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grapesodatozier · 4 years

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Dreamboat

summary: Richie’s his pining mess self, and it only gets worse when he has sex dreams about Eddie every night for a week. Eddie asks him why he’s been avoiding him all week, love confessions and smut ensues~

tags/warnings: pining-typical angst and guilt in the beginning, but it’s all resolved by the end! also, this is top!eddie/bottom!richie bc i haven’t written that dynamic in forever, gotta balance the scales lol

this didn’t need to be 7k words, but it is lmao enjoy

(also, if you wanna be taken off or added to my taglist, lmk! i have one for reddie fics and one for all of my fics, so please specify which one you’d like to be added to. thanks!)

read on ao3 or below!

notsfw below the cut!

Richie could not believe this was happening a-fucking-gain. This was the fourth time this week that he’d woken up hard after a dream about Eddie. He ran his hands over his face and groaned, his skin burning from his face down his chest. Guilt sank low in his stomach as he shut off his alarm and stared up at the ceiling of his dorm room.

Guilt, and a sizable helping of heartbreak.

It had felt so real. He could still feel dream-Eddie’s fingertips ghosting over his skin. He could feel his tongue teasing over Richie’s own, so soft and warm and the perfect balance of rough and smooth. He could feel Eddie grinding against him. He could picture so vividly Eddie dropping to his knees, a sweet smirk on his face as he—

No. Fuck, fuck, no. Richie breathed in sharply through his nose and scrunched his eyes shut, willing his aching boner to go down. The emotional come down helped, realizing he would never get to touch Eddie like that, would never get to know what he felt like, how he liked to be touched. He tried to ignore it, he really did, he’d been trying to get over it for years. But how was he supposed to get over someone like Eddie? Richie had never felt his heart flip like it did around Eddie. He’d realized one day in the seventh grade that Eddie’s laugh made him feel different than anyone else’s, warmer. He wanted to know that Eddie was okay all the time, and he selfishly wanted to be the one to make him happy. His heart sang every time Eddie chose to sit next to him. The first time Eddie rested his head on his shoulder Richie thought he was gonna vomit. But, like, in a good way.

So yeah, being in love with Eddie was par for the course. It was a part of Richie as much as his freckles and knobby elbows. But these dreams… He’d had a few before, scattered here and there across the years, but he’d managed to black them out. One or two flukes was okay, right? He’d had a sex dream or two about Bill before. Hell, he’d had sex dreams about a cashier he saw once at a Burger King. It was fine. The mind was a weird thing.

But four in a week? That was different. It made him feel like a fucking creep; he made his own skin crawl. And they were so vivid. How could he look at Eddie now? How could he let Eddie touch him, not knowing what Richie had dreamt of those hands doing?

He bit his lip as he thought about it, the most confusing mix of arousal and shame blooming in his chest. He only came back to his senses when he tasted copper on his tongue. He did his best to shove the thoughts aside as he swung his legs over the side of his bed, halfheartedly tossing his comforter back toward the top of his bed before deciding to smooth it down more neatly. He took another deep breath and ran his hand through his hair, trying to collect himself enough to pick out an outfit for the day. He just needed to locate a shirt, boxers, and pants. And socks. God, why did that feel difficult?

Showering didn’t help clear his mind. Cocoa puffs didn’t help. Not even his acting class could help; his teacher just had them lying on yoga mats that smelled like disinfectant and stale rubber doing breathing exercises for the first half of class, which did absolutely nothing to calm him down or take his mind off of the fact that it was Friday, which meant movie night in Bill and Mike’s room. Nights when Richie and Eddie “fought” over who got to sit on the giant Yogibo before settling into it together, nice and dizzyingly close.

He managed to avoid sitting next to Eddie at lunch just by luck of the draw. But Eddie was still there laughing harder than anyone else at Richie’s jokes and trying to toss things into Richie’s cup without him noticing, and it still made Richie glow, he still pretended to not notice who was throwing things at him, playing along with Eddie’s innocent shrugs and smiles until he “finally” caught him, which in turn made Eddie burst into giggles that were so precious they made Richie want to cry. And then after lunch Eddie came up to Richie and touched him on the arm, making him jump like he’d touched a hot stove.

“Jesus, you good?” Eddie asked with a confused smile.

“Yeah, must be the static electricity,” Richie said, fumbling over his words, “or the fluorescents.”

Eddie gave him a look, but he was still smiling. “Okay, that was bad, even for you.” Richie gave a small laugh. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. “Do you wanna go to the Auburn to study? This stupid fucking poetry class is melting my brain, so I think you owe me a scone as compensation for making me sign up for it.”

Richie’s heart ached. There was nothing he wanted more than to fuck around with Eddie at one of the too-small tables at their favorite little coffee shop downtown. But then he was looking at Eddie’s lips and the guilt was rising in him again like bile. Or maybe it was actual bile. Richie clicked his tongue. “Sorry, you know I’d love to treat my little muffin to a scone, but I’ve got a paper to write and you know they turn the wifi off Friday to Sunday.”

The disappointment on Eddie’s face made Richie’s chest ache. “Okay, well, I’ll see you tonight then.”

“Wear those panties I like,” he winked, his mouth getting ahead of him as usual. God, Richie wanted to kick himself. And maybe puke. But Eddie left him with a smile and a playful shove, so Richie figured he wasn’t in too much trouble.

Richie, Stan, and Patty had been tasked with getting the pizza that night, so the three of them showed up to Bill and Mike’s after everyone else. Richie’s heart did flips when he saw Eddie lying sprawled across the giant bean bag, just like he always did when he beat Richie to it. He blushed when Eddie met his eyes and beamed, leaping up and bounding over to him. He nearly choked on his tongue when Eddie draped himself over his arm, having to get up on his tiptoes to rest his chin on Richie’s shoulder. Richie instinctively crouched down a bit to accommodate him.

“Did you get barbecue chicken?” Eddie asked, batting his eyes.

“I’m offended you would even have to ask,” Richie grinned as he opened the box. The others were scrambling around the boxes, trying to get slices of their choice, but Richie’s long arms gave him an advantage.

“Will you get me a slice?” Eddie asked.

“And let you get to the Yogibo first? I may be pretty but I’m not stupid.” Richie grinned as he lifted his plate far above Eddie’s head and spun around, finally able to breathe once he no longer had to worry about the electric feeling of Eddie leaning against him.

“You’re gonna regret that, Tozier,” Eddie huffed, but he could never hide his smile.

“Ooh, last names,” Richie grinned as he plopped himself down on the beanbag, fully spread eagle. “I’m scared now.”

Eddie stuck his tongue out at him before ducking under Bill’s arm to get at the pizza he was going for. Richie really tried not to linger on how cute that was.

However, it was becoming quickly apparent that Richie was not going to be able to avoid those thoughts, as well as his less savory ones. As soon as Eddie got his pizza, he was standing over Richie with one hand on his hip. Richie made sure to look at his face and not his thighs, which his movie night sleep shorts left on full display. Richie didn’t dare let himself look down, because right then he was wondering if he’d be able to see up Eddie’s shorts from this angle. God, he bet he could. “I was sitting there,” Eddie groused.

Normally Richie would’ve replied with something crude, would’ve grabbed his crotch with an obnoxious wink and said, “I’ve got a seat all warmed up for you right here, baby.” But now his stomach twisted at that, and when Richie managed to stop himself from saying something he struggled to come up with something else. So all he could manage was a halfheartedly sarcastic, “Here?”

He pointed to what he thought was the beanbag, but Eddie apparently had something else in mind. “Yeah,” he smiled before dropping himself into Richie’s lap with a grace and bounce that left Richie breathless. “Right here.”

Eddie looked so smug, and he was on Richie’s lap, and Richie could feel the situation getting real bad for him real fast. So, setting the slices of pizza aside so as to not earn himself any disappointed looks or lectures from Bill and Mike about respecting and maintaining the cleanliness of their space, he grabbed Eddie by the waist, doing his best to ignore his own rushing blood and the amused look on Eddie’s face. “Alright, short stack, you ever try asking a guy to move over?” With Eddie lifted, Richie scooted over to one side of the bean bag, then plopped Eddie on the other. Richie couldn’t decipher the look Eddie was giving him, but it somehow was making him even hotter under the collar than Eddie sitting in his lap had.

Richie thought he was safe when Eddie huffed and grabbed his pizza, but he barely had three seconds to breathe before Eddie was wriggling his way across the bean bag to press himself against Richie. “You’re taking up the whole thing,” he grumbled as he tucked himself against Richie. Richie could not have been closer to the edge of the bean bag, but he didn’t have the breath in his lungs to say that. Every time he breathed he could smell Eddie’s shampoo, clean and fresh and somewhat minty. Richie shovelled his pizza into his mouth so he wouldn’t have to respond. And to give himself something to do with his arms other than wrapping them around Eddie and pulling him closer.

Richie could not for the life of him focus on the movie. He felt like he was dropping on a rollercoaster, but it had been twenty minutes and the feeling hadn’t stopped. Eddie kept shifting, but never away from him, and Richie was going to lose his mind. Then, Eddie leaned up to whisper something to Richie, and he couldn’t even process what he was saying, just that the feeling of Eddie’s breath warm and soft on his neck was going to make him pop a boner. Eddie’s face was so close to his, and his hand was on Richie’s chest, and Richie couldn’t stop seeing his dreams playing on repeat.

Eddie’s tongue in his mouth.

Eddie’s hands running down from his chest, to his stomach, lower…

Eddie on his knees, Eddie in Richie’s lap, Eddie on top of him, inside—

“Well!” Richie exclaimed, rolling off the Yogibo with the grace of a newborn calf, popping up to the fond annoyance of his friends, “I do say, nature calls, so pip pip and tally-ho, off I must go to the loo.”

“Seriously?” Eddie groaned.

“Hey, you’re the one who’s always telling me to stay hydrated!” Richie retorted. “You’ve only got yourself to blame for this waterfall.” Really? he thought to himself. Yeah, that’s gonna get him to like you. Nice one, dumbass.

“You know you really don’t have to announce that,” Bev snickered, throwing Mike and Ikes at him until he reached the door.

“Alright, alright, tough crowd. Try not to miss me too much.”

