify which uniform items are for girls and which are for boys, and similarly some schools have hairstyle rules which differ by sex. A child who is gender questioning should, in general, be held to the same uniform standards as other children of their sex at their school and schools may set clear rules to this effect. (So some schools could, for example, force a trans boy or non binary student to wear a skirt. Which is unfair and messed up. To be honest, I think sex segregated uniforms belong in the dark ages anyway, but this is just ridiculous.).

-There is no general duty to allow a child to ‘social transition’. (Firstly, there legally is. Secondly, why would a school not want to? This just gives licence to transphobic heads to say "oh, no, we won't allow you to transition", which is illegal, but the whole thing is just such a fucking mess. And again, why? Why would you not allow a child to transition socially? Unless you want to pretend that trans children don't exist?)

If you want to read the full guidance, it's available here, but trigger warnings etc do apply: https://consult.education.gov.uk/equalities-political-impartiality-anti-bullying-team/gender-questioning-children-proposed-guidance/supporting_documents/Gender%20Questioning%20Children%20%20nonstatutory%20guidance.pdf

Yes, the guidance is non-statutory, so in theory schools could ignore it, but in reality, OFSTED etc can use non-statutory guidance as a stick to beat schools with. At this stage, I think we all know the OFSTED don't give a fuck about anyone's mental health or wellbeing.

Interestingly, even the DfE's own lawyers have admitted the advice could open schools up to a legal challenge. This SchoolsWeek article on the topic is super interesting: https://schoolsweek.co.uk/trans-guidance-dfe-lawyers-said-schools-face-high-risk-of-being-sued/

Anyway, whilst the fact it's non statutory is something, this is not the victory some people are making it out to be, and the fact a document encouraging misgendering children has been published at all is fucked. This document could very much be used to prevent children from transitioning, and will likely prevent some children who have transitioned from attending school.

[junrenjun]

love and lacrosse jackets

pe teacher!vernon x chemistry teacher!reader (fem)

genre: fluff

wc: 3k

warnings: reader is referred to as ms. (and other fem pronouns), reader wears vernon's clothes

a/n: this is not an understand series update and i apologize for that. however, here's a vernon teacher au with a little side of lacrosse and dad!seungcheol

You were suddenly thrown out of your thoughts by one of your students sighing and turning from her worksheet. “Ms. y/n, can I ask a question?” 

You knew this student, Maya, was likely trying to get out of doing her assignment. She was too smart for her own good. “Depends. Is it about the worksheet?” 

She paused for a second, turning her head slightly away in order to avoid your gaze. “...no.”

You continued. “Do you need to go to the bathroom or the nurse?”

Maya sighed and mumbled, “no.”

You turned back to your computer while giving your final response. “Then I think you know the answer. I would be happy to talk to you once you’ve balanced all those equations.” 

You should’ve known she wasn’t giving up that easily. If anything, she probably gave up halfway through the worksheet because she knew the answers and was just looking for something to entertain herself. “Mr. Chwe lets us ask him questions all the time.”

You snorted. “Mr. Chwe is a PE teacher Maya. You don’t have worksheets to do in his classes. Unfortunately, you do in chemistry. So please finish this or at least study for your quiz next week.” 

Maya was apparently taken aback by this. She was quick to defend herself, saying, “how do you know we don’t do worksheets in PE?”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Maybe you should've been a college professor instead of a high school teacher. “I’m the girls lacrosse coach and he’s the boys coach. We spend a lot of time together and I’ve never once seen him make a worksheet.” 

An evil grin spread across Maya’s face. You internally groaned at this. That expression means she’s up to absolutely no good. She turned and tapped on her partner’s arm. Great, now she’s distracting other students too. “Henry, wouldn’t Ms. y/n and Mr. Chwe make a cute couple?” He grinned and started going off on a tangent about how funny it would be if the two lacrosse coaches were dating. 

This conversation really took a turn for the worse, didn’t it? There’s nothing you could do but groan, out loud this time, and put your head in your hands. Your neighboring teacher, Mr. Seokmin, really has impeccable timing though. He stuck his head through your door and grabbed your attention a few moments later. “Hey Ms. y/n, do you have a student that can run an errand for me real quick?”

Now was your chance. “Maya, since you seem to have no interest in balancing any more equations, why don’t you go help Mr. Seokmin?”

Before she could protest, the physics teacher grinned brightly at her before exclaiming, “perfect! Come on Maya, I need someone to help me carry these projects to the library.” Once she was finally out of the room, you breathed a sigh of relief. 

It didn’t last long though because your other students suddenly started giggling and murmuring amongst each other. Henry, who was still turned toward you, decided he needed to continue Maya’s antics in her absence. “You did say you and Mr. Chwe were close.” More giggles were heard. 

You’re not sure what you did to deserve this treatment from your 3rd hour honors class of all people, but clearly it was something. “Alright if you all don’t go back to your work I’m not offering any extra credit on this next quiz.” The rest of the hour passed in silence. 

“What’s with the long face?” Vernon thought the joking would cheer his best player up, but it just made Henry frown even more. 

After a few moments of silence, he finally answered, “I had a quiz in chemistry today. Don’t think I did too well on it.”

Vernon was quick to ask him which teacher he had. “Your favorite, Ms. y/n,” Henry responded. 

The PE teacher rolled his eyes at the comment but still clapped his hand on the player’s shoulder. “You’ll be fine, kid. She offers extra credit. But she also told me you and Maya were pestering her the other day instead of doing your work, so maybe you should put a little more effort into understanding the material next time.”

Henry grumbled, knowing nothing good would come of an argument. “Yeah, whatever you say Coach.” Then, he dropped his bag on the ground and ran out onto the field to start warming up.

Vernon felt someone approach him from behind. “See dude, even the kids can pick up on you and y/n’s chemistry. Haha, get it? Chemistry? Y/n teaches chemistry.” The head coach could barely restrain himself from flicking Mingyu in the forehead. He was a great assistant coach, but an incredibly annoying friend. 

“Why can’t I just be friends with a coworker and fellow lacrosse coach?” Vernon complained. Mingyu simply watched on as his friend continued. “Just because we’re both single doesn’t mean we should get together. I mean she’s really cool and works really well with the kids. And she’s an insane lacrosse player, an even better coach too. I think she could get the girls to state this year. I just think…” He’s cut off by Mingyu smacking his arm. 

For once, he’s grateful for the assistant coach’s intrusion, because he turns around to find you jogging up to him. Weird, he thought to himself, since you and the girls have a game today. You skid to a stop next to the two, and make eye contact with him. “You don’t happen to have an extra SVHS shirt do you? I think I forgot my coaching shirt at home today and I really don’t want Seungcheol getting on my ass for it.” 

Vernon’s world comes crashing down at that moment. Maybe he does have a teensy little crush on you. Because the thought of you wearing his clothes has him swooning. Mingyu, ever so helpful, snaps him out of the moment by clearing his throat to yell at the boys for messing around. Vernon blinks at you for a second before stammering out, “uh yeah I think so,” and reaching into his bag. He pulls out a gray quarter zip with the words “SVHS” and “Coach Chwe” embroidered on the chest. He debates hiding it from your sight and shoving it back in his bag to save you both the embarrassment, but he knows how strict Seungcheol is as an athletic director. 

He eventually tosses it to you, stuttering out something about good luck while watching you throw it over your head. Once it’s on you say, “I have the same one, so hopefully no one sees the difference. Thanks Chwe.” He can’t even process your words because his brain is simply malfunctioning seeing you in his clothes, especially ones that say his name. He’s no better than his high schoolers. Before he knows it, you’re turning on your heel and jogging back to the main field. 

Someone comes up behind him, filling Mingyu’s absence, since the assistant coach ran off to lead practice drills in the middle of Vernon’s little crisis. He hears the lacrosse captain snickering and then telling him, “damn Coach, you’ve got it bad. You’re redder than a tomato.”

Vernon simply cannot handle it any further. “Oscar, for heaven’s sake, please shut your mouth and go back to practice.” Oscar throws his hands up in mock defense, before grabbing the ball that rolled over to Vernon’s feet and running back onto the field.

You really need to give Vernon his coach’s jacket back. It didn’t help that you weren’t a morning person, and seemed to accidentally leave it at home whenever you left for work each day. It also maybe didn’t help that it smelled just like the boy’s lacrosse coach, who, admittedly, smelled pretty damn good. But, you couldn’t hoard Vernon’s things forever. You were lucky enough that you had gone a week without him mentioning the jacket at all, which you chalked up to him knowing you were busy.

Tomorrow, you told yourself. Tomorrow you would take the jacket back to school and give it to him. You even laid it out with your own jacket, which you were going to wear the next since you had a game anyways. That, however, was a mistake. Because in the morning, groggy from lack of sleep, you accidentally threw on Vernon’s jacket and shoved your own into your work bag. 

How no one told you until 3rd period, you’re not quite sure. Mainly because Seokmin had specifically complimented your outfit when you visited him before your first class. You thought maybe it was because you were wearing a new pair of pants. Clearly it was not and the physics teacher was using it as a means to tease you (and Vernon by proxy). If only you had known.

Maya stepped into your classroom extra peppy that day, which was already a recipe for disaster. The fact that she was the one to catch that you were wearing Mr. Chwe’s zip-up certainly did not help. A gasped “oh my god” stopped you in the middle of your lecture. You pointedly looked at the girl before asking, “Maya, is everything alright?”

The poor girl could barely contain her excitement, practically shaking in her seat. “You’re dating Mr. Chwe! I knew it!”

You were caught so off-guard that it took you a while to respond. “Maya, where did you even get that idea from? And you’re being disruptive, I’m trying to teach about equilibrium.” 

She stood from her seat and pointed at you, before excitedly exclaiming, “your jacket. You’re wearing Mr. Chwe’s jacket!” You looked down and, sure enough, Vernon’s name was plastered across the chest. To put it plainly, you were mortified. In fact, you’re pretty sure you’ve embarrassed yourself even more when you don’t respond for a solid minute. 

Finally, when you’re done wallowing in pity in front of a bunch of 16 year olds, you make your way to your desk and pull out a hall pass. You hand it to Maya swiftly before telling her, “if you’re too invested in this to learn chemistry, go bother Mr. Chwe about it. It’s his planning period.” She gapes up at you before scrambling out of the room.

You turn back to the rest of the class, making sure to pointedly look at Henry. “No other questions about my love life?”

A deadly silence spreads across the room. Henry sinks back in his chair but you watch a hand creep up from the back of the classroom. You sigh and call on the girl. She’s clearly surprised you even allowed her to speak, because the question is whispered to the point you can barely hear it. “Why do you have Mr. Chwe’s jacket?”

The inquiry is enough to throw you off the deep end. “Ok, I’m not teaching the rest of class. I don’t care what you guys do as it’s either A) not disruptive or B) asking me about my personal life.” 

Seungcheol is surprised when there is a knock on the athletic office door in the middle of 3rd period. Students should be in class and if it were a staff member, they would have just let themselves in. He tells whoever it is to come in and is slightly less surprised to see Maya standing in front of him. She doesn’t let him speak first, quickly letting out, “do you know where Mr. Chwe is?”

He raises an eyebrow at the girl. “You got a hall pass kid?” he fires back. Maya waves the piece of paper around in his face. He rolls his eyes. 

She puts her hands on her hips and looks pointedly at him. “Seriously though. Do you know where Mr. Chwe is? It’s supposed to be his planning period or something.”

Seungcheol is still confused why she needs to see Vernon in the middle of 3rd hour and how she managed a hall pass for it. “Why?”

Maya plops down on the chair in front of his desk with a sigh, clearly this conversation was not happening without a little bit of a fight. “Ms. y/n sent me to ask him a question.”

The athletic director can’t help but let out a snort at the girl’s comment. Maya is suddenly interested in his reaction. “Why is that so funny? Do you think they’re dating too?”

Seungcheol is surprised yet again. “Do you think they’re dating?”

Now Maya snorts. “Obviously. Ms. y/n is wearing his lacrosse jacket today.” She laughs when the man’s eyes practically bulge out of his skull. He rustles around his desk, grabbing a notepad and writing another hall pass for the girl.

After scribbling for a second, he passes the note to the girl and tells her, “Mr. Chwe is in his office, room 218.”

The girl grabs the note from his hands and gleefully gets up to skip out the door. She stops midway through and calls out over her shoulder, “thanks Dad!”

“I’m not dating Ms. y/n, Maya. You know that.” Vernon sighs exasperatedly. “Why are you even asking me this?”

He knows he’s in for trouble when she smirks. “She’s wearing your coaching jacket today. Care to explain that?”

Vernon knows he should’ve asked for it back sooner rather than later. But he was secretly hoping that he would be able to see it on you one more time. And the longer you have it, the more likely it’s going to come back smelling like you (not that Vernon cares anyways right?). He doesn’t miss a beat though, explaining to Maya that he lent you his jacket for a game and that you probably mixed it up with your own. She’s not impressed, but she knows it’s an explanation that’s most likely true. This doesn’t stop her from interrogating Vernon further. “Do you want to date Ms. y/n?”

His silence is incriminating. He can tell by Maya’s mile wide grin. Trying to put an end to it, the lacrosse coach stands up from his desk, telling her that he’ll walk her back to whatever class she left from.

One tiny important detail he forgot is that you teach 3rd hour honors chemistry. A class that one of his players, Henry, shares with Maya. And he’s currently standing outside your door, watching as you type away on your computer. Sure enough, “Mr. Chwe” is embroidered across the chest. Vernon thinks he might combust on the spot. His student clearly picks up on this, muttering something about how she’s “seen middle schoolers with more balls.” 

He waits outside your door as Maya enters the room. There’s only a few minutes left of the period, so he figured it would be better for both of you to talk away from prying eyes. As the bell rings, he patiently watches the students trickle out your door. When he’s sure that everyone is gone, he steps into the doorway. What he does not expect is for you to walk straight into his chest, stumbling back with the cutest “oomph” he’s ever heard. 

Vernon is stunned but you look completely mortified. Probably because you just ran into the man whose jacket you’re wearing basically without his consent. His assumption is correct because you start mumbling out apologies. “I’m so sorry I thought this was my jacket when I grabbed it this morning. I didn’t mean to wear it today, I made such a mess of this. I shouldn’t have even asked for it in the first place. I was just about to change, give me a second I…”

The lacrosse coach cuts you off in the middle of your little rant. “Do you want to go out with me after your game on Friday?” 

You blink at him, not even processing the words he just said. When you finally do, your cheeks flush and you glance down at your watch. “Do you think you can ask me that in like 4 hours, Chwe?”

Vernon has no idea what you mean by that. He gawks a little bit. Do you need time to think about it? Are you not interested? Do you already have a boyfriend? Shit, he should’ve thought this through.

You break him out of his little trance with a small chuckle. “We’re on the clock Vernon. And you have a class in three minutes.” 

He glances at his watch. His freshman PE class is probably waiting for him. He mumbles something about meeting him on the main field before practice. Then he’s out the door. You’re left there, stunned, still in his jacket. You don’t bother to take it off the rest of the day.

A few hours later, Mingyu and Seokmin are watching you both converse from afar. Vernon’s cheeks are the reddest they’ve ever been. You’re fidgeting nervously but also smiling. It seems to be going well. Seokmin turns to the assistant coach before saying, “took them long enough.”

They hear someone approaching and turn to see Seungcheol. “You both owe me $20.” 

Both the teachers roll their eyes at him but reach for their wallets. Maya pops up from their other side, walking up to her father. “I should be getting at least half of that. I did all the work.” 

Seungcheol grunts, pondering her proposition. He turns to her. “What about this? You can either get $20 now or $200 if y/n is Mrs. Chwe before you graduate college?”

Maya’s eyes brighten and that sinister smile spreads across her cheeks once again. “Deal.” (She’s $200 richer at her college graduation).

[hwangism143]

battleground

synopsis: you hated your co-president, kim seungmin. but, it's your last year of high school and prom planning is up to the two of you. you just expect getting work done and leaving school. what you don't expect however, is kim seungmin looking after you (considering you never do) and you coaxing him into being your prom date.

pairing: non-idol!seungmin x fem!reader

genre: academic rival to lovers, crack, fluff, high school au, angst if you squint

warnings: swearing, mentions of eating, mentions of fatigue and fainting, sickness and overworking, slight themes of stalking, panic attack but not mentioned as such, mentions of alcohol, overconsumption of alcohol, a shit ton of pop culture references (i'm sorry)

word count: 21k words (?!)

requested by: @starlostseungmin (hi kaisey ily)

playlist: gorgeous - taylor swift, true love - p!nk, CHILL - stray kids, make you mine - madison beer, teenage dream - katy perry

a/n: real life men are better of as just enemies. my fictional rendition of seungmin, however, is not. (also i hope it isn't obvious that i have never been to prom.)

"you ruined my life, by not being mine"

"Was that an attempt of trying to flirt with me? Cause, wow, you need to step your game up," Seungmin told you with a smirk.

Sunlight streamed through the library windows, illuminating the dust that covered the bookshelves. They were proof of the lack of visits to the old haven of knowledge. Settled in an armchair was Kim Seungmin, book in one hand, glasses slightly crooked and one legged propped upon the other.

You let out a puff of breath in an attempt to calm yourself down because, who did he even think he was? "No, Kim, it wasn't. I am literally a teenage girl and yet, you are the most delusional person I have ever meet," you spit out, "The principal's calling us. Let's go."

"Alright, fine," Seungmin responded lazily. He stretched his long limbs and got up from the armchair he was cozily tucked up in.

He joined you on your walk towards the principal's office while you told off whatever force was above that caused you to be walking to impeding doom with Kim Seungmin on a Friday morning.

You both had a bitter rivalry that began your first year in high school. Coinciding with the fact that the said high school was also a boarding school, there was no escaping Seungmin. You couldn't even pinpoint when your feelings towards him changed from indifference to animosity; but having been pitted against each other for all your academic life at Park Academy, it certainly did make sense.

It wasn't that you didn't respect Seungmin. He was good at everything he did and a worthy opponent in all your endeavors. But he just made it so difficult for you to like him.

Your already dysfunctional relationship with him only took a turn for the worse this high school senior year. Both of you had decided to run for student council president. Despite all the campaigning and emotional blackmailing, you both had tied for the position.

Your incredible school, instead of holding a tie-breaker, deciding to make you both student council presidents. The idea of writing 'student council co-president' on your college applications physically made you wince.

But the worst part? Seungmin and you actually worked really well together. Deciding to keep your rivalry out of anything student council related on your first session (the banter continued though, nothing could take that away), you both had built up one of the best councils the school had seen under your shared leadership.

You didn't know just how well you both would get along when it came to matters as such, but that didn't lead to either of you warming up to each other. Conversation between you both strictly consisted of official matters and jabs at each other.

In fact, you hated each other's presence so much that you both almost instantly decided on splitting responsibilities to avoid running into each other. Oddly enough, you both seemed to agree on a lot of things. You always just brushed it off with a, great minds think alike.

Not that you would ever confess to Seungmin that you considered him to be someone with a 'great mind'.

The both of you walked towards the principal's office in silence. When you eventually got there, the receptionist quickly ushered you both inside. You smoothed down your skirt and sat down with your hands in you lap. Beside you, you noticed Seungmin drape his blazer over the back of his chair and take a seat.

Your principal was on a call and winked at the both of you, pointing towards the phone and turning her finger around in a circle near her temple. Seungmin flashed her a strained smile while you hoped that the expression of judgment on your face wasn't obvious.

For some reason, Principal Kim thought that she was your friend. When she finally put the phone down, she snorted, "Superintendents, am I right?"

Seungmin and you laughed weakly in response. Principals, am I right? was the phrase you were currently trying very hard to bite back.

Coming closer, Principal Kim laced her fingers together and leaned onto the table. "As you both know," she began, "We have around five months till prom."

A buzzing grew in your stomach, excitement engulfing your senses. Prom. Your sole respite, the event that you had looked forward to your entire high school life. From watching Disney movies romanticizing prom at a young age, to subsequently moving onto books that did the same, you felt like prom would be the pinnacle of your time in school.

"Now," continued Principal Kim, "While I do know that you both have a tendency to work separately, I would like you both to chair the prom committee together this year. We are thinking of making this year's prom one of Park Academy's finest. Take your time and compile the best Prom committee you can and get started on everything."

She clapped her hand and leaned back, beaming at her best students. "That is all," she smiled softly, nudging a tray of toffees towards you both.

Seungmin looked mortified at the thought of eating something from the principal's office like he was six. In any other circumstance you would have too, but the giddiness of both prom planning and not having had anything for over twenty four hours compelled you to take one.

"Aren't you excited?" you asked Seungmin as you both walked out of the door.

You were opening the toffee wrapper when he responded with a curt, "No. I personally believe that prom is a waste of time. I'll help in the committee planning and be present if I need to, but you can rightfully assume that I will not be enjoying any of it."

You were slightly shocked at his response but responded with a scathing, "I didn't know that the Kim Seungmin was too high and haughty for prom."

He stopped dead in his tracks and turned to make eye contact with you. "Prom is like a playground for bullies and confused teenagers. It's a battleground for snarky comments and raging hormones and, might I add, brings out the worst in people."

He quickly turned on his heel and walked away before you could utter a word. You slowly let out a deep breath to control you anger and headed in the same direction as him, towards the cafeteria. You can hear the chatter of students and the sudden influx of sound momentarily causes your world to spin.

You're leaning against one of the lockers trying to steady yourself when feel an arm around your waist hoisting you up.

Hyunjin clicked beside you in disappointment. "Don't make me start feeding you now."

You just sighed in response and leaned your head against his shoulders. He was right, of course. You had the horrible habit of putting your health second (to last) with regards to anything that had to do with university and getting in. One of those things was skipping meals in favor of studying.

"I don't understand how people who sleep eight hours a day get shit done," you whined against Hyunjin.

"Well, has it ever occurred to you that people usually don't have as much shit to do as you do?" your best friend responded wisely. You lightly tapped the side of your sneaker against his.

Hwang Hyunjin was practically your brother in every aspect possible. He was lovable, caring, annoying and wanted to make you rip your hair out. All of this was what you assumed having a sibling was like, being an only child yourself. Ironically, he was one too.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

You first met Hyunjin during an art class that you had to take for your first week of school. You struggled with drawing a straight line, while embarrassingly using a ruler. He was sitting beside you and calmly sketched one of the most incredible monochromatic landscapes you had ever seen.

When fourteen-year old Hyunjin gave your drawing a practically dangerous side eye and when you looked at him with eyes pleading to help you, the foundation of your friendship was laid. Later, when you handed him half a Snickers bar as a means of saying 'thank you', your friendship was cemented in chocolate and pencil shavings.

You both were joined at the hip ever since.

Your other best friend, Jeongin, had a habit of seemingly materializing out of nowhere and startling you in the process.

"Hi," he said, his face spawning in front of yours.

His wild hair and crazed smile caused you to yelp in surprise and hit your arm against the water fountain. Hyunjin laughed at your misfortune while Jeongin apologized with an extremely unapologetic smile. You resorted to glaring at both of them.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The story of how Jeongin turned your duo into your trio was a tale in itself. Jeongin was a year younger than you and Hyunjin, currently a junior. You had first spotted him on his first day of school, him waddling around like a lost duckling and you unwittingly (and unwillingly) taking on the role of a mother hen.

Hyunjin had seen young Jeongin standing in the crowd, desperately trying to act cool. Jeongin's shoes were a painful pattern of key lime and hot pink that most definitely did not match together. He wore an oversized jacket and sent a small nod towards everyone who looked his way, hands jammed in his jeans pocket.

"That one," Hyunjin declared while dragging you along with him, "We're adopting that one."

And so two became three.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Presently, you scoffed at Jeongin. "How did you even become student council vice president?"

Jeongin beamed at you, counting off his fingers as he listed of his campaigning winning qualities. "I'm hot, rich, smart and funny."

Hyunjin snorted in response, him on one side of you and Jeongin on the other. "Innie, you are several things but smart is not one of them."

You were compelled to nod in response as Jeongin responded with a gasp, "You too? How could you betray me as well."

You would have issued a sarcastic reply to what he said, but you were too distracted by Hyunjin being distracted. He had suddenly stood still at the entryway of cafeteria, staring at something in the distance.

When you followed his line of sight, you suppressed the urge to burst out into laughter. Jeongin, however, did not.

"Gosh Hyunjin," he wheezed between laughs, "Just ask Riya out. Watching you suffer in this down bad, unspoken friend zoned phase is pitiful."

Hyunjin had been in love with Riya Rai for well over two years. You could obviously tell why; she was gorgeous, smart and a part of Hyunjin's dance class. You were truly rooting for them to start dating, Riya being one of your roommates.

You still remembered the way Hyunjin gushed over her classical dance audition. ('I couldn't understand the words but it was like she was flying!') Jeongin too, was subject to Hyunjin's hopeless love for her. Being the kind of person Hyunjin was, he fell for her hard and deep.

You were happy for Hyunjin, you truly were. But a part of you longed to feel a love like that for somebody. Not even a relationship, just feel love dripping into your heart until it rushed in like a torrent.

You were always so busy with proving yourself to others, that you never really took the time to introspect your own desires.

"Hyunjin," you asked impatiently once you remembered what exactly you wanted to talk about.

"Hm?" he responded as you both grabbed your food and sat at a table with your regular friend group.

Riya slid in beside Hyunjin and you could feel him visibly tense. You couldn't understand why he was so nervous to profess his feelings for her. Any girl (apart from you, because ew) would be willing to date Hyunjin.

Riya brightly made her pleasantries after which you asked solemnly, "Guys. Would you do me the honor of being part of the prom planning committee?"

Riya and Hyunjin were the few people who shared the enthusiasm for prom which you did. Riya mouth slowly hung open while Hyunjin sharply took in a breath.

"Really?" he whispered in awe.

You nodded happily as Hyunjin hugged you from one side and Riya clambered over to where you were sitting to wrap her arms around you. "IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou," she repeated like a chant while Hyunjin excitedly began plotting décor ideas.

Maybe you wouldn't need romantic love while you had them.

You were busy people watching and tuning out Riya and Hyunjin's enthusiastic chatter when you caught site of Seungmin. He was sitting with his best friend, Lee Felix. You found their friendship quite odd. How could the embodiment of happiness be so close with the devils spawn?

I guess opposites attract platonically too.

You lamented at the thought of co-heading a prom committee with a partner who hated prom until an idea struck you. If Kim Seungmin hated prom, you could teach him how to love it. That lunch break, you made an executive decision that, unbeknown to you, would inevitably change you life.

You decided to open Kim Seungmin's eyes to the brilliance of prom.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

t - five months.

Seungmin stood next to you as you both waited for the rest of the student council members to make their way for your impromptu Saturday meeting. The two of you stared up at one of the most monstrous things you had ever seen in your lives.

A large banner with a blue background and the words "T-5 MONTHS TILL PROM!!!" in an ugly orange text stared back at you.

You gaped at the banner, seething with anger. "Let me find the person whose amazing idea this was and rearrange their body proportions for them."

Seungmin just responded calmly, "Maybe this is a sign from the universe to get our act together, delegate responsibilities to the committee and actually get started on prom."

"Not all of us are as optimistic as you, Kim," you told him dryly.

"Not all of us have an insatiable bloodlust, candy cane," he retorted monotonously.

Your mouth pressed into a thin line as you turned to see Seungmin's eyebrow cocked in a persumed sense of superiority.

You despised the nickname, a knowing jab at your short stature. Seungmin first called you candy cane when he noted how your height was nearly equivalent to the candy canes lining your school halls in your junior year.

It had stuck when you both were privately conversing with each other ever since.

His indifference slightly bristled you, but then again you were known for having a slightly short temper.

Chatter flowed in through the library's door, accompanied by the sound of sneakers squeaking against the floor. People who you and Seungmin had individually contacted, along with most student council members, began entering the room.

You noticed Hyunjin making his way to sit next to Riya, who was busy in conversation with Felix. The three of them were known for being close due to dance club. You shot Hyunjin an encouraging smile and he gave you a slightly crooked one.

Jeongin bounded up to the front to assume his rightful place as vice president. You ruffled his hair and he pinched your arm in retaliation. Your little squeal and his irritated grunt earning an annoyed look from Seungmin.

He cleared his throat loudly, instantly commanding the attention of the entire room. Faces turned to look at him when his voice called out, "I hope you all know why we have gathered here today."

He turned to look at you, your cue to begin talking. "As you may be aware, you all have been selected as this year's Park Academy Prom Committee!"

The room burst into applause as Seungmin continued, a routine familiar to you both. You didn't know how the two of you did it. Without even prior conversation, you two fell into sync when it came to addressing the crowd in front of you for your co-lead student council meetings.

Once again you chalked it up to, great minds think alike. There was no way you and Seungmin had anything else in common, apart from the occasional train of thought.

Right?

When your long sermon was finally finished, the room was buzzing with excitement. Teenage hormones and the onset of prom brewed a recipe for eager anticipation. This is it, you thought, this is the last piece of my childhood I have left.

On the advice of Principal Kim, you and Seungmin split the overall committee into three groups: one for decorations, one for publicity and one to arrange entertainment.

Jeongin had proclaimed himself the 'god of social media' and sauntered off to the group in charge of publicity. Hyunjin, Riya and Felix automatically were presumed to be part of décor, with Hyunjin elected head of their group. ('I will not let my team down. Over my dead fucking body,' he told you in complete seriousness later that day.)

Finally, you and Seungmin were left handling booking and anything else payment and transaction related. Principal Kim's vehement repetition of how she only trusted the two of you with cash was seared into your brain.

As you both took rounds of the large library hall, something kept nagging at you, itching the back of your brain. It disheartened you to see how warmly everyone interacted with Seungmin in comparison with you.

What bothered you even more, however, was how warmly Seungmin, interacted with others when compared to you.