He could hear Stan yelling something about not getting lost on his way back as he closed the door, finding himself alone in the hallway of Bill and Mike’s dorm.

God, fuck, he was so fucked. He had to take himself on a walk up and down the hallway just to calm himself down. Eddie made him so hot, like he was burning up. And he’d thought his feelings were messy before he started having the dreams. Eddie whispering to him like that, touching him like that… He knew when he got back in the room that he couldn’t do it. He felt a guilt heavy in his stomach when he plopped down next to Bill, squeezing himself in obnoxiously, but he knew he couldn’t be next to Eddie just then, not without crawling out of his skin.

He ignored the weird look Bill gave him, the weird looks everyone gave him. He ignored the way Eddie kept glancing over at him, looking so small sitting on the bean bag by himself. He ignored the aching in his chest when Eddie asked Ben and Bev to walk him home instead of Richie. He told himself this was better as he walked home alone, that yeah, he missed Eddie’s banter, he missed the sleepy way he would bump into Richie, but it was better this way, better to get some distance and let the dreams peter out. Maybe if he didn’t touch Eddie, maybe if he didn’t see him for a few days he’d get his lips out of his mind, maybe he could forget the way Eddie’s skin felt against his own, and then the dreams would stop. Things could go back to normal if he could just stay away for a bit.

But that night only brought another dream, one filled with moans and giggles and Eddie’s hands and tongue all over him, inside of him. Another dream that had his blood rushing to his cock.

He woke up hard and grinding against his mattress. His mind still lingering in the dream, the sensations still fresh in his mind, warming his skin, Richie rolled over onto his back and desperately shoved his hands down his boxers. He stroked himself tight and fast and came into his fist in under a minute, his toes curling and his breath coming out in gasping moans. It took a minute for his mind to clear. Once it did, his blissful haze shattered pretty abruptly. “Fuck,” he muttered, reaching for the roll of toilet paper on his desk to wipe his hand off with. He tossed the wad at his trash can with way more force than necessary before angrily throwing his sheets and comforter off of himself. He needed a fucking shower. A cold one.

He didn’t get why the fuck this kept happening. Like, fuck, the dreams were amazing, sure. But Eddie was never gonna touch him like that. He could dream and fantasize all he wanted, but that was all he was ever gonna get.

He dodged Saturday brunch, grabbing a cinnamon roll from the dining hall and eating it in his room alone. He ignored Bill’s text asking if he wanted to talk about the night before. He holed up in his room and threw himself into the essay he had to write, hoping that that would be enough to make him forget. But finding quotes didn’t exactly scratch the same itch, and his mind kept drifting to Eddie, always Eddie, whispering in his ear, touching his chest on the bean bag the night before. There was no song he could blast loud enough to get it out of his mind.

It was around three when Richie heard an insistent knocking at his door. He paused the music and groaned, figuring Bill had come by to talk to him. But when he opened the door, Eddie was standing there with his arms crossed. Richie’s heart stopped. “Hey,” he said, “wasn’t expecting you. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

But Eddie was already pushing past him into his room. Richie closed the door; the pout on Eddie’s face made him figure this was about to be a door closed kind of conversation. Which made him want to vomit, but here they were. Eddie took a breath, paused, then finally blurted out, “Did I do something wrong?”

Richie’s head was spinning. “What?”

“You’ve been weird all week.” Shitshitshitshit. “You didn’t wanna study together, you sat next to Bill last night, you haven’t called me Eds in days—” Eddie cut himself, his voice breaking and eyes falling to the floor. Richie’s heart was beating so hard he was pretty sure he’d be able to see bruises on his chest in a few hours. “So, what, are you mad at me? ‘Cause whatever I did, I’m sorry, but I don’t know what I did, I don’t know why you’re avoiding me like this.”

“Eddie,” Richie started, stepping toward him. He reached his hand out, but let it drop. He was so torn. Eddie looked so small, so sad and confused, all Richie wanted to do was scoop him up into his arms and make everything better. But how could he touch him? How could he make this better? How could he explain what was wrong without scaring Eddie off? “Fuck, Eddie, I don’t know what to tell you.”

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, because Eddie’s eyes started filling with tears. “So, what? You just don’t like me anymore?”

“What? No, fuck no, Eddie, jesus, I love you!” Richie blurted. Every nerve in his body was screaming at him to run out the door, to get the fuck out of there, to not say anything more. But fuck it, he couldn’t see Eddie cry and do nothing. Grossing him out was better than hurting him, right? Eddie didn’t say anything, but he wiped a tear away and stood up a little taller, his eyes wide, urging Richie to go on. Richie took a tentative step closer before deciding against it and leaning against his bed. “Fuck, this is so awkward. Um. So, okay, so I’ve been acting weird.”

“Yeah?” Eddie prompted, turning toward him. He started to move closer, then apparently thought better of it.

“And I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.” Richie ran his hands over his face, pushing his glasses up then readjusting them. “Fuck,” he said with a humorless laugh. “So um. So you’ve kinda been livin’ rent free in my dreams this week.”

Eddie gave him a confused look.

God he was gonna have to spell it out, wasn’t he? “Like…” Richie mimed jerking himself off. Eddie raised his eyebrows. “Like, every fucking night this week.”

“Oh.” Eddie’s cheeks were pink.

“Yeah. So, you know. Kinda makes it hard to be around you knowing I’m such a fucking creep.” Richie gave a sheepish smile.

Eddie gave him a long suffering look.

“Sorry, that was supposed to come out a lot funnier than it sounded—”

“Richie,” Eddie sighed, walking over to him. Richie straightened up, his heart in his throat as Eddie stood right in front of him. “You’re not a creep for having some wet dreams.” He gave him a smile and smacked him playfully on the chest. “I can’t believe that’s the whole reason you’ve been a dick this week.”

“Yeah, but it’s different,” Richie said before he could stop himself, thoughts flooding out on their own.

“Why? Because we’re friends? I mean, sure, maybe every night for a week is kind of a lot, but I can’t say I’m not flattered.” He smiled then, but it softened, and he took Richie’s hand in his, running his thumb comfortingly over Richie’s skin. “I’m definitely not creeped out.”

You have to tell him, Richie’s mind screamed at him. You have to fucking tell him. If you don’t tell him now you never will. “Not just because we’re friends,” he whispered, his voice shaking. He tried to slip his hand out of Eddie’s, but Eddie just held him tighter as he looked into Richie’s eyes, waiting for more of an explanation. “I’m kinda, like… in love with you.” He waved his free hand in a ta-da motion, hoping to god that he could joke his way into making this less painful for both of them. Eddie’s eyes widened, but he didn’t let go, he didn’t move or say anything, and fuck, what was Richie supposed to with that? Fill the fucking silence was his go-to, so he started rambling, but nothing that came out was funny. “So, it’s like, the dreams are shit I’ve thought of, y’know? And I feel really fucking gross, because like, I’d do it. And I didn’t want you to find that out and think that I was taking advantage of you or whatever by letting you cuddle me and shit, because, fuck, when you were whispering to me last night, and pressing against me, I want that, y’know? You were gonna give me a fucking heart attack, and that’s weird, that’s gross, and I didn’t want you to be mad, or to leave me—” He broke on that and had to bite his lip to keep himself from crying.

“Richie,” Eddie sighed, pulling him down into his arms. Richie collected himself as Eddie held him, slowly bringing his arms around Eddie, trying to process what was happening.

“You’re not mad?” he asked as he pulled away. Eddie cupped his face, and Richie couldn’t help but lean into his hand.

“Why would I be mad? All you’ve done is love me back.”

Richie’s eyebrows lifted hopefully. “Back?”

“Yes, back,” Eddie grinned. “I love you, too. I’m in love with you, too.”

“Fuck, for real?”

Eddie giggled and leaned up on his toes, bringing his lips to Richie’s. Richie placed his hands lightly on Eddie’s waist, kissing him back softly, making sure this was all happening, that touching him like this was okay. Once he was sure he wasn’t being pranked, he wrapped his arms around Eddie and pulled him closer, kissing him deeply, hungrily. God, he’d needed this for so many years, but he never could’ve prepared himself for how amazing it would feel. Eddie’s lips were so soft, so intentional with every move, and Richie could feel him smiling as he pulled him closer into him. Eddie’s arms were wrapped around his neck, their chests were pressed together, still Richie needed more, needed him closer. He needed to satiate the years and years of pining.

“God, Eddie, Eds, my love, I love you so much.” He felt breathless and giddy to finally say it.

“I love you, too, Rich,” Eddie beamed, kissing the corner of Richie’s mouth, then his cheek, then his jaw. Richie moaned as Eddie pressed a kiss to the pulse point where Richie’s jaw met his neck and ran his hand over Richie’s chest, just like he had the night before. “So these dreams… what happened in them?” Richie shuddered at how low Eddie’s voice had gotten. “What was I doing in them?”

“Shit, what weren’t you doing?” Richie laughed breathlessly. “Sucking me off on your knees, stroking me and kissing my neck, fingering me, fucking me…”

“Yeah?” Eddie asked, his eyes sparkling. Richie gasped as Eddie’s hand travelled lower, teasing over Richie’s belt. “You want me to fuck you?”

“Fuck, yes.” Richie’s breath trembled over the words. He had to grab the bed behind him to steady himself when Eddie’s palm pressed against Richie’s cock, which was quickly growing hard under his touch. At the same time, Eddie nuzzled his face against Richie’s neck, kissing the sensitive skin there. RIchie couldn’t help but moan and roll his hips into Eddie’s hand. “Eds, fuck…” he groaned. Eddie kept kissing his neck, his lips wet and warm and soft, and he tightened his grip on Richie a bit, the outline of Richie’s hard cock clear through his jeans by this point.

“Is this what you want, baby?” Eddie murmured against his skin. Before Richie could gather himself to respond, Eddie was swiftly dropping to his knees. His brown eyes were wide and full of faux innocence, glittering with mischief as he looked up at Richie. “Is this what you dreamt about?”

“Yes, fuck, oh my god,” Richie whined, his voice thin and already so desperate as Eddie rubbed his face against the tent in Richie’s jeans. “Please, please, will you suck me, baby?”