Being likable was one of, if not the biggest goal in your life. Knowing that a single person disliked you sent you into a frenzy. Call it your upbringing or society, either way you felt like everybody you knew had to find you to be a good person, or else you weren't.

Other people's opinions were like medicine to you. Gaining external validation became such a large part of your life that sometimes, you forgot that what you thought, what you wanted, mattered as well.

And in this draining people-pleasing process, you weren't quite 'friends' with everyone. You were friendly and appreciated among your students, yes. But you didn't have a large friend group full of people who cherished your very existence, like Seungmin.

That was probably why you called Hyunjin and Jeongin were your best friends. It took away from the fact that they were your only friends. Seeing them with their own, other friends hurt, but it was too late now.

There was no point making more friends when you would be gone anyways. And despite how much you wanted to, you knew that creating deeper connections only to break them away would prove pointless.

You and Seungmin settled into the small bean bag pods which were propped up against the empty library walls. He scrolled through his phone with utmost concentration as you did the same, tapping away at your laptop keys.

"We'll have to sit with Lily for planning the budget," Seungmin broke the silence while referring to the committee treasurer, "But she has texted me the overall amount we have in the trust."

Seungmin opened the message and angled his phone towards you, eliciting a gasp from your mouth.

"That is an insane amount. Do you know what this means? We truly can make this Park Academy's best prom yet!" you excitedly began listing off the non-existent limits to which the money could spent.

"You forgot something," Seungmin added, stunning you to silence. What could have you forgotten about prom which Seungmin could have remembered?

The stoic expression on his face, however, told you it was nothing good.

"We need to show extreme constraint while using the money and be strict on the group," Seungmin huffed.

You blew in anger, "The entire point of having an extensive budget is to let loose! God, you're like the Grinch of prom or something."

"Please sweetheart," he snorted, "I'm far better looking than him. Even you can't deny that."

And as infuriating Seungmin seemed to you, he was correct. Seungmin was drop dead gorgeous. Even in a plain school uniform, he had the power to turn several heads. In fact, you would be lying if you said that you didn't find him a teensy bit attractive.

Not that he would ever obtain that information.

Seungmin went back to work, looking for banquet halls and hotels open to being the venue for prom. You observed him carefully, trying to figure the psychology behind why he hated prom. Then, you realized that to to succeed in your mission, you didn't have too.

The Grinch fell in love with Christmas too...

"I have made an executive decision," you announced to no one but Seungmin in particular.

He looked up, an expression of boredom and confusion coating his features.

"How exactly, darling, did you take an executive decision without consulting half of the executive. I thought you were smart enough to know how decision making takes place," a smug smile adorned him.

You rolled your eyes at him, "I will make you like prom."

Seungmin scoffed, "As if. You know what, Y/N? I bet you can't."

You sighed in fake defeat, cheering inside. One thing about having an academic rival was predicting their moves to the point where you knew how to trap them. It was like a game of chess, where Seungmin thought he had the upper hand, but you were one move away from checkmate.

You understood what made Seungmin tick, what ignited passion in him and what triggered him. You knew how to get a rise out of him and get him to calm down. More terrifyingly so, you knew that he knew the same.

You likened it to years of shared dislike, denying the fact that you both maybe were alike.

"I mean, considering our role in the entire organization of prom, we'll be stuck together all night anyways," you lamented in disappointment, "Truthfully speaking, I honestly did expect you to decline my invitation to formally attend prom with me as my de facto date."

"Although I wasn't planning on calling you that," you included for good measure.

You decided to deviate from telling him the real reason why you wanted to take him to prom. Out of everyone in this school, Seungmin was the last person left whose good books you didn't have so much as a footnote in.

You knew that this little social experiment of yours to leave school with everyone singing praises about you was highly selfish, but you needed this to feel worthy of graduating. You needed this to feel worthy of being a part of a social communities.

You could practically see the anger teeming from Seungmin at proving you right. "Fine," he spit out, "I'll be your date."

Checkmate.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

t - four months and 16 days.

With final assessments right around the corner, physical committee meetings came to a halt. All conversations took place through group chats and the occasional locker meetups. In all the frenzy of studying, you were once again indulging in sleepless nights and nutrition-less days.

Seungmin had gone into hibernation mode and as had you. All your phones were on do not disturb and casual fun was out of the question. Today, you had taken release in the library, headphones on and coffee in hand.

You were (pathetically, to some, advantageously, to you) on a first name basis with the resident librarian. Because of you often staying late nights (correction: all night) in the library, you even had your own spare key to lock up when you were done. It was a little secret you both shared.

Today, however, you felt uneasy. A transfer student by the name of Benji had been unceasingly making romantic advances towards you the past week. Although you reject him multiple times, his feats of grandeur only grew.

He was currently sitting a few tables away from you, the only other person in the library apart from librarian Kang. Even though he attempted to look busy and engrossed in the book in his hand, he kept stealing glances from you.

It was late, very much so. Everybody would be asleep and you didn't want to disturb anyone. You calmed your nerves but reached your breaking point when Kang asked Benji if he planned to leave anytime soon and he refused.

In a state of both fear and fatigue, you dialed the number of the only person who you knew would be awake at this time and waited for the call to ring out.

"Hello?" came Seungmin's bewildered voice. You rarely called him and even then, never at this hour.

"Seungmin, hi. I was wondering if I could ask you for a favor?" you asked him, hoping to suppress the  anxiety in your voice.

He must have noticed though, because his voice was alert. "Sure, what's up?"

"You know how Benji has been treating me, right?"

He hummed in acknowledgement. Of course he knew. Benji boasted so much that everyone knew.

"Well, I'm in the library and so is he. He's the only one here and it's kinda freaking me out. If it's ok with you, can you please just stay on call with me just in case? You can put me on hold or something, just please be active. I'm really sorry but you're the only other person who I knew would be awake right now."

You heard rustling in the background and his voice finally came back, "Wait. My dorm is loud anyways so I'll meet you there."

"Oh, okay, okay."

To your extreme relief, Seungmin did not hang up the call. Instead, you could hear his footsteps. All the mundane sounds of him locking his dorm, shoes slapping against the concrete and heavy breathing (due to running, but that didn't make sense) oddly calmed you down.

That was, however, until Benji walked over to where you were sitting. He gave you a venomous smile and leaned over to books right above your head. Pulling out a book from the shelf above your head and walked away, something sharp glinting in his hand.

You breathing quickened. "Seungmin, he has a sharp object. I have assessed all possible escape routes. I would suggest that you leave as I will probably as well if the situation escalates."

"Are you fucking out of your mind?" he questioned, almost sounding angry that you had even thought of saying something like that.

"I'm not leaving you alone with him or giving him an opportunity to fuck with the students of this school. He may be here for only two weeks, but I'll make sure he doesn't hurt a single person."

The steel in his voice made you shudder. You did not want to be on Kim Seungmin's death list. The library doors swung open as librarian Kang let out an exasperated sigh.

"Another wannabe Einstein," she muttered under her breath as Seungmin made his way towards you.

He looked like a sight for sore eyes in his plain sweater and gray sweatpants. Seungmin gave you a subtle not and took a seat right beside you, pulling out his books and tablet. Soon you both started studying and, before you knew it you both were engaged in a heated competition to see who could solve as many trigonometry problems as possible correctly, in the least time.

Throughout this duration, you didn't find out much personally about him, but saw a more carefree side of him. In fact, you liked this carefree side of him.

He winced when you pointed out the simple mistake he made that caused him to lose in the end. "I can't believe I've forgotten what the division symbol looks like."

You giggled and poked his arm, legs underneath your feet. "Is this what letters in math is doing to you?"

Seungmin shrugged sheepishly with a tiny smile. "Go ahead, shortcake, gloat."

Instead, you posed him with a question, "Why do you always insult my height? Like, that seems to be your favorite."

Maybe, just maybe, you were imagining it, but you saw a light blush scatter over Seungmin's cheeks. He cleared his throat and, in what must have been a moment of vulnerability said, "You are good at literally everything else. Your height is the only thing I can ask you about."

You stared at him slightly open mouthed at his sudden respect. In an instant, the room felt to hot and Seungmin's face felt to close to yours. The moment was broken, however, by the simultaneous and not at all harmonious chorus of a chair scratching against the floor and you're stomach rumbling.

Benji was gone and but your appetite was back. Seungmin must have heard it too because his right eyebrow was ticked up.

"When, exactly, did you last eat?"

"Today," you admitted sheepishly, "Morning. At 6."

"And what was it?"

Another gulp. "A banana."

Seungmin shook his head in disappointment and rifled through his bag. He pulled out a mushed granola bar and handed it to you.

"Eat," he commanded.

"Okay," you said meekly. "Wait, this is my favorite brand!"

"Yeah, I think you mentioned that before," Seungmin said nonchalantly, but you noted the slight quiver in his voice.

You took a bite and it felt like your body was screaming at you. It felt so good to eat after just having six in the morning bananas for the past few days, that you little out an embarrassing little squeal in content.

"I'm surprised you remembered," you referenced Seungmin earlier statement and folded the wrapper in a neat rectangle. Putting it in your pocket to throw away later, you waited for Seungmin's response.

It never came. His head was bent and he was hard at work, evidently ignoring. Seeing this as an indication that the conversation was over, you got back to your own work. That wasn't, however, without a feeling of something new that wasn't hate - adjacent.

You felt a little blossom of affection in your stomach for the boy flipping through the pages of his notebook beside you.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

t - it's finals!

You slammed your Astrophysics textbook against your desk, yet again unable to get stuff to fit in your brain. It was your last final and while you crammed for your other subjects, Seungmin had told Hyunjin that you were back to your old habits. Hyunjin and Riya had then joined hands and blackmailed you into (yuck) taking care of yourself.

"Seriously," you grumbled, "How do people who get eight hours of sleep get their shit done?"

Finally coming to the conclusion that you were helpless, you reached for your phone to text all your questions to Seeun, the assistant teacher. Seeun was a university student interning at your school, and an alumni as well. Citing how she was very much close in age with the students of your grade (if six years is considered 'close'), she insisted that you all call her Seeun and not Miss Choi.

You were in such a rush that you didn't even check for typos, tackling another chapter while waiting for Seeun's response. You still had one more day to study, considering that your exam was the day after tomorrow, you were going to use all twenty four hours and more to your advantage, not wasting a single bit.

Finding it odd that Seeun still hadn't responded considering how bored she always said she was and her frighteningly quick response times, you decided to check your phone. To your horror, however, you found out that in your rush, instead of sending your questions to Seeun, you had sent them to Seungmin.

His responses were almost instantaneous.

[8:18 AM]

You: [sent attachment]

You: Hi Seeun, I had a few questions regarding these topics. I was wondering if we could meet up tmrw to discuss them? Thx!

[8:20 AM]

kim stuck-up seungmin (sigh): i'm not seeun, but i could help

kim stuck-up seungmin (sigh): i tutored a few seniors taking this class last year

kim stuck-up seungmin (sigh): if you want, how does the coffee shop down the street at eight sound to you?

You were practically smiling at your phone. It obviously had to do about the fact that it was someone offering you help, not that it was Seungmin specifically. (Duh?) After waging a long, internal war, you finally opted to sacrifice what little dignity you had in front of Seungmin's eyes and take him up on his offer.

[2:47 PM]

You: really? omg thx!

You: see you then

[2:48 PM]

kim stuck-up seungmin (sigh): k, ig i'll see you there

Huh. Weird. Seungmin was notorious for being known to reply to people after a minimum of at least two hours, if they were lucky enough not to be left on read.

Not reading to much into it, you went back to work. Work wasn't just work though. It was an influx of nervous butterflies accompanying it. Not that it had anything to do with Seungmin, of course.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

When you got to the coffee shop that morning, it was technically 7:55. But, as you had always been taught, five minutes early is on time. Seungmin must have abided by that philosophy too, because soon he stumbled through the door.

You hadn't even picked a table to sit at when he tapped you shoulder and said, "Hey."

You turned to find Seungmin with the same green, battered back pack he took everywhere slung over one shoulder. His hair was tousled in an endearing way that made you want to squish him. His eyes were surprisingly warm and his lips were turned up.

"Like what you see sweetheart?" he teased.

You rolled your eyes at him, "No, of course not. It's like looking at something so hideous that you can't peel your eyes off of it."

He gave you a good natured laugh and walked alongside you to the coffee table.

After much deliberation, which mainly consisted of you and Seungmin arguing over the pros and cons of a window seat, you finally settled on a seat close enough to the large glass window for Seungmin's satisfaction and far enough to not prove distracting to you.

When your sugar packet tower fell down in the process of building it, he grinned at you again. It felt nice, having Seungmin's smile directed towards you.

Whoa, slow down there. Are you ok?

Without even realizing what you were saying, you asked Seungmin, "Why do you always cover your face when you laugh?"

Seungmin's smile slightly faded. "When I was in middle school, I used to wear braces. The kids... they found it weird, which meant they found me weird."

You were shocked. How could anyone dislike his smile? Seungmin's smile was one of the prettiest smile's you had ever seen. And mind you, you used to hate Kim Seungmin.

Used to. Now, it was more like you were tolerating him, sometimes even appreciating him. Wow, something really is wrong with you.

You snorted. "If I could travel back in time," you declared, "I would deck those dumbasses in the phase."

Seungmin choked on the coffee that the waitress had dropped off a few minutes ago. He surprisingly remembered your order, despite you only mentioning it to him during his student council coffee runs only once or twice before.

"Y/N, I'm pretty sure that's a crime," Seungmin snickered.

You raised your eyebrows in response. "And if you don't help me with this, I'm about to commit a crime, and you won't be in a position to testify."

With that, the lessons began.

Seungmin was an extremely good teacher. He was well known among the student body for being the kind of tutor that took F grades and turned them into a B+ or A-. Even you wanted to start tutoring, but your patience often wore thin faster than it did for others.

Seungmin though, didn't break a sweat. He revised concepts over and over again until you understood, making sure that at the end, you didn't have a single semblance of a doubt in your mind when it came to the related topic.

Two hours later, you were finally done.

"Now," Seungmin announced, "We will have some fun and let loose."

You were putting your books inside when you clicked a pen in your hand restlessly. "You, prim and proper Kim Seungmin, want to 'let loose' and 'have some fun'?"

Seungmin clicked his tongue in exasperation. "Look tiny, I'm disciplined, but I know my limits. You have already studied everything to the T. Plus, your exam is tomorrow. Get some fresh air and take a break now, then revise once more in the evening."

You wondered how he could be so careless when he probably had an exam tomorrow too. "What about you? Don't you have to study as well?"

Seungmin sent you a devious grin and you felt your knees go weak a little (No. What?)

"I had my last exam yesterday, honey," he happily shared, patting your head in mock pity in the process.

Honey, that was new. You were so used to the reoccurrences of 'darling', 'sweetheart' and terms related to your height that the new nickname caught you slightly off guard.

You hoped the expression on your face clearly conveyed that you found his actions traitorous. "How dare you prey on a vulnerable young woman just to quench your loneliness?"

"Come on," Seungmin coaxed, "We can hit the boardwalk, get lunch and go back to the dorms. You and I both know that we aren't invited to Saturday gatherings due to unfortunately being classified as 'nerds'."

In the end, you relented. After all, who can say no to someone whose beaming smile rivalled the shine of a rainbow and whose honeyed voice washed over you like a soothing balm?

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Boardwalk was the name that the students had given to the all year amusement park reminiscent set up that was just a few minutes away from the dorms. You had come here several times, but rarely with someone else and mostly to clear your head. (And watch toddlers shrieking on the carousel).

The moment you got your pink wristbands, Seungmin dragged you to the stalls where you played to win a plushie. He was so intent on winning something that you found it almost adorable.

"You do know that these are all scams, right? There's no way you'll win," you stated confidently, disregarding the mammoth scowl on the game operators face."

Seungmin lazily picked up a dart and aimed for the balloons hung on the wall. He cocked his head towards you and gave you a wink, "This one's for you, sweetheart."

To your utmost surprise, the dart hit the balloon perfectly. Even Seungmin looked stunned. The operator offered him another dart and you a self-assured smirk. He once again hit the dart again, with a satisfying pop!.

"All right folks," the operator droned, "Pick a stuffed toy."

Seungmin nudged you slightly, "Which one?"

You glanced at him, "You won, so it's only fair that you choose."

Seungmin smirked at you, "Nope. I recall mentioning that that one was for you."

Heat pooled in your stomach, which shouldn't have. Especially when the cause were Kim Seungmin.

"Okay," you jutted out your head to make eye contact with him and turned back to choose the lucky stuffed toy.

You pointed at a medium sized elephant plushie and grabbed it eagerly. Holding it tight to your chest you said, "What should we name our child Seungmin?"

He presented you with no reply and a face contorted with judgement.

Pouting, you mockingly told the elephant, "Look, your father doesn't love you."

Feigning an offended gasp, Seungmin promptly snatched the elephant from you, "Don't listen to your mother, Ello."

"Ello?" You laughed.

"Shh," Seungmin chastised, "Let my inner European be free."

The mild spring breeze whipped your hair around and you took of your jacket, wrapping it around your waist. You spotted a fallen rose and quickly went to pick it up. It was still in pristine condition and in a random bout of girlhood, you tried to tuck it behind your ear.

Silently, Seungmin motioned towards you taking Ello and you handing him the rose. Seungmin somehow managed to break of the thorns without cutting himself.

Delicately lifting up the hair behind your hair, he began to adjust the rose in place. Since he was considerably taller than you, Seungmin leaned in front. You could see every valley and crevice in his face and for some reason, you wanted to hold it in your arms.

A rush thumped through your chest. As silly as it seemed, nobody had ever quite touched you like that. Seungmin's breath smelled like chocolates and cinnamon.

A rebellious part if you wondered if that was what he would taste like.

Lightly clearing his throat, he continued walking and you followed wordlessly. A few random rides later, you both finally found yourself in front of the Disco Pang Pang. A smile tugged at your lips. You were so going on this ride today.

Cheeks flushed from the fun you were having, you said breathlessly, "Let's go."

Seungmin visibly gulped, "I don't know."

"Aw come on, don't tell me you're scared." Seeing the petrified expression on his face however, you quickly retracted your statement. "It's fine, we don't have to,"

"No, it's okay," Seungmin managed weakly, "Just, hold me please."

Handing Ello to one of the fair volunteers, you both clambered up the metal stairs and took a seat on the foam benches. Seungmin was right next to you, his arm around the railing of where you sat.

Your initial excitement of experiencing this wore off, however, when the machine suddenly lurched forward. It threw Seungmin on you and his arms instinctively curved around your waist.

The warmth from his body radiated into you and for a moment stayed frozen, eyes glued on each other. You felt electric shocks where he touched you and trembled slightly.

Catching his breath, Seungmin began to apologize profusely. "I'm sorry I didn't mean too-"

The machine lurched again and again. Seungmin had figured out how to maintain his balance and stayed the distance of an arm's length away from you. When it was finally over, you both stumbled onto solid ground, clutching your stomachs.

"That. Was. Awesome!" You decided, delight etching your face.

"I'm convinced you're a six year old boy stuck in an eighteen year old girl's body," Seungmin groaned.

Agreeing upon this being enough fun for one day you both walked back to the dorms and went your separate ways. Astoundingly, Seungmin's advice of taking a break in between studying did help and you noticed that you were retaining information better.

You wanted to thank him and grabbed your phone.

[7:26 PM]

You: ty maybe.

You: I *kinda* had fun today

[7:30 PM]

Ello's dad: just admit it darling

Ello's dad: im fun

[7:31 PM]

You: in ur dreams Kim, in ur dreams

[7:32 PM]

Ello's dad: well then, ig I'll be dreaming of you tonight

You smiled despite yourself and went to bed.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

t - three months and twenty-five days.

Your relationship with Seungmin was somehow significantly improving. Yes, you still did indulge in your regular banter, but you both now had the ability to have full conversations without actually insulting the other person.

Your exams were finally over and, as presumed, both you and Seungmin had equal grades. What you didn't expect however, was even sharing the title of valedictorian with Seungmin.

The you before your impromptu study session would have been spitting fireballs. The you currently was looking forward to embarrassing Seungmin a little bit (in all good fun), during your moment in the spotlight.

In the fast paced environment of writing finals, wrapping up college applications and facing parents at parent - teacher meetings, the prom committee had forgotten one, extremely crucial component of prom planning: Picking a theme.

It was so stupid, really. None of you even realized until the décor committee was busy trying to decide on decorations and Felix meekly articulated, "Uh, guys. I don't think we ever decided on a set theme."

Seungmin eyes grew wide and you took in a sharp breath. How could you forget something so important? Frantic chatter arose and in a futile-ish attempt, you yelled out to the students, "Guys! Let's just come up with ideas, but in an orderly fashion."

In an instant, the room began quieting down and hands were raised, full of ideas. Seungmin gave you an impressed look and everyone slowly began suggesting various prom themes.

"What if," Noelle screamed from the back of the room, "We had a Paris inspired theme? I know, Paris nights!"

The entire room let out a collective groan. If Korea had koreaboos, then Noelle was some fucked up version of a French-boo. She boasted to whoever would listen that she had French blood, if being named Noelle and visiting Canada for two weeks constituted French heritage.

Riya ears perked up however, and she asked, "How about Aphrodite's Garden?"

You and Seungmin exchanged a look. "Elaborate," asked Seungmin.

Hyunjin gave Riya an encouraging shove and she stood up, "How about a spring theme, but instead of the classic flowers and leaves, it's more sensual and inspired by Greek mythology?"

The room broke into excited conversation, seemingly approving of Riya's idea. Hyunjin stood up next to her, "Riya and I could prepare a mood board and send it to the group chat."

"All in favor," Seungmin asked. A clear majority.

"Perfect," you smiled, "Then it's settled. The theme will be Aphrodite's Garden."

The room went back to it's raucous state as you stepped aside for a moment, head pounding from a headache. You had a cold and staying up all night studying for scholarship tests did not help. You knew you had to pass them though. You weren't willing to give your parents another reason to demean you for being a burden.

You were massaging your temples when Seungmin came up from behind you. "Are you okay?" he asked, voice laced with concern.

"Yep," you tried to muster a positive tone, "Just a headache. I'm peachy."

"Peachy?" Seungmin inquired, his eyebrow cocked upwards and tone full of mischief.

"Don't assume that I don't use the word peachy unironically," you huffed.

Still, Seungmin's apprehensive expression and the exponentially increasing pounding in your head made you feel your gut that something bad was brewing.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

You, Jeongin and Hyunjin waited patiently in the computer lab the next day. Hyunjin and Riya had made the mood board for Aphrodite's Garden, but wanted the input of you, Seungmin and Jeongin.

All three of you stood near the window, peering out of the glass and observing the ant-like players on the soccer field below. You wondered what was so appealing about kicking a ball on a Saturday morning.

Hyunjin looked troubled, "I want to ask Riya to prom. But I don't know how."

You let out a sneeze in response and Hyunjin wordlessly handed you a tissue, the despair never leaving his face.

You slightly understood the reasoning behind Hyunjin's thinking. It was promposal season, people planning elaborate and innovative ways to ask each other to prom. Considering the high school you were at, this more often than not involved Rube Goldberg machines and periodic table confessions.

Jeongin let out an audibly exasperated huff of breath. "If you like Riya, just ask her out. The worst she could say is no."

Before you could add onto Jeongin's admonishment, a voice cut through the room.

"What?"

Your eyes widened as you clapped your hand to your mouth. Hyunjin felt himself stumble backwards and Jeongin muttered a low "Fuck" under his breath.

Judging by the tone of the voice and familiar sweetness, you knew it could only belong to one person. Time felt like a concept out of grasp as you, Hyunjin and Jeongin turned to face Riya, standing in the doorway with shock painted on her face.

"I- I can't," she tripped over the doorstep, "Look, I'll just send them to you, I-"

Riya steadied herself, holding on the the doorframe, and then fled the room. Hyunjin glanced at you, his eyes full of pleading.

"Go, quickly," you commanded, and he rushed out of the room in Riya's stead.

"See, this is why you're my favorite," Hyunjin told you while ruffling you, scowling at Jeongin. You sniffed in response as Jeongin's jaw clenched.

Just then, Seungmin entered the room, giving both Hyunjin and Riya and irritated glare. "Weren't they supposed to show us something?"

"They'll just send it to one of us," you told Seungmin, your voice coming out weaker than expected.

"You know what," Jeongin threw his hands up in the air in rage, "Fuck this. If they are out, I am out."

Seungmin stared at you quizzically, as if trying to unravel the pieces of the puzzle that made you, well, you. His eyes must have taken in your sickness - stricken state because the curiosity on his face morphed into concern.

"Are you okay?" Seungmin asked, stepping closer to you.

"Fine," you choked out, but you knew you weren't.

Your head felt like a thousand drills were screwing into it. You felt hot and cold at the same time, throat parched and dry. Your body felt like lead, being weighed down at ever movement. You knew these were the textbook symptoms of a fever and then some more.

You tried to walk forward, but couldn't hold your balance. Dazed, you felt your consciousness slowly slip away due to the lack of sleep you were forcing yourself to put up with it. Exhaustion didn't come to you in raindrops, it came to you in a torrential shower.

The last thing you felt was Seungmin's arms holding you up as your entire world shrouded in darkness.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

When you came to, you were still in the classroom, water droplets running down your face. Seungmin looked guilty and the bottle of water in his hand told you everything you needed to know.

"Sorry," Seungmin said sheepishly, "I didn't know what else to do."

You waved him off, still trying to fully gain control of your senses. You blinked slowly and languidly, adjusting slowly to the light. The sudden shift from complete darkness to windows that let in natural light was slightly painful.

You placed your palms flat against the floor, where Seungmin had most likely placed you. The cool sting of the marble tiles was a welcoming sensation, the bite of it rebooting your brain. You straightened your skirt but your head was still fucking hurting.

"What exactly happened?" you asked weakly.

You knew that women were often taken advantage of in such situations. You knew you could trust Seungmin with your life though. He would never hurt you in any sense, and the past few weeks only solidified that fact for you. Still, asking was like second nature for you.

"Oh, uhm, you fell and I caught you and somehow managed to lean you against the wall," Seungmin stuttered.

He let out a weary sigh and rubbed his eyes vigorously. It was almost as if he was the one who had just fainted and was sitting on a cold marble floor. The thought made you laugh, but the way your chest constricted in pain when the laugh travelled up your bones made you push it down.

"Let's-" you managed until you let out a sneeze, "Let's get back to work. Hyunjin or Riya must have sent the designs by now."

Seungmin looked at you, appalled. "No. Are you insane? You probably are. I'm taking you back to your dorms and making you something warm to eat, no questions asked."

"Seungmin, you don't have to," you let out, your voice hoarse. But despite your mental and vocal protests, your body couldn't fight it anymore. It was begging, screaming for help and you had ignored it wrong enough."

Seungmin set you a look that could kill and held out his palm. You grabbed onto it, and with his help stood up. You legs were so weak, however, that you fell forward again. The world was spinning and you were falling and falling until you weren't.

The entire time, only one thought rang over and over again in your head, like a sickly song.

Was success, was making the people around you proud, was your hard work really worth this form of self inflicted torture you were putting yourself through?

Seungmin's arms steadied your waist as you arms flew up to his shoulders. You were in close proximity now, close enough that you could see your reflection in his eyes. God, you looked like shit.

The concern in his eyes and the pain you were both mentally and physically going through finally made you snap.

Without warning, tears filled your eyes and cascaded down your cheeks. You were so, so tired. Seungmin didn't say anything, but he understood. Of course he understood. You couldn't deny it any longer. Being compared and set against each other didn't make you two poles on other sides of your respective worlds; in fact, it did the very opposite.

You were so accustomed to the thought of each other, that you had become a reflection of each other. There was no Y/N L/N without Kim Seungmin and no Kim Seungmin without Y/N L/N.

Your lives had become so intricately intertwined that the thought of a world without Seungmin, without the jabs and maddening nicknames, without the warm smiles that were solely reserved for you when somebody made an out of pocket comment at one of your student council meetings, felt impossible.

You felt your arms effortlessly slip down Seungmin's shoulder and around his waist. Your head automatically found a spot on his chest. You knew that your tears were staining his shirt, you knew that you were helpless and vulnerable, but you didn't care.

Seungmin kept you anchored as your mind swam through every dark tunnel that dug itself throughout your life. This time, you weren't frolicking in them. This time, you weren't finding solace in them because of your self proclaimed incompetence.

This time, you were sealing them shut for good and the only reason you could was because you knew Seungmin was there. He was there, he was there, he was there.

When Seungmin lightly placed his chin over your head, you didn't mind being short. His hands soothingly smoothed your hair over and over again as you noiselessly let out all the pent up emotions and feelings that grew into this black hole that was sucking the life out of you.

You stepped back. "I'm sorry," you sobbed.

"It's fine, you're good," he whispered softly.

Holding you forearm gently, he walked you out of the room you both were in and in the direction of your dorm. You furiously rubbed at your cheeks, attempting to lose any indication of you previously pathetic state, but you stopped when a shot of something you hadn't felt in a long time rushed back to you: indifference.

In this moment, you didn't care that the regality with which you held yourself in front of Seungmin  and the world was soiled under your feet.

All you cared about was that you finally had a person who would hold you while you break and pick up the pieces with you when you were ready, mending you and healing and hell, loving you back to a state of somewhat living.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Your hands were shaking so much and your vision was so blurry when you tried to unlock your dorm room door that Seungmin had to ease the key out of your finger. He slid it in and with a click, the door swung upon.

You pulled out strength from the nooks and crannies of your being to actually change into something comfortable. Seungmin surprisingly also had a change of clothes in his bag, until you later remembered that he had baseball matches every Saturday morning at dawn.