“Wow, you’re so polite when you’re turned on,” Eddie mused. Then, with a wink, “I’ll keep that in mind.” God, Richie was excited to find out what Eddie meant by that, but for now he was fully occupied with watching Eddie undo his belt, then the button on his jeans, then his zipper. Richie got with the program as Eddie tugged his jeans down and stripped his shirt off, tossing it aside as he stepped out of his jeans, leaving him in his boxer briefs. He giggled at the exasperated look on Eddie’s face. “Where the fuck did you find Hello Kitty boxers?”

“What, like it’s hard?” Richie said. “You can find anything on the internet, my love.”

Eddie shook his head, but he was smiling. “I really love you,” he sighed, leaning in and pressing kisses to Richie’s stomach. He took his time trailing his lips down. “God, you’re so hot,” Eddie murmured against his skin, nuzzling into the patch of dark hair just above his waistband. “Every time your fucking shirt rides up I get half hard, can’t believe I’m finally getting my mouth on you.” Richie cursed as Eddie ran his lips over the outline of Richie’s cock.

“Fuck, Eds, please.” Richie had one hand still supporting himself on his bed, but the other was now in Eddie’s hair. “I need you so fucking bad.” Richie felt his breath being knocked out of his chest when Eddie looked up and met his gaze as he sucked on the head of his cock through the fabric. But this time it was a fun breathlessness, the best kind of breathlessness. Feeling himself leaking, his cock throbbing, Richie let out another, “Eddie baby, please,” genuinely whining.

Eddie gave him a satisfied grin as he finally pulled Richie’s boxers down and let his cock bob up against his stomach. “Fuck, you have such a nice cock,” Eddie marvelled. Richie gasped as Eddie wrapped his fingers around him, stroking him. “Did you touch yourself after your dreams? Did you make yourself come while thinking about me?” Richie couldn’t believe Eddie, his Eddie Kaspbrak was talking to him like this. It made his head spin.

“Yes, oh fuck,” Richie groaned as Eddie lapped at the head of his cock, his tongue all pink and warm and wet. He pressed it flat against the base of Richie’s shaft and licked him all the way to the tip, never breaking eye contact as he did. “God, it feels so much better when you do it.”

“I know, baby,” Eddie purred. Richie let out a strangled moan as Eddie tongued at the sensitive bundle of nerves under the head of Richie’s cock. “Gonna make you feel so good.”

Richie had barely gotten out another, “Please,” when Eddie wrapped his lips around him and bobbed his head forward. Taking him in his mouth. Sucking on the head, making his knees shake. “Eds, fuck, oh my god,” Richie moaned. His eyes fluttered shut as Eddie took him further down his throat, but he didn’t wanna miss this. He’d already messed up Eddie’s hair, and his cheeks were pink and hollowed as he ran his tongue along Richie’s shaft, as he moved his lips over him. Eddie looked him in the eyes as he slid off with a popping sound, clearly happy with himself as he swirled his tongue around the head of Richie’s cock. To Eddie’s credit, the triumphant smirk was well-earned; Richie was already a whimpering mess, his knees trembling. “Eds, want you, please.”

“What do you want, baby?” Eddie asked. His voice was soft as he covered Richie’s cock in kisses that were so sweet in the filthiest way.

“Wanna touch you,” Richie breathed. “Please, I need to feel you.”

Eddie groaned and pressed one more heated, sloppy kiss to Richie’s hip before standing up and bringing their lips together. Richie leaned into it, happily pliant in Eddie’s hands. He was still chasing the feeling of Eddie’s lips against his own when Eddie pulled back to pull his shirt off over his head.

“Oh fuck,” Richie muttered, staring at Eddie’s chest. Richie’s entire body burned as he drank in Eddie’s skin, the toned muscles underneath. Was he really allowed to look at him like this? Was he really allowed to let his gaze linger as long as he wanted?

His hesitation must have shown on his face. Softly, Eddie said, “Touch me.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Richie joked, but his voice shook, and his movements were slow as he brought his hands to Eddie’s chest, sliding them down to his waist and pulling him in. He saw Eddie grin, then felt it against his lips. Richie melted into it. God, Eddie’s chest felt so nice pressed against his own. He was so warm, his heartbeat right against Richie’s. As much as Richie’s heart was racing, he felt so incredibly safe. And that safety and warmth flooded into heat as Eddie shifted Richie’s hands down, guiding them to his belt. “Fuck,” Richie shuddered, fumbling to undo Eddie’s belt. He couldn’t get his hands to stop shaking.

“I got it,” Eddie giggled, gently pushing Richie’s hands away. Richie watched in awe as Eddie rid himself of his jeans, leaving himself in tented Calvin Klein boxer briefs.

The fumbling and giggling actually helped Richie relax—enough to laugh as he pressed his lips to Eddie’s neck and palmed him through the black fabric. “You are such a brand whore.”

“Fuck you,” Eddie laughed breathlessly, bucking into Richie’s touch.

“Oh, you better, Mr. Gucci,” Richie winked. Eddie shook his head and brought his lips to Richie’s. He slid one hand down and took a hold of Richie’s wrist, guiding his movements.

“Don’t worry, baby, we’ll get there.” Richie groaned at the low tone in Eddie’s voice; he had no idea he could sound like that. He dipped his hand past Eddie’s waistband and wrapped his hand around Eddie’s cock, unable to wait any longer. He moaned as soon as he felt him, his cock hard and smooth and warm in his hand. Kissing his neck, he stroked Eddie slowly, running his fingers over him. “Fuck, that feels so good,” Eddie moaned. “Just like that, baby, yes, fuck.” While Eddie pushed his boxers down and stepped out of them, Richie spit into his palm, wrapping it around Eddie’s cock as soon as he was ready, getting it wet. They both groaned at the slick, smooth way Richie’s hand slid over Eddie. Richie’s chest bloomed with warmth as Eddie leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Richie’s shoulder, pressing kisses to Richie’s chest.

“You are so fucking hot,” Richie said, pressing kisses to Eddie’s hair. Then, feeling emboldened by the way Eddie moaned and rocked his hips into his fist, he continued, “Can’t fucking wait to feel you inside of me.”

“Fuck, I love you,” Eddie groaned. He pulled Richie into him, kissing him deeply, messily, desperately. Stroking him faster, Richie kissed back, matching his passion. “Oh my god, fuck, Richie, get on the bed.”

“Holy shit, yeah, okay,” Richie breathed, scrambling to do as Eddie said. At first he sat up, unsure where to put himself. But Eddie made it clear what he wanted as he climbed between Richie’s legs and pressed his hand against Richie’s chest, guiding him to lie back. With the way Eddie draped himself over Richie’s body and brought their lips together, running his hands over Richie’s thighs, he really truly could not believe this was his life. He moaned into Eddie’s mouth as their cocks rubbed together. “I love you,” he panted as Eddie kissed down his neck. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

Eddie looked up at him and gave him a smile, pressing a kiss to his lips, one much softer than his previous ones. “So have I.”. Running his hands appreciatively over Richie’s body, he asked, “You sure about this?”

“Fuck yes,” Richie said, nodding enthusiastically.

Eddie giggled and kissed him again. “Do you have lube and condoms?”

“Top drawer of my desk.” As Eddie leaned over to grab them, Richie said, “God, this is actually happening, wow, okay, fuck. I’m clean by the way, like STD-free and everything, and also in the shower earlier—”

“Hey.” Richie shut up as Eddie stroked his hair. “Relax, okay? I’m gonna take care of you. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do.” Richie nodded, but that wasn’t why he’d been rambling. Luckily, Eddie knew him, and he pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to Richie’s lips and told him, “You’re my best friend, you know that?” Richie let out a small breath as Eddie kissed the corner of his mouth, then his jaw, then his chest. “You are so gorgeous.”

Richie grinned. “So what you’re saying is you only like me because I’m hot?”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Yes.” He cut off any response by spreading Richie’s legs.

“Oh, fuck,” Richie moaned, happily going where Eddie guided him. The satisfied smirk on Eddie’s face made Richie glow.

He watched, enraptured, as Eddie poured the lube onto his fingers and spread it around. He watched Eddie’s eyes track his own movements as he brought his fingers down between Richie’s legs before looking up at him. “You ready?”

“Hell yeah,” Richie said, his grin wobbly from how breathless Eddie already had him. Eddie snickered at that before circling Richie’s entrance and slowly pressing his finger inside of him. Richie gasped, his head falling back to the pillow with a broken moan. He tensed at first, but soon relaxed as he felt Eddie work him open.

“You look so good,” Eddie murmured, almost as if to himself. It made Richie blush. He really wants this, he thought to himself, He really wants me. He settled comfortably into that reassurance as Eddie pressed kisses to Richie’s thighs and hips as he worked him open, thrusting his finger in and out gently. When Richie began rocking his hips with Eddie’s movements, seeking more, Eddie complied and thrust into him faster, soon adding a second finger. Richie moaned at the stretch and spread his legs wider. “Do you like that?” Eddie asked.

Richie could tell from his voice that he knew the answer. Still, he breathed a blissed out, “Yes,” and groaned as Eddie thrust even deeper inside of him. It felt so amazing, Eddie’s fingers filling him up, sliding in and out of him. Just as he was settling into the rhythm, his mind pleasantly warm and fuzzy, Eddie curled his fingers, sending waves of electric pleasure through Richie. “Oh my fuck—” Richie cried, arching off the bed. He twisted his fingers in the sheets as Eddie’s fingers continued to graze over his prostate, making him buzz, the pleasure so deep and so intense.

And Eddie had the nerve to fucking giggle. “What? Does that feel good?”

“God, yes, yes, oh my god, oh my fucking god, fuck,” Richie answered, his words a string of broken whimpers. As he continued massaging that sweet spot, Eddie leaned forward and licked a stripe up the underside of Richie’s cock, making him practically scream. “Eds! Fuck, fuck, not gonna—shit oh my god, I’m not gonna last if you keep doing that.”

Eddie looked up at him, feigning innocence. “You want me to stop?” Richie was so conflicted as Eddie licked the tip of his cock in short, light strokes, making his cock throb as he lapped up the precome dripping down the head. It was fucking heaven, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold out if Eddie kept going, and he needed to feel Eddie inside of him. So, reluctantly, he nodded. “Why? What do you want?”