You came out of your room wearing cat faced pajamas that were a little big for you but cozy nonetheless. Seungmin looked you up and down with a smirk on his face.

"Shall I call you kitty cat now?" his tone heavy with fake torment and real intention.

There was no way you were getting out of this one.

"Shut up, puppy," you referenced the small puppy face on his t-shirt as you padded towards the bar stools that stood along your kitchen counter.

"Okay, kitty cat," he grinned while you groaned.

In the fifteen minutes Seungmin had spent inside your dorm room, he had located the medicine cabinet and slid a bottle of Tylenol and a spoon. You withered under his expectant stare and duly obliged.

"Fair warning," Seungmin said casually as he took out some instant ramen and a saucepan, "I'm a horrible cook."

You probably would have flipped him off for his easy-going tone while saying that he could food poison you if he wasn't the reason you were in the comfort of your home right now.

"Just don't give me acidity. I would probably die and if I do, best believe I'll come back to haunt your ass," you muttered.

"Relax," Seungmin's tone was slightly offended, "Have faith in me. I can make at least instant ramen."

"If you insist," you sighed.

Seungmin passed the bowl of steaming hot ramen towards you, vapor still rising from it. You blew on it and took a bite, the heat instantly making you feel better. Seungmin sat beside you and began eating as well. You both lunched in silence, only the sounds of your spoons hitting your bowls and the occasional slurp filling the room.

You let out a yawn and Seungmin was quick to tell you that the instructions on the instructions stated that you had to wait an hour before sleeping if you had eaten anything after administering it.

To kill time, you suggested watching something on television. Seungmin joined you on the couch. You wrapped a warm blanket around you while Seungmin shifted through your Netflix catalogue, evidently pleased with your taste in media.

You started speaking, "You know, I was thinking of watching -"

At the same time Seungmin began, "I was actually planning on starting -"

"Three Body Problem," you both finished at the same time.

Reflections, reflections.

Seungmin played the first episode and you both watched in transfixed awe and silence. Seungmin kept checking on you in between though. It was never something major, but small things, like handing you the only pillow on the couch and passing a bottle of water at regular intervals.

"Wow," you said breathlessly as if you yourself were in that setting, "Any theories?"

Seungmin gritted his teeth, "Multiple, actually, but I have read the books and that would be fair, would it kitty cat?"

You pouted at him and he laughed his devious laugh.

"You can go, if you need to," you told Seungmin, "I'll get some rest. Riya will probably be home soon for a few hours."

"No, I'll stay out of the goodness of my heart," Seungmin smirked.

You snorted, "Out of the goodness of your heart, or out of the goodness of wanting to steal something?"

"Maybe I'll take your bunny slippers. They're the only thing worth committing a crime in this dorm for," Seungmin mocked, the slippers you were currently wearing coming I'm intentionally violent contact with his leg.

"Seriously though, thank you for helping me. I wouldn't have expected it from someone who hates me," you said, not thinking much of it.

"I don't hate you," said Seungmin, and your worlds collided to come to a standstill.

Every perception you had for yourself was destroyed with the utterance of four words. I don't hate you. The walls you had built of rivalry and animosity, of surpassing him and opposing him came crashing down and burying you in rubble underneath.

If all you had worked towards was to dismantle the justification of Seungmin's fabricated hatred, and yet he never hated you in the first place, then what was the point? Does that mean that you were never truly doing any of this for yourself, and only because of him?

If he didn't exist, what would you be?

You realized that you were probably reading too much into it and let out a hollow, "I thought you did."

Seungmin shifted uncomfortably. "I'm sorry that I made you feel that way. I just considered you a worthy opponent that would help me improve myself. If anything, I respect you. In fact, these last few days have led me to see you as a friend."

You realized that it was time you apologized as well. "I'm really sorry too. I shouldn't have treated you so crossly."

Understanding and amusement flooded Seungmin's features. "No, please don't change. Bickering with you is one of the highlights of my day."

A smile tugged at your lips. "Okay, puppy boy. I'll go get some rest. What will you be doing?"

Seungmin winked at you. "Looking for things useful to steal, of course."

You lightly shoved his shoulder and he shook his head, shaking with laughter. Seungmin's hair bounced up and down as he laughed, pitifully, at his own joke.

You went to bed with a reducing migraine, a lighter heart and a new perception of you relationship with Kim Seungmin.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

As soon as your head hit the pillow, you were completely knocked out. When you woke, you felt weirdly feverish. You sighed bitterly, knowing that it would take you time to recover.

You walked out to the living room the check up on Seungmin. The sight which you found before you made you mentally melt into a puddle.

In front of you was a sleeping Kim Seungmin, legs brought to his chest and cheeks puffed out. His chest heaved rhythmically and small puffs of breath escaped his mouth. His hair covered his eyes and he was in the most compact position you had seen. You suppressed a snort.

You knew the kindest thing you could for him was to let him sleep. You knew the kindest thing you could do for yourself was to take pictures for blackmail material. Slipping your phone out of your back pocket, you quickly snapped a picture.

Foolishly, you forgot to turn off the flash and Seungmin stirred in his sleep. He got up with a start and blinked slowly. His eyes found yours and he blinked once more.

Then, with a slow smile, he said, "Hi."

If you thought you were a puddle before, you were now a stream rushing towards the ocean. "Hello."

Seungmin sprang up, "Feeling better?"

"Hm," you responded.

You watched as Seungmin made his way to the kitchen, shuffling with the cups you had inside your mildly messy cupboards. "I'll make coffee. Two sugars right?" he asked matter of factly.

"Yep," you replied in slight surprise, "It's crazy how you still remember. It's been... what, six weeks since your last student council coffee run?"

Seungmin's back was to you, mixing away the milk and coffee granules. "I remember everything about you."

You heart shouldn't have stuttered the way it did, and for once, you didn't try to stop it.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

t - three months.

"Han Jisung," you yelled into your phone, "I will kill you!"

Static emerged from the other side, but you could still make out Jisung's muffled giggle. "Y/N, bestie, bad bitch, my ride or die, just get cookies."

You hung up the phone call in irritation as Seungmin leaned against the window of the bus stop, observing you with a smile. You shot him a grimace which was poorly disguised as a smile, and he burst out into a fit of laughter.

"Cookies it is I guess," he snickered at your misfortune.

"We're splitting the bill," you announced haughtily, and you both walked side by side to the local grocery store.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The cold air of the grocery store nipped at you, making its under your shirt and through your jeans. You rage towards a particular Han Jisung, however, propelled you towards the baked goods and sweets section. Seungmin tailed behind you, his hand holding on to your jacket sleeve.

The conquest in question was to get one of the people in your grade, Jisung, to help provide entertainment for the school prom. Him and two other seniors who had already passed out, Chan and Changbin, were part of a trio named 3racha. The entire school knew of their laurels; they had been signed to a famous company before even graduating high school.

Jisung told you to meet at their studio after school to discuss prom, assuring you that they would provide music and maybe even dj on the side. Right before you and Seungmin were going to leave however, he had the absolute audacity to tell you that his hyungs needed a lot of convincing.

You scanned all the decorative tin boxes, trying to pick out something cheap that would also suffice for the treacherous endeavor you were about to undertake. Sometime during this process, the familiar tug of Seungmin's hand on your sleeve vanished.

You surveyed the room to find where he was, like a mother looking for her son. When you finally spotted his familiar tuft of hair and tall frame, you let out a slightly fond and extremely exasperated sigh.

While you were actually working, Seungmin was busy waving two cones of ice cream towards you. You grabbed the box of cookies you were eyeing and walked towards him.

"Really, Seungmin?" you dryly questioned.

"I have an unnatural craving for butterscotch. If you don't let me have it, I'll go Edward Cullen on you," he retorted.

You seriously regretted persuading Seungmin into watching Twilight with you. Ever since the little sick spell you had which prompted Seungmin to spend time at your dorm, you both began a mini tradition of watching a movie together once every week.

You would play the movie on your respective laptops and call each other, listening on mute bar the occasional theoretical conversations and joint rants about the main character's absolute stupidity.

It all started when he began pestering you about table colors for the prom banquet ("but I don't see the difference between ivory and off-white!"), but you interrupted by saying that it movie night and that you were rewatching Interstellar. Both your movie preferences and haywire sleep schedules being very similar led to Seungmin asking you if he could watch as well.

The rest, as they say, was history.

You finally relented and you and Seungmin stepped out of the store with a split bill, a box of cookies under your arm and ice creams currently being devoured. You opted for Belgian Chocolate while Seungmin wolfed down butterscotch. You finished your ice creams and tossed your wrappers in the bin outside.

You noticed a spot of ice cream near Seungmin's lip. Without thinking anything of it, you pulled your sleeve and swiped at it, cleaning it in one go. Seungmin glanced at you with a mixture of awe, shock, and something you assumed was adoration.

"It's just ice cream," you mumbled, but the atmosphere of comfort and domesticity hit you just as much as it healed him.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The two of you got on the bus and found two empty seats beside each other. After you vehemently listed the cons of sitting in an aisle seat, Seungmin finally conceded into letting you sit near the window. He didn't do so without insulting your height (again), claiming that since he was tall he would need to stretch his legs, but you wouldn't be having such issues at all.

The bus ride to the 3racha studio would take a good forty five minutes. Not because it was far, per se, but because traffic was a little shit.

You both were on your phones, and you scrolled aimlessly through social media. You let out a groan of annoyance.

"What is it?" asked Seungmin.

"Just Riya and Hyunjin being disgustingly adorable. Go ahead, take pleasure in my despair," you offered, full of snark.

"I mean, if you insist," Seungmin grinned.

Ever since Riya and Hyunjin's dramatic love confession and Victorian romance-esque scenario, you had been third wheeling to the point where you were third wheeling without even being near them. Hyunjin and Riya being in a relationship did make you crave one of your own, but you were kind of to not let an innocent victim (see also: Yang Jeongin) fall captive to the perils of being a third wheel.

You were drifting in and out of reality, immersed in a science fiction eBook loaded onto you phone. Or at least, you were, until animated video game noises came from Seungmin's phone. You peered over his shoulder to see what he was doing, and burst into a fit of stifled laughter.

"How can you be so bad at Fruit Ninja of all games," you giggled.

Seungmin glared at you, "As if you're any better."

"I am, in fact," you snorted, your tone full of invitation and open to challenge.

It took just those four words and the smug expression on your face for Seungmin to quickly switch to multiplayer mode. The two of you vigorously tapped at your screens, slicing watermelons and mangos. Seungmin swiping was so arbitrary that he couldn't even cut through a fruit half the time.

You shoulder was pressed against Seungmin's and your chin hovered over it. You thought you both were being soft enough so as to not disturb anyone, but an old woman sitting in front of you coughed in what you assumed was contempt.

Blood rushed to your cheeks in embarrassment as you and Seungmin both bowed apologetically. You were expecting a lengthy sermon on public discipline, but the old woman broke into a smile instead.

"Always cherish your childhood friendships and childhood loves," she winked at the two of you, "Especially when it seems to be a love as free as the one you both share."

You and Seungmin exchanged confused looks.

"We're not-"

"About that-"

You were tripping over your words, stumbling and falling until Seungmin finally mustered, "We're not dating, or in love or anything."

The woman just laughed in response. She got up from her chair and left with an "If you say so!", leaving both you and Seungmin stunned in her wake. 

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

You and Seungmin sat cramped in the 3racha studio couch. You couldn't quite call this room a studio. It was more of a musically inclined man cave.

Jisung, Changbin and Chan sat across from you, their legs ridiculously crossed over the other at the exact same angles. Jisung nibbled on the cookies that you brought. He smiled at another one of your death glares.

Chan clapped his hands together, "You know what? We would love to play at your prom. Changbin and I are alumni and Jisung is bitchless anyways."

Jisung swatted at Chan's arm with his cookie while Changbin swooped in to claim a cookie of his own. Amidst the chaos, you and Seungmin let out a sigh of relief.

"You can send us the transaction details at our email," said Changbin, scribbling it on a notepad. His booming voice made you jump in surprise.

"Cool, we'll do that soon. Before we go, can I use the restroom?" Seungmin inquired.

Chan rattled off the directions to the restroom and Seungmin left with a pat on your head and a "Don't miss me too much, darling."

"We'll get back to work now, Y/N," Chan said kindly.

You shot him a smile which remained on your face until Changbin snickered, "Yeah, Jisung can keep you company."

The two of them went inside their studio booth, erupting with giggles that turned into fake coughs which once again morphed into real coughs. You shot Jisung a quizzical look. "Oh, that's because I used to like you," Jisung said through a mouthful of cookie.

You weren't taken aback, unfazed by his sudden admission. Jisung has had a crush on almost the entire student body, regardless of gender. You would be kidding if you said that you didn't have a soft spot for Jisung though. He was your seatmate in chemistry class (a horrible one at that), but also the reason why you ran for student council president in the first place.

"You would be good at it," he encouraged you, even though you knew his ulterior motives.

You were presently reaching for a cookie when Jisung stated casually, "I didn't know you were dating Seungmin."

You choked on your cookie. "What? We aren't. Why would you think that?"

There was no way in hell you and Seungmin could ever be mixed up for a couple. Yes, your feelings of hatred towards him had considerably dampened, but that didn't mean that you liked liked him. Everything you felt towards him was strictly professional and only had to do with prom planning, as you would regularly reassure yourself.

Jisung shrugged. "The nicknames, the looks you were giving each other. I mean, you both are alike. It wouldn't be that out of the blue of you were."

You responded with a huff of indignation, assuming that this was Jisung's way of asking you if you were single.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

"We are not watching Twilight," you told Seungmin sternly. He pouted at you but you wouldn't budge, not even an inch.

Seungmin and you were back on the bus, the sky painted in beautiful shades of blue. The bus was quiet, you and Seungmin being the only passengers on there. Deciding to kill time because evening traffic would cause the bus to take even longer, Seungmin suggested watching something on his tablet.

"Let's watch the Vampire Diaries instead!" Seungmin said in excitement.

You stared at him, mouth agape. "What is it with you and vampires?"

"It's either that or Mean Girls," Seungmin offered.

You instantly knew what you would watch. Suffering through Seungmin watching Mean Girls and adopting Regina George's personality would be pure agony. There were many things you could tolerate in life, but Seungmin taking up the persona of his favorite characters after watching something knew was not one of them. Knowing Seungmin, you didn't have a shred of doubt that his favorite would be Regina.

"Vampire Diaries it is," you agreed, "But Damone is mine."

Seungmin offered no objection and handed you one side of his wired earphones. You had to sit in extremely close proximity to Seungmin, close enough that you could feel his breath on your cheek. Your head subconsciously dropped on his shoulder, his cheek pressed against your hair.

Seungmin smelled like cinnamon and rain. You wondered what perfume he used, but then realized that it would be pointless since any and all perfume would have worn out by then. After that you began to ponder about what Disney movie he had stepped out of to smell so good and look so good despite spending hours either outside or in a cramped studio.

Finally, your train of thought took a sharp, final turn.

You were comfortable, pressed up against Seungmin and making sarcastic comments every so often. It felt normal, natural even. It struck you that your head fit under Seungmin's chin like a missing puzzle piece.

The pieces of your brain and the pieces of his heart joined together to form a beautiful mosaic of shared chaos and resilience that was unique only to the odd relationship you both shared.

Maybe it wasn't so absurd that two people had assumed that you both were in a relationship. Maybe you didn't want it to be so absurd. Maybe you wanted it to be something that wouldn't cause you and Seungmin to dismiss with hurried explanations and laughs full of ridicule.

That was enough thinking for today.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

[10:17 PM]

puppy boy: i have come here to tell you that i am willing to risk our friendship

[10:18 PM]

You: /what/ friendship?

[10:18 PM]

puppy boy: fine, i'm willing to risk out not friendship for claiming damone salvatore

puppy boy: talk to hand if you have any arguments

puppy boy: ✋🏻

[10:19 PM]

You: lmao not you acting like damone would choose *you* over *me*

[10:19 PM]

puppy boy: ...

puppy boy: ok well i can't rly argue with that

puppy boy: if i was damone, i would choose you in a heartbeat

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

t - two months and twenty six days.

The most fascinating thing that you had studied about in your astronomy class were binary stars. They were the most common multi star system, found regularly in pockets of the universe. They were immensely important, aiding in the calculation of things like mass of celestial bodies.

But one could not exist without the other.

A binary star was useless without it's counterpart, just another ball of glowing gas drifting about in the universe. You reckoned that humans also had their version of binary stars, people whose lives were so intertwined with each other that having one without the other stripped both entities of their meaning.

In astronomy, they were called binary stars. On earth, they were called soulmates.

That was what you and Seungmin were, stars that shone brightly in your shared skies but instead of dimming the other, only amplified it. You both were natural satellites, celestial bodies gravitating into each other's pull like a two magnets.

Seungmin drew you in like nobody else did, and you were tired of repelling it. If the earth had reversed it's poles so many times in the past, then in the grand scheme of things, you reversing your perception of Seungmin should have been nothing that would warrant a big deal.

But to you, this was your entire perception of a black and white reality being ripped away and slowly rebuilt in color.

Considering that the person behind all of it was Seungmin, these colors were more often than not so vivid and vibrant that it left you craving more of what life could be like if he would be there mending every crack in your universe.

It left you craving more of what life could be like if the term my universe in your dictionary changed to our universe.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

You and Seungmin were sitting together in the library. Well, less sitting together and more having a habit of happening to be there at the same time (which was almost all the time). This caused you both to strike up a habit of unknowingly taking a seat beside the other person.

Seungmin was leafing through a book while you silently observed him. "What is it?" he piped up, his eyes never leaving his book, "What do you want to ask me?"

You placed a finger between the pages of the book you were reading and shrugged. "Nothing much, really. How did you know I was wondering about something anyways?"

He looked up, his eyes meeting yours. "I just know. Now, what is it?"

His impatient gaze and curious eyes tempted you into telling him what was making rounds in your head. You found yourself thinking for the umpteenth time how his hair fell into his face so perfectly, making him a vision that seemed like a painting encased in a Parisian museum.

"Your eyes," you whispered, your tone so imperceptible that a another human being would have barely heard you.

Seungmin always heard your voice, though.

"What about them?" he chuckled.

You titled your head to the side, wondering if you yourself were imagining all of this. "Did you know your eyes change color when you look at me?"

It was true, at least to you. You noticed that whenever Seungmin's gaze caught onto yours, his eyes darkened. Not in the terrifying way often associated with bloodlust, but in the puzzled way that made you feel like he was trying to figure you out, just as you were trying to figure yourself out.

"It's just a telling sign for my animosity towards you," taunted Seungmin, attempting to ignite a fiery response out of you.

It somewhat mildly worked.

"Oh yeah," you gasped, "Ello will be troubled to know that her parents are fighting.

"Hm," contemplated Seungmin, "Who's gonna be the one to tell her that she's a child of divorce?"

Seungmin's comment caught you off guard. Child of divorce? It was so out of pocket that even the tantalizing curve of your lips that had been making you feel unnatural things as of late couldn't distract you.

"We aren't even married, Seungmin," you pointed out.

In response, Seungmin put his book down on the table in front of him. He placed his elbow on the aforementioned table and smoothly removed one of the two rings that he was always wearing: the smaller moon ring to his larger sun ring, you noticed.

He motioned for your hand and in one gesture, slid the moon ring onto your ring finger. "There," he declared proudly, "Now we're married."

He seemed so casual, so unfazed about it, that it enraged you.

Did he not just feel like an entire carton box of fireworks had gone off in an empty parking lot that was his stomach? Did he not get his breath taken away from a gesture that was so simple that a passerby wouldn't even have batted an eye at it? Did he not feel perplexed, terrified and astonished that such a feeling was even possible?

Because you did.

You felt like your world was tilting on it's axis and you couldn't keep letting the lava simmer under the surface anymore.

It felt like the entire universe was in your grasp, like electricity crackled at your fingertips. You felt euphoric, your brain buzzing and mind spinning.

You felt like someone shattered the vase of feelings that contained all you had ever experienced and glued it back together with gold in its cracks. You felt like someone placed rose-tinted sunglasses on your eyes and that you never wanted to go back to normal vision after gaining a taste of what this felt like.

You knew that what you felt was, according to the countless books and movies you had watched, a horrible illness that constituted a crush. But you didn't know that it felt so good? Even more frighteningly so, you didn't know when you stopped seeing Seungmin as a rival and as a friend.

You frighteningly didn't know when you started seeing Seungmin as someone you were capable of loving until you did and it scared you to death concretely only knowing that your brain provided not a single fucking objection to this flurry of feelings.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

t - two months.

In the time that you had come to the realization that you had feelings for Seungmin, and all the moments post that day, you were in a tumultuous state of mind.

You hadn't told anyone about your feelings, because you weren't sure if they were genuine or if they were a product of you romanticizing the entire atmosphere surrounding you.

You would be so cruel to Seungmin before a few months ago, so neglectful of his feelings that you thought it was foolish to think that he would ever like. It baffled you that he even saw you as a friend; hoping that he would see you as a lover would be akin to grasping for non-existent straws.

You should have told Hyunjin, who viewed love so beautifully that you envied him for it. You should have talked to Jeongin, who didn't see love as poetically as Hyunjin, but had so much of it to spare and never seemed to run out. But you didn't.

Instead, you chose to exist in torturous turmoil, over thinking each and every shared moment you had with Seungmin. If this was what experiencing supposedly unrequited like was going to be for the rest of your life, you sincerely hoped you never went through the pain of it again.

If this was what experiencing supposedly unrequited like was going to be for the rest of your life, you sincerely hoped it didn't become unrequited love.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

"And we'll have to meet Felix for his cousin, you know, Lee Minho, who said he'll be open to catering for prom," you finished with an air of finality.

Seungmin bobbed his head in agreement and walked with you towards you locker. He stepped normally, slowing down to keep pace with you. You felt like your legs were lead.

Being near Seungmin made you simultaneously want to combust and make you want to fly.

You reached for you locker and twisted the knob according to your combination, as you did almost everyday. This was like second nature to you, so when you opened you locker, put your books inside and turned around with the intention of facing Seungmin, you certainly weren't expecting what you were met with instead.

Renjun, one of the students of your grade, stood facing you with a bouquet. You had spoken with Renjun a few times at most, striking up conversation very rarely. You had no idea what warranted him looking at you earnestly, hoping that he was waiting for someone else.

Of course you were wrong.

"Hey Y/N, um... I have liked you for a very long time and I wanted to ask if you would go to prom with me," Renjun stuttered.

To say you were in shock was an understatement. Dating was the furthest thing from your mind, regardless of whether or not you had feelings for anyone, Seungmin included. While you did feel a surge of ego at being asked out for prom, you weren't in any way, shape, or form, expecting it.

This also meant that you weren't prepared for what you were going to do if you wanted to accept a promposal, which in turn meant you had even less of an idea of what to do if your intention was to reject a promposal.

You instantly felt pity on him and remorseful for what you were about to do.

"Oh Renjun, I'm really sorry but I barely know you. On top of that, I'll be really busy with student council and just be the reason your night to be ruined," you told him softly.

Renjun looked at you crestfallen. "Oh yeah, no, you're right. I'm sorry for bothering you. Can we grab coffee sometime though?"

Before you could respond, Seungmin interjected. "Yes, yes, that's all nice but we have to go. People to see, places to be. Just text her when and where."

With that, Seungmin dragged you away. You wanted to protest but were internally cartwheeling instead.

It was probably your imagination, probably caffeinated emotions, but you thought you saw a flash of jealousy in Seungmin's charming eyes.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

"What was that about?" you snorted.

"That was me having to be inconvenienced because my partner doesn't know how to respond when a guy asks her out," Seungmin snapped.

Not friend. No colleague or co-president. Not even your name. But partner.

You weren't sure how to feel about that.

"Why do you hate prom so much Seungmin?" you sighed, changing the topic.

Seungmin shrugged in response but you pressed on. "It's okay puppy. No matter how embarrassing, I won't judge."

You crossed your fingers over your heart, but Seungmin just looked at you with melancholy in his eyes. Your teasing smile fell.

"It's a long story," Seungmin said. His hands were in his pocket and he was kicking at a rock on the pavement.

"It's okay, you don't have to tell me," you told him, your voice full of guilt for asking.

"No, I will," he responded, "You deserve that much."

Seungmin finally began, "You know how I have an older sister, right? She's in college right now, but back when she was in high school, she was really smart. Smarter then me smart. I know right. Crazy? Anyways, she was very much type casted as a nerd and even though she was well liked, nobody wanted to date her. That was, until, prom came around. A guy asked her out and she was over the moon."

You felt a sinking feeling in your stomach, knowing where this was about to go.

"She wasn't even romantically interested in him, but was so excited that someone had for once, shown some interest towards her that she instantly said yes. I still remember how she wouldn't stop talking about it. She got ready, buying her own dress and everything, using money from her part time job that she was saving for university. She looked ethereal that night. I still remember all of it, even if it was five years ago. But she was stood up. Turns out the entire was a dare, a sick joke. Her final straw was when she saw the guy who asked her out walk into the prom venue with another girl on his arm."

Your heart broke for Seungmin's sister. You couldn't even imagine how it must have felt. Just when you thought it couldn't get worse, however, Seungmin opened his mouth once again.

He continues bitterly, "She was so heartbroken that she went to one of those afterparties, that's basically a rave. She drank so much alcohol that it got to the point where she was passed out on someone's hospital. We had to rush her to the hospital and get all of it pumped out. It felt so painful, being thirteen and watching my sister just suffer in pure agony."

Seungmin's voice broke, "She almost died last night, physically. But mentally, she was wrecked. It was on her hospital records, this incident. None of the Ivies, or any university even remotely good accepted her. She finally got into Stanford, but that was after writing several scholarship tests and paying a hefty fee. She's never really been the same since."

When Seungmin's sermon came to an end, you felt his hurt ten times over. Tears glistened in his eyes and without warning, you pulled him in for a hug. You felt Seungmin let out a shaky breath and held him close.

"Your hair smells like strawberries. It's highly concerning. Fruit based shampoos are dumb," he mumbled into your hair.

"Shut up and stop ruining the moment or else I'll let go," you warned.

In response, Seungmin just held you tighter. When he let go, he swiped at his eyes and gave you a grateful smile. "Sorry. And thank you," he told you with a tight smile.

You just nodded in response. "Hey, I understand why you hate prom. I can take over for you on the actual night," you offered with a squeeze of his hand."

Seungmin shook his head in response, "No, I'll be there. It wouldn't be fair to all of you if I wasn't. But you should go with Renjun. Being tethered to someone who has an outlook like me would just make the night boring as hell for you."

The possibility of going to prom with Renjun when Seungmin was right there was something you found utterly ridiculous. It made no sense, no sense at all to go with someone you had no feelings for. Going to prom with Renjun would hurt both him and you.

Seungmin's glazed expression sent an arrow straight into your heart, piercing and deafening. You refused to let him drown in sorrow. "Absolutely not, Kim Seungmin. If I said you're coming to prom with me, you're coming to prom with me."

You didn't allow any room for further argument, shutting Seungmin up with a defiant stare. You wanted Seungmin to enjoy prom, you truly did. But you knew that this wasn't the complete truth. You had a much more selfish, concealed motive.

You were going to make Kim Seungmin fall in love with prom, while falling in love with you as well.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

t - one month and three days.

[9:06 PM]

You: oi seungmin

You: we still meeting up at the library to wrap up all the finally details?

[9:07 PM]

seungmine (hopefully someday): Yep.

You could somehow tell that something was bothering Seungmin, just by reading that last text. You caught your lip between your teeth as you got ready to go to the library, his dry tone throwing you off. Seungmin was pretty much a dry texter, but always followed it up with something absurd. Today however, he didn't. Hell, he even used proper punctuation.

The entirety of the mini 'meeting' that you had consisted of only you talking and Seungmin responding with one or two words. If you were lucky, he would look your way, but your luck mostly fell short.

You snapped your binder shut and asked, "Everything good?"

Seungmin just blinked in response, the boredom and sense of being done evident in his eyes. He didn't reply and instead proceeded to swing his bag around his shoulder and stand up.

You tried once again. "I was going to go shopping for prom dresses. Do you want to match colors? Let me know what you plan on wearing."

Seungmin spared you a half glance. "Yeah sure, wear whatever. I don't really care."

You felt tears prick in his eyes. How could he just not care? You were willing to give up fun and sacrifice romance so that Seungmin could have someone to spend time with. You were doing all this and for what? Being told that he didn't care?

You felt so heavy that you spit out, "You know what? Fine. I wanted to go to prom with you so that you would have someone to be with. I knew, I knew that we would have to be stuck together all night, socializing and making sure nobody burns the school down or spikes the punch bowl. But that doesn't mean that I don't want prom to feel authentic, to go as a normal teenager."

You continued, "I'm not even asking you for the grand promposal that I have been dreaming about since I was nine. I'm just asking you to do the bare minimum, if not as my prom date, which you agreed to might I add, but at least as the person who I share the title of co-president with. You cannot keep disregarding my feelings Seungmin. I'm sick and tired of it. I understand that you hate prom but it's you who keeps insisting on coming, it's you who keeps saying that it won't be fair if you aren't there which is ironic, because you most definitely aren't being fair right now."

Seungmin stared at you, jaw slightly hung open, but the fire inside you kept raging.

"I know you don't see me as a date and that's fine but at least show me some modicum of respect. You didn't even let me complete my question; it wasn't me asking about matching prom attire. It was Principal Kim who suggested asking you about it. And you know that a suggestion from her is nothing short of law."

The tears in your eyes were threatening to spill out now as you mentally cursed yourself for ever even thinking that you could have feelings for someone like him.

"So, Kim Seungmin, if you don't want to go prom, or if you want to be a whiny little bitch about it, it's fine with me. Text me if you're going. If you won't, I'll just assume you aren't. You can do whatever the fuck you want because I'm sick for pitying you when you clearly aren't deserving of it. Go ahead and fucking ruin prom for yourself, but don't you dare tarnish the experience for me."

Before Seungmin could even anything, you grabbed your backpack and walked away, blinking back tears as you thought about how cold and lonely prom would be without anybody by your side to spend the night with. Hyunjin had Riya. Jeongin had a roster of senior girls willing to go out with him.

But you? At the end of the day, every single day, you were all alone. You let your intrusive thoughts in, swirling in your head and nearly paralyzing your capacity to think.

What if the reason why you were alone was all your fault? What if you were too pushy, too rude for your own good? None of that mattered, though, because thinking about the situation never changed the situation.

You would be alone, no matter how hard you tried otherwise, and that was the bitter truth you had to learn to live with.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

[5:28 PM]

Kim Seungmin: i am so sorry y/n

Kim Seungmin: please answer my calls

[6:36 PM]

You: I have sent the details regarding the electronic equipment.

You: Make sure to contact them.

[6:36 PM]

Kim Seungmin: please let me make it up to you.

Kim Seungmin: please.

[7:05 PM]

You: Let me know once you contact them.

You: Don't bother texting me otherwise.

You: My phone will be on dnd since I'm going out.

You: Call me only if it's urgent. I think you should be more than capable of handling the situation now, but just in case. Don't expect me to respond to you about anything else.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

You were avoiding Seungmin as if he carried a deadly virus. You dodged him in hallways and expertly deflected any and all of his attempts to talk to you. The one place you couldn't avoid where you knew he would be, however, was the library.

You needed to return one of your library books. Today was the last day and not doing so would led to you paying a fine. You couldn't afford a payable fees right now, since most of the savings from your part time job and the money your parents would regularly send you would be going towards buying your prom gown.

Okay, fine. Maybe you wanted to give Seungmin a chance to properly apologize. But that's absurd and not important right now.

Your headphones were jammed in your ears, music pounding through them while you walked in its direction. People thought that you had an affinity for listening to classical music since you came under the categorization of an 'over-achieving nerd.'

You knew that society also known as your school, would break out into scandal if they ever found out that Kendrick Lamar was your top artist on Spotify.

That thought brought you back to Seungmin, as you giggled at the memory of his confusion while you were explaining the entire Drake and Kendrick beef to him. His nose was scrunched up and his eyes were squinted, listening to you as if you were preaching about the secrets of life and the universe, not ranting about rap music.

Oh wait. You were supposed to hate Seungmin. Not giggle at the memories of the time you spent together like a middle aged woman recounting her college days.

When you got to the library, you placed your bag on Mrs. Kang's table and took out the book you were supposed to return.

You handed it to her with a strained smile. "Hey, I am on time though, aren't I Mrs. Kang? Plus, this is just a first time offence. I'm sure you can let it slide."

Mrs. Kang raised her eyebrow. "Fine, just this once," she slid the book underneath the scanner and mentioned, "Oh, you should go check out the Romantic Literature section; we finally got sent The Vicar of Wakefield."

You looked at her, puzzled. You were never really interested in works that emerged during the age of early eighteenth century Romanticism. She must have mixed you up with somebody else, but you began to walk towards the shelves anyways. If anything would help lighten your spirits, it would be re-reading Pride and Prejudice.

When you got there however, the most unexpected sight awaited you.

Your eyes drank in the sight of Seungmin, standing wearing a varsity jacket, white t-shirt and jeans. Dried rose petals littered the length of the aisle. Seungmin was holding up an open book with it's pages folded to form the word 'Prom?'

As much as you hated to admit it, the sight took your breath away.

Seungmin cocked his head to the side. "I had to bribe her with my limited edition copy of Frankenstein."

"What- what is this?" you asked, your brain still numb from shock.

Seungmin bit his lip and looked at you. "This is me apologizing. You were right. I completely sidelined you when I shouldn't have. I truly respect and admire you and feel horrible that I made you feel like this. And I figured, that I should ask you to prom the way you deserve: with all the grandeur in the world."

His apology was one that you could have never imagined being the recipient of. Even fiction didn't predict something as thoughtful as this. Seungmin preparing an entire promposal for you, over just a hissy fit, was enough to thaw your temporarily frozen heart.

You looked at him open-mouthed. "But I thought you didn't even like me that way."

Despite how hard he tried to contain it, tones of mischief slipped through Seungmin's voice. "Would it be so bad if I did?"

What? This couldn't be real. This was most definitely not happening. You pinched yourself to make sure you weren't dreaming, because never in your wildest dreams would such a scene have ever taken place.

Seungmin must have somehow read your mind because he quickly stuttered, "Not that I do. I mean I like you. But not in that way. Like, I asked you since we have to spend the entire night together anyways. I'm sorry for making this weird."

You let out an exhale, chiding yourself for being so gullible. It was just Seungmin being Seungmin. You spared a glance at his eyes, full of anticipation. You wanted to say no. If you didn't, you knew you would be in too deep.

You took a step forward to refuse his request when your eyes fell on his hand. The sight awaiting you knocked the wind out of your body.

You already noticed Seungmin's baggy eyes, attributing it to lack of sleep because he was busy doing whatever guys do. But his hands told the other half of the story.

They were adorned with paper cuts. Small scars like moons were imprinted on him in various stages of healing. One even had a bit of blood on it.

"Uh, yeah," said Seungmin, noticing your eyes drift down, "I spent all night making it. Let's just say that I'm really bad with paper and folding in any context and leave it at that."

"Seungmin," you whispered, your eyes tearing up. He offered you a tight smile.

"I should go. This was weird. I'm sorry."

"Wait!" you said in a tone that startled him, "I'll go. I'll go to prom with you. Officially."

Seungmin's eyes reflected a question of whether you were doing this genuinely. You hoped that your eyes reflected that you were. Seungmin may not ever come to like you romantically, in any sense. But you were happy with what you were being offered.

You were happy that Seungmin was the first person you thought yourself to have the potential to love.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

t - shit, it's prom!

You couldn't sleep all night.

The frenzied prolepsis that clouded your mind refused to escape. 'What if's?' and 'Should have's?' regarding the event clouded your head. You thought that you would feel more nervous about your experience at prom, but it was all the planning that got to your head.

If you were a wreck, however, then Seungmin was a fucking natural disaster.

He texted you without pause, your phone blowing up so much that even Riya had to ask you if everything was okay. His chats varied, from long rants about how Die Hard is not a Christmas movie, despite Felix's apparent protests, and immense worry about how prom would turn out.

You didn't blame him. You were just as anxious as him, even if you weren't as vocal about it. This mammoth event was like yours's and Seungmin's baby. You were so concentrated on making sure that everything went according to plan, that the idea of you going to prom with Seungmin was pushed to the dark and dusty corner of your brain.

"You have been texting Seungmin a lot lately," teased Riya as she curled her hair.

"Shut up," you told her smoothly, already armed with blackmail material, "Or else I will smack you and tell Hyunjin about your Shah Rukh Khan shrine."

She effortlessly shut up.

You ran from one room to the other, your dorm house common room and back, pacing and placing calls and confirming and reminding people of what had to be done. You were in such a rush that you hadn't even started to get ready.

In your panicked chaos, you slammed into an already ready Felix. His white suit was immaculate, small roses embroidered on the sides. His blond hair was tousled and his easy smile gave you a bit of reassurance amidst the hectic situations you were constantly throwing yourself in.

"Felix! What are you doing here? You look amazing, by the way." You pulled him in for a quick hug, distracted by a call you had to make.

"I'm here to pick up my date, Jeongin," Felix smirked.

You let out a cough. "What?"

Felix laughed. "I didn't have a date and thought that he deserves to come since he has helped so much. So, I offered him my plus one ticket."

Ah, that made sense. You wondered why Jeongin didn't go with one of the senior girls on his roster of ladies in waiting. Then you remembered that he thought of himself as some sort of a chivalrous gentleman.

"Why haven't you gotten ready yet?" Felix questioned.

"Oh, I was just-," you began, before Felix sternly interrupted you.

"Don't you dare say you were wrapping things up. You and I both know that your definition of wrapping things up is frantically quadruple checking everything," Felix scolded, "You will stop worrying and get ready."

You just sighed in response, "I wish I could but-"

"No buts," he said, his eyes softening. "This night is yours as much as everybody else's. If anything, it's mostly yours."

Before you could sweetly respond to Felix with a resounding refusal, Jisung, per usual, appeared out of thin hair. His suit coat looked a little small and you vaguely remembered yearbook pictures of Chan during his prom, wearing almost the exact same suit coat, minus the little hand stitched lightening bolt on the side pocket.

"This," Jisung motioned towards you with a flourish of his right hand, "Is unacceptable."

Felix promptly agreed. You flashed him a withering glare and he slightly wavered, but it was of no use. You had lost the battle before it had even begun.

Twenty minutes later, you, Jisung and Felix were in your dorm room. No matter your protests, they insisted on helping you get ready for prom night. The two of them did your hair and makeup while you pondered on how you couldn't do it yourself half as good as they did.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

When they were done, you gasped in surprise. They made you look a beautiful you thought you weren't capable of outwardly being.

Your dress in itself was majestic, at least in your eyes. It didn't exactly fit the theme, but the moment you saw it, you knew you needed to have it. It marveled you to no end about how someone could leave something that looked so incredible in a small thrift store next to the coffee shop you frequented.

The dress was silver, shimmering in a shade of what you only knew to be 'almost white' when light struck it. The bodice was in the shape of fairy wings, the sides laced crisscrossed and showing the smallest bit of skin. The back was covered, and the dress flowed down to reach your feet like a cascading waterfall. It was sleeveless, and so you wore long, winding silver bracelets on each hand.

Your make was done almost professionally by Felix. He used a colour pallet of silvery white, not exaggerating your make up. He brushed your hair calmly and tied two strands of it in a braid, pull them back to make a sort of halo. Felix clipped butterflies into your hair and made you feel like a mythical creature stepping out from a fantasy novel. Narnia, maybe.

Jisung on the other hand, provided food, gossip and entertainment. You would never reveal this to him, but you found that very vital to the process of getting ready as well.

"You are so good at this," you gushed at Felix.

He looked at you calmly. "I have two sisters, and I'm the middle kid. As a consequence, I was often my older sister's model for all things fashion and my younger sister's personal stylist."

Jisung munched on a piece of cake which you had no idea was even there in your kitchen. He sat on a barstool and clapped when you came out and gave him a spin. His feet rocked back and forth while he cheered you on.

"See," he said to Felix pointedly. "I am a better wingman than you."

Felix looked immeasurably hurt. "Not as good as me though. You didn't even help me!"

"I did, didn't I?" Jisung looked at you with those boba eyes that you found extremely hard to resist.

In response, you ushered them both out of the house in order to not get pulled into conflict and be the cause of an unsatisfactory prom night. Plus, you wanted to get there early and check on the venue.

Well, that and also to (mostly), see Seungmin.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

You spotted him before he could see you.

Seungmin looked ethereal in his silver suit, his hair swept to the side and hands in his pockets as he engaged in easy conversation with one of the teachers.

He looked like a song you could listen to for the rest of your life until you were maddened by it but never turn it off. He looked like a painting that you could stare at as it dried, like a work of art you spend countless hours and dollars just to catch a glimpse.

And, he matched with you.

When you mentioned to him in passing that your prom dress was silver in colour, you hadn't actually expected him to wear something of a similar, much less the same colour. And yet he did, and you went down a spiral of feelings once again.

Seungmin's eyes must have found you because he sauntered over to you like a man with a purpose.

"You look beautiful," he whispered in awe, "But then again, you do everyday."

You blushed, hoping that the shitty lighting would hide it. "You look incredible yourself Seungmin," you said lightly, "And you somehow look good everyday, despite only running off of caffeine and spite.

Seungmin threw his head back an infectious laughter that had caused you to laugh as well. Someone called his name from the background in the middle of your laughter. Another louder, more insistent call of his name floated towards your general direction. Seungmin dipped his head in apology and walked away.

He had told you that you look beautiful. Not your dress, not your make up, not your hair. Not the meaningless, material attire that clung onto you like tinsel on a Christmas. But he said that you, you, look beautiful.

Seungmin wasn't looking you up and down when he said so, like men in the movies did. He didn't look like he was trying to memorize your body, memorize the dips and curves where he could place his hand and mold his being into yours.

No, he looked you in the eye when he said at, as if he didn't believe that it was the clothes that made you look beautiful. He looked you in the eye as if everything that made you, well, you was what made you so beautiful in his sight.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

You stood in a moment of peace, finally standing still since reaching the venue.

The moment you took a deep breath and closed your eyes, however, a guttural screech and the sound of howling teenage boys flooded your ears. Sighing in irritation, you opened one eye to asses the situation. Deciding that it warranted you opening the other eye as well, you walked over to the culprits and sternly told them off.

You probably jinxed any peace that would possibly be coming your way by stealing away those five minutes for yourself.

Bad karma, bad decisions.

Seungmin was watching the entire altercation with a faint smirk. He walked over to you and tapped you on the shoulder. You didn't know it was him, and were about to tell him off as well until his familiar scent reached you.

You glared at the gaggle of seniors who has no right to be called seniors and turned to Seungmin.

"May I please have this dance?" he asked with a smirk.

You raised an eyebrow at him and placed your hand in his. "The theme is Aphrodite's Garden, not 18th century Regency era Bridgerton," you quipped.

Seungmin was subject to torture at your hands, also known as, watching Bridgerton with you. He would never admit it, but you knew he liked it. In fact, he may have even enjoyed it more than you. Either that, or you were hallucinating him being on his Simone Ashley Twitter fan account.

Your arms went around his neck as Seungmin guided you to the dancefloor. "I can't really dance," you murmured, the close contact between you both making your head go haywire.

"Neither do I," he winked.

Seungmin's eyes bored into yours and you licked your lips self-consciously. Considering you incredible luck, the song was slow and sensual. Considering your incredible luck, less than twenty seconds into the song playing, a loud crashing sound was heard in the background.

You prayed to God to help salvage prom, and no, that god was not Taylor Swift.

"I'll handle it," Seungmin reassured you.

"I'm a big girl," you bristled, "I can handle it as well."

"I know you are," Seungmin mused, "But I also know you well enough to know that those heels are absolutely killing you right now."

You pressed your lips in a thin line. No matter your feelings for Kim Seungmin, you still hated when he was right. You flashed him the tiniest smile in a way of saying 'thank you', since you were too proud to actually do it. He took it in stride and went away to handle whatever it was that needed handling at the moment.

He left you alone with your thoughts if such situations weren't confined so momentarily and were instead something you could enjoy for eternity.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

You decided to step out of the venue for a bit, to finally clear you head. The atmosphere of prom buzzed with electricity and it wasn't the good, energetic kind; it was more of the kind that made your hair frizz.

You were standing, staring at the stars when you felt the air shift beside you. You knew who it was even without sparing a glance at them.

"The stars are beautiful tonight," you whispered to him.

"They are, but I have seen sights today that even rival them," Seungmin said. His voice was missing his trademark sass.

Your heart thumped incessantly as you asked, "Trying out cheesy pick up lines on me now, are we?"

Seungmin laughed, "Now would that be so bad?"

You both stood in silence. You bent down, opened your heels and set them to the side. You felt Seungmin looking at you, but you kept looking at the sky.

The sky, which was ever changing, yet reflected the same shades everyday. The sky, that served as a medium of rain and thunder, sunlight and rainbows. The sky, that was always there in you life, unwavering and never faltering.

Sky, which was coincidentally Seungmin's English name. It suited him.

"I really like the constellation of Orion," you told him with a sideways glance.

"I know. I remember."

"How? I mean, how do you remember all this?"

"I remember everything you tell me," Seungmin repeated, like he did all those months ago.

"Why?" you asked. You asked because you wanted to know, needed to know and repent your mistake of not asking earlier.

Seungmin turned to face you. His eyes held no glint of mischief, no edge accompanied by teasing. Instead, you felt locked in his gaze. It was the kind of intense stare that made you think that he was about to spill all his sins at your feet, right here, right now.

"I remember everything because it's you who says it. I used to remember because I wanted to beat you, be better than you. Then I started to remember as a habit, noticing the smallest quirks about you. Now I remember because I want to be there for you, to help you."

This wasn't happening. This wasn't real. But how much longer would you say that to yourself until you were imbibed with it?

"There is an ugly mix of feelings inside me regarding you, Y/N. They went initially from animosity, to something akin to friendship, to now, the desire for something with you that's more than just platonic."

He gulped. You swallowed. Silence.

"I am drawn to you, Y/N L/N. From the moment I have met you, it has felt like my life is irreversibly tangled with yours. I am propelled towards like it's pre-destined, and I always have. There are times where I feel like I cannot exist if you do not exist. And I'm tired of brushing these feelings aside, acting like they're non-existent."

"I like you, and not telling you has quite nearly driven me to the brink of insanity. It's alright, if you don't feel the same, but please don't walk away without an answer for me."

His gaze averted yours when he finally finished. You looked at him in awe, unable to express how you felt his brilliance radiate off him when he perfectly articulated all the feelings that restlessly capsized land in the empty spaces of your mind.

"For someone really smart, Kim," you breathed, "You are extremely stupid."

"You mean..." Seungmin's voice trailed off. Now it was his turn to look at you in awe.

"I have the feeling that you're trying not to kiss me, and I give you permission to just do it," you announced.

Seungmin gave you a wild smile before his lips swooped in to meet yours. They tasted like fruit punch and chocolate cake, like promises and forever.

You might have been imagining it, but for one cosmic moment, it felt like the stars were shining brighter than the usually did. Two binary stars had finally found each other, finally made their way into each other's orbits, never to stray again.

His lips left yours with a small gasp. "That was my first kiss," you mumbled sheepishly.

Seungmin fiddled with the flaps of his suit coat nervously. He started babbling, "Really? This was, I think, my third. Once at camp and once last year but that was just spin the bottle-"

You cut him off with a smirk. "Let's make it a fourth time, shall we?" and you promptly shut him up by placing your lips on his.

You weren't jealous of the other people Seungmin had kissed. God knows how awful this entire experience would have been if you both were going into it as novices. If anything, you were glad you were the third person he was kissing, because in that celestial moment, you made a vow.

You may not be the first person Seungmin had kissed, but you would make damn well sure to be the last.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

t - girl, it's the epilogue!

Seungmin yawned and wrapped his arm around your waist, practically caging you to the bed. He let out whine when you tried to get out of his grasp and just pulled you closer. You poked him in the side until he yelped.

"Kim Seungmin, you are not skipping work today. I know this display of affections is just so that I concede and let you stay home for cuddles," you told him sternly.

"But it worked last time. And the time before that. And the time before-"

"Well, it won't work this time," you announced with an air of finality.

If anything, being in a relationship with Seungmin only increased the penchant for banter you both had. You both rarely disagreed on things, but went back and forth for fun anyways. You knew your boundaries and never crossed them, but argued like cats and dogs nonetheless.

Well, you called it arguing. Seungmin called it flirting.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

You both finally pulled up at Seungmin's workplace and you snorted when you saw the building gates. Seungmin drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and looked at you with a smile that you gave back. It was his first day on the job as Principal.

It had been ten years since you stepped foot on the campus of Park Academy.

"The legacy of Principal Kims continues," you giggled, proud of yourself for making that joke.

"That's because Kims are superior," Seungmin declared.

"That is literally so offensive," you flicked him arm lightly.

Seungmin's eyes met yours and a familiar look in it made you outwardly dread and inwardly prepare to rebut whatever he was going to tell you.

"You shouldn't say that," he snickered, "Considering that you'll be an honorary Kim yourself soon."

Oh. Oh.

It would be a week until students started coming to campus, there classes yet to start. When Seungmin mentioned this to you, you asked if you could come along to see the campus once. The campus where you fell in love with him.

"You might be a hot shot CEO," Seungmin relentlessly teased, "But it's good to go back to your roots sometimes."

It was ironic how you called his mother more than he did.

Your feet subconsciously guided you to the library. You loved this library. It was the place where you spent some of the best moments of your life. This was where you slowly fell in love with Seungmin, uncovering him layer by layer until you could call him yours.

You felt a laugh bubble up your throat when you made your way to the Romantic Literature section. Seungmin gave you a poor attempt at a smile as he observed you. In fact, he looked extremely nervous, a sharp juxtaposition to the flirty demeanor of his just a few minutes ago.

You could count on one hand the amount of times you had seen Seungmin being nervous.

It must have been anxiety surrounding the promotion. You reached over to squeeze his hand and give him a reassuring pat. Once you were sure that he would be fine, you turned back to prodding at the books shelved on the wall as if they were part of some lab experiment.

Once you were satisfied, you turned to give Seungmin the signal to go, when you stumbled backwards at what was in front of you.

Seungmin stood down on one knee, a box in his hand, with the most beautiful ring you had ever seen inside it.

"What?" you asked, your voice shaky. Tears instantly began to spring up in your eyes.

This wasn't real. This wasn't happening. But it was. The man you had loved for a decade was here, in front of you, wordlessly asking to turn those ten years into the rest of a shared forever.

"I had a really dramatic speech planned," he rambled, "But I forgot since I'm kind of terrified and you do always tell me to speak from my heart so here goes nothing."

"I have probably mentioned this thousands of times, but I have felt a magnetic pull towards you since the moment I first interacted with you. I didn't know what it would turn into then, but I knew it was going to be something, and I have been eternally grateful that it was love."

"To put it simply: every single infinitesimal particle that makes me in hopelessly in love with every infinitesimal particle that makes you. I love you, so, so much. I have been yearning for a forever with you before I even knew it so; will you marry me?"

He stopped with a sniff and swiped the sleeve of his sweater across his eyes. "Shit, I wasn't supposed to cry."

It all came full circle, didn't it? Ten years ago, he asked you to prom. Ten years later, he offered you eternity.

You let out a laugh and threw yourself at him, peppering him with kisses. "And you said you didn't want to come to work today," you laughed in between your cuddle attack.

"So, this means yes?"

You face palmed. "This means yes, Seungmin. Yes, I will marry you. In every universe, I know that I will spend the rest of my life with you."

Seungmin gathered you in his arms and kissed you like he was burning and you were oxygen. Binary stars, burning and burning, bleeding into each other in every reality because, there could never be you without him, one without the other.

Ten years ago, you swore that you would be the last person Seungmin would ever kiss.

Ten years later, nobody could say that you weren't a woman of your word.

please reblog and comment if you liked this fic! it means everything to me and I love reading your thoughts <3

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[gor3-hound]

teachers pet

ft. leon kennedy x fem!reader

cw: 18+content, dub-con, pussy spanking, spanking, degradation, milddd brat taming, teacher x student relationships (age gap, but reader is in college), p in v, pull-out method, cum eating

a/n: i have been really struggling to write recently, so i hope you guys still like this :3 i um... hate it sorry it's not that good... writer's block is so shitty rn. feedback is appreciated !!

word count: 1.3k words

Leon finds you infuriating at the best of times. Sitting at the front of the lecture hall, giggling as you look at your phone. You never pay attention to his lectures - he doesn't understand why you even bother to show up.

You're not even subtle about ignoring him. The least you could do is try and hide in the back like the rest of his students who don't give a fuck.

To make matters worse, your grades are actually decent. Nothing to write home about, but you always turn his assignments in on time, and you've never failed to get a passing mark. If you failed, at least you'd flunk out of his class, and he wouldn't have to put up with your shit anymore.

It's like you want to get a rise out of him.

He's sick of it. He's sick of you. He retired and took on teaching college kids in the hopes he'd finally have some time to relax, but you seemed to enjoy making his life a living hell. He'd had enough of it. As you're packing up once he dismisses the class, he makes his way to your desk, his footsteps echoing across the lecture hall.

“Not you, miss. I need to have a word with you. Please come to my desk once you're packed up.” He tells you, tapping two fingers against your desk as he leans in to speak before he's returning to sit at the desk at the front of the hall.

You let out an exaggerated groan at his words, shoving your laptop into your backpack before begrudgingly making your way over to him. Your bag is slung over one shoulder, hanging precariously off to the side.

“You wanted to see me, sir?”

“That's right.” He says with a slight nod of his head, gesturing for you to take the seat across from him. He leans back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other as he waits for you to sit.

“I'm going to be honest. You've gained my attention, however it's been for all the wrong reasons. You're smart enough. I'm sure if you applied yourself to this course, you'd get top marks. Is there something I can do to help? Is it a motivation issue? Something at home?”

“Well, if I'm being honest, sir. I thought when I chose this elective, it'd be more interesting. Your lectures are, like… seriously boring.” You say with a smirk that makes it clear you're just trying to frustrate him further.

“I'm seriously getting sick of your attitude.” He bites out, leaning forward against his desk. His eyes are narrowed and locked onto your own. “You can drop an elective. It will have no effect on your main course of study. Why are you still here?”

“It's fun to annoy you, sir.” Is your response, a shit-eating grin spreading across your face.

That's it. Leon is a patient man. He'd tried his best to help you. To figure out what the issue was so he could fix it. But you? Everything about you made him want to rip his hair out.

“Stand up.” He hisses, the feet of his chair screeching against the hardwood floor as he pushes it back suddenly before standing, stalking his way to your side of the desk. You don't stand, crossing your arms as you lean back in the chair.

“I said, stand up!” He repeats, gripping you by the arm and tugging you to your feet. He presses down harshly on your shoulders, forcing you to bend over his desk. “You want to act like an unruly child? Fine. I'll treat you like one.”

“You can not be serious.” You grit out, moving to straighten back up before your chest is forced against the surface of the desk once more with a strong hand pushing down on your back, right between your shoulder blades. “Jesus. I always knew you were a fucking freak.”

“This could all have been avoided if you weren't such a brat.” He hisses, raising your skirt to expose the curve of your ass. You hear him snort, bunching up the fabric of your panties and yanking them upwards harshly, making the fabric bunch up between your lips in a wedgie. It draws a whine from your lips, your brows furrowing as you drop your cheek against his desk.

“Fucking slut. Is that why you're acting up in my class, hmm? You want attention? Prancing around in those tiny skirts, skimpy panties like these underneath ‘em?” He lets go of your panties, sliding them down your thighs before smacking his flattened fingers repeatedly against your pussy until it runs hot, dripping all over his skin.

“Fuck… fuck off.” You say through gritted teeth, your mouth twitching downwards as he continues to spank your pussy. You bite down on your tongue, trying to prevent any noises from spilling past your lips.

He pinches your clit harshly between his thumb and forefinger, giving it a little yank. He grins at the sound of your whimper and the way you jerk away from him, letting out a low chuckle. “What was that, sweetheart?”

You hear the sound of a belt buckle and the shuffling of fabric, which is enough to send a shiver running down your spine. You swallow the lump in your throat, suddenly feeling your confidence drain from you. When you speak, your voice is almost a whisper. “Mr. Kennedy…”

“Oh? You finally learning to keep that mouth shut?” He grunts, running his tip teasingly up and down between your folds, letting his cock catch on your hole just to see you jump. “Trying to pretend you're not a filthy slut, but your cunt is crying for me...”

He presses forward with a low groan, burying himself to the hilt inside of you. His cock throbs as your walls tighten around him, his fingers digging painfully into the fat of your hips as he starts to fuck into you, his pelvis pummelling against your ass with every shift of his hips.

“Greedy.” He scolds, smacking your ass harshly, and once more just to hear the way you whimper when his hand connects with your flesh. “She's sucking me right in. Know this is what you've been wanting… shoulda asked, sweetheart. Pretty sluts like you always get what they want.”

“Perfect pussy… squeezing me so tight.” He groans, thrusting deeper into your cunt, pulling you back onto his cock and angling his hips so he's bumping against your sweet spot every time he bottoms out. He fucks you with deep, hard strokes, letting you feel the drag of every inch of his thick cock inside of you.

“Ah, that's right. Just need to fuck the brattiness out of you, hmm? Goooood fucking girl. Gonna… gonna make me cum.” He says through gritted teeth, slipping a hand down to circle a thumb around your clit. You babble helplessly as he touches you, nothing but ‘please’s and ‘sir's spilling past your lips. He almost cums inside of you when he feels your clenching around him as your orgasm hits, but he's not too pussydrunk to release how stupid it'd be to get his student knocked up, so he pulls out quickly and coats your ass in his cum.

“You gonna be a good girl for me now?” He asks, dropping to his knees behind you, his tongue darting out to lick his cum off of you. The sensation has you shivering, but you nod weakly at his question. He pulls your panties up, straightening out your skirt before patting your butt and going to sit at his desk once more, as if nothing's happened. “Good. That's good.”

“Come see me after class tomorrow, babe. Gotta make sure the lesson really sinks in.”

[ncis-nerd]

Unforgettable Rain

Boss Wanda Maximoff x College Student Reader , Wanda x Nat , Slight Nat x Reader

about: wanda asks y/n to come in on her day off, to "file papers". is that it or did she want something more?

secret untold au

The rain trickled down your window, you had it slightly cracked open. You didn’t want the rain to come inside but you still wanted to be able to hear it.

You loved the sound of rain, it was so comforting. It reminded you of your childhood when you would go outside in the rain with your older sister and father. You’d dance like no one was watching, it was so fun. You missed them so much everyday.

Especially when it rains, it was never quiet when it rained, not only because of the sound of the rain but also because of the laughter and giggles that escaped their lips when you’d dance so freely.

You sat curled up, drinking a warm cup of hot chocolate as you watched the rain. That’s when your phone got an alert. You got a message from Wanda, your boss.

Since that first day she would send you on tasks outside of her office, it felt like she was avoiding you. Her face once so warm and welcoming now felt so cold and distant. You were a little hurt by this, but you still had to do your job. Even if the two of you didn’t get along.