“God, fuck me, please,” Richie whined, shamelessly impatient and petulant.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Eddie said. He pressed slow kisses to Richie’s hip as he slowly pulled his fingers out. Richie sat up on his elbows to watch as Eddie rolled the condom onto his cock.

“Now that’s hot,” Richie said as Eddie poured lube onto his cock and stroked it, spreading the lube around. Eddie grinned and leaned down to kiss him. Richie ran his fingers through Eddie’s hair, holding him close a moment, really feeling his lips, the way he kissed him. He melted when Eddie pulled back and nuzzled his nose against Richie’s. He straightened up a bit then and lined his cock up with Richie’s hole. Eddie gently took Richie’s chin in his hands, guiding his gaze up to meet his.

“Are you ready?”

Looking into Eddie’s eyes, warm and brown and more familiar than the back of his own hand, Richie had never been more ready for anything in his life. “Eddie, my love, I’ve been ready for this for years.” His voice was soft as he reached out and stroked Eddie’s arm. “I am so in love with you and so, so, very horny.”

“Richie,” Eddie sighed, an exasperated but amused grin on his face. “I love you, too.” Any other words Richie might’ve said died on his tongue as he felt the head of Eddie’s cock begin to stretch him open. He held Richie’s hips still with one hand and intertwined his fingers with Richie’s with the other. “Tell me if it’s too much, or if there’s anything you don’t like, okay?” Richie nodded, squeezing Eddie’s hand. He took a deep breath as Eddie moved his hips forward, going slow, letting Richie adjust. He needed a few moments to even out his breathing and get used to the sensation; as amazing as it felt, it was a lot. Soon, however, he was pressing his lips to Eddie’s knuckles and asking him to move. He gasped as Eddie pulled his hips back, but all of the tension flowed out of his body as Eddie pushed back in. It felt so natural, having Eddie inside of him, being connected like this. He could feel every nerve in his body sighing out a finally. “How does it feel?” Eddie asked. His voice was soft as he slowly, shallowly rocked his hips.

With a lovestruck grin on his face, Richie answered, “Perfect.”

A look crossed Eddie’s face then, one full of love and overflowing feelings. Richie only had a second to commit it to memory before Eddie leaned down and kissed him, kissed him like he wanted to press all of those feelings into Richie’s lips to make him understand them. Richie had a feeling he would never forget what Eddie looked like in that moment, how it felt when he kissed him like that.

He whimpered when he felt Eddie tease his tongue over his, somehow gentle and so, so dirty at the same time. Eddie groaned and leaned in further, deepening the kiss and pressing his cock even deeper into Richie. Richie moaned at how good that felt; it was so much, almost too much, but he needed more. He rolled his hips as Eddie kissed him, pressing small moans into Eddie’s mouth every time his cock brushed against Eddie’s toned stomach. Searching for something to hold onto, something to ground him, his hands ran up and down Eddie’s back, gripped at his shoulders. It felt so amazing to have him so close, to be able to linger and really appreciate the feeling of Eddie’s soft, warm skin under his hands. “I’ve wanted to hear you moan like that for me for so long,” Eddie murmured, kissing along Richie’s neck, making him shudder.

“Feels so good,” Richie breathed, his ability to string a complete sentence together already faltering.

“Yeah?” Eddie said, smirk evident in his voice. Richie moaned and threw his head back as Eddie picked up the pace of his thrusts. Hands sliding down to Richie’s hips, holding him up a bit as he fucked him harder, Eddie told him, “Fuck, you look so good like this. You feel so amazing.” Richie’s skin burned under the praise. He went to cover his face with his arm, not used to being complimented like that, but Eddie caught him by the arm and brought his lips to the inside of Richie’s wrist. He couldn’t believe how good such a simple touch felt. It had him bucking his hips into the air, his cock begging for attention as pleasure bloomed deep inside of him. It had him whimpering for more.

“Harder,” he begged. “Please, please fuck me.” With a hungry look, Eddie leaned over and pinned Richie’s wrist above his head and began fucking Richie hard and deep and fast, just like he’d asked for. Richie’s eyes went wide as he let out a broken, “Yes.” He threw his head back and screwed his eyes shut, really feeling every thrust. Eddie was fucking him so good, filling his room with the sound of skin on skin and Richie’s desperate moans of yesyesyesrightthereohfuckyesyesfuckyes. As he opened his eyes to find Eddie’s hooded and trained on his face, Richie couldn’t help but let out a dreamy, “I love you.”

Eddie groaned and pressed himself against Richie, chest to chest, his face buried in Richie’s neck. “I love you so much.” Richie wrapped his arms and legs around Eddie and held him tight. Eddie rolled his hips, burying his cock so deep inside Richie before pounding into him hard and fast again. With the way Eddie was fucking him, Richie’s cock sliding between them where they pressed against one another, Richie was getting close fast. It was all so much in the best way. He buried his face in Eddie’s shoulder, biting down. His muffled moans were punctuated by every thrust. He raked his nails down Eddie’s back as he felt his pleasure building, coiling within him. He was right on the edge, and he wanted to live in that intensity forever. Sinking further into his desperate haze, he rocked his hips, making his cock throb.

“Eds,” he panted, throwing his head back, “‘m close, fuck, oh my god, I’m so close.”

Eddie sat up then, and Richie let his legs fall back to the bed, spread open wide. He cried out when Eddie wrapped his hand around Richie’s cock. He arched into Eddie’s touch, his hands gripping the sheets tight. “Come for me, baby,” Eddie moaned. “Fuck, I’m so close too, wanna watch you come on my cock.”

“Oh, fuck!” Richie cried. “I’m coming, I’m coming, fuck, fuck, yes,” he moaned, his eyes screwed shut and words slurring into moans as he came, his pleasure crashing over him like a wave, engulfing him entirely. All he could feel, all he could think was Eddie. Eddie, inside of him, touching him, making him feel like this. It made it so much better than it had ever felt, knowing it was Eddie holding him, that it was his Eddie looking at him, fucking into him, telling him:

“Rich, baby, I’m coming.” Richie was still catching his breath and coming down when he felt Eddie still his hips, burying his face in his neck, biting down and sucking hard as he groaned and gasped. Richie held him and stroked his hair as he came, barely believing he was making Eddie make those noises, that he made Eddie shake like that. Once he felt Eddie relax against him, pressing light kisses to Richie’s skin, Richie held him tight and buried his face in his hair.

“Fuck,” he laughed, kissing Eddie wherever he could reach.

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed breathlessly. “That was… wow, that was amazing.” He rearranged himself so his head rested on Richie’s chest and smiled up at him.

“Tell me about it.” Richie kissed his nose, then delighted in the adorable way Eddie scrunched up his face.

Eddie’s eyes searched Richie’s for a moment before he said softly, “I really love you. A lot.”

Richie melted; for a second he thought he might actually cry. “Eds, you’re the fucking light of my life,” he said, barely able to finish his sentence before he was bringing his lips to Eddie’s. “I love you so much.” He knew in that moment that he would never get tired of feeling Eddie smiling against his lips.

Eddie pressed a kiss to Richie’s cheek before saying, “I’m gonna pull out, okay?” He giggled when Richie whined.

“Just a little longer?” he pouted. Eddie kissed it right away.

“As long as you want. I could stay like this forever.”

Richie snuggled into him, taking a moment to bask in the glow before saying, his voice smug and full of love, “I knew you’ve always liked it when I call you Eds.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Eddie giggled before attacking Richie with kisses.

taglist: @clouded-eyes-and-salty-tears @eddieeatsass @deadlighturis @constantreaderfool @reddieloserz @jessicaheartsderry @vegetarian-avocado @tinyarmedtrex @sml1104 @thelazyeye @itfandomprompts @montconde @fizzylemones @lexinatorwrites @scribbles-solo @nancythebisexualslutwheeler @cutedubutokki @peachcartoon123

#reddie #reddie fic #reddie smut #notsfw

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40sbarnes · 4 years

Text

Medici: Spymasters of Florence

Chapter 15: Show No Love

rule number 5 <3

we are nearing the end! 5 chapters left my loves, i hope you are all still enjoying!! i reached 100 followers on this blog today so tysm for all the support, it is singlehandedly fueling this story lol!

pairings: lorenzo x reader, friends fracensco x reader

taglist: @brynthebulldozer @mythicalamphitrite @nana035 @valravnsraven @hannahhistorian92 @not-thatweird @isaac-lahey-is-bae @angrygardendeer @unstoppable-xavi @johnbolton

The day was finally here, the day all your work had been leading to, the day of the vote.

Lorenzo was in with the Priori as the members cast their votes. You stood outside amongst all the others who had gathered to hear the result, in one of your freshly made gowns. The first parcel from Lorenzo had essentially been a new wardrobe. The note he had left explained how he'd gotten them from the same dressmaker you'd gotten the ball gown that he had asked them to make you the clothes from the measurements they'd taken that day. It was a sweet thought, especially for Lorenzo. And the new clothes were certainly appreciated.

At the thought of it, your hand moved to sit on top of his second gift, where it sat under your skirt. A dagger, from the blacksmiths you had admired. It was like none you'd ever seen, forged of some sort of black steel, it seemed to absorb the light around it. The handle had intricate gold detailing, and it felt almost as if it had been made for your very own fingers. You had quickly swapped out Francesco's dagger in favour of Lorenzo's, ignoring the twinge of guilt you felt at the faint symbolism.

You pushed all those straying thoughts out of your mind as you the doors finally began to open, and the crowd stepped back. You stood up one your tiptoes from where you stood across the square, trying to see over the ever growing crowd. You held your breath as you saw the familiar head of brunette emerge, his head hung. You didn't exhale until he lifted his head, along with an arm, his fist rising into the air in success. You didn't bother trying to hold back your grin, clasping your hands together as the crowd cheered. Lorenzo's smile was wide as he looked at all his supporters, until his eyes fell on you. He shared a moment’s glance with you, his eyes saying all the things he couldn't. His gratitude was clear, but there was something else in his gaze that wasn't quite so easy to read. You didn't have the time to decipher it as Guiliano grabbed his hand and raised it even higher into the air, jeering the crowd on.

You continued watching as he was led away, until he was fully out of your sight. Your focus flittered back to the doors once again as the Pazzi's emerged, clearly dissatisfied with the result. You stepped forward slightly, trying to catch Francesco's gaze, but you caught his uncles instead. Jacopo motioned with his chin for you to follow them, as they made their way back home.