(5:38 P.M.) W. Maximoff: “Hey Y/N, are you able to come into the office? I know it is a bit late so I understand if you cannot.”

(5:39 P.M.) Y/N: “No, no it’s fine. I’m not doing anything, I can come in.”

(5:40 P.M.) W Maximoff: “Perfect, thank you darling.”

You threw on a hoodie, and changed into presentable pants before leaving for the office. Your mind still went back to your first day where you made a fool of yourself in front of your new boss. What a great way to meet her, by falling for her on the steps outside her own building.

When you look up, you find yourself at the office. It’s a quick walk from your apartment as you don’t live that far from the office. You noticed that the rain had stopped when you left your house. You however, failed to bring an umbrella with you. It had slipped your mind that the rain could start back up when you left your house.

You knocked on her door, “Wanda? It’s me.” You spoke softly. She opened her door to let you in. She wasn’t alone in here, there was a woman sitting on her couch. Not just any woman, the woman from her painting. Her wife. She was wearing a suit, her red hair in curls, it looked so free and loose.

The woman noticed your staring, that’s when her raspy voice spoke up “Hi there, my name is Natasha. My wife told me about you, Y/N Y/L/N right?” You nodded, her voice was so hypnotizing, you bit your lip.

“So, I hope my wife hasn’t made you feel uncomfortable but the reason I called you in on your day off was to ask you if you could file these papers for me?” She asked, handing you a box of papers in it. You nodded, reaching for the box. Her lips opened but no words came out, it looked as if she had more she wanted to say.

You found it a bit strange that your boss had asked you to come in on your day off just to file papers, especially since there were other employees that could do that task for her You shrugged it off and got to filing.

You felt Wanda and Natasha's eyes glancing at each other, as if they were having a silent conversation.

That's when Natasha finally spoke, Wanda's eyes darken. “So, Y/N.. I know we haven't known you that long but do you happen to be occupied next Friday evening?” Natasha hummed.

This sparked your curiosity as you had no plans that day, or at all. You were an introvert who happened to protect your peace a little too much so now you hardly have a social life.

The two women waited for your response. “No, nothing that I could think of. Why?” You asked.

“Well, my wife wanted to ask you if you would join us at this dinner party for their company. It's a business party.” Natasha's raspy voice spoke.

Really? They wanted you there? You were just some new intern but this warmed your heart that Wanda wanted you there.

“I-I would love that! But what should I wear? What's the dress code?” You stuttered, your anxiety running through your head.

What if you embarrassed yourself there too? What if your clothes didn't match the vibe? Your thoughts were racing. Natasha and Wanda could sense your anxiety.

Natasha quickly silenced those thoughts. She brought her thumb to stroke your cheek. “Well it's moreso just dressing professional but if it would make you feel comfortable, you can match with us, Detka.” Natasha smiled. Her touch was so warm, it made you feel better.

Detka? You scrunched your nose trying to figure out the meaning behind the foreign word. “Don't worry about that, sweetheart. Natasha and I will be wearing burgundy. You're welcome to match us if you want, darling.” Wanda spoke up, placing a hand on your shoulder.

You nodded and went back to filing the papers like your boss asked. After a while, Wanda checks her watch. “So late already?” Wanda spoke, shutting her computer.

You looked up as the two women packed up their stuff. “Thank you so much for coming in darling.” Wanda sighed, rubbing her temple.

Natasha frowned, sensing her wife's incoming headache. That's when you noticed the rain had started back up. Great.

"Are you okay?” You can see Natasha mouth this to Wanda. Wanda nods in response as they walk with you, out of the building.

“Oh gosh, do you see this rain Nat?” Wanda spoke, an ounce of concern in her face. Natasha nodded, “Yeah. Say, Y/N how are you getting home?” Natasha asked you.

“Oh I'm walking, I don't live too far.” You responded, gathering your things as you handed Wanda the box of newly filed papers.

“In this rain? Nonsense, let us give you a drop.” Natasha hummed. She didn’t want you to get wet or possibly sick in this terrible rain.

“Oh, it's okay you don't have to.” You immediately responded. You knew that it was a short walk and nothing new as you have walked in the rain (and danced in it) multiple times.

“Darling, we are giving you a ride. End of story.” Wanda spoke firm but you could tell that she just cared about you. Even behind that wall she ahd built up.

[jeoncasino]

Prospects

⋆ †₊ 0.1

Tired of life and all it had to bring for you, things take a turn when you find out two of your friends start to take a liking to you. With newfound emotions and a whole lot of drama, what happens when they start competing for your love?

Pairings: JJK x fem! reader [x KNJ]

Genre: college au, love triangle, friends to lovers, fluff, angst, slow burn, eventual smut.

Tags: rich! jjk, law student! jjk, dark hair! jjk, sweet! jjk, jealous! jjk, needy! jjk, obsessed! jjk, but also dom! jjk, slightly toxic! jjk, english major! knj, boy bsf! knj, co-worker! knj, husband material! knj, brown hair! knj, sweet! knj, jealous! knj, sad knj:(, pet names, everything’s so complicated and everyone’s in denial, jk's love language is physical touch and acts of service, jk has mommy issues so he's too attached to oc, joonie is so sweet i feel bad for him, gguk will try everything in his power to make oc his, ggukkie lowkey hates joonie lol, this is an actual slow burn yay!

Warnings: mentions of drug use.

⋆ †₊ Series Masterlist

Minors do not interact.

Smoke surrounds you. For a moment, the noises and lights from the party, once a chaotic blend, seperate distinctly. Each sound creates its own frequency, each beam of light cutting through the haze in sharp lines. Everything around you slows down, the moment captivating you in a trance that would otherwise not been achieved without smoking a certain plant.

Elaine, your best friend, who was sitting to your left, seems to be talking to you. You can't quite grasp what she's saying, but she leaves shortly afterward, leaving you alone in the beautiful backyard of this otherwise dirty frat house. You really were avoiding going inside—the floors were sticky, and it smells funky. Honestly, you didn’t even want to be there. Frat parties aren’t your thing. But Elaine, in apparent need of de-stressing (though later confessing she just wanted to see her latest infatuation, Zia), had dragged you out on a Thursday night. You thought about getting mad and leaving, but she’s your best friend—and every guy here looks like they’d spike her drink—so you stayed. Plus, she bought you a blunt, so it evened out.

As you gazed at the dark-glowing canvas of the night sky, you felt a presence beside you. Skeptically, you glanced to your right, only to find a man staring at you. You jumped.

“Oh my god?” you gasp, eyes wide, hand over your heart.

The guy laughs, clearly amused by your reacton. Trying to figure him out, you took a look at him. He wore a loose white shirt and baggy jeans. Dark hair framed his face. Two rings pierced the right side of his mouth, his right arm covered in tattoos. Honestly, you felt intimidated—frat parties drew all kinds of people, you know? But when you finally met his eyes, the softness of his gaze made him seem far more approachable then you originally thought.

“Will you quit staring?” He teased.

Your cheeks burned. “Oh please, I’m on drugs,” you muttered, looking away, “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Oh, I know. Thought I’d join you on your trip.”

Confused, and extremely thirsty, you asked, “Who are you?”

“Seriously?” He replied, somewhat annoyed. “Jeon Jeongguk. We share a class—U.S History with Mrs. Webster,” He paused, anticipating an answer. He met silence. “No?”

You sighed. “Look, I’m sorry, but I’m too high to remember anyone from that class.” Thinking it over, you added, “Seriously, though, I don’t think I’ve ever talked to you.”

And that’s because you hadn’t. Jeongguk, though quite popular, found himself completely partner-less tonight. He didn’t like being alone, so when he spotted you, high and alone, he thought he’d try his usual trick with you—pretending he knew you from somewhere. It usually worked.

Not today though. At your response, he was utterly offended. Did you seriously not know who the Jeon Jeongguk was? Even he recognized you—the sharing a class part not being a lie—so it made no sense. Although, he didn’t know your name either, so maybe you did know him, just not his name, and the drugs are clouding him from your memory.

Yeah, he thought, it’s definitely the drugs. “Did you know marijuana causes memory issues?”

You snorted. “Just say you’re offended.”

He shrugged. “What’s got you all alone out here?”

“My horny friend, I guess.” You turn to face him. “You?”

“I was taught to never leave a pretty girl like you alone,”

“Okay, Mr. Charming, please be serious.”

He laughed. “My friends ditched me too.”

“Hm,” You didn’t know what else to say. Usually, you were good at small talk, but you were literally in cloud nine and too thirsty to properly think. “Do you mind getting me some water? I’ve got cotton mouth and don’t want to go inside.”

“It smells wierd doesn’t it?” He scrunched his nose as he replied. You nodded. “I’ll be right back.”

Many chit-chat’s and half a bottle of wine later—Jeongguk found it somewhere in the frat—you both bid goodbye with teary eyes and warm embraces, somehow convinced you’d never see each other again after this party. Both of you not letting go, Elaine and his friends have to literally pry you guys apart, causing everyone to fall comically like dominoes.

Attempting to open your eyes you rubbed them, immediately closing them as the morning sun assaults your vision. What even happened yesterday? Your head pounded, nausea swirled in your gut. You felt horrible. Trying to go back to sleep, you turned in your bed, feeling the dreaded build-up of saliva once you layed on your side. Uh-oh.

You rushed to your bathroom just in time.

“Elaine?” you half-yelled, wiping your mouth with your hand muffling your voice.

No response. You stumble out of your room and head for the kitchen. There, your find an already-ready best friend cooking god-knows-what.

Looking up at you, she said, “Good morning, Mrs. Jeon,” her tone dripping with mockery.

“What? Mrs. Jeon?” Confused, you try to piece together last night’s events, but it’s no use. Panicking, you exclaimed, “Oh my God, Elaine, what happened yesterday?!”

She looked at you unimpressed. “Oh, nothing much. Just that you and Jeongguk were all over each other yesterday!”

“Jeon who?” You asked.

“Be so serious right now,” She couldn’t believe you. “Y/n, he’s like, super well-known around campus. Rich as hell and a jerk.” She added, “Cheated on Jayla, rejected me when you bet me to hit on him for five dollars.” Elaine huffed with her arms crossed.

Recalling how hilarious that day was, you laughed so hard your headache worsened tenfold. “I might die if I keep laughing,” you stuttered, gripping the kitchen counter for dear life. “Is that why you don’t like him?”

“This isn’t funny! You guys made fools of yourselves last night. I genuinely thought he laced your drink.”

Drink. The word triggers flashes of last night—Jeongguk approaching you, him bringing you water, a bottle of wine somehow appearing in your hands. Blood drained from your face as you remembered how you parted ways—throwing yourself into his arms, him not letting go, literally shedding tears as Elaine dragged you out of the frat’s backyard.

You’ll make sure to never drink again after this.

“Elaine, did I really—”

“Yes, Y/n, you did! Do you know how embarrassing that was? Don’t even get me started on the reputation you just gained yourself.”

“What are you talking about?”

“All his closest friends were there,” she said, serving her plate with freshly cooked eggs. “They thought you guys fucked or something.”

“Ew?”

“Did you really?” The question almost offended you.

“Stop! God, no, obviously not,” you shuddered. “Just because we hugged?”

“No, because Jeon fucks everything he touches,” she replies matter-of-factly. “He also got a little possessive, he wouldn’t let go.”

“Of me?”

“Yeah, we all fell to the ground because y’all wouldn’t budge. My biceps are sore, no joke.”

You slumped against the counter, hiding your face in disbelief. “Wait so, now people think I’m easy?”

“Yes. Now let’s just hope the rumor didn’t spread outside the frats,” she said, walking out of the kitchen with her plate full of eggs. “People were watching, you know? I almost left you there with that whore. Anyway, you better get ready—your first class starts in 20.”

You sprint to your room.

“Thanks for saving me a spot.”

Namjoon lifted his backpack from the seat next to him as you slid into it, placing your own bag on the floor.

“No worries, buns,” he said, noticing your wet hair immediately. “Were you in a rush this morning?”

“Tell me about it,” you muttered, rubbing your temples.

“Did you have a night shift yesterday? I don’t recall scheduling you late this week.”

“No, it’s just that Elaine dragged me to this party and I—” You stopped yourself. Were you really going to expose your half-secret to Joonie out in the open? Nuh-uh. “I’m just so hungover. Let’s talk later. Focus on class.”

Although curious as to what happened last night that got you this flustered, Namjoon chose to not push the subject, both of you focusing now on whatever the professor was droning about.

You liked that he always walked you to class. Obviously if his class was far or if he got busy he wouldn’t, but for the most part he did. You found it chivalrous, a trait that most men nowadays lacked. That’s why you liked Namjoon—he was friendly but polite, not shy to ask about your personal life but never stepping any boundaries. Not to mention his other great qualities, like how intelligent or hard working he is. You both had gotten originally close through Yeyo’s café—he trained and guided you along the harsh path of being a first-time barista—and having worked most shifts together, you became each other’s favorite co-worker, mingling whenever and hanging outside of work at times. At these occasional dates, the both of you learnt you shared similar struggles, like not having anyone support you financially or having complicated relationships with your families. All these things made relating to him easier. He never failed to make you laugh or help you see the good in the bad, and for him you were grateful.

Now you’re here—two months later, at the same university—him walking you to class while you complained about the workload your professor just assigned.

“I mean is he kidding? Not everyone has free time like him. I’ve got work!”

“I think his wife’s divorcing him or something,”

You gasp. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled at your reaction. “You know the professor’s assistant?”

“Oh, the one who wants you?” you teased with a grin, wiggling your eyebrows playfully.

Namjoon elbowed you gently. “Stop it,” he muttered. You laughed at his flustered expression.

“Anyway,” he continued, eager to change the subject, “the other day, I stayed after class to ask her for some extra points, but she got off track and started telling me all sorts of things about him.”

“Like what?” you asked, leaning into him with interest.

“Why do you sound excited?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t act like you don’t indulge in professor drama,” you retorted, crossing your arms.

Namjoon chuckled. “You’re cute when you’re mad.”

“I’m not mad,” you shot back, avoiding his gaze.

“Then why won’t you look at me?” he teased.

“Okay, fine! Just tell me what she said, please,” you pouted, grabbing onto his arm, feeling the firmness of his muscles. You knew that whenever you did this, he’d give in—like that one time at the fair when you’d been so thirsty you begged for a water bottle that cost him twenty bucks.

He sighed, giving in as expected. “Well, according to her, his wife wanted a Chanel bag, but the professor wouldn’t buy it for her. Then, she thought he was having an affair, so she looked through his things, but she found out he lied about how much money he’d inherited, so now she’s filing for divorce.”

“Gosh, I almost feel bad for him,” you said, the corners of your mouth lifting. “Almost.”

“Meanie,” Namjoon grinned and squeezed your nose.

“Hey! Stop, you’re—” About to punch him for ruining your makeup, he darted away as fast as he could.

“I’ll kill that motherfucker,” you muttered, opening the door of your next class.

“And I was like, are you dumb?” Elaine exclaimed through the phone.

After your last class, you decided you’d stop by the nurse’s office to get something that would soothe your headache, when you recieved a call from your best friend. Though spontaneous calls weren’t surprising, what she had just informed you was.

Apparently, she met up earlier with Zia, who had the audacity to ask her if she found it embarrassing to have a friend who had slept with Jeongguk. And obviously, her being the bestest, most protective friend ever, denied the rumors going around the frats in attempt of clearing your name.

As you walked out of the nurse’s office and into the bustling campus, she continued, “And I swear, in that moment, I was about to punch her. I mean, I always knew Zia was a little dense, but this? Ugh, it’s infuriating! I don’t even know why we fucked anymore.” She sighed heavily.

You found a bench under a large oak tree and sat down, needing to process everything. You’d been too busy with classes to think much about the previous night’s events, but now, with the day’s tasks behind you, the anxiety started creeping back in.

“Did you guys actually fuck yesterday?” you asked, leaning back against the bench.

“No, we had literally just fucked at the sorority, when she started asking dumb ass questions,” Elaine huffed. “I think I’m never finding love.”

“Don’t say that, E,” you replied, rubbing your temples. “You’ll figure it out, don’t worry.”

Elaine’s voice softened. “How are you holding up, though? I’m sorry for everything. I can’t help but feel responsible,” she added, and you could practically see her pouting on the other end of the line.

You took a deep breath. “Honestly, I was too busy this morning to even care, but now that I have time to think, I kind of just want to hide from everyone.”

“I’m sorry. I love you, okay? Don’t forget that.”

“I love you more.”

“Well I got to go, I’ll see you back at the apartment.”

Listening to the ring which notified the call was over, you finally had some time to process everything. Trying to find where you went wrong, the most controversial thing that happened all night was the fact that you were hanging out with… Jeongyeo? Or was it Jeongyu? Uh, you’ll make sure to ask Elaine later. Anyways, you saw no harm from having an innocent chat with him. All you did was drink with a rich frat college guy— and basically cry to each other but that was too embarrassing to even think about—so your ever crumbling reputation made no sense. You guys didn’t fuck, most certainly didn’t kiss, and by now the guy should’ve cleared the rumors, so why were they making such a fuss over it?

It was all so childish. Yet, despite your attempts to rationalize it, your stomach churned, your hands grew clammy, and your mind raced with anxiety. Every passerby seemed to stare at you with judgmental eyes.

You sighed deeply. This felt like high school all over again. You had to pull yourself together. If these people wanted to make a fuss over nothing and use you as their entertainment, then so be it. You had bigger things to worry about—like paying your bills or pursuing a career. So, with that, you decided to push the drama to the back of your head and refocus on what really mattered, finally finding peace once again in your mind.

And at peace you were.

At least that was the case until you got back home, because as soon as you walked into the apartment, Elaine rushed over, breaking the news to you. “Y/n, you won’t believe this. That miserable old landlord is raising our rent!”

You blinked, trying to process the new discovery. “What? Why?”

“I don’t know,” Elaine threw her hands up in frustration. “I begged him to exclude us from the raise, but he wouldn’t budge. He said it’s either pay up or move out.”

Trying your hardest not to kill him right now, you paused. What were you going to do now?

Trying to keep an optimistic outlook, you replied, “Look, I know it’ll be hard, but we can do this. Let’s just take extra shifts at work and start looking for an affordable place to stay at.”

She wasn’t sure about your proposition. You both worked long hours as is, not to mention how time consuming and disrupting it was for school.

“Y/n, we barely get to sleep some days,” Elaine said so lowly it was almost a whisper. Finding the situation impossible, she added, “I’m dropping out.”

You scoffed, “Are you crazy? You’re not doing that,”

“What else is there to do Y/n?” She frowned.

Lips pursed, you racked your brain trying to come up with a solution. Dropping out was not an option, and if keeping your education meant being homeless, then so be it. You both had a car, so maybe you guys could sleep there until you found a new place. And if you had to shower, you could probably just ask Namjoon if-

“Oh my god! Namjoon!” You yelled as you reached for your phone.

“What? Y/n what are you doing?”

Dialing Namjoon’s number, you replied with a smile on your face, “Pack your stuff, we’re crashing Joonies place.”

Author: pls this took me long enough to post and im not sure i even like it lmfoaoaoa. nobody told me how hard and time consuming this was. anyways yall if it sucks LMK ! i’ll make sure to burn this post down if it sucks ass. shout out to anyone who finished reading the first chapter of this series ! omm ilysm. i’ll also try to comment the people who wanted to be added to my taglist, hopefully it works. bye !

This is a work of fiction. The scenes, characters and events depicted are purely fictional and not intended to represent real-life procedures or individuals. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Do not use this story as your own.

@jeoncasino 2024 ©

[leonw4nter]

There Are No Cute Officers In The Station!.. save for one

RE2R!Leon x Teacher!F!Reader

“Tehila Kaufman.”

“Here!”

“Antonia Lange.”

“Here!”

“And… Sherry Birkin.”

The lack of a response caught your attention instead of her voice. You call her name again, looking around in the bus for any sign of the blonde 12-year-old. You observe each seat, counting and checking each student for any sign of Sherry.

“Sherry!” A classmate of hers calls out, shifting in her seat and pressing her hands into the foggy windows. You remind the class to stay put in their seats and be on their best behavior as you exit the bus to greet your pupil and her guardian, who looked a little frazzled.

“Sherry! Good morning, I was looking for you,” you say with a soft smile as you ruffle her hair which is styled into a braid paired with a strawberry clip near her temple.

“I’m really sorry, miss. The taxi we rode on the way here got pulled over by cops and it took us quite some time to find another one,” her guardian Claire apologized with a meek beam.

You smiled and nodded, understanding her situation; you have enormous respect for Claire, juggling an odd job along with college while also taking care of a 12-year old. Despite all the odds stacked against her, the teen always managed to make sure Sherry was ready for school, which included making sure she had complete supplies and was sent to school before the school day started. You reassured her that all is fine before informing her that Sherry should board the bus now since the bus is scheduled to leave for the Raccoon City Police Station soon to begin the whole-day trip.

“Bye, Claire! See you later! I’ll try to bring home a souvenir if I can afford some!” She excitedly beams, to which she chuckles brightly at. With one more wave and a hug, she finally hops on the bus and goes to her designated seat.

After doing one final headcount of all the students and asking any of them if they needed to go to the restrooms, you give the driver a go signal to hit the road. Since the elementary school was just 15 minutes away from the museum-turned-police station, you advised that the students take a quick nap before they arrive at the destination. You look back and see some students already taking their naps, though some were talking with their peers or snacking on some energy bars. With a small smile, you turn back to the brochure you were sent and go over the paper. The program would start with a quick greeting by the lieutenant Marvin Branagh before he hands over the main task to officer Leon Kennedy for the rest of the afternoon before ending the tour with a quick video presentation and an essay-writing activity on their experience. Since you went over everything that needed to be checked and there would be some moderate traffic on the way, you decided to also catch a nap of your own.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

After that short nap, you spent most of the time reminding the children not to touch anything they weren’t given permission to touch and to avoid bothering the other officers there since they had work to do. You also reiterated rules once more which included asking questions respectfully, asking permission to go to the restroom, and no rough playing. You considered it perfect timing when your reminders came to an end, the driver announcing that the class had arrived at the RPD. All the students pressed against the windows nearest to the station’s gates, oohing and aahing at the sight in front of them.

“That’s so cool! Look at that!”

“I can’t believe this place is a police station now. It still looks fascinating!”

“I wonder if there’s going to be any cute officers in here,” you hear a pupil giggling to her friends. You chuckle at her outlook on the situation before responding to her, her cheeks burning pink like her sweater.

“There won’t be any cute officers, Clara. Admire the art and not the cops, okay?”. She responded with a giddy grin and gave you a thumbs up, still giggling with her friends. Well, that was as much as an adolescent girl can promise but you didn’t mind too much as long as she didn’t get in trouble. After all, it’s not like you could judge her when you’re out on a personal mission to find a worthy bachelorette for your coworker Lilia’s affections; she could really use some help in rekindling her love life.

After a few minutes, you instructed your students to leave the bus in an orderly manner before lining them up by girls and boys in order to enter the beautiful station. The last thing people expected a museum to transform into is a police station and the RPD did a damn good job at it. Although much of the museum has been changed to fit a more police station feel, there were still remnants of the past museum that stayed like puzzle mechanisms, the statue up front, and the library that still stood according to the contractors involved in transforming the building. Those were only what you’ve read somewhere so of course, there’s going to be more locations within the precinct that were left unchanged during the renovation. Now that all your students have finally calmed down and straightened their lines,  you begin leading them inside the gates and eventually into the precinct proper. The entire way to the large brown doors, your students quietly observed the various red and green herbs near the fences along with other ornamental flowers but occasionally oohed and ahhed some more, especially when officers started coming out of the door to welcome the eager students. The giggles and excited chuckles increase in volume, the electric excitement sizzling in the air– even the officers were excited, some of them also giggling and beaming widely; it seems like they’re just as excited as the kids are. Now that the class is right at the entrance of the precinct proper, you give them the cue to quiet down before greeting the three officers ‘good day’.

“Good day, officers!” They all greet in unison, genuine smiles on their lips. Their greeting pulls gleeful laughs from the officers before one of them speaks up.

“Good day to you as well, students. I’m Marvin Branagh, the Lieutenant for the Raccoon City Police Department but you may call me Officer Branagh. Here with me are officers Jill Valentine and Brad Vickers. They will help me in explaining the history of the museum up until recent renovations and then we’ll hand over the task to Officer Kennedy, who is waiting inside. He will act as your tour guide around the station– he may be a rookie but he’s well-versed in the rooms and artifacts in here so I trust that he will be able to execute his job well.”

The students nod, most of their gazes now peeled on the door instead of the officers. Jill chuckles and looks at you, giving you a kind smile.

“I guess you guys look ready to head in. Do you wanna head in now?,” she asks with a bright beam.

“Yeah!” Your students respond all together. Brad chuckles, giving Jill a friendly smack to the back.

“Hmm, I don’t feel the energy. Are you guys really ready?”

“YEAH!” They respond even louder, some of them cupping their hands to their mouth. Jill looks pleased with the hyping she’s done, giving Brad a confident look before she directs them in. “Alright. Let’s head in.”

With a small grunt, she and Brad open the doors to reveal the interior of the station. As soon as the kid last in line enters, you follow and take a look around for yourself. Your gaze falls on the ceilings and the wooden accents on the walls, stairs, and pillars before you really drink in the sight of the marble statue right in front of you. The Statue of the Winged Goddess is a lot taller than you thought, pictures now seeming to not capture the breathtaking marble sculpture. Even your students were stunned into silence, quietly appreciating the statue and the rest of the station’s wonders. “Wow, it’s so pretty” you think to yourself. “I should visit here again by myself sometime.”

“I see everyone’s got their breaths taken away by the beautiful Goddess in our station,” Brad’s voice snaps everyone out of their trance, you included.

“I get it, I was like that too when I first got there. Couldn’t stop staring and marveling at her, she’s a beauty isn’t she?”

The students murmur some “uh uh”s, unable to really tear their eyes off. You managed to snag your attention away from her, a little surprised at how your students were more enamored by the statue than the remnants of the museum that remained in the form of wooden accents and carvings on the Roman Tuscan columns.

“Alright, class. Eyes on Officer Vickers, he’ll be explaining the history of Raccoon City and the museum before it got renovated and reworked into a police station,” you say. They lead the students towards a room and they take their seat, sitting with their friends though you reminded them not to be too noisy.

“I advise that you take out notebooks and pens because you will have a written reflection activity by the end of the trip.”

The news of an essay activity due soon drew groans and complaints from your pupils but they still brought our paper and pens, ready to listen to the presentation.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

After the 30-minute long presentation on various facts and information regarding the city and the station’s history, Brad finally wrapped it up. In the first half of the presentation, Marvin left the room and went somewhere to go look for someone, Officer Kennedy you assume. Jill and Brad took turns presenting, the pair doing their best to make this as interesting as possible for the children to keep their attention hooked on the slides and the short video that will be shown later on. Jill and Brad shared stories about how they came to work at Raccoon City, their younger years, their experiences when they were rookies, among many others.

“Jill here nearly got crushed during an investigation up there in the Arklay Mountains, carried around the ‘Jill Sandwich’ nickname for a bit,” Brad reminisced with a wicked grin while Jill was in the corner, arms crossed with a smirk while she tilts her head down and shakes it, brown strands swaying along to the motion.

Some students giggled, laughing along to their jokes; though it was easy to make them laugh, you’d bet that their cheeks would hurt by the time they got home due to how wide they were grinning. Sherry was talking amongst her friends, beaming and whispering every now and then. She seemed a lot more excited than the rest, if that was even possible; she kept looking towards the door where Marvin left but you didn’t really mind since it didn’t look like Sherry was too bothered by anything yet you made sure to still look after her well.

“That is it for our presentation, how was it?” Brad asked. “Anyone got questions? Clarifications? Insights?”

“Calm down, Vickers. Let the kids choose what to answer man,” Jill teased.

Casey raises his hand, waving it in eagerness to share what he possibly has to say. Jill nods to him, giving him the go-ahead to speak.

“It must be so cool working here! I mean– you got cool lookin’ statues and puzzles everywhere!”

Brad nods, smiling sincerely at the boy. “Yeah, it’s cool working here but it gets boring sometimes. Sometimes the day is slow and police work isn’t all going on missions and shooting guns– there’s times where we just sit at our desks and read mountains of reports but I love my job.”

Jill agrees, sharing an experience of her own for a few more minutes before officially wrapping up the presentation. “Now that everyone’s run out of things to say and ask, it’s time for the station tour to be led by our own rookie, officer Kennedy.”

You hear the door slightly creak along with the shuffling of shoes, soft taps of the soles of their footwear against the marble floors. You turn your head to observe where the sound is coming from and you swear you saw the sun walk in clad in blues and RPD badges. You try to stop staring at him shamelessly, to not gawk with your jaw parted but you fail; the longer you stared, the surroundings blurred into insignificance and all noise died down, the cheesiest romantic song you know seemingly playing in the distance the more he walked. It seemed perfect that this tall glass of water walking towards the front of the class worked at a building that used to house the finest pieces of art; this man looks like he was sculpted by a maestro. He didn’t say or do anything but his presence commanded your eyes, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. He must’ve really had you under his spell since you didn’t notice your grip loosening on your tumbler, the metal bottle falling and creating an irritating clanging sound. The pretty officer whips his head towards your direction, his gaze aimed straight for your eyes before dropping down to the tumbler on your foot. Before you could bend down and pick it up before mumbling an apology to everyone, he rushed towards your direction to pick it up for you. Neatly trimmed nails and long, slender fingers wrapped around the bottle to hand it to you. As he stood back to original height, he locked eyes with you before extending his hand.

“Here. Cute stickers, by the way,” he softly whispers with a small smile. A warm gust of air escapes your lips, exhaling a breath you didn’t know you held. You could simply nod and look dumb in front of who is possibly the most gorgeous man you’re ever seen, what a way to create a first impression. You take the bottle from him, the tip of your finger brushing against his hand causing your finger to feel an electric tingle on where skin met.

“Thanks,” you mumble with a wonky smile. He nods at you before heading to the front to really start the tour.

“Leon!”

You crane your head to where Sherry is standing– or, was standing. She shot up from her area and ran towards Leon, giving him a big hug with her arms wrapped around his waist. Leon looked pleasantly surprised, returning her hug with a hug of his own, his hand around her shoulder. “Don’t worry guys! We know each other,” Sherry explained coolly. Leon chuckles, nodding along and confirming her statement. He gives her kind pats to the back, the room looking a lot brighter every time he chuckled; the way his eyes wrinkled when he grinned big reminded you of a golden retriever puppy, down to the color of his sun-spun hair and his overall aura. You had to blink away the trance he unknowingly set on you, turning your attention back to the students and the other officers in the room, acting as if your heart wasn’t rattling at the rib confines of your chest. You hoped that your cheeks weren’t a vibrant red, standing out from the rest of your appearance.

“Good day, students. I’m Officer Kennedy and I’ll be your tour guide around the station. Although you are free to look around and take pictures, I’m going to set some rules down for the class, does that sound great?” He throws up two thumbs up, looking at the children for confirmation. You swore that your nails would dig into the paint of the tumbler, causing the paint to chip away a little bit due to the sheer force you were exerting into holding on that tumbler just to stay calm. You couldn’t possibly have a crush on an officer in a station you visit for a trip! You’re not even sure if you’re going to come back here anytime soon! Now that the kids had given him confirmation, he puts his hands down, and chuckles a little more before continuing on with the explanation.

“As I’ve said earlier, you can take pictures and take sketches but please do not place your hands on the display, draw on any surface, or play with the artifacts. Most of these are old and possibly even the only of its kind so we advise you to proceed carefully. Everything clear?”

The students once nodded again, some students repeating “clear” back to the man in front of them.

“Okay. Now that that’s done, I would like to ask you to form a line outside the briefing room before we start.”

You direct the students to get up and form a line of two but surprisingly, Leon helps you even if the task doesn’t seem to be bothering you. He shoots you a small smile as he continues to assist you in arranging the students, which didn’t take much. Now that everyone was arranged accordingly, he began to lead the class around the station while receiving smiles and thumbs-up from his coworkers who seemed to be hyping him up while Marvin looked on proudly. You smiled at the thought since it was nice that they all seemed to have a bond closer than you thought. Leon was just about to look ahead again, turning his head back to face the corridor ahead when he caught your gaze.. He held eye contact for a little bit before breaking away and you swear you left behind your soul downstairs. This is going to be one interesting trip, especially with a charming officer charming his way into your heart.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

All went smoothly until you noticed the line looking a little too odd. Well, that’s because someone happened to be missing. The moment you realized that someone had managed to slip away and wander into the myriad of rooms in the upper floors of the station. As soon as you noticed, you made the children neaten up their line before giving Leon a tap on the shoulder.

“Officer,” you whispered. “I’ve got a missing student! I don’t know where they are, probably in one of the rooms. I swear I saw them just a few moments ago, must’ve slipped away.”

His eyes widen but not before he takes one more glance at the line of children, curious as to why the productive tour suddenly stopped. Some students seemed to have picked up on a missing student, asking where their peer might’ve gone off to. Leon places a reassuring hand on your shoulder before reaching into his walkie-talkie to radio to the other officers to look for a missing student, giving descriptions of their hair color and clothing. The tour had to be put on hold, Leon directing them back to the holding area and making sure no one else slipped off. Leon took your hand and looked into your eyes, determination and hope shining bright in those eyes of his. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, instructing you to stay with your students for the meantime.

“Don’t worry, miss. We’ll find them in no time. In the meantime, please ask officer Bass to reach into the drawer to my right and get the bags of mini donuts. The kids deserve a snack.”

He nodded and began to walk off before turning around to face you again. “Help yourself to some too. It’s been quite the morning.”

As soon as he left, another officer came in. “Bass”, his patch reads. Leon must've called his attention before he left, telling him to come in. You told the officer about Leon’s directions, disappearing through the door before coming back in with bags of mini donuts for the class. You open up bags and instruct students to take what will satisfy their hunger, making sure that there’s other pieces for other students. You decided not to have some, anxiety disabling your ability to feel hunger at the moment. You can only hope that this issue is resolved before parents get involved.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

“Miss Y/N. Found them,” Leon says. His large hand is on the student’s shoulder, the student looking a little sheepish after realizing he got the class worried. They were fiddling with the straps of their bags, gaze downcast towards the ground as the officer walked him towards you. “Found them in the entomology room, was sketching some beetles.”

You walk towards your student, checking around if they lost anything or appeared injured even if they were just sketching some insects.

“Are you alright? When did you slip away from the rest of the line?” you softly ask. “Why didn’t you ask permission?”

Your student stayed silent, a little too shy to answer any questions for now. Eventually, they spoke up but in a hushed voice.

“I got a little distracted with the longhorn beetle display and forgot to tell everyone else that I was there at the insect-display room,” they explain. “I didn’t mean to make everyone worried and I’m sorry for causing a fuss all over the station.”

Leon chuckled softly and bent down to his level, a kind smile displayed on his face. “Hey, it's fine. Just make sure to tell your teachers or any adults if you’re going to go somewhere, okay? Nice drawing back there though. You’ve got a knack for art.”

The student smiles a little bit though they’re still stiff. You lead them to the rest of the group, the tour day ending. Some students pass a few mini donuts in their direction. You finally call up the driver to come pick everyone up and go back to the school, where their guardians will fetch their children.

“I don’t think you had a donut,” Leon asks with a boyish grin.

“Yeah. I didn’t,” you softly respond.

“Anxious?”

“Yeah. Well, I was because that’s my student and how could I be so careless to let something like this happen?”

Leon stays silent, standing right beside you as he observes the kids along with other officers deployed during the incident earlier.

“They’re here now, safe and sound too. I guess this is a learning experience for all.”

His comment pulls a small grin from you. What he said wasn’t even remotely funny but it somehow made you smile. God, were you all sappy for him already? Well, it is easy to make you smile. Maybe you’re subconsciously using smiling as a way to calm yourself down and try not to be too overwhelmed with the incident from earlier.

“Well, since you didn’t have a snack earlier… What if I take you up on a donut run one of these days? Next week, maybe– or any time you’re free?” He asks. “I know a couple places.”

His cheeks flush to the shade of cold watermelons on a hot summer day, the sudden burst of color a contrast to the pale skin of his face. You noticed him fidgeting with a loose thread of his pants, a little nervous on asking you. You beam wider, accepting his offer and setting dates, exchanging numbers. Just as you finish writing down the last digit of your number, the bus arrives. Quickly, you arrange your students again and begin leading them out the station, reminding them to thank the officers for their patience and time.

“I’ll walk them out,” you hear Leon say to his superior as he accompanies you to the bus and helps the students jump up on the steps, reminding them to be careful and to have a safe ride back home.

"You too, miss Y/N. Have a safe trip back home.”

“Will do, officer.”

He takes your wrist and gently helps you up even if the height isn’t even that great to begin with. You give him a thumbs up before waving him bye. You’ve already made a mental note to come back there and sign up on an itinerary tour as soon as you arrive in order to take some time admiring the architecture for yourself but turns out you’re going to be coming back to admire someone who you wish will be all to yourself soon.

NOTE - This was supposed to be posted 3 days ago in time for my birthday but I was busy with so much school work, I wasn't able to post this on the date I set for myself 😭😭 My birthday was cool actually: I almost got lost in another town, I passed an admission test that I got sick and miserable for, and my best friend got me a Chris Redfield capcorom!!!!! Taking Chris wherever I go now like I'm out here greeting him good morning or good night before I go to bed 😭😭 I forgot to ask my mom if I can get a birthday cake so I was unable to print my Leon, Dante, Vergil, and Nero cake-toppers BUT IT'S FIINEEE. I was losing motivation due to being unable to work on this because I have requirements due and this fic was marinating in my document for 2 weeks so... yeah :| Fic releases will be less frequent since I've got so much things to do lately. I'm also still accepting requests so feel free to drop by in my asks. OH RIGHTT my team for our sports festival on dodgeball won despite having absolutely ZERO practice so I'm proud of that :) Anyways, that's it and thank you so, so, so much for reading my fics!!!!!! I <333333 UUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!

The dividers are from @plutism , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

[viviennevermillion]

flirting with them

notes: i present to you, the 3 absolute worst (best) people to flirt with: "cranky & in denial", "goes through a crisis when you compliment him" and "utterly confused but ready to marry you if you ask"

if you like my works, feel free to commission me!

contains: character x gn!reader, shameless flirting

characters included: rollo flamm, azul ashengrotto, malleus draconia

word count: 2.7k

warnings: glorious masquerade spoilers, enemies to lovers with rollo

dark content creators & consumers do not interact

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Listen, Rollo goes through enough of a crisis already over the fact that he likes you, one of those insufferable Night Raven College students who use magic so carelessly and gaze at it with wonder and excitement. But you flirting with him? He goes through all 5 stages of grief over that.

Up to the point where you start actively teasing him, Rollo does a good job at convincing himself that the reason he’s just particularly fixated on you of all the NRC students, is because he just hates you the most. Nevermind the way his heart skips a beat when you smile at him while touring the City of Flowers before he revealed his true colors to you. How you had invited him to sit with you and share some local food as you exchanged experiences and thoughts. 

He tries to ignore the way his heart is beating faster when he sees you at the Masquerade Ball. He tells himself it’s likely just that he’s anxious about not having succeeded with his plan. He pushes down the idea of kissing you breathless and being held in your arms gently as you run your hands through his hair and kiss his forehead- 

God, what am I thinking…they’re my enemy, he thinks to himself. With a hateful expression he makes his way over to you, determined to tell you how he’s not done yet and one day he’ll erase magic from this very world. That you’ll fear his name and- oh god you’re winking at him. 

He’s blushing furiously but he still has that angry expression on his face, so it just looks a little like Riddle when it’s off with your head. His mind is going haywire though. They winked at me…oh no…oh fuck…abort immediately, he decides to just avoid you and glare at you from a distance but at this point it is too late. A certain hunter had already told you how Rollo had been staring at you this entire evening whenever you weren’t looking and that he “probably wanted to have a dance with you”

So you make your way over to him and ask him. His heart skips a beat and he wants to reject you and tell you off but what he wants even more is to indulge you and have a nice evening with you. “What makes you think I’d want to dance with you?”, he spits out and crosses his arms. Yeah. That’ll work. Good job, Rollo.

“I don’t know, you seem pretty desperate”, you shrug, trying to suppress a smirk. The AUDACITY, he thinks but can’t say anything in response, just taking your hand and starting to dance with you. He remains silent and you poke his cheek. “You can be so cute when you stop being cranky for two minutes”, you tease and he can feel his cheeks burning. At this point you’re well aware that he’s got a little crush on you, because against his own perception of things, he wasn’t exactly subtle. 

He looks after you with rage written on his face and confusion in his heart as you and the other NRC students leave to head back to your own school. That’s all he can do. Watch you leave.

What did he care anyway? You were just an obnoxious magic enthusiast who- 

He gazes in surprise upon the small rose that had been placed on his desk. It is definitely enchanted, has a soft glow and some of the petals are floating around it. There is a little note attached to it: Thank you for the dance, Rollo ♡ - Love, y/n.

He looks at the mirror in shock when he notices the soft smile on his face upon seeing your note. He hates magic so much. But maybe…maybe he could make an exception for you and you only. 

Definitely rants to the gargoyles about how much he hates you and the way your eyes sparkle in the sun and how your laugh sounds like a thousand beautiful symphonies. Yeah he definitely hates you, no doubt.

He sometimes posts about school events on his Magicam and on pictures he’s on he tends to find little compliments from you. This makes his day every single time but god forbid anyone notices.

He eventually starts conversing with you over text, having quite a few long conversations and bonding despite how much he wants to deny it. You’re still flirting with him shamelessly and never miss out on wishing him a good night with a heart emoji attached. He sends one back once or twice, claiming his hand slipped on the keyboard.

When he sees you again, at the culture festival, he sits at the table with you and a couple of your friends. You ask him whether he is going to watch the VDC and he insists he sees no reason in watching a singing competition. “I mean we could always go backstage and kiss for a while if you’d prefer that”, you say nonchalantly and so casually, it makes Rollo choke on his drink. The other students at the table are definitely staring at you two and Rollo wishes he could merge with the ground at this moment.

He pulls you aside after the incident to a hallway where there’s no people. “What the hell did you think you were doing?”, he hisses at you and clutches onto his handkerchief until his knuckles turn white. “I apologize for putting you on the spot”, you say sincerely, “you look pretty when you’re flustered, though.” “Do you ever shut up?”, his breath hitches in his throat. 

“If you take me up on my offer I would”, you wink at him and find yourself with Rollo’s lips on yours within seconds. As soon as he gets to kiss you, the very thing he had been longing for for months now, it’s like a switch flips in his brain. His kiss is fiery and aggressive at first but then melts into your touch just like he had wanted for so long, kissing you softly as he feels his hands shake. He feels you smile into the kiss upon noticing how gentle and loving he is now and Rollo holds onto you, resting his head against your shoulder breathlessly as soon as the kiss was over. Both of you remain silent for a while before Rollo speaks quietly, his voice shaking: “I love you.” 

You chuckle and pat his head. “I know”, you kiss his forehead gently and he closes his eyes.

Rollo hated magic, he knew that much. But somehow every moment with you felt so magical and made him so happy…

Azul is used to people being mean to him and also to casual, neutral interactions but never has anyone been so blatantly verbally affectionate with him and this man doesn’t know how to handle it. 

It all started when he had asked you to come to the Mostro Lounge VIP room as Valentine’s Day was getting closer, because several people had declared that they were ready to sign a contract with him if he could get them a date with you. So he presented the terms to you and offered you help in a class you were bad at. He didn’t think you’d accept so easily. 

“So, let me get this straight, all I’d have to do for this is to go on a date with one of those guys involved in the whole contract thing with you?”, you raised an eyebrow and Azul nodded, extending his hand to you to seal the deal, as you had blatantly refused to sign a contract. But that didn’t matter. After all, he’d already get what he wanted from whoever you would pick to go on a date with. You shook his hand and Azul smiles at you. “Well then, shall I show you who was ready to make a contract with me for your company?”, he showed you his typical business smile and you just replied dryly. “That won’t be necessary. I’ve already picked.”

Azul was confused. “But you don’t even know who asked?”, he raised an eyebrow and threw Jade and Floyd a questioning glare. They didn’t seem to know what was going on either. “I said ‘someone involved in the whole contract thing’”, you reminded him, “do you have any plans on Friday?” Azul’s face fell. He was already blushing and glaring at the twins who were snickering quietly. “No?”, he croaked and pushed his glasses back with his eyes widened. “Great!”, you smiled at him and got up, waving him goodbye, “I’ll see you at 8 then? I’ll pick you up at Mostro Lounge!” 

As soon as you had closed the door behind you, Jade and Floyd started wheezing uncontrollably. “What just happened?”, Jade asked under his breath, “did they just scam you into a date?” Azul’s expression darkened, as did his blush. “I DON’T KNOW WHAT JUST HAPPENED”, his voice cracked and he wanted to curl up in his octopus pot, “stop laughing.”

Once you've learnt of his past, you've become much more gentle and less teasing with your flirting. He deserved the reassurance that you were serious and genuinely liked him. You’d often tell him that you thought he looked nice when he wore a new outfit and complimented him for his achievements in class and his business strategies. You even went as far as to tell him that his octopus form probably looked cute. He just didn’t know what to do with you. 

Upon being asked whether you were trying to make fun of him, you looked into his eyes with a serious expression and told him you meant everything you had said to him. 

As he took you and your friends to the Atlantica Memorial Museum to return the elementary school photo, Grim was excited. “Maybe we’ll bring back some sort of treasure from the ocean!”, he exclaimed. “But we already have Azul”, you insisted and the octopus merman blushed immediately. “Please just stop”, he begged and sighed, although your words definitely made him feel good, “not in front of people…”

Over such a short time he had already learnt to expect your flirting. That didn’t mean it made him any less flustered. 

Once you had returned the photo and had a moment alone with him, you took his hands into yours and told him you were proud of how far he had come. Azul squeezed your hand gently, a silent ‘thank you’ for the love and affection you were so ready to give to him after all of his hardships.

Malleus doesn’t actively recognize your flirting as such. Don’t get me wrong, he’s so on board with this and really flattered but until you tell him directly what you feel for him, he still assumes you just see him as a good friend.

“Shall I give you a blessing?”, he smirks as he asks you this question on your birthday. You cup his face gently. “You’re my blessing, Malleus”, you say with a soft smile on your face and Malleus looks at you with his signature surprised expression. Lilia chuckles, mumbling about how bold you are. Malleus is just awestruck. He doesn’t know what to say at first. He’s blushing and then takes your hands in his. “Thank you. I feel honored. It means a lot to me to hear that”, he says genuinely and his thumb brushes over your hand softly.

Malleus loves your little affections so much. He didn’t know how starved he was for them until he experienced them for the first time. He treasures so much how ready you are to speak your mind, especially when it comes to telling him how you feel about him. Little does he know that’s only a small part of how much you truly love him. 

You were a little late to the Masquerade Ball during the student exchange meeting, eventually opening the big door to the entrance hall of Noble Bell College for your big entrance. Malleus spots you almost immediately, marveling at how beautiful you looked, dressed up for the occasion. Your eyes meet his across the hall and you make your way over to him straight away, taking his hand in yours. “I really like this song they’re playing right now. I think it’s time for our first dance of the evening”, you smirk at him, just waiting for him to follow you. Sebek is yelling at you how you could possibly have the audacity to not just assume you could dance with him but not even ask Prince Malleus Draconia ‘Would you please share a dance with me?’ first. But Malleus adores when you’re bold. After all this time of people being too afraid to even talk to him, he’s fascinated how assured you are to approach him with your wishes and requests with no hesitation. 

“You seem quite determined”, he chuckles and leads you to the dancefloor. He’s absolutely relishing in the fact that you walked into this event dead-set on getting a dance with him, implying your upcoming dance wouldn’t be the last one that night either. It makes him feel so special. More than the treatment he receives from others as a prince does. Because it feels like you have seen right through him, accepted every part of him and decided you wanted all of it. 

You dance through the evening with Malleus, telling him how much you liked the song he presented as a gift for the other students. “I could listen to your voice for hours”, you brush a strand of hair out of his face and Malleus leans into your touch. “I would gladly sing for you again. You need only ask”, he smirks. 

You later stop by his room, knocking on the door softly. Malleus opens it, having taken off the heavier, pompous parts of his masquerade outfit; now only dressed in a pair of black pants and the see-through black shirt worn under the complex and ornate fabrics of the costume. His hair is slightly disheveled and he has his bangs pushed up, letting you see his dragon markings. Upon seeing you, he instantly smiles. “You look so beautiful”, you mouth, making Malleus chuckle and smirk at you. “So do you”, he insists. “I’m never going to overshadow the talking gargoyle but I’ve made peace with that”, you sigh and step into the room, Malleus closing the door behind you. He laughs at your comment, then gazes out of the window. 

“The night in the City of Flowers seems to show a different expression than during the day”, he says and turns to you, seeing you smile at him with a mischievous expression, “that face…you are also interested?” His smirk matches yours now. “Malleus, what do you think I came here for at this hour, hmm?”, you chuckle, pulling out a map from your pocket, “so…you can teleport us out of Noble Bell College without being seen right?” Malleus puts his hands onto his hips. “Nothing easier than that.”

After you explored the city at night, you end up sitting at the roof of a tall building, looking down on the beautiful city. “I’m very glad I got to share these memories with you”, Malleus takes your hand in his again and you look into his eyes, cupping his cheek gently. “You’re so precious to me…you have no idea”, you mumble quietly, smiling at him fondly; filled with unconditional love. Malleus squeezes your hand and looks at you with the same expression. “I think I’m starting to understand”, he whispers as the sun rises on the horizon.

Malleus loves when you’re bold with your flirting, he loves when you show your teasing side and flatter him with a clever line. But he just as much craves the moments when you’re calm and serious, just smiling at him and letting him know how much he means to you, even if he doesn’t know yet whether you intend for it to be romantic or see him as a good friend. He treasures your affection and how you’re unafraid to give him your love and appreciation in a way no one ever has to him. 

[scara-writes]

change of heart

Sugar Mommy Reader X Y! Gold digger Male

Let's make a story about the reader falling in love first :>

Yes, this yandere is an asshole.

Might make a part two?

CW: yandere, manipulation, consensual-smut, gold digger yandere

No proof read. Will edit it later on.

cerise=cherry🍒

(THIS IS REPOST BECAUSE I REALIZED THAT SIDE BLOGS HAS LIMITED ACCESS ;-;)

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Sheon wasn't rich nor poor but he wanted an easy money to make his life easier.

He knows he was becoming addicted on spending money. He can't blame himself, he was getting picked on for not having enough money to buy what he wants unlike his rich classmates that will flaunt their items at each other. He even sneak out of his way to take his father's credit card to buy him useless things that would entertain himself for a little bit like games and toys, Sheon would also flaunt them that his parents has the money when in actuality he is in the middle class. Although his arrogance did not last long after his father finds out about it, grounded him for a whole year for that. He still kept on spending money, he was pretty good at accounting which pretty weird coming from someone who spends a lot.

Now that he became a college student, with his major being aligned in accounting. His parents literally forced him to move out and gave him a right amount of allowance every month for him to study from his dream university but it wasn't enough. He just wants more money to spend, either to indulge himself or to avoid being picked on by his peers.

Not until he met you.

A kind person who introduced yourself to him, your cheeks were bright red as you told him that you fell inlove at first sight.

Sheon do look good. He was popular among women around the campus but those said girls can only glance at him as they feel bad that he was only a middle class. So don't blame him when he was surprised at your sudden confession, and he wanted to reject you right away, the red haired doesn't have the time to find a love, he wants money not a freeloader. But when you told him your last name when you introduce yourself to him, it caught him off guard.

"what was...your last name again?"

"(l-l/n)!" You exclaimed as you bashfully waited for his response about your confesion.

There are three siblings that is going to inherit three companies. If he remembered correctly, he saw an article of on one of them inheriting the biggest company once they graduated. Your face is somewhat coincidentally look the same as it is in the article.

A dark idea pop up to his mind. His greed was whispering at him.

If he can be with you. He can get what he wants right?

Easy money is easy life!

"…so… C-can I court you?" Your hands fiddling as you wait for his response. He looked at you up and down. You looked pretty average for his taste. The only thing that is pretty about you is the money you will inherit, but hey that will do if he wants to get what he wants.

The greedy man grinned and traps you between his arms and lean down to meet your face. Not even caring at the other student passing by looking at the both of you by either cringing or looking weirdly.

He boldly gave your left cheek a quick peck before answering your question with another question.

"… If I say yes, what's in it for me love?"

Not long after, the two of you became official. Your courting lasted around two weeks and that's about it. He always request for you to buy him this and that and you gave it him the very next day as you love him very much and trusted him wholeheartedly. He would taunt the said gifts he received from you to his old peers that he got himself the items that is much worth than their brand. Their frown look satisfies him.

Some of them asked where did he got the money to buy, but he will answer one word. cerise.

No one knows about his plan except for his ex friend, Tyr.

The ex friend of his cut ties off with him immediately after knowing he was using an innocent person like you for his greed.

Oh well his lost! He was about to share his dimes and gold with him.

Sheon thought about what will he give you something back for all the items you gave him. Well, His exchange for everything was himself of course!

His body is probably enough to make you feel something close to heaven. It made you whine out in satisfaction whenever he hit the right spot. Sheon could tell you never experienced this, a virgin at that. The way you moan out his name make his heart swell with pride.

"…is.. this what it..nghh… f-feels..uuhhmm..l-like?" You whimpered when he hit the same spot that made you cried out it on pleasure. Your hands were trembling around his sweaty shoulder, eyes rolling when he hits it again. He leaned to down to peck your parted lips. "… Do you like it?"

He fastened his pace up to chase down the ecstasy that you were feeling. He felt the walls grip of yours tightened around him feeling that you are getting close.

"I… I love…i-it..p-please don't s-stop!" You moaned out, unconsciously digging your nails to his skin. Sheon smirked at your reaction, wiping off your sweaty temple before giving it a soft kiss, then giving what you asked for.

You must be missing out from parties, seeing you had never experience like this before and that's okay. So long as this is a payment to get what he wants.

"Your wish is my command, cerise." He whispered his pet name to you.

"I-I love Sheon." You whimpered as you feel him pulled out when he gave you released. Sheon sighs, his load went through your stomach, giving you one last kiss before cleaning you up. Dabbing the towel around your body, cleaning you gently, asking you if he hurt you too badly. You answered meekly, telling him that you are fine, he was a sweet for giving you an aftercare.

He scoffs at you, teasing you. "It's a bare minimum, cerise. It's normal to take care of their partner after their love making." He carried you at the bathroom of your own apartment. Putting you down at the bathtub as he twist the faucet open.

Sheon joined you in the bath, he gently massage your scalp, making you shudder in relaxation, "do you like it?"

"I love it." You meekly replied leaning your back between his thighs. He wash down the foam around your hair, he rinse the shampoo out after he was done. He took a soap and was about to clean your body too but you insist that you will do it yourself. Sheon stopped and heed your words and starts washing himself up, the male was the first one to finish, he dried himself off by his own towel and starts to wear the pajamas that was already prepared besides the lavatory. After he was done, he told you that he will prepare you a snacks and turn on the tv for the movie you requested yesterday.

The red haired male's relationship with you went pretty well. Of course his body and his face shouldn't be the only thing he could do for you. He needed to act like a good boyfriend, being the fast learner that he is. He found himself, he was rather good at cooking and baking.

He would lie if he say he doesn't enjoy it when he cooks for you.

He would give you your favorites, something you cannot eat in your household. You told him you were on a strict diet ordered by your very own parents. They didn't know your relationship with him, Sheon was a secret affair and you revealed you were in arrange marriage during the time you courted him. It worried him seeing that his source of money will leave him for the arrange marriage.

You held his hand and you promised him that it will never happen, that you will fight for the "love" the two of you had.

The greedy male stared at you for a minute, realizing you are too naïve to think that he actually loves you. Were you that oblivious?

He wanted to laugh at your face but…

Why does his heart starts hammering when you told him that you will fight for him against your parents?

A little guilt went up to his throat before swallowing it by his pride.

The two of you lasted for three years as a couple, graduated and help him out to hire him to your company. His colleagues at his work respected him quickly seeing that he is the boyfriend of their soon-to-be boss, Sheon enjoyed the power he had over them, no more people looking down on him.

It didn't last long because your parents immediately confronted you about him and you had enough of it. It was the first time you neglected your parents orders and Sheon was there to witness it.

"I don't care about the agreement! The arrange marriage, I didn't agree on that! Mother, Father! I've been nothing but a good child since the day I was born! I have never ever went against you and I am obedient child who never goes against your will just so the two of you can be happy! But this is the only time I asked for you to let me have something I want in my life!" He felt the grip of your hands on him. The red haired male stares at your quivering form but he saw how determined you are about him.

He felt guilty knowing he was the cause of why you arguing with your parents right now.

Wait… He's feeling guilty?

"He's using you for your money! Look at your ridiculous amount you spent! From the moment you had a relationship with him!" Your father shouted at you, before glaring at him.

Truthfully, your father wasn't wrong. He used you for your money.

"And so what? I am willing to give everything he wants because I love him!"

Do you love him that much?

"The least I could do for him is to give what he likes because he is the only person who showed me what it feels like to be loved!"

Throughout the heated argument with your parents. He was silent for the whole time until you broke down to tears. Just a droplet from your tears made himself go blank. Sheon didn't know what happened to himself, all he knows that his body act on its own and went to cover your vulnerability from your parents.

You were surprised at his action before letting yourself be buried in his chest.

"I think it's time for us to leave." He told your parents before guiding you out to leave the mansion, not looking back.

He hop you on the passenger seat of his car before closing the doorway after he heard your parents trailing behind him, yelling. He doesn't want you to hear what he was about to say.

His blue eyes glared at them.

"I have never throughout in our relationship witness (Y/n) weep and broken down until this day, I always ensure her happiness on everything I'd done. If we have disagreements we will let each other agree to separate for a little bit until we are calm enough to discuss it again."

His mouth continued to flow out the next words he didn't think he would find himself struggling with his words. Thankfully, he didn't stutter.

"...I love her more than you could ever know. I won't let her cry and force her to do the things she doesn't want to. If she doesn't want something, she will let me know and I will stop because I don't want her to feel sad, bothered and suffocate. Truthfully, your daughter is the most sincere person that I've known in my entire life. She always gives out her best to make everyone happy."

He let out a deep breath. "I cannot believe she went through all her years of her life of enduring your demands and pressures the day she was born. It's no wonder your children are starting to neglect you. Most people might have called an authority because of your abuse if it weren't for the money you have. Every child deserve a parents but not every parents deserve a child." He paused before continuing again.

"If I see her cry again because of the both of you.No matter how much money you used to separate us. I will make sure you will regret it." With that he walk around his car before opening the doorway of the driver seat and drive away from your wrecked family. The whole ride was silent. Sheon never felt his heart rate beating this fast.

What happened to him?

Why did he do that?

What if his job from your company is going to make him terminated from his internship?

You were still on your way to become boss but your parents still owns it as long as they are alive.

"… I-I'm sorry.. you witnessed that." You sniffed as you tried to wipe off your tears trying your best to minimize your hiccups.