You did as told, and caught up with them just as they entered their own gates. Francesco waited a moment to fall into stride with you, before you made your way to Jacopo's office together.

"Thank you for coming," Jacopo breathed out, relaxing into his chair as you took the seat across from him. Francesco stayed standing, off to your side.

"Of course," you nod, "I was sorry to see the Medici boy so happy," you dipped your head slightly, trying to show your upset at the ruling.

"We share that regret," he held his hands together on top of the table, "but he won't be for long." You kept your head low at his words, not wanting your expressions to give away anything.

Slowly, you raised it once again, glancing between Jacopo and Francesco in confusion.

"We have put in place some... precautionary measures," Francesco explained to you.

"What measures would these be?" You questioned, keeping your worry out of your voice.

"Drastic ones, in which we need your assistance," Jacopo twirled a coin around his fingertips.

"Of course," you were eager to show your non-existent loyalty, "just how drastic are we talking?"

Jacopo raised his chin, meeting your eyes before he spoke. "You have to understand, Bellondini, the time for politics is over."

—-

"You're okay with this?" Francesco questioned once you'd finally left that office, out of his uncle's hearing. You had spent a long time going over the plan they had formed.

You simply nodded, before turning to face him. "Are you?"

"It was my idea," Francesco grinned, and you had to make a conscious effort to hide your surprise.

"So you're not just good looks," you smiled back at him, forcing yourself not to show how appalled you were.

"I suppose we shall see tomorrow," he took your hand in his, placing a kiss to your knuckles, before he dropped it, opening the door for you.

"I suppose we will," you bowed your head slightly in goodbye, before leaving.

Your heart was threatening to beat out of your chest as you made your way through the streets of Florence. You couldn't believe Francesco had come up with it. That it was Francesco's idea to murder Lorenzo.

—-

The familiar climb up to Lorenzo's window was the least of your obstacles right now. You knocked on his window, seeing him at his desk scribbling away. He got up immediately, helping you in by taking hold of your hands, which he failed to let go of once you were safely inside.

"Come to congratulate me?" He smiled down at you, squeezing your hands slightly.

"I wish," you couldn't bring yourself to return his smile, glancing down at your interlocked fingers, running your thumb over his.

He pulled one of his hands out of your grasp, placing it under your chin to gently lift your head up to make eye contact with him. His demeanour changed completely when he saw the despair in your eyes. "What is it, y/n?"

"They're planning to kill you, Lorenzo," you lifted a hand up to his cheek, holding him as if he'd fade away any second.

A snarl fell onto his lips, he pulled away completely, both of your hands falling to your sides, as he moved to close the window, before slowing turning back to you, a hand on his hip. "The Pazzis?"

You just nodded, knowing the spite in his tone wasn't reserved for you, but still feeling its effect.

"When?" He asked.

"Tomorrow night," Lorenzo had announced a banquet in celebration of his win, and the Pazzi's had decided it was the perfect place to enact their plan.

"Well, good thing I have you," Lorenzo's smile returned, and the tension in his shoulders fell. You were only pushed further into confusion.

"Well you know their plan, don't you?" He said it as if it was a blessing for you to have listened to all the details.

"Yes, but-"

"So we counter-plan, simple." He shrugged, not seeming to face the same worries you were.

"You think they'll stop after one failed try?" You question, desperate for him to see the larger issue.

"Their attempts won't mean much from jail. We just need to catch them in the act," he continued as if he were discussing something much more menial than his life.

"In the act of killing you? You're going to give them the chance?" You were shocked, not hiding any of your emotions, your eyes threatening to water, your voice desperate.

"Only once," he shrugged, "Why are you so worried? It's almost as if you care about me, y/n..." he teased, his hand falling to your elbow, gently caressing your arm.

"Lorenzo," You tried to keep his focus, "if they succeed..."

"They won't," he promised you, "I've already told you. With you on my side, there is no losing." You hoped he was right.

—-

After discussing the plan for hours again, this time with Lorenzo, you were struggling to find the perfect point to intercept. Jacopo had given you the simple task of clearing a hallway and a room, and then leading Lorenzo into it without any one to see. Here, Francesco would strike, while Jacopo remained in clear sight. It meant Francesco would be gone for less than a minute, and he would not be seen leaving with Lorenzo. You questioned why you wouldn't kill Lorenzo yourself at the time, but Jacopo insisted, it was evident this was personal.

You and Lorenzo were seated at his desk as you discussed it. He was insisting you just let the plan play out and that he could take Francesco, but you didn't want to take the risk, or for Francesco to die in the process. Not that you told Lorenzo the latter.

"What if... we weakened Francesco? Ensured he wouldn't win, but you could catch his attempt, and you wouldn't need to murder him either?" You suggested.

"Poison him?" Lorenzo followed your train of thought.

"Precisely," you nodded, "I know exactly what would knock him out at just the right time, we just slip it in his drink and-"

"No," Lorenzo shook his head, his gaze steady on the desk in front of him, "Francesco won't be drinking on such a crucial night for him, and he would be extra careful with his drink regardless." You opened your mouth to counter, but Lorenzo began talking again before you could. "And it would be nearly impossible to time it just right."

"What if we didn't put it in his drink," it was as if your brain had lit up as the idea came to you.

"Well then how would we deliver it?" Lorenzo questioned, his eyes finding yours.

"I could crush it up into lip paint!" You struggled to keep the excitement out of your voice, delighted you'd found a way to save Lorenzo.

Lorenzo's brows jumped together, he didn't seem to be following you.

"It would make timing it simple, I give him a good luck kiss before sending him into you!" You continued, "It would be on his lips, perfect way into his system. And I could withstand it easily, put my mithridatism to use?"

"You still practice?" Lorenzo focused on your last sentence, clearly unhappy with it.

You just nodded, smiling your cheeks off at your solution, ignoring his disapproval. Lorenzo didn't seem to share your energy.

"And Francesco would kiss you?" His voice was steady, but low, his eyes refusing to meet yours.

Your lips fell, realising Lorenzo's issue with the plan. But now was not the time for such feelings, his life was far more important. You let a few moments pass before you spoke, keeping your tone steady so as not to betray yourself. "He would."

Lorenzo simply blinked, nodding slowly as his mouth fell slightly ajar. He clenched his jaw before speaking again. "Very well. It seems we have ourselves a plan."

#would he?#i would 👀#finally some spice #daniel sharman #daniel sharman x reader #lorenzo de medici #lorenzo de medici x reader #medici fic #medici: masters of florence #medici: spymasters of florence #medici #francesco pazzi x reader #francesco x reader

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himboskywalker · 4 years

Note

hellooo i had a conceal me q if you have time/want to answer. so like for ppl's scents, does each person smell the exact same to everyone else? (fml idk how to phrase it) like i think anakin reminds obiwan of stewjon, and obiwan reminds anakin of tatooine. so does anakin's scent smell the same to padme as it does to obiwan? or is it like bc theyre destined to be together that their scents remind them of the other's homes? (lol good luck understanding this im sorry)

You’re fine that made complete sense! So there’s a couple things working for the nuances of scent in my verse. People do have a baseline scent that everyone smells the same,but I wanted the details of scent to be much like Jedi feeling one another’s force signatures,the more you know a person the better you can decipher the intricies and details of their scent. So someone who had just met Obi-Wan,if he weren’t wearing blockers or cologne,would interpret him as smelling like petrichor and a mix of spices or Anakin as evergreen.

I very much based my complimenting scents idea off a million other a/b/o fics which usually go off the theory that mate/genetic compatibility is reflected in how well the pair’s scents compliment one another and mesh. In fics with truemates the scents usually combine perfectly to create a more dynamic and complicated scent that makes up them both. While I don’t necessarily have true mates in the cmwia verse I very much built on the idea of compatibility reflected in scent,and for anyone paying attention to background relationships,the same goes for them as well.

With Obi-Wan and Anakin I also heavily built in symbology and the tangible changes and growth of their characters and relationship into their scents. While others would interpret Anakin’s scent changing from woodsmoke to evergreen and Obi-Wan’s from mild spices to rain and plants,I wanted their scents to remind the other of home to show that they are meant for one another. Of course to a lot of the changes in their scents is the light side of the force and balance and the more green and natural their scents become the more into their characters they’ve grown and the more powerful in the light side of the force they become.

Right before the space battle with Dooku when Anakin is at his darkest,his scent doesn’t just smell like smoke,but propane and fumes. The darker and more turbulent he became the more like Mustafar he smelled,the fumes from lava and melting metal and rock. Now that his implant is out and his relationship with Obi-Wan has been validated and greatly improved,that darkness is gone from his scent and he smells like the light side of the force,and specially like home to Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan’s scent changes have been more subtle because he was only wearing blockers and much of his true scent was already there and simply muted. But specifically his scent of rain on a desert is something I think only Anakin might interpret from him. Because Obi-Wan and his light in the force is the relief and rapture of rain to scorched,dry earth. And it is specifically the relief of water to Anakin’s fire—but when Anakin shoulders away the darkness of hiding as an omega,he is the rain that will encourage the growth of Anakin’s light,of the metaphorical green forest of his scent.

#conceal me what i am #my fanfic stuff #anons

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nanasarea · 4 years

Text

Sucker I x

Prompt: Y/N attends a school for the supernatural, specifically: werewolves, witches and vampires. The school might be magic, but so is love, right? Right?

Genre: angst, fluff, slight smut in the future

Pairing: reader x 00 line

Inspired heavily by: Legacies (and The Vampire Diaries&The Originals)

a/n: I was planning on posting this tomorrow but oh well here we are

main m.list / sucker m.list / i ii iii iv v vi vii viii ix x xi xii xiii xiv xv

Renjun kept repeating the words he overheard the man talk so he could remember them and later decipher but the problem was, he had no idea what he walking about.

“The one with the power of three,

Humanity is key to stop the killing spree

Listen to the swan or all will be gone

The savior will be the one”

What the hell did that even mean? Keep what on? What killing spree? Who the hell is the savior? Who the hell was the one? Luckily, he had more than enough time to try and figure it out, but he couldn’t think of any answers.

Meanwhile

“Renjun is still missing?” Hana asked, to which you just nodded. “Maybe he’s ashamed of ditching you yesterday.” Chenle suggested, but Jisoo just shook her head.

“No, Jeno said he didn’t come back to the dorms last night. Maybe something happened.” Jisoo pointed out, the thought of something happening to Renjun made your heart sink.

“Don’t be ridiculous, maybe he just stayed at a friend’s place.” You quickly said, the fear in your voice being clear as day.

“Hey, babe.” Jaemin said before sitting next to you and kissing your cheek.

“Hey.” You said smiling before Hana kicked you under the table, making you stare at her. You remembered you didn’t tell her about you and Jaemin when you saw her eyes widening at the nickname.

“So, I was thinking of that date, meet me at the front entrance at 6?” He asked, smiling warmly at you.

“Sounds great, I’ll see ya then.” You answered as the smile on his face grew before giving you another kiss on the cheek and saying “see ya later” while walking towards the classrooms.

“What?” Hana asked.

“Jaemin, kinda, sorta, maybe, asked me out yesterday. At the ball.” You answered, making Chenle laugh and turn to Jisung and asking “Where’s my money?”.

“Hey now, we still don’t know where Renjun went off to, Renjun and y/n could still happen.” Hana yelled at the two, making your eyes widen.

“Are you betting on who I’m going to date?” You basically yelled “Maybe.” Jisung replied, avoiding your gaze, making you roll your eyes.

“Hey, have any of you seen Renjun?” Minsoo came up to your table and asked. We all shook our heads no as he sighed and quickly said “thanks” before going to the next table.

“That’s it, I’m looking for him after school.” You announced, sighing as you finished your breakfast.

Meanwhile

As he closed yet another book, he sighed in defeat. Haechan couldn’t sleep after the dream he had, so he went to the school library and searched for a memory erasing sleep. It was one small memory, a spell for that wouldn’t be hard to find, he thought.

Wrong.

All he found was warnings in dark magic books. It was eating him up, the thought of making out with y/n made him feel guilty. Jeno obviously still has feelings for you, Renjun was obviously catching feelings for you and Jaemin just asked you out, he knew having you on his mind wasn’t beneficial for anyone, especially not him.

It was the only thing on his mind, it was a dream, but he still felt your lips on him. He needed to erase him memory, but he couldn’t without dark magic.

Time jump

You made Minsoo do a locater spell on Renjun and once he did, you thanked him and took the map into your hands. You followed the trail as fast as you could, but when you got there, all you saw was an old abandoned house. You had no memory of being here, but you felt a sense of deja vu seeing it.

You decided to try if the door was open, which it was, thankfully. You searched the house, starting with the first floor, then the second, the attic and once you got to the basement, you heard a sigh and a familiar voice saying “for the last time, I’m not going to tell you where y/n is, so good luck with that.”

“Renjun?”

“Y/n?” He turned to face you and got up, running to hug you before being stopped by an invisible force.

“What was that?” You asked, scared “I can’t get out, I know only one spell to get out of this barrier, but I can’t do it by myself, I need another witch.” He sighed, frustrated at himself.

“Look, I’m so sorry for missing the ball, I really can’-” “You were here last night?” You cut him off, he only nodded sadly while looking at the floor.

“I’m so glad you’re okay.” You said, smiling to yourself “You are?” He asked, looking up at you again.

“I was scared that something happened to you.” You answered, which made him smile to himself.

“You were worried about me?” He asked.

“Of course I was.” You answered “I wish I could hug you right now.” You added, making his face heat up “Same here.” He replied.

“I’m honestly just glad he didn’t get to you.” Renjun let out a sad laugh “Who?” You asked, as you heard the sound of the front door opening.

“Hide, he’s here.” Renjun whisper-yelled as you looked around for a good hiding spot before hiding in the closet in the corner.

“I’ll make you a deal, lover boy. I give you this food if you tell me where the school is.” You heard someone walking down the stairs. That voice. It sounded familiar, but you didn’t know where you heard it before.

“Not gonna happen.” Renjun laughed, making the man chuckle.

”You have no idea how serious this situation is! I have worked my whole life to prevent t-” “Prevent what? The killing spree? What does that even mean?” “You don’t need to know. I just need to find y/n, the sooner I do, the sooner I can achieve my plan.”

“Which is?” The man just chuckled at Renjun. “I’m not answering your questions if you’re not gonna answer mine. Answer for an answer.” He said.

What plan? What killing spree? What were they talking about? Why were you important to his plan? You had nothing to do with this, or did you? If so, how? Your mind filled with questions, millions of them.

“No.” Renjun said “Starve then.” The voice said before walking back upstairs. “He left, you can come out now.” Renjun whispered.

“Now, call me crazy, but I think that’s the man from your dreams.” Renjun said, analyzing your face “I-I think I’ve heard his voice before, and this house, it’s giving me major deja vu.” You admitted.

“But this isn’t the time, I’ll go get Mr. Hwang and then we’ll talk.” You added, trying to walk towards the stairs, but hitting yourself on the way.

“No, no no no.” Renjun repeated “The force field stretches all over there? No, can’t be. Oh my god, it does, I’m so stupid, I-” As Renjun panicked, you quickly hugged him.

“It’s going to be okay, I promise, someone will come and find us.” You reassured.

“But you are what he’s looking for, you can’t be here-” “Well, at least you’re not alone anymore!” You tried to lighten the mood, before realizing that you had your phone with you.

As you excitedly pulled out your phone, Renjun quickly killed your excitement by saying “No service, I’ve already checked.” “There goes all I got.” You said as you looked down at your phone.

5:45pm

“Oh my god, I didn’t tell Jaemin I was going to look for you.” You sighed “I was suppose to meet up with him at 6, he’s going to think I ditched him.” You added, as Renjun hugged you again.

“Sorry, I just thought both of us could use one right now.” He said as you hugged him tighter.

“We’ll be okay.” he repeated.

“Thank you, Ren. I missed you, you know?” You asked as he prayed that you didn’t hear his heartbeat speed up.

“I was gone for one day.” He replied, chuckling “Too long.” You dramatically said before hugging him tighter.

“Also Ren?” “Yes?” “What killing spree?” “Sit down.” and so he started explaining how he was on his way out of the cafe when he got kidnapped by the man, he brought him here and kept asking about you, where you were, how much you knew, if you know what you are yet, so many questions, but Renjun didn’t answer any of them.

He decided not to worry you with the quote he heard the man repeat over and over. He was trying to protect you, but was he?

As he watched the time pass, he tried to reassure himself that you wouldn’t just ditch him. He prepared a picnic, with all your favorite foods, all made by him. He went all out, the least you could do was say if something came up. But you didn’t.

There Jaemin was, waiting for you at the front entrance, with a picnic blanket and basket, ready for your date. But you never came.

A/N: gasp.....i think. The quote at the start is a major spoiler if you haven’t figured it out yet lol. Hope you liked it and thank you so much for reading.

Renjun x y/n shippers, this chapter is mainly for you. (Even tho it lowkey includes all 4 x y/n slightly). Please tell me what you think of this chapter and who you think y/n will actually end up with (spoiler: I don’t know yet either, so you might just convince me)

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fmdxyoungjoo · 4 years

Text

hi, so this is an offering for all four of my muses for the event post for any potential threads (especially the ones with prompts!) please press the like or directly message me if you’d like to plot for the event be it on discord or on joo’s tumblr right here.

youngjoo:

silhouette will be performing sixth sense, and joo’s voice isn’t exactly in the best condition for the high note in sixth sense ( potential thread for 3rd prompt) [dec 25th]

joo draws the red card and is part of the decorations team but everyone has forgotten how much of a two left feet + accident prone she is ( potential thread for 1st prompt) [dec 25th]

joo @ the holiday ball probably in a bath robe lmfao because there’s too many people for a swimsuit show [ dec 25th ;7pm to 11pm ]

dec 27th: she’s probably tired enough to just spend the entire day on the cruise ship so she’s free the entire day in her rooms here

dec 28th: joo is with the red team again and is working in the kitchens and thank god she’s not that bad at cooking in fact she’s actually good at it lmao the rest of the day she will be preparing for the concert with silhouette and being on stage before returning, probably exhausted by the end of things

dec 29th: she’s free the entire day, find her at the pool dipping her feet in the water because its hot, or in her rooms, probably catching up with sleep or working on her music because she plans to put out an album once more

dec 30th: this time she’s lucky to get the blue card and she’s going to get that free massage (pls her body is probably aching at this point lmfao) & pampering herself with that french fine dining

dec 31st : early in the day she’s with silhouette girls, preparing for the concert. the new year eve’s party she’s probably going to let loose a little so a tipsy joo might make an appearance....yeah...i’ll think on that again a drunk joo is a really...sigh. if anyone wants to find her, she will be there probably alone and drinking by herself slowly while admiring the night sky.

jan 1st : she will be at the fansign at the theatre with the rest of silhouette, waiting for her turn after 7rophy, and probably brushing shoulders with BEE since they’re up next for the fansign. the rest of the day is shopping in busan, probably going round to find little joys in eating (yeah yeah yeah she’s craving street food whatcha gonna do about it 😤

artemisia / sia :

lipstick is going to be performing news, wild and lil’ touch and knowing sia she would probably either be late / lost somewhere in the ship / sleeping in the most unexpected places. the loud sounds of the rehearsals are also going to or probably might get to her, and some might find her hiding away hands over her ears trying to re-balance her disorientation and sensory overload. she might run / brisk walk off the stage mid-practice because of it as well.

the same night she’s performing with lipstick, but the rest of the whole time for the concert she’s going to be having a good pair of earplugs in her ears--misunderstandings could occur because she’s not very good at reading lips.

dec 26: she gets lucky and draws a blue card. fits her perfectly, probably spends the rest of the day lying dazedly on the benches next to the swimming pool, or just lazy enough to get into the water, and just lie down and float. actually. she might even fall asleep while floating, based on what i know of her personality. in that case someone pls..wake her.

the swimming pool thing might also cause some fun in threads because sia could have walked out of the swimming pool without caring if her hair was all over her face (its probably grown to mid chest by now), and coming across her with wet hair across her face trudging round the corner can be quite horrifying

the same night she’s going to grab food, drinks for the holiday ball and spend her time trying to find a spot where no one comes round. maybe you come across her because you’re trying to hide too

dec 27: free day on ship. great. she’s going to sleep. or blast music and work on her stuff. or play games. come hit her up and find out.

dec 28: she gets a yellow card and probably spends her time trying to sneak off and away from actually doing the mission because no, she doesn’t like animals, and yes, its because they’re too noisy. her ears hurt and her eyes hurt please spare her for a moment, or don’t and drag her back to do the mission. she rehearses with the rest of lipstick girls in the evening--good luck, someone from lipstick hear her rant about the animals in the afternoon and calm her frazzled soul

dec 29: free day again. again, sleep, eat, blast music, work stuff, play games...come hit her up.

dec 30: she gets a yellow card again and is attempting to sneak and mingle with the blue team. maybe you are perceptive enough to catch the usually presentless her, or you don’t and she smoothly integrates herself into the team. if she succeeds, she’s going to the bar to celebrate which is rare in all honesty, we might get a drunk or tipsy sia who knows. or just plain sober sia. who knows.

dec 31st: again she’s with the lipstick girls in the morning, and at the new years’ eve party in the night. again, she’s trying to sneak food and drinks out so as not to mingle in the party. she will be attempting to ninja her way to the observation lounge.

jan 1st: she will be at the fansign at the theatre, brushing shoulders with fuse girls and gal.actic girls at their fansigns. her fans usually bring her rather embarrassing little hats for her to wear that’s too big for her so you might come across her wearing those and shuffling out of the theatre or something.

she’s going to honestly just walk around. mainly if there’s anything of musical interest that catches her attention, she will go for it.

alyssia:

dec 25th: she’s going to be playfully getting ready with the rest of the bee girls for her performance, being the mood maker and the cheeky one she might purposely do some fun little antics to tease those around her and be playful with them

dec 26th: she get the red card and probably might cause more harm than good with decorations, though she’s pretty eager to help. who knows you might chance upon her getting caught in tinsel or entangled in the lights with no way to get out. the same night she’s going to be at the ball, probably eating and drinking and mingling with friendly people whilst being in the pool as well

dec 27th: free day out in taipei!! join her for street food!! she wants to eat all of the street food and shop at all the street markets she can find!! she especially wants to try the stinky tofu, so...good luck to anyone bringing her out she will insist on trying it lmfao

dec 28th: she gets the red card again :’) this time someone please make sure she doesn’t end up eating all the food she’s supposed to prepare. aly with cooking is always 85% eating and 15% cooking, she’s also not good at it at all so bear with her pls

dec 29th: she’s going to the card and game room, and the library, and the theatre and then the fitness centre she just wants to visit every place in the ship even though she doesn’t stay long in one place.

dec 30th: she gets the yellow card and will try to mingle with the blue team. except..that she’s just generally bad at hiding her excitement ;;

dec 31st: she’s probably eating at the ball, and then making a beeline for her room. by then she’s exhausted herself on the running energy for the past few days. she might fall asleep while eating, or doze while talking with someone

jan 1st: she’s going to brush shoulders with silhouette and lucid girls for the fansign at the theatre, and aly is known to be a bit wild when doing fansigns lmao so you might hear her hyping up the fans even while behind or waiting for your turn. aly energy at the beginning of the fanmeet: 150% , after the fanmeet: 150% and getting louder with bunny hats and flower crowns and just chattering non-stop (i’m sorry bee girls :’) she’s excited)

dojun:

dec 26: yeah, he’d rather be anywhere but rehearsing for alien. he’ll be distracted half the time or disappeared because he’s snuck away to watch over his gf. or he will aim to finish his rehearsal quickly and then go.

he gets the yellow card and helps with the choreography of dance since its his niche. he’ll probably suggest some really cheer / hyped up songs that makes people feel like dancing upon hearing the song--that’s half the recipe of success he says.

holiday ball: do not disturb, thank you. he’s probably hovering somewhere close to his gf, watching over her and half heartedly talking to others. who knows you might see the warmer or actual side of him and not the dumb narcissistic side since he tends to be softer and more leaning towards his original personality when around his gf

dec 27: he’ll be at the fitness centre or the indoor pool, or you might not find him at all.

dec 28:. ...he gets a yellow card and will probably go around asking to exchange cards with others pls he’s kind terrified of the idea being around wild animals LOL animals remind him of his gf’s pets who detest him lmfao

dec 29: you won’t find him anywhere akjdgk this devoted person is off and away with his gf as secretly as he can

dec 30: he draws the red card. he hasn’t cleaned in a long ass time, but he’s willing to put in the effort as long as others do, and surprisingly you won’t see him complain but just diligently do his part.

dec 31: god he’s rehearsing with alien again. he’d honestly rather have time speed up in this part because his mind is preoccupied elsewhere. the new year’s eve party is going to be fun and blissful one, but he’s finally had the chance to fully relax and just be himself. maybe you’ll catch the flamboyant, loud ass prat version of him, or maybe the sentimental one. anyway, he’s staying up and finding his gf so that he can give her a new year’s kiss secretly because he’s romantic like that.

jan 1st: he will brush shoulders with origin members and decipher members, then appear at the theatre later on to watch from a distance and silently support silhouette.

#fmdcall #the way we can summarise this simply #joo: being old #sia: being dazed / lazy #aly: being cute #jun: being head over heels for his gf #also its almost 3am here i'll reply when i wake or reblog if this gets lost

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perditaalottachocolate-blog · 5 years

Text

Rough translation of Miracle Queen dialogue (sorry if I missed something).

The ep starts with Marinette saying that one Has to always be ready

Then Hawkmoth gives Chloe the miraculous box and orders her to use it “reasonably”

Then Chloe orders the wasps to sting everyone

Marinette monoluges offscreen while ppl get stung about love and sacrifice, and finding your own destiny (I kind of do not like the sudden narration they introduced in the finale)

Marinette pulls away from Luka and says she doesn’t know why she acted like that. He asks if she’s okay and she says yes, thank you. Then she asks if he has found the perfect melody. He says yes and asks if she wants to listen. Marinette hesitates, and Luka asks if she’s thinking about Adrien.

Then the wasps come, Luka protects Marinette, she cries “oh no not them again”, Tikki time to hide, and then she transforms and jumps into the river.

Adrien pushes Kagami away and babbles “no, yes, no”. He thought things would be different (either he thinks about her “not like that” or he thought he would feel different about kissing her).

Kagami asks if he doesn’t feel good in her company, and he says that he feels good, but “it seems he’s not ready”. Kagami asks when will he be ready and when he doesn’t answer she says his hesitance hurts her. Then the wasps come. Kagami cries “No” and pushes him out of the way.

Adrien runs [and apparently Andree the ice cream man now knows Chat’s identity, because Adrien jumps into the river BEFORE the bridge xD] and transforms

Chloe: Ppl of Paris, listen to the first order of the Miracle Queen. And then she outs other miraculous holders (HOLY CRAP) – she says that previous miraculous holders should come to her – and only those who have wielded a miraculous come! [“talisman” is apparently a miraculous in Ukrainian dub]

***

Hawkmoth: you won’t hide anything from me

Then Chloe comments on who comes – “nerd Max”, pseudo reporter, dj tupac. What did Ladybug think choosing you?! Ah, and Kim, I could have expected that.

Luka joins them. Chloe: I don’t know him but he must take his clothes from a dumster (trashy clothes)

Kagami comes. Chloe: Oh, no, not her. This is a ridiculous choice. Simply ridiculous. But oh well, take your miraculouses.

Nino and Kagami do not take a miraculous. Hawkmoth is surprised – “why won’t they take a miraculous”? Chloe: ah, prolly they were stupid and lost their miraculous.

Hawkmoth: they lost them or someone else has them (spoiler alert – they’re not – Master Fu has turtle, LB has dragon)

Chloe orders those who has the miraculous to transform, then says they’re her royal guard now. “Ladybug, Chat Noir, I will use your armor/weapon to destroy you. You will regret you didn’t want me anymore.”

***

Hawkmoth joins Mayura on the roof. “It’s time to deal with the old fool”.

Mayura: faints.

Hawkmoth: Mayura.

Mayura: I’m fine lol

Hawkmoth: I never wanted this to be part of my plan. I’m sorry, but I need you again.

Mayura: don’t guilt yourself. From the first day I knew I’d do anything for you [WHAAAAA???] She summons the sentimonster. They tell it to destroy the shield.

***

LB and CN meet under water. CN asks who has the dragon miraculous now, but LB says she didn’t give it to anyone yet.

LB: Master FU is missing, I’m sure something bad happened to him.

CN: checks, UR right LB, Hawkmoth has Fu trapped and he has the miraculouses. That’s a catastrophe

LB: That’s my fault. I didn’t detransform when I went to him. Cry cry

CN: Hey, we need to get to master Fu, before the sentimonster ruins the shield. That’s something only Ladybug can do

LB: hugs him. Thank you Chat, you always have help me

CN: always LB

LB: already has a plan. First we go after Miracle Queen to get other holders out of her control, then we go after Mayura and Hawkmoth to free master Fu. But first we need to deal with the wasps, if they sting us, all is over.

CN: we’ll do what we can

LB: we can do more! activates dragon miraculous

CN: no, it’s dangerous, you’ve already used the water power

LB: we have no choice

Longg: I’m ready to fight Ladybug!

They get out of water, drop the water power, LB joins dragon and ladybug, then summons water dragon to push away the wasps.

Chloe: Ladybug!

LB: It’s Dragonbug for you!

***

Hawkmoth: More power won’t help you. In a few moments the shield will be down and I will make the guardian to tell me your identities.

Master fu: Don’t listen to him. You are strong enough to deal with this. Just work together.

Chat and LB: we can do this. As always.

CN to HM: you don’t scare us. We’re a team.

LB: it’s not your lucky day, Hawkmoth.

HM: Time to act my Queen

Chloe: Fight them my minions

LB: Snake is the most dangerous. Take care of him Chat

Chat holds him still.

LN: seems like you’re locked, but I’m not. Takes away Luka’s bracelet. [SMART GIRL]

Chloe: loser

LB: Chat Noir, your turn. Throws him the snake miraculous.

Chat: Sass, Plagg, merge!

Chat: Dragonbug, it’s an illusion.

Kim: makes LB’s yoyo useless.

LB: No. Wasps: sting sting

Chat: second chance. Dragonbug, it’s a mirage. Second chance [You get it now, right?]

Chat: Dragonbug, a hole – there!

Chloe: Haha, pitiful. You really think I- gets the frog in da face. Puff the wasps go.

LB: Long, Tikki, divide.

CN: Sass, Plagg, divide.

LB: Time to deevilize. Bbye butterfly

***

CN: See, it’s not your day, Hawkmoth

Hawkmoth: AHA

LB: Hawkmoth is our enemy, Chloe. We can’t allow him to have the miraculous box.

Chloe: I won’t talk to you. How many times have I asked you for my miraculous, huh? Hawkmoth is not my enemy, but yours. And the miraculous box is MINE!

LB: Chloe, don’t do this.

Chloe: Watch me, I’m gonna become the mightiest miraculous holder in the history.

HM: Hahaha, I don’t need more proof. I knew you were one of us, Chloe Bourgeois.

Chloe: Hahaha, what ru waiting for, transform me now!

Kwamis: You don’t know our names. And you haven’t said the right words either. And you could ask nicely.

Chloe: I’m your queen. Miracle Queen. I order you to tell me what I have to do next!

Hawkmoth: You can’t do anything. I already won. The shield will fall and the guardian will be in my hands. Your friends won’t help you. You’re alone now. Check mate, Ladybug!

LB: I have one more move, Hawkmoth. Lucky Charm! A charm? What am I supposed to do with it?

HM: Hahahaha, you won’t do anything, my plan is perfect. You can’t stop me.

LB: I don’t have any ideas.

CN: Think, you can do everything!

LB: Sorry, I don’t know what to do. I put mastrer Fu in this position.

CN: Ladybug, no.

LB: It’s because of me Hawkmoth took the miraculous box. I’m the worst Ladybug ever.

Fu: Ladybug, you’re the best miraculous holder I’ve ever met. Yes, you’ve made a mistake. But you fixed it with your actions.

LB: But I don’t know what to do, Master

Fu: You have all the keys and you will become the greatest guardian.

HM: WHAT?

Kwamis: Master, No! Don’t do this!

Fu: I renounce the miraculous box and declare Ladybug the next guardian!

HM: No!

Chloe: No! That’s my box, mine! I’m the guardian, I’m the Queen. Hawkmoth, do something!

HM: I’m disappointed. (runs away with Mayura)

CN: I will go after them, you go after the box.

LB: Sorry, Chloe, but this belongs to me.

Chloe: I don’t need your stupid miraculous. You’ll see, and Paris will see. I’m going to leave for New York with my mom, and I’m going to be the only owner of the comb. Without you and your stupid losers you call friends.

LB: Sorry, Chloe, but I can’t let you do that.

Chloe: oh yeah? Well, I don’t like you anymore Ladybug. You don’t deserve to breathe the same air as me!

CN: Sorry, I couldn’t find them

***

LB: Master Fu, Master Fu, wake up!

Gabriel: Oh, my Nathalie. I’m so sorry. I lost again and you used up all your strength. For nothing.

Nathalie: No, not for nothing, the previous guardian had the miraculous book deciphered, now we can fix the peacock miraculous.

***

LB: Master Fu?

Fu: these are nice costumes. Who are you?

CN: he lost his memory?

Wayzz: That’s the fate of guardians once they renounce the box. All their personal memories were kept in the miraculous.

LB: It’s okay, we’re your friends, sir.

Fu: Ah, nice to meet you!

Wayzz: Good luck, Master.

CN: Wait, you haven’t cast the cure yet!

LB: Miraculous Ladybug! Master Fu do you remember me now?

Fu: Sorry to disappoint, miss, but I see you for the first time in my life.

CN: The thing that happened to him was because of Chloe.

LB: My cure didn’t change anything.

Fu: It’s a shame you threw away such a nice charm, I’d use it for my key. Here.

***

Chloe: Mom, I expect Jean Something to finish packing our suitcases, we’re leaving now! Wha?

Andre: Your mom changed her mind.

Audrey: It was a mistake, but everyone makes mistakes sometimes.

Andre: Ah, my queen!

Chloe: Yuk, that’s disgusting. I order you to fight again!

***

Marinette reading Fu’s letter: When we grow up, we find out that life doesn’t always give us what we expected. I’d like to tell you everything myself, but if you’re reading this, it means I’ve lost my memory. You don’t have to be scared or sad, as I’ve learned at the beginning of my way loss is just a part of life. But it’s not important that life doesn’t give us what we expect. Because the biggest gift is the life itself.

***

Fu: I see you for the first time, but my heart beats so quick as if I’ve always known you.

Marianne: You should always believe your heart [Gee, I wonder what LB would say to that…]

Marinette: A gift, for the travel.

Fu: Thank you, miss. I will never forget you.

***

At the bank, Fu’s voice: Even if life doesn’t give us what we expect, the biggest gift is life itself.

Luka: You okay?

Marinette: How’s that melody? Can I listen to it?

Luka: You want to listen?

Marinette: Mhm.

***

Gabriel holding the peacock miraculous in a gloved hand: Just as good as new.

THE END

***

Hope you enjoyed it!

#ml spoilers #miracle queen #miracle queen spoilers #translation #transcript of dialogue #perdita writes #kinda

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an-ambivalent · 5 years

Text

Pernicious Poison [Yandere! Jennie]

Warnings: This work deals with yandere themes, consists of sort of non-con nsfw?? and other behaviours that can be uncomfortable or triggering to read. Read at your own risk. This work is purely fiction. I do not believe any of the mentioned members would display this sort of this behaviour irl, and I do not condone any of this behaviour irl.

A/N: okay so here’s the deal. This was going to be an one-shot and what you read below was just going to be the start so if it feels incomplete it is. I was going to write more to it but I forgot how I was going to continue to it lol RIP. So this is pretty shitty ngl lol

With meticulous care,

You fed me the poison.

Intoxicated my mind and soul,

until you made me yours.

[Name] often wondered what was wrong with her; what was it about her that led others to cheat her, to take advantage of her. They tore her honest heart one piece at a time, and every person she thought could be the one, was nothing except for another trash in the sea who took everything she had to offer, never returned even a fraction of it, before dumping her to be on their merry way. It was not even one or two who may have cheated on her, it was every single one she was introduced to. With one after another sleeping behind her back with someone else, and her being the sole common variable in all of the situations, it did make her question herself. It felt as if something was at fault with her, that if all of them cheated on her, she lacked something, she was not enough -- she would never be enough. If this happened so many times, then for whatever reason she could not think of, this was what she deserved, this was as good as it was going to get.

Tonight, it was a hot night. The thick humidity in the air made one’s clothes stick to them uncomfortably due to the excessive sweating even if they were only sitting idly. Due to the hot weather, and the hot conditions from the sexual activities [Name] had been engaged in, there was a desperate need to release; there had been sweat which had uncomfortably gathered in between her legs and soaking her underwear before they were even close, and other parts of her body. After all the stress she had been harbouring over the last few weeks, she was really looking forward to being able to destress and be completely undone. And although the sex had started off amazing with her current partner, it had resulted in an unsatisfatory climax. There was build up, but no release. As much as it had left [Name] frustrated, she knew by now that she did not get the privilege to complain or voice out her frustration. She was lucky enough that they spared time for her in the first place.

“Thanks for quickie [Name],” her partner for the night whispered, before leaving a last heated kiss underneath the ear. As quick as they were to leave once their pleasure was accomplished, they removed themselves from on top of her. Swiftly, they put on whatever articles of their clothing that had been discarded on the floor, as [Name] gingerly sat up, and adjusted the thin straps of her singlet over her shoulders once more to cover her priorly revealed skin.

One of the phones that was on the bedside table beside the bed, lit up momentarily indicating a new received notification. [Name] did not recognise the phone to be her own so it surely belonged to her partner. She managed to catch a glimpse of what the message was and the implications of it had caused her breath to hitch in her throat.

It was happening again. The vicious cycle where she let herself be poisoned because that was all that she was ever given, was starting again.

The message read: when r u coming over for netflix and chill tonight??? ;)

She tried to keep it casual.

“Message from a friend?” she asked, and despite her best efforts, the strain from emotions was evident in her voice.

However, she was not given any response other than a smirk, before they grabbed their phone and walked out, leaving [Name] to her own matters. She sighed before she completely fell back against the bed’s headboard in a half lying and half sitting position. Feeling exhausted and drained for more than words could describe, she closed her eyes and decided to focus on the surroundings around her. Presently, she was one of the many who had decided to seclude themselves to the many bedrooms there were in this house. It was a ‘house’ for who it belonged to, but for an average person’s standard, it could be described as a manor; a manor, whom’s premises [Name] was rather familiar with despite the fact that it did not belong to her. It belonged to her close friend Kim Jennie, who often hosted parties here on an almost daily basis. She was also the one who often introduced the people [Name] ended up dating. In general, with how much time Jennie ended up making [Name] spend it with her, a lot of it was spent here so it was only given she had become accustomed to the gigantic house.

Speaking of parties, the pop music for the party that resonated loudly throughout the manor, buzzed as incoherent but still familiar insignificant noise at the back of [Name]’s mind. As [Name]’s hand trailed down her body and towards her underwear, in hopes to finish the job her partner should have, her heart began to beat louder and quicker in her ears and against her rib cage in anticipation. Just as her fingers brushed against her folds, and her breathing fastened, with some of her juices coating her fingers, the door to the room was snapped open viciously, and then shut just as quickly.

Instantly, [Name] withdrew her hand, and with wide eyes, she turned towards to see the intruder. Her cheeks felt flushed in embarrassment when she saw Jennie staring at her with an odd intenseness present in her gaze which she was unable to decipher.

“Again?” Jennie enquired, and she walked towards [Name]. Jennie shifted the duvet covers as she settled in the bed in the same position as [Name] beside her before she moved the duvet covers on top of them.

[Name] felt goosebumps stand at the back of her neck as she felt Jennie slowly beginning to caress her arm beside her. Her stomach begin to slowly start twisting itself into knots out of anxiety, and despite how much [Name] did not want to ponder on it, recently, with how Jennie looked at her, and behaved with her, it was beginning to become unsettling.

“You really have the worst