"… Don't mention it." He grunted before tossing you a box of tissue carelessly, eyes trained at the road not caring if you catch it or not.

You blew away your snots, as his thoughts were clouded of doubt.

"Stop crying." He said before parking the car after reaching his home. You nodded, trying to minimize your tears.

He exited the car and you did too before following him behind. A small squeak was heard from the car indicating that his car is locked.

Sheon didn't bother on walking beside you as he went to unlock the door of his home.

He went himself in, he doesn't care to tell you to follow because you will.

You sat on the couch and collect your thoughts for bit, staring the tiled floor of the living room. He look at your form and rolled his eyes before changing his clothes. What's next? Are you going to be stuck with him, onwards?

He went to the kitchen and starts to cook. Trying his best figure out something but nothing comes up in his mind.

He put the food in to two plates before serving you a lasagna. "Eat, cerise."

You thanked him and starts to eat your food slowly, your appetite isn't in good shape after your burst of emotion to your parents.

Sheon just picked his food but not eating as he stared at you.

What is he going to do with you now? He can't have you here! You… You need to come back and apologize! What if your parents cut off your card? Most of your money were from your parents! Then what about his money? What about the items you promised him to buy it for him?!

what about your feelings?

…what about her..?..

Stop... Stop making him feel guilty.

He quietly sigh and starts to eat. This mixed feelings are eating him up.

"Does it taste good?" He asked. You nod, sniffing.

"Leave the plate, I'll wash them up later. You can have my bed. I'll sleep on the couch."

You tried to reason him that you can sleep on the couch but he insisted.

You were stuck with him for three months. Your card was indeed cut off and you and him were evicted temporarily at your company by your mother. At that time he was conflicted whether or not he should just ditch you…. Since you don't have money anymore. You just stay at home.

Seeing you apologize for being inconvenient at his home he felt guilty for thinking about it. But for some reason... he can't bare the thought of you wandering around depending on no one.

Sheon went outside to get a hose to water the outdoor the plants until he saw a man who looks similar to you.

"Hey." The said stranger called for him. He must be one of your sibling, seeing almost all of your resemblance to him, except his demeanor. People would feel intimidated when they look at him but not him, Sheon wasn't scared of him. He is one of the siblings who neglect his parents.

The red haired male raised his eyebrow before walking up to him.

"Yes? Do you need something?"

"… My older sister, (Y/n)? Are you perhaps her boyfriend..?" The way he spoke the word boyfriend. Sheon can feel the distaste from him.

"What about it?"

His (e/c) eyes was staring at his soul. They both of knew they are never gonna be in good terms.

"(Y/n) can go back to the company. Our parents needs her."

"And what? Are they gonna invalidate her again?"

Your brother scoff. "If that were to happen, she can call me right away. They can't complain when it comes to me. They know I don't act like my soft hearted older sister." He tossed an atm card at him. Sheon catches it confused.

"What's this for?"

"Give that to my sister. It's her new card."

Your brother pulled the handle of his own car before going in. "What about (Y/n)? Do you not want to look at her?"

"No need… I'm sure she will be fine."

After that, He left without a bid of farewell.

Sheon looked at the card in his hand. Greed went on his mind to keep the card and hide it from you. Just telling you the details that you can go back to the company. He should get back the payment he used to buy the items he wasted on you for the past few months—

"Sheon?"

You called to him. Snapping out of his thoughts when he realized he was already in the kitchen, cooking food for the both of you.

"You almost burned the eggs… Is there something wrong?"

Sheon blinked before smiling at you.

"Your brother went to see you but he was in a hurry so… He told me that you can go back. Your parents need you back to the company."

Your eyes lit up."really?"

"Really."

He went silent. Deciding that he should just give your atm card. It was stupid idea to think of him hiding your card, that will result of him being arrested and making you abandon him. He can't ruin his hardwork for making you his bank.

You blinked when you stiffly take the card from his hand. "What's this?"

"Your new card. Your… Umm.. brother wants to give it to you."

You look at him in the eyes for a second before leaning in to kiss him.

"I love you." You smiled, your eyes were brightened. As if something cleared up your mind and he noticed it.

He gave you a tight grin. "I'll put this on the plate before it actually burns."

Just like his first week on a relationship with you. His life went back smoothly. Everything went back to normal. The next three weeks, the two of you went on a date, suggested by you of course.

The both of you enjoyed the rides at carnival. He laughed when you didn't like the taste of the sweet corn of the nearby shop, telling him you preferred the street food sweet corn he brought on your first date with him. After having a snack,Sheon went to take a picture of the two of you capturing every moment he can find.

You told him that you book a private resort nearby the beach. So he drove there. Enjoying the night ride with him.

His heart fluttered when he hear you humming happily while you were scrolling on the phone, probably buying an item that he request yesterday, you ask him what color he liked on the item. Right now, the red haired doesn't care about it and tells you to keep humming the tune and forget about the item he wanted.

He just found himself, liking the sound of your voice.

The first thing he did when the both of you went inside the resort was to pop out a wine and serve you one before quickly kissing your lips. The both of you enjoyed gazing the night at cozy fireplace lit on the modern table. You cuddled with him and he held you, warming you up. As he sighed, relaxing himself.

"Sheon…."

You let yourself go on his hold before toying his hands with yours until you let it go."What's wrong?" You look down, staring through his shirt.

"I have… Been meaning to tell you this.. I don't know if it's the right time but…"

Sheon held his breath. Did you find out that he was using you?

He looked at your right hand that is tapping something from behind of your pocket before showing it to him.

A small black box was given to him.

He looked at you confused before he assessed your new gift to him. The box looked liked it could store a jewel.

His world stops when he opened it.

"I know… you went all the trouble of taking care of me when… when I was kicked out from the house but… I never felt so indebt to you after all the love you showered m-me… I-I'm not good with this kind of things… and might even call it corny so….W-would-you-like-to-spend-the-rest-of-your-time-together-with-me?" You fiddle your hand nervously as you look up to him, rushing the last sentence. Awaiting for his response, whether he will reject you or not.

Before you could call his name again. His lips had already met yours, arms wrapped around your torso, pulling you closer.

You were shocked by your boyfriend's action before returning your kiss. Slowly wrapping your arms around his neck.

He pushed tongue inside your mouth, caressing your caverns and sucking your tongue, drinking the sound of your whimpers and moans. He loves the whimpers that you make, it makes him want to keep going.

You tap him by the shoulder, signalling him to halt his actions but he continued to assault your lips until the thirst in him quenched. It was the first time he ignore your orders, but he just can't help himself.

He felt euphoric.

Sheon was grinning, widely. One of his hands went to your buttoned shirt. Slowly unclasping them, one by one.

His cheeks matches the color of his hair. His voice laced with love and affection."I'm officially yours, cerise."

For the first time, he felt genuine towards you. He felt everything was clear. He doesn't know when, where and why he didn't realize it sooner but…

He actually like you more than the money itself..

No...

He loves you that no money can replace you.

Fuck all the items, he got. You're much more valuable, the most treasured thing he wants.

He went to kiss your collarbone before softly gazing on you.

For the first time, your relationship with him. Sheon uttered the words that are genuine and meaningful from the bottom of his heart.

"…I love you."

This might be a mistake in your part.

He will never let you go now.

========================

Part 2?

[t1oui]

going to school and being friends with percy jackson would be REALLY WEIRD so let's discuss it rq

he gets dropped off every day in his stepfather's car, which inexplicably has hoof prints on the hood?

the panic attacks... there's a lot of them, and nobody can even tell what's triggering them at this point

the old counselor disappears about a week into his first year at AHS (here's some cotg lore for yall) and is replaced by a weird lady who finds a way to bring percy up to every. single. student. who visits her office.

randomly disappears multiple times throughout the year

very very sea green eyes and a gray streak in his hair

once got out of the pool after swim practice and was completely dry (he insists it was a trick of the light)

the blue food obsession ofc

talks about his girlfriend annabeth all the time... even his friends are convinced it's a "my canadian girlfriend" situation bc he never calls her. he doesn't even have a PHONE

always carries around a pen in his pocket and even though it's just a shitty old ballpoint, NOBODY IS ALLOWED TO TOUCH IT. also he never uses it. ever.

every teacher has sent an email with their concerns about him to the counselor and when that doesn't work to his parents. the responses are always very awkward and vague

talks about his bio dad a lot... never explicitly negative but bro clearly has daddy issues lol

will sometimes randomly mention camp/war/gods and then brush it off like it never happened

absolutely vibrated in his seat the entirety of the greek mythology unit... told the teacher "a demigod named perseus fought ares once" and the teacher just assumes he means the og (aka the one he's named after)

that one upbeat popular guy everybody knows absolutely nothing about, his friends included

they probably have a spreadsheet with all the info they actually DO know about him

finds a way to brag about his mom in every conversation no matter how irrelevant... his friends are used to it atp

everyone's so used to seeing him smiling and laughing that when, say, he catches a younger kid being bullied, it's actually terrifying to see how angry he gets. everybody in that hallway gets chills

there's something off about him and nobody can tell what. that's just how he is

sometimes weird people in weird outfits are hanging around the school and they're ALWAYS looking for him.

every time someone asks what college he's going to he gives a different answer or straight up avoids answering so nobody actually knows

(if he says a school and someone is like "omg me too" he changes his answer right then and there lol... he's like "oh nvm i forgot i'm actually going here my bad" and the person is so confused)

nobody ever sees him working on college applications but he complains about having to do them all the time... bro is like "yeah i had to go through a sewer system but at least my girlfriend and my best friend were there" and his friends are like yo HUH

never explains anything he says

presentation night presentation = all the shittiest things my family has done and he's laughing about it but wdym your aunt kidnapped you and gave you amnesia???

sometimes he's getting fed up with a teacher or another student and a pipe randomly bursts in the school. like it's weird how often his anger ends in a plumber being called when he's nowhere near the problem

where everyone else is excited to watch a movie and chill in class, percy complains through the entirety of hercules - not just "oh this movie sucks", more like "god hercules is such a dick, idk why they made him chill in this movie"

the weirdest part is how, when percy complains about zeus being a good dad in the movie, it starts thundering outside

nobody can keep track of how many schools he's been to at this point... there's a whole section of the spreadsheet for this

when percy's friends finally meet annabeth they are SHOOK bc they truly did not think this girl was real

alright i can't think of anything else but if i DO i will add on later

[vettelsvee]

AFTERGLOW | Mick Schumacher

f1 masterlist | wattpad | ao3 | instagram

mick schumacher x vettel!reader

summary: mick's girlfriend knows that something's wrong with him. after talking to her dad and her stepmother, she decides to face her boyfriend.

word count: 2956

warnings: angst. bad language. mick being aggressive. use of y/n.

you can send your one shots requests here! feedback, as well as comments and reblogs, are truly appreciated!

If Sebastian's retirement announcement had hurt you, the way you boyfriend had been acting towards you, for no apparent reason, hurt even more. 

You were on you father's terrace, with your legs stretched out on a chair in front of you and the sun shining on your face as you watched the latest news about Taylor Swift. Beside you, Hanna was tending to her baby, who was in her arms playing with a small plush toy you bought her that surprisingly become her favorite. Sebastian appeared out of nowhere carrying a tray full of snacks and drinks, which he carefully placed on the table before immediately caressing the heads of the women in his life. The German sat beside his wife facing you, his eldest daughter.

As much as you enjoyed visiting your family for no reason, today's visit had a reason with a name and surname: Mick Schumacher. Since both of you had finally decided to start a romantic relationship, everything had been a bed of roses. However, the past few weeks have been hell. The boy's behavior towards you had changed radically. What used to be a daily routine filled with laughter, gratitude and support had turned into distance and avoidance, as if they you college students living together during the school year because they had no other choice.

Before starting to speak, you poured yourself some lemonade that Vettel had made hours earlier with her, and took a slight sip despite being really thirsty. You felt nervous as you began to initiate the conversation, but the warm looks you father and stepmother were giving you helped you relax.

"I need to share something with you," you began, "because if I don't tell someone, I feel like I'm going to end everything I've fought for all this time. Plus, I feel like you're the ones who can help me the most in this regard," you added.

The couple exchanged curious looks, not knowing what you were referring to. Any idea passed through Hanna's mind, while the Aston Martin driver could only think of the possibility that his little one might be pregnant. Hanna could see the panic in her husband's face; she simply placed her free hand on the German's thigh and gently caressed it, trying to calm him down. They shouldn't jump to conclusions too quickly, and that seemed to be what his wife was telling him as she gave Sebastian a glance.

"I've noticed that Mick has been behaving very strangely lately," you began to explain. "I don't know what's going on in his head, but we hardly talk, we don't usually go out of the house like we used to and... well, let's say we don't show as much affection to each other anymore," you said apologetically, trying not to get angry at the laughter your father was making. "I feel like the Mick I've known all this time has been just a mirage, and I don't know what to do about it."

Sebastian and Hanna exchanged knowing looks, and the woman let him speak first.

"Y/N, I understand what you mean, but you have to know the pressure Mick faces daily," the blonde explained lovingly. "Formula 1 is like that: it doesn't just drag you, but also those you love the most. Your boyfriend has many eyes on him, and as if that weren't enough, he bears the responsibility of carrying on his father's legacy."

The older blonde agreed with her husband. She passed the little one to Seb, got up quickly and sat next to you,now cry out of frustration, and started to caress your hair lovingly as a comfort.

"Your father is right, Y/N, and I have to agree with him because I've been with him for almost twenty years," Hanna commented. "Every person has a completely different way of dealing with stress. Sebastian used to yell at me every time he breathed, and look," she pointed at him, "here we are. Some people open up to anyone they meet, and others shut themselves off to avoid worrying those they love the most," she stated. "Just because Mick isn't like he was a few weeks ago doesn't mean his feelings towards you have changed. Sometimes, they just need space and a little time to silence the demons in their heads."

You nodded, taking a sip from the glass you held in your hands to calm your nerves. You let out a sigh you had been holding in for quite some time, worried about the possible reaction the two in front of you might have. They continued to talk about more trivial matters, and that conversation, although short, had been very meaningful, was set aside, although not for the girl, who continued to torture herself wondering what she could do to make Mick feel better while listening to talk about baby care and nurseries.

"Thank you, dad. Thank you, Hanna," you replied, getting up from your seat and looking at the adults. "I guess I needed the advice of someone who might have gone through the same thing as I am right now," you objected. "I promise I'll do my best not to despair anymore. I'll let you know when I know more."

The couple got up shortly after you, already heading towards the door, possibly to return to the apartment you shared with Schumacher. Sebastian, still holding the baby, opened the door, unable to say anything else. Hanna, on the other hand, smiled warmly at you and gave you a hug.

"Remember, we're here for you, sweetheart," your father's wife said kindly. "Communication is key in any relationship. If you see that Mick is still not ready to talk about it, give him space, but don't forget to remind him that you're there for whatever he needs."

You nodded and left the residence, leaving the driver and his wife somewhat worried about what could happen between you two.

You opened the door to your home with trembling hands, feeling a pressure in your chest from the concern about the scene your eyes would encounter as soon as you entered.

The first thing that greeted you was the sound of hooves scratching the parquet floor, which soon grew louder as Angie approached rapidly to welcome you home again. You bent down, leaving your belongings aside, and took some time to caress your furry friend, whom you had grown fond of since the moment her owner introduced her to you. While admiring the way the animal's tail moved, you began to hear the running water from the shower, a sign that Mick was home, as you had hoped.

Sitting on the couch and staring at the TV, whose screen was filled with deceptive advertisements for food and clothing, you heard a door open and steps that seemed to be approaching you. You took a deep breath and prepared yourself for what was about to come when you saw her boyfriend walk past you, wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist, drying his hair with another smaller towel.

You decided that things couldn't go on like this, so you approached the boy more angrily than you thought, who was preparing dinner, obviously, just for himself.

"Yes, love, I had a great time with Seb and Hanna. Thanks for asking how my day went!" you shouted sarcastically.

Schumacher turned around, leaving the wooden spoon on the bowl in which his salad was being prepared. Your face was fully red, and your aggressive demeanor reminded him of Sebastian's moments of fury at Red Bull. The German looked at you coldly, and you only felt his blue eyes radiating hatred, something you had never seen in the boy before.

If you weren't up for games that night, neither was Mick.

"I don't care how your day went," the blue-eyed one responded disdainfully, "but if you had such a great time with your perfect family, maybe you should consider moving in with them."

The driver’s statement hurt you more than if you had been stabbed in the stomach. You couldn't believe the words coming out of the mouth of the one you considered the love of your life. When you opened your mouth to reply and yell a thousand worse things at him, the words got stuck in your throat. Schumacher made a move to leave, but you reluctantly took his hand to keep talking to him. For you, things weren't going to stay like this. 

"After everything we've been through to get here, is this how you're paying me back?!" you exploded, releasing all the anger you had accumulated. "Is this the way you planned to treat me from the beginning?"

The driver turned to you, his jaw tense. His arms were crossed, and he was squeezing his clenched fists tighter and tighter.

"I don't know what you're talking about, blondie," he spat with disdain. "If you feel so bad, maybe you should reconsider what this relationship means to you."

You approached him with fury, and began to hit him in the chest with your hands. You were tired of, at any point in your life, the people she loved the most ending up hurting her.

"You have no idea what you mean to me!" you got closer and closer to Mick, who seemed to feel small compared to you. "You became my everything when I had nothing, but now you've become a stranger with whom it would seem ridiculous to say that I've shared traumas from my life that no one knows."

"You have no right to judge me, Y/N!" roared the boy with a voice filled with aggression. "You don't know what I have to face every day: criticism, expectations, my father, you, the team..." He raised his hands in the air as he spoke. "Do you think it's easy being in this messed up world?"

"It's not just about you, Mick!" you exclaimed, tears starting to blur your vision. "It's about us and everything we've been through together!"

Words continued to fly in the room, laden with pain and anger, exchanged between the couple as if in a tennis match. You had reached a point where the argument wasn't focused on trying to resolve whatever was happening between you, but on hurting each other with hurtful comments, fighting to see who could inflict more damage.

"This makes no sense, Y/N," Mick shouted in frustration. His gaze was filled with panic and accumulated anger. He felt it increasingly difficult, at that point in the argument, to contain his rage.

"Love, please, calm down," your voice trembled. "We're not getting anywhere, just giving the neighbors a free show that we'll regret later," you pleaded.

Schumacher didn't relent. He felt a wave of helplessness washing over his body. He reached out his muscular arm and grabbed the first object he could find, a frame with a picture of him with you and Angie on a day you spent in the mountains, and threw it against the wall mercilessly. The sound of impact and shattering glass echoed throughout the room, accompanied by the sobs and gasps of air from the young woman.

You couldn't help but step back, feeling increasing pressure in your chest and filled with fear. You knew the boy was losing control of the situation, and you were afraid it would escalate to physical violence against you. You had experienced that kind of abuse with your mother, and you didn't want to relive it with the same person who once told you that love didn't hurt.

"Mick, stop, this isn't you!" you cried out in anguish. "What's wrong with you?"

The German clenched his fists tighter.

"I've already told you, Y/N: you don't understand! You can't possibly understand. The pressure, the expectations... it's all overwhelming," he sighed anxiously, "and I feel like it's going to break me at any moment."

You approached him slowly, but at a safe distance, in an attempt to calm him down that you hoped wouldn't be in vain.

"We're in this together, sweetheart. Why don't you confide in me instead of shouting at me like a madman in an asylum?"

"Because I don't want you involved in this," Mick looked at you with a mix of anger and pain. "You've had enough worries in your life already."

You went cold, speechless in response. The blonde seemed to have calmed down. Now, his gaze begged you to keep speaking because, if not, he would go crazy at any moment.

"Mick, I love you," you continued as best you could, "and that means I want to be there for you, even in the toughest moments. You can't expect me to walk away when you need me the most."

"It's not that simple, Y/N," the driver paced back and forth, seeking a way to remedy everything he had caused during those weeks of tormenting Gunther. "The pressure is overwhelming, and the comparisons with my father are becoming less bearable," he confessed. "People don't care how hard I try. They always end up making me feel like I’m not good enough."

The blonde took a deep breath, struggling to keep calm while seeing that the root of the problem was surfacing:

"And how do you expect our relationship to work if you shut yourself off? I can't guess what's going on in your head if you don't tell me," you said in a barely audible whisper.

"Because I don't want to be a burden to you!" he retorted. "I don't want you to see me as a failure."

Determined to end all the fuss, you took a step forward and, despite the boy's protests, ended up taking his hands and directing his gaze to yours.

"Mick, you're not a failure: you're human," you said. "Making more or fewer mistakes is completely normal, and I'm here to support you and make you see that," you expressed sincerely. "I don't care what people think or say about you. To me, you'll always be the best at what you do, and there won't be a comment that will change my mind."

He looked at you. Angie had clumsily approached the boy's leg, stroking him and causing him some tickles with her fur, something that made you laugh in that moment of tension.

"What do you want me to do, Y/N? How can I move forward with all this?",

Feeling her resistance beginning to dissipate, you rushed to give him a hug, something the boy didn't reject. You both had missed each other, and the gentle caresses you shared in that brief moment were proof of that.

"Start by trusting me. Share what worries you and what you're afraid of. You don't have to fight alone: you know I'm here for whatever you need."

Mick, with his eyes full of tears threatening to fall, held you tightly to his chest, trying not to hurt you.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," he whispered with a trembling voice, "for everything. My contract with Haas... it's over. Gunther doesn't trust me for next year."

You quickly pulled away from Mick. You had been left in suspense, and your boyfriend's pale face had already given you many clues, such as why he had told you before the cooling of your relationship that he didn't want to continue racing, or how Seb's retirement didn't affect him as much as you had thought it would.

Mick had faced very painful and traumatic experiences, such as his father's accident. However, although his dismissal might seem less significant than the former, for his girlfriend, it was more serious because there was nothing worse than someone compromising your mental health, and that was exactly what Gunther Steiner had been doing to her guy.

You approached him with slow steps and hugged him once again.

"Darling..." you whispered, trying to sound as understanding as possible. "It's okay, alright? Gunther doesn't deserve you. Besides, I'm sure that when something bad ends, something better begins."

Schumacher collapsed into your arms, tears finally escaping from his eyes. The mask he had been wearing for all the previous weeks had finally shattered, revealing a vulnerable version of himself that he didn't want you to discover.

"I feel like a failure," the blonde sobbed with a choked tone due to the tears. "I've fought so hard, I've given everything I have even when I couldn't anymore... and it seems like it's never enough."

You hugged him tighter, tenderly, hearing the boy's quick heartbeats loud and clear.

"You're not a failure, Mick," you revealed to him. "You have so much talent and you can do great things, it's just that you started your career in a crappy team with even crappier treatment," the boy laughed, music to your ears. "This is just a bump in the road, and you and I are going to get through it together."

"I don't know what I'd do without you, love," Mick looked at you tenderly, mentally regretting his behavior over the past few weeks.

"I'll always be here for you, truly," you continued, gently stroking his cheek. "You're so much more than race results, and I won't stop telling you until you believe it, even when you get tired of hearing me say it so much!"

You ended up laughing heartily, initiated by Mick. Maybe you weren't the perfect duo in the eyes of others, but you were for yourselves and those who knew you best.

If the invisible string theory was real, you and Mick were proof of it. You could even say the same about the multiverse hypothesis: in this one, and in millions more, a stubborn blonde couple, no matter the problems you had to face, would end up together, whatever it took.

[chososdiscordkitten]

Obsessive!Choso♡pt 8

pt 7 here

content: STALKING.. (duhh), Choso feels immense guilt, TRACKING, lying, implied possible drugging, thoughts of violence, threats, drinking, Choso is a poor college student:( they/them pronouns used (a.n) I cry thinking about him. I really do, he's everything to me. He's like Dwayne the rock Johnson to me. Wrote this listening to 'For The First Time- Mac Demarco'

Taglist: @eristi @sunaumei @ex-ria @just-pure-trash @kha-0s @iluvreinah @iamboredowo @integers @waytootiredforthisss @1arminsimp @hannas16 @chosowhore @tojicvmslut @ofalcaodacolinablue @thesharkcollector @alexinity @mahgyu @mochipip @annhhaannn @ziklope @eterniatribe @everi-eve

Obsessive!Choso who somehow found himself lying on the floor, looking up to the ceiling with you next to him. Something about how when you're lower to the ground it's warmer- he didn't really remember the ‘why’ right now. Just knowing that anytime he'd say something, you'd laugh. No matter how dumb it was. The palms of his hands facing upwards. Being able to feel the warmth radiating from you, showing him just how close you really were, “I don't wanna go back to classes-” you exhaled, holding your hands atop your sternum. “Me neither-” he mumbled, closing his eyes and hearing you speak, “I hate this place- I hate the people.” you complained, hearing him hum a tired response. “Everyone here sucks and it's so frustrating.” your words made Choso turn his head to look at the side of yours. ‘Everyone except me, right?’ Admiring your profile, feeling his eyes scanning your features. You turned your head slightly, “Can I say something?” you tried to suppress a smile. Hearing him hum, looking at your avoidant pupils. “Say anything-” he smiled, making you turn your head back to face the ceiling with a scoff. “It's soo corny and cringey.” you laughed, feeling his gaze stuck to you. Mumbling a quiet “Don't care.” before you started speaking, “I think I met you for a reason-” you whispered, a smile creeping onto your face. Seeing him try to shake off the grin that was forming on his face at your words. “I've never felt more seen by someone before.” You smiled, cringing at the words falling from your lips without permission. ‘I will always see you. All of you.’ Shaking your head before speaking again, ”Do you like me?” You flinched realizing what you had just said. “As a- As a person?” You asked, turning your head and looking over at him, ‘Yes. As a person, as a friend, as everything.’ 

“What do you mean?” he hummed, looking into your eyes. “Am I shallow?” You asked, trying to make him forget of the past question that came out of you with no warning, seeing him furrow his eyebrows. Thinking of what to say, that's an appropriate answer, “From what I've seen- and what I've heard you talk about-” he mumbled, the saucers in your eyes making it very difficult to focus on what he was trying to say. Flipping to lay on his stomach, propping himself on his forearms as he looked down to your face. Smiling as he scanned your features, dim lighting making his cheeks tingle at how this was actually happening. Not a dream, or a scenario he pictured before bed. You were really here, not being able to process what he was doing. He lifted his hand, taking his pinkie and brushing a tuft of your hair from your forehead,“You are the last person I'd describe as shallow.” His contact with your skin made your cheeks tingle and your lips part. For the first time, he called you by your name out loud. You didn't notice that till he mumbled it, “-I think I met you for a reason too.” he murmured. Blinking your eyes as though you were expecting something from him, ruddy cheeks on his face making his thoughts leave him entirely. Mentally nodding his head no, looking away from you to the clock on the wall. 3:35 am. Backing away when he noticed he could count every eyelash on your face, “S’late.” he sighed, making you look up to the ceiling in disappointment with a sigh. Choso sat up, jaw clenched and eyebrows furrowed. Exhaling as though this was the most frustrating thing in the world. “You wanna leave?” You spat, tone stern as you remembered every opportunity you've given him to make a move. “I don't wanna leave you-” He started, looking down to see you still looking at the ceiling. “My roommates flight lands in a few hours-” You mumbled, knowing if you looked at him you'd say something that you'd regret. Choso didn't know why he felt the need to apologize to you in that moment, whether it be the look on your face or how your hands were now picking at the skin on your fingers. But he tried to find something to say. Something to make you feel better but all the smooth lines he'd think, all the compliments he'd give you mentally, all of that- was somehow gone from his mind. 

Gathering his things and slipping his boots back onto his feet, seeing your arms crossed and a sour look on your face as you waited for him to leave. It wasn't because he didn't reciprocate- it was because you felt like you were just embarrassing yourself. Reading too closely between the lines at what he'd say or his actions. Grabbing his coat from the hook and looking to you with sad eyes. “I’m sor-” he started, not knowing why he was apologizing, but it felt like the right thing to do. Making you realize your face gave away what you were feeling. Playfully shoving his shoulder and smiling. “Don't.” you whispered, seeing him become less tense. “I'll text you.” he smiled, hand on the doorknob as he looked at you. Same look in your eyes you had when he pulled away earlier. Looking down to your socks, sniffling before looking back up to him with a forced smile. Mumbling a quiet “Okay.” before he opened the door. Taking the nob in your hand and seeing him stand on the rickety porch. “Bye-” he smiled, seeing a look on your face he had never seen before. Almost sorrowful. Small smile forced on your lips as you waved at him from the door frame, seeing him walk away. Closing the door and sighing against it as you pressed your back to it. Closing your eyes in exasperation. Wondering why he wouldn't make a move, all the signs were there. So why?

Obsessive!Choso walked home in the freezing weather as though it was his punishment. Even if he didn’t know what he did wrong, the fact that you made that face at something he did. It made him want to stand in the middle of the street. On that night he took a vow to never, ever make you feel that way again. In his mind, he was only being a gentleman, a well mannered friend. The last thing he wanted was to make you feel uncomfortable. If only you knew how badly he wanted to reciprocate what he thought you were throwing to him. Heavy in thought as he pulled out his phone, opening the app he had downloaded just last night. Seeing a small red dot on the map from where he left you. Smiling when he thought of how he'd know where you are as long as you wore his present. As long as you wore a piece of him with you, he would be able to know where you are. And make sure you weren't getting into any unnecessary problems.

Coming home, tossing his keys to the counter, opening the refrigerator and seeing nothing. Nothing to cook, not even frozen food or instant noodles. And certainly, no more money to eat for the next few days. Knowing that the firsts of the month were always the hardest, the subsidized apartment was still a heavy burden on his already thin wallet. Most nights not being able to sleep from how cold it was. But he found solace in picturing you, warm in your bed. Being able to sleep in a t-shirt and shorts from how high the heat was. If he closed his eyes and remembered, he could still feel the warmth tickle his nose from how warm your bedroom was. Creaky bed frame that threatened to break anytime he moved too swiftly on it, sleeping in at least two hoodies and two pairs of socks. Wrapped in as many blankets he could find so he could try to sleep. But his attempts were in vain, he couldn't stop remembering the look on your face. The look of disappointment and the patience you kept fading anytime he pulled away. Tossing the heavy bundle of blankets from him, sitting up slowly so the legs of his bed frame wouldn't give. Standing up and walking to the coat that hung behind the door. Pulling his wallet out, barely being able to see through squinty eyes, the moon casting a dim light through the broken blinds he can't afford to fix. Taking the stolen polaroids of you from the card sleeve. Smiling as he adored every single one, walking back to his cold bed and wrapping himself in the blankets. Placing 4 out of the 5 photos of you on his nightstand. Holding his favorite one in his hand scanning it the best he could in the dark. Thoughts of how he might just be delusional. Thinking you were just being nice to him, just being a good friend. ‘Maybe you are just naturally alluring. And maybe I am just a mad man in love with someone who only sees me as no more than a friend.’ 

Obsessive!Choso who woke up to the sun assaulting his sleeping eyelids, polaroid still in hand as he turned to lay on his back. Eying the small photo as he blinked his sleep away. Grazing his fingers across the glossy finish, furrowing his eyebrows as he recalled the look you gave him before he left. Placing the photo on the pillow next to him, checking his phone for the time. Always hoping to see a message from you, but knowing it was a little early in the morning for you. Especially since it was Saturday, knowing you liked to sleep in as long as you could. But he would wait around his cold apartment, waiting for you to call him or message him. Rereading the countless notes you had exchanged in class, feeling uneasy. Almost guilty for making you feel the way he did. Even if he didn’t know how you felt- he knew there was something wrong. Your aura, the coldness you showed him before he left. It was clear he did something to make you upset.

He felt as though he was going crazy in that little apartment, white walls making him feel like he was trapped in a seclusion room. Sitting at his desk and doodling in a notebook he kept on his bedside table. Trying his best to draw you from memory, smiling when he saw the page filled with small sketches of your features. Standing from his chair and falling to his knees at his closet, feeling like he had just lost the one good thing in his life. Sliding open the door and seeing the collection of you he had. Tears pricked his eyes in guilt when he thought of you. Seeing all the discarded things you had left for him, taking the small bottle of nail polish and grazing his fingers on the handle. The same handle your fingers were on when you were being nice to him. Feeling anger towards himself at the thought that he had hurt you in some way, he stood up. Stomping back to his desk and checking the time, seeing it was only 3pm. Frustrated fingers swiping across his screen and pressing the call button. Eyes closed as he heard the dreadful ringing, fiddling with his earrings with his other hand. Opening his eyes and beaming when he heard the loud sound of a washing machine moving. “Hello?” you asked, your tone still stern. What Choso didn't know is that you didn't know he was calling, you just heard the ringing and pressed the answer button quickly. “Hey-” he started, grimacing at how he didn’t know what to say, “I just-” he mumbled, hearing someone shouting in the distance through the phone. “I just wanted to talk to you.” He smiled, hearing you let out a small laugh when you realized who it was. Grin on your face as you walked away from the obnoxious machines. “Miss me already huh?” you teased, hearing him let out a stifled laugh. “I was worried.” he confessed, closing his eyes and imagining you sitting on the same couch he sat on last night. “Worried? Whatever for?” you asked, sighing as you took a seat on the arm of the couch. “I was worried I upset you- before I left.” he confessed, sitting on the edge of his bed. Hunched over as he heard you take a sharp inhale through the phone. “You worry a lot don't you?” you asked playfully, trying to remember why you were bothered so much by his actions. “I try not to-” he laughed, “But I-” he started, trying not to tell you the exact words that popped into his head that very moment. “I somehow always find a way to fuck it up.” he exhaled, squeezing his eyes shut in embarrassment. “I don't remember why I was upset.” You sighed, “I was probably just tired and dreading my roommate coming home.” you explained, trying your best to hide what you truly felt. “And? How has it been since?” he asked, being able to hear the loud sound of a vacuum. “She practically came home just to clean.” You laughed, looking to see your roommate violently cacumming. Gaining a laugh from him, “You have any plans for tonight?” he asked, the first time he ever asked you if you wanted to do something. The question made your heart swell, but remembering that you actually did have plans made it deflate equally as fast.

“I wish I didn't. But my roomie is big on socialization and wants to go to a bar tonight with some of her friends.” You exhaled, “And you're going?” he asked, his chest pounding at the thought that you'd be drinking around people who can take advantage of you. “Unfortunately I am- apparently one of her friends wants to meet me for some reason.” you frowned, Choso was able to hear the disappointment in your words. Praying to whatever god that was out there, that you weren't lying to him. The thoughts of how maybe you didn't like him at all were heavy at that moment. “But I don’t even know if I'm going- so I'll let you know, okay?” you asked, making sure to not discourage him from asking you that again. “Okay-” he was interrupted hearing your roommate shout your name, “I'll talk to you later?” you assured him before hanging up. Leaving him on his rickety bed waiting for you to call. 

Time passed agonizingly slow, laying in his bed face up. Every now and then checking his phone for the time. Seeing only an hour had passed, he exhaled loudly, frustration eating away at him. Sitting up and picking up the small notebook and his pen. Writing a letter to you, detailing his feelings and how much he loved you. How he’d wait for you, no matter if the day comes where you move on. Married and a few kids with someone but him. ‘Even if i have not seen you in years, and I know you are with someone else. And I have been forced to move on from you. Even if I am 80 years old with grandchildren. I will only think of you. It will only ever be you. Please think of me too. Even if you are with someone else. Only think of me.’  he wrote, pushing his hair from his face as he felt the heartbreak only felt by abandoned spouses. The mere thought of you being happy with someone but him made him feel cheated. Tossing the notebook to the foot of the bed, laying on his pillows and sighing. Blinking his eyes closed as he felt the fatigue eat at him. Waking up four hours later to a missed call from you. Immediately pressing your contact and calling you, only you didn't answer. Checking the tracking app and seeing you weren't home anymore. His heart started beating faster at the thought you were probably in danger and called him, or you wanted to see him but like an idiot; he fell asleep. Getting dressed quickly and leaving his apartment almost too quickly, following the directions in his phone as he walked through the cold winds to find you. He wanted to run to you, wanted to drudge through the coldness to reach you. Almost blacking out from the cold against him. But he found himself standing outside the frosted windows as he watched you, cold weather made the tip of his nose pink. Smiling and drinking with your ‘friends’ in the corner of the room, warm lighting making you stand out even more than you usually did. 

Everytime he sees you, it's like the first time. Feeling the same hint of warmth in his heart he felt the first day of class. But he knew the smile you gave them was a forced one, knowing you didn't belong with those kinds of people. How different you were from them. The app told him you were there for an hour or so, seeing the people around you talking and joking. But anytime they'd say something you looked away, not finding interest in their words. Watching you fiddle with the bracelet on your hand as a waitress brought a tray of shots for your group. Seeing you nod your head ‘no’ at your roommate, being able to know it was her cause the other 3 people were men. Waving your hands ‘no’ as your friend shoved the glass in your hands from across the small table. The man next you, leaning down to say something into your ear, feeling anger pool in his stomach at how close he was to you. Especially since whatever he told you, convinced you to take the shot with them. Nodding his head in disappointment at how easily you were convinced. But the sight of you smiling without a care in the world was nice to see, even if it was forced. 

Obsessive!Choso who furrowed his eyebrows when he saw your shoulders jump, smile now gone as you looked over at the older man next to you. Almost shuffling away from him. Choso couldn't see clearly from all the people in the bar, but he was sure that he had touched you. You made the same face you did when he saved you from the classmate who was too insistent. ‘What is it with you and men who are way too old for you?’ he complained mentally. It took everything in him to not burst through the door of the place, but those thoughts were soon gone. Seeing you pull your phone out, slowly shifting away from the man's touch. Hearing his phone ring in his coat pocket, pulling it out and seeing you walk away from the table. Clicking the green button and saying a quiet hello. Not being able to see where you went from where he was standing outside, “Heyy-” already being able to hear the smile in your voice. “Are you- are you busy?” you asked, voice slightly slurred, showing him that they were funneling liquor down your throat long before he got there. “No. Not at all.” he smiled, knowing that even if you were a little tipsy, you still thought of him. “Thank god-” You giggled, making Choso close his eyes at the warmth your laugh gave him. “I’m at the bar right next to the chinese restaurant in town-” you smiled, cheeks already warm at how quickly he answered your call. “And I'm sooo bored.” you finished, hearing him let out a quiet laugh, “You wanna come join me?” you asked, leaning against the bathroom door, silence in the air as you waited for his response. “Are you sure that would be okay? I know you went with your friends.” He replied, knowing that if he had just said ‘yes’ he'd sound too eager. “These people aren't my friends-” you laugh, “Come on-” you smiled, Choso pressed the phone closer to his ear. “I miss you-” you tried to convince him. This made Choso’s heart swell, your words making his cheeks flush. “I'll be there soon.” he grinned, making you let out a lush laugh. “Okay- I'll be waiting.” You smiled, hanging up the phone and walking back to the table. Seeing your friend give you a questioning stare, only to shrug at her.

Choso waited all but five minutes before he walked in, taking his coat off at the door and stared at you. Looking down at your phone as he waited for you to look up. Almost as though you felt his gaze on you, you looked up. Ring of light around you as you saw him. Hair pulled back, eyebrows pinched together while he looked at you. Seeing you push through your roommates friends, gaining furrowed stares and questioning looks as you walked to him. “You got here so fast-” you smiled, standing in front of him. “You sounded very distressed.” he joked, noticing the flush on your cheeks from how much you had to drink. He looked behind you, seeing the table you were sitting at looking at you. You took the hint and looked back to them, “Come say hi-” you grinned, taking his hand into yours, feeling his cold rings against your warm hand. Sighing as you stood in front of the four people you had left, “Guys-” you started, seeing your roommate eye Choso with a confused look on her face, “This is my-” you started, looking over to him trying to find the words, “My uh-” seeing your roommates friends look at Choso like he did something wrong. This made Choso deeply uncomfortable, not knowing why they were looking at him the way they were. Hands still together as you felt your cheeks warm, “This is Choso-” you laughed, seeing them give a forced ‘hi’ to him. Sensing the tension, you let go of his hand. “We're gonna go get him a drink.” you grinned, your roommate murmuring a quiet ‘Wait’ as you left the table. Walking to the bar and leaning on the counter. Choso made note of how your roommate looked over at the man with a buzzcut that previously stood next to you. Seeing her mouth an ‘I’m sorry-’ before he looked back at you. Looking to him with a lush look on your cheeks, smiling as you scanned his face. “What's your drink?” You grinned, elbow on the wooden ledge, the sight of you reminded Choso why he does the things he does for you. Glowy cheeks, sweet smile on your lips. Effortless and yet so bewitching. Looking at him through your eyelashes making his blush spread from his cheeks to his ears. “Whatever you're drinking.” he hummed, thinking that your face is the face people would go to war for. Taking a seat on one of the stools, making Choso pull one out and join you. This made your roommate look at the guy she invited for the sole purpose of setting him up with you. Apologizing intensely, knowing he saw how much happier you looked speaking to Choso. 

Obsessive!Choso who took a sip of his beer, snake bites clinking against the glass. Your eyes unapologetically staring at him, smiling and setting the glass down onto the bar. “What?” he asked with a smile on his face as you looked at him with half lidded eyes. “Mm, Nothin.” pupils so dilated that he could see them even in the dim lighting, smiling so hard your cheeks could start hurting at any minute. Taking a sip from your glass, feeling the group behind you stare holes into your skull. “In the three weeks of solitude- I forgot just  how boring people really are.” you smiled, looking at Choso’s face and noticing how handsome he looked in this light. “I didn't realize it until I met her friends.” You finished, looking down to your hands. Your words made him lean his chin in his hand, looking to you with a confused look. “And?” he asked, hoping you could explain a little more. Letting out a small laugh and covering your face with your hands, pulling them away and looking into his eyes. Leaning in closer to him and whispering, “Out of all the people in here- you're the only one who I find interesting.” Seeing his eyes widen slightly at your words, “I think you're very interesting too.” he smiled, seeing you look away from him and fiddle with the sleeves of your shirt. “How did you get here so fast again?” You asked, changing the topic, recalling that it took very little time for him to walk through the door. His heart pounding at your question, scrambling through dozens of excuses. “I was- I was about to pick up dinner- from the restaurant next door.” Mentally grimacing when he noticed he stuttered. Hoping the state you were in dismissed it, seeing you nod your head and mumble a quiet ‘Oh’ as you looked away from him. “I know I just got here-” he started, eyes flickering back to the prying eyes, “But do you want to go for a walk?” he hummed. Seeing you look behind you to see that they were still staring. “Lemme go get my coat.” You smiled, leaving Choso on the barstool. Following the top of your head as you disappeared through the crowd, seeing you walk to the bathroom. Pulling out his phone as he waited for you. 

Obsessive!Choso jumped when he heard someone call him ‘buddy’ looking up to see the tall man with a buzzcut who was standing next to you. Furrowing his eyebrows and looking at him, “I didn't know they were taken.” he smiled, tone full of passive aggressiveness. Choso only looked at him, not knowing what to say. “I don't-” he started, “I was working on takin em home.” the tall man hummed. “Alex all but promised them to me,” he continued. This made Choso want to bash his skull into the pavement. He was silent, hearing this man brag on and on about how close you were to falling. “And- if all else failed-” he whispered, leaning down and pulling a small baggie from his pocket. “I can count on you right? I'll share em with you if you help out.” He grinned, this made Choso’s vision blur. But the sight of you at the table talking to your roommate soothed the anger that flooded his mind. He laughed through his nose, standing from the barstool, coat in hand. “Go near them again- and I'll kill you.” sickeningly sweet smile on his lips, taking a step away from him. Choso felt the man's hand on his arm, “Hey man-” he smiled, thinking Choso was joking. He looked into his eyes, nothing but violence in his stare as he shook his hand off him. “Touch me again and I'll split you open to see what washed up jocks are made of.” He smiled, seeing the tall man's grin fall, “Excuse me.” he hissed, pushing past him and walking to you. Seeing your eyebrows furrowed as you spoke to your roommate. Standing next to you and hearing you sigh in relief, “Wanna get goin?” Choso asked, seeing you pick up your coat. “Mhm. There's nothing left here for me.” You seethed, stepping away from the table and hearing your roommate ask you to wait. “So where are we going?” you asked, putting your coat on and looking over to Choso as you made your way to the door. “To the moon.” he smiled, seeing you zip up the zipper from your coat. You laughed at his words, blissfully unaware of the fate that awaited you if Choso didn't come save you from that man's grubby hands. Standing in front of the exit before putting his coat on, opening the door for you to step through before taking one last look at the horrible people you surround yourself with. Walking on the sidewalk, side by side. Hands almost brushing against each other as he guided you. 

“Have you ever walked across the campus lawn late at night?” he asked, looking over to your bundled up self. “I can't say that I have- no.” you smiled, seeing him step towards the cold blades of grass, campus lights off since it was still winter break. “Since we're so far away from any major cities-” he sighed, standing in the middle of the large lawn. “The stars shine even brighter here.” He smiled, looking over at you. Turning your head upwards with furrowed eyebrows before opening your mouth with a gasp. “I can see them so clearly-” you smiled, Choso looked over at you and felt like he saw the future. No matter how cold it was; the warmth of seeing you smile was more than enough to keep him standing. Looking back to him with disbelief in your eyes, “How did you find out-” you murmured, not being able to fathom how he could have ever noticed. “On nights where I can't sleep- I come out here and try to count as many stars as I can.” He hummed, seeing you grin. “Isn't it too cold?” you asked, seeing the tip of his nose slightly pink. “Can't be colder than my apartment.” he joked, making you laugh. One of his favorite things about you was how you'd laugh at his words. No matter if they were serious or not, it gave him hope that you wouldn't notice he didn't have much to give to you. Hoping you wouldn't look too closely and see the holes in his shirts, or how the bottom of his boots were slightly starting to tear apart. Knowing he didn't have much to impress you with, but held the thought that maybe- just maybe his words would be enough for you. 

You looked into his eyes, “I wish I could spend 5 minutes in your mind.” you mumbled, the words coming from you were true. The moon lights up your face, making a certain sparkle in your eye shine. You wanted to take a peek and see if he felt even a hint of what you felt blossoming inside your heart. Hoping that he'd let you in through a cracked door just to know if your efforts were in vain. ‘If only you knew you've been in my mind since the day I first saw you.’

-

Pt 9 here

I hate slow burns but this is a slowly becoming one. I enjoy making myself mad whilst writing. only fuels my hate for slow burns. whole time im like 'dude?!! kiss them???' knowing damn well I can write it but I refuse. as always thank u sm for reading, its getting there!! bear with me and my delusions of writing abt Choso being a gentleman!!!

edit: Choso is oldest of 10 brothers, no dad, no mom, only in college to get a decent job in the future to support his brothers. do the math

[charcoalhawk]

Common knowledge

Summary: sometimes, Jazz forgets that things that were common knowledge in Amity park may not be all that common elsewhere.

Warnings: Phantom Planet is canon

“This class will be focused on argumentative and persuasive essays. The first two weeks will be developing your argument to-“

Jazz doesn’t mean to zone out, but after a rather frantic festive season she’s sorely behind on sleep. Besides she had read the syllabus front to back multiple times since it had been released the other day.

Jazz doesn’t know quite how to feel about this ‘persuasive writing class’ yet, but it’s required for her degree, so at the very least she can suck it up and keep chugging.

At least her other classes look fun so far, and both Deja and Louis are in Psych 102 with her, so they can compare notes.

So far, one whole semester completed and Jazz is pretty confident she has college down. Yes it was hard being so far from Danny and her parents, and the family otherworldliness of Amity, but Jazz needed this change.

A glance at the clock on the lecture room wall jolts Jazz back into paying attention to what the professor is saying. How had she zoned out for almost fifteen minutes? She definitely needed to get some better sleep tonight. Which unfortunately meant she couldn’t finish reading the Psychology textbook they had all been given yesterday.

“- and now, for the remainder of class we are going to discuss some possible essay topics. Now normally I would ask that we limit it to one topic per student, both to avoid copping and to allow for a wide range of topics. However, given the, ah, unexpected event that happened earlier this year, I am going to allow for multiple people to write about the same overarching topic. I would however ask that we think of some unique sub-categories so we can explore most of this topic.”

Jazz sits there stumped for a second. What could have possibly happened in the last year that multiple people would want to talk about it to this extent? Maybe a new game came out? She’ll have to ask Danny, he’d always kept up to date on that kind of stuff.

Or maybe it’s a new study somewhere? She knows she read something fascinating about brain waves in response to-

“Ghosts aren’t real!” Someone shouts from the far side of the classroom, bringing an abrupt halt to the quiet murmuring that had previously engulfed the classroom.“this all has to be some kind of super secret spy-ops thing that got leaked-“

“-Ghosts are totally real!” Another classmate retorts, “When I was six I saw my grandma’s ghost on the day of her funeral-”

“No way! That would me hundreds of years of research are now-“

“All right! All right.” The room quiets at the Professor’s slightly raised voice. “I know you all know how to behave in a classroom, so let’s all settle down and treat this as a discussion and not a shouting match. Now, Deja, would you like to go first?”

“Yes, thank you Professor. Now as I was saying, it’s chemically impossible for ghosts to exist-“

Oh.

Oh.

Jazz had forgotten that most people hadn’t known ghosts were real.

Danny was going to laugh so hard when she told him about this. If she told him about this.

Maybe this time it could stay because just her and Bearbert.

[babysukiii]

fallingforyou (2)

// lottie matthew’s does not like you. you’re annoying, preppy, and way too nice. lottie doesn’t fail to show you time after time just how much she hates you. you finally get the message and steer clear of her, until senior year, when you both get paired up for a science project. //

warnings: asshole!lottie, sweet!reader, enemies to lovers, allusions to lottie’s shitty home life, lottie doesn’t know how to deal with her emotions. i picked random names for y/n’s siblings lol.

(this is part 2 of the series, read part 1 here.)

i read between the lines (i’ll take it one day at a time)

when you tell lottie ‘whenever’, you didn’t actually think she’d show up unannounced on wednesday evening. she’s wearing her soccer practice clothes, and her hair is tied in the usual pigtails it always is in whenever she practices. “y-you’re here.” you stutter a bit stupidly; you’re wearing an oversized sweatshirt and biker shorts that are so short lottie assumes you aren’t wearing any pants. your glasses are off, and your hair is let down in unruly curls. she’s never seen you so… unguarded. she isn’t used to it. usually you’re wearing some girly outfit and those glasses that are almost as dorky as misty quigley’s.

“you told me to come whenever. it’s whenever.” lottie blurts out, as she attempts to walk past you but she stops herself. “sorry.” she mutters as she leans down to untie her cleats. you shake your head quickly, stopping her, “oh it’s okay! you don’t have to do that, my mom doesn’t care about shoes.” you assure her and lottie slowly stands up straight, stopping herself from taking her cleats off. her parents would reprimand her time and time again for wearing shoes in the house. she always thought the rule was stupid, considering her parents didn’t even clean their house. the maids did it for them.

right away lottie notices your house is very loud. there are two younger boys watching tv in the living room, screaming as they talked to each other. “those are my brothers. ignore them. i do.” you dismissively explain as you begin to lead lottie towards the hallway. you stop halfway, turning to gaze at her, “did you want anything to drink? i have soda, water, apple juice…” you trail off, and lottie’s cheeks tint. she’s thirsty; she just finished practicing after all. she nods, “apple juice.” she answers. you nod as you rush to the kitchen, leaving her standing alone.

“y/n!!” a loud, angry, feminine voice from the end of the hall causes lottie to look over in the direction it’s coming from. she sees an older girl standing by an open bedroom, waiting for you to respond. “y/n!!” she shouts again, “she’s in the kitchen.” lottie answers bluntly, in order to avoid from hearing the college student shriek again. “i was getting juice! do you have to yell so loudly?” you ask cattily, in a tone lottie has never heard from you. lottie immediately remembers what you said the other day, about your older sister being a bitch.

your older sister marches up to you, fury in her eyes and for a second lottie is afraid the older girl might punch you in the face. “i need you to tell me if this outfit makes me look fat.” she says sternly and lottie watches the interaction in shock, as you shake your head. “no, i think it’s cute— hey is that my top!?” you shriek, and the older girl lets out a tinkling laugh as she rushes away and retreats back into one of the bedrooms. “elise!! i haven’t even worn that yet!“ you whine, but the only response you get is more obnoxious laughter.

you sigh, handing lottie a glass of cold apple juice. “i told you she’s a bitch.” you point out as you begin to lead lottie down the hallway. the room all the way at the end is yours, and as soon as lottie walks in she sees all the books on your shelves above your bed. she then notices how pink your bedsheets are, and how much color there is around the room. it’s not too much color, but it’s clear you’re unintentionally a very colorful person. there are polaroid pictures of you and your siblings around the room; some on your desk, some pinned on the wall. you even have a few of you and nat.

lottie sees the baby pictures and the ones of you and your older sister as babies in a bath tub together. another little girl who looks just like you seems to appear in the pictures after elise is already three, and you’re one. then after that, the little girl is by your side in every picture; practically glued to your side. you always look so happy in each snapped moment, even in the ones you aren’t smiling in, your eyes show you’re happy and safe. another thing lottie realizes she envies about you. your house is twice as small as hers, with twice as many people… it’s loud and the living room is messy…

… yet lottie likes your house more than hers, and she’s only been here for ten minutes. maybe that’s why natalie’s always over here; always talking about hanging out at your place after parties. you never went to any parties… lottie’s only seen you at one and after that you didn’t come to any more. you’ve never shown up at any of hers that’s for sure. “that’s my little sister.” you interrupt her thoughts, as you notice her eyeing the pictures. “you two look… close.” she observes, and you giggle as you take a seat on your bed, reaching for your backpack on the floor. “yeah, don’t tell elise but sabrina was technically my first friend ever. i tell her everything.” you admit and lottie nods.

“i’ve seen her around school. i didn’t even know she was your sister.” she confesses, causing you to shrug. “she’s working on being the most ‘popular’ girl in school. she’s been a little busy.” you half joke and lottie nods, “she’s on the jv cheer team, right?” she asks curiously as you flip open your chemistry notebook. “yup. she’s been following becky martin around like a puppy since the year started.” you answer curtly and lottie snorts at the obvious change in your tone. “what? jealous your little sister is becoming more popular than you?” she questions with a taunting sneer, and you frown.

“no, i don’t care about that. sabrina is pretty, of course she’s gonna be more popular. i just don’t think she needs to be like becky martin to do it.” you explain, and lottie is a bit surprised by the truthfulness of your response, and before she can reply, you’re beating her to it. “so i was thinking you could do all the physical presenting, and i can just recite everything and write it all. of course you’re gonna help by giving me your ideas and what you think…” you trail off, before looking at her. “is that okay with you?” you inquire, and she nods. “yeah, that’s fine. whatever.” she sounds like she doesn’t care and this makes you shake your head, holding yourself back from saying something snarky.

lottie isn’t the only one who gets snappy when she’s annoyed, you’re just better at biting your tongue than she is.

over the next few days, lottie shows up at your house after practice ends, and she stays until after the sun sets. she doesn’t mean to stay for that long. the first day she came over, she genuinely just lost track of time. for some reason being around you isn’t as torturous as she thought it would be. in fact, being around you, especially in a cozy home that seems full of lightheartedness and noise… is shockingly nice. particularly because she knows what’s waiting for her at home. absolutely nothing.

right away the other yellowjackets notice a change in lottie’s behavior. she isn’t snappy or angry anymore; sure she still talks shit whenever someone tries her, but that’s how lottie’s always been. natalie is the first who notices lottie isn’t scowling or grumpy anymore. mari is especially thankful for it during soccer practice. “so, y/n told me you’ve actually been a decent human being to her.” natalie starts, as she walks out of the locker room with lottie. it’s monday, and practice had just ended a little later than expected.

“if that’s what she wants to call it, then yeah, sure.” lottie mutters, as she makes her way to the parking lot. “hey, before you go, y/n told me to tell you not to show up to her house today. something came up.” natalie causes lottie to stop in her tracks, not even caring that her driver was waiting for her in the car. “what do you mean? she didn’t tell me anything.” lottie says and natalie chuckles, “said she couldn’t find you after lunch.” the blonde’s response is simple yet it doesn’t seem to satisfy lottie. “what came up? she literally said she was free every day after school.” lottie sounds annoyed now.

natalie looks a bit puzzled for a second, before a wave of realization hits her. “wait… are you actually upset you can’t go to y/n’s today? i figured you’d be thrilled.” natalie says in this unrecognizable way that makes lottie glare. “i’m not upset about anything! excuse me if i just want to get this project over with.” lottie hisses defensively, and natalie only smirks in response. “uh, okay matthews; whatever you say. just don’t show up at her house today, okay?” she asks warningly, making lottie roll her eyes. “i heard you the first time.” the raven haired girl snaps.

and just like that, lottie’s bad mood returns. who would’ve guessed that charlotte isobel matthews would actually enjoy being in your cramped house, and inside of your girly bedroom.

lottie knows you didn’t cancel yesterday on purpose. she knows you’ve been smiling more at her in the hallways, and she knows she’s definitely been nicer to you over the last few days than she ever has in her high school career. maybe it’s because instead of being stuck in her big empty house after school, she’s spending her days cramped up in your room, or noisy living room… the smell of whatever your mother had made for lunch still lingering in the air. lottie enjoyed it. perhaps that’s why the next day at school she takes her bad mood out on you. she bumps shoulders with you when you try to talk to her in the hall, walking past you as if she didn’t even hear you.

she didn’t even look back to see the frown on your face. you couldn’t help but feel confused and a bit sad; you figured you both were over this silly, pointless feud. this stupid, meaningless battle. but it was like lottie had other ideas. right when you thought you two were on the same page, she proved to you that you weren’t even reading the same book. you try not to think about lottie the entire day, but it’s hard. you notice her at lunch; she doesn’t even look at you. that isn’t abnormal, but she has this everlasting scowl on her face. when fifth period finally rolls around, you can’t help but feel a bundle of nerves budding inside the pit of your stomach. seeing lottie matthews always has this affect on you.

lottie’s already in class when you walk in, and this time, her head tilts to the side, and her dark eyes lock with yours. your breath gets lodged in your windpipe, and your step falters on your way to your seat. you try your absolute hardest not to look at lottie, or her insufferably pretty face. you take your note book and chemistry book out, along with a pencil, before averting your gaze forward. (even though the class hasn’t even started yet.)

the bell rings, and the rest of the students shuffle in, taking a seat before your teacher starts blabbering on and on. it’s usually easy to keep yourself busy during class; easy to focus… but for some reason, sharing a class with lottie matthews seems to be a curse. you can never seem to concentrate fully. when someone taps on your back, you turn around and jenny myers hands you a folded note. you furrow your eyebrows, as she gestures to lottie who’s not even bothering to look at you. you take the note and face forward again.

“you skipping out on me again today?”

you turn your head to glare at the raven haired jock after reading the note. she only smirks at your clearly agitated expression, feeling a wave of satisfaction at being the one to frustrate you. you quickly look down at the note, and scribble something back.

“i was at my grandmas house yesterday. sorry, jerk.”

you pass the note back to lottie, and you avert your attention onto ms. weinstein again who is now talking about another subject. you mentally curse lottie matthews for being so fucking distracting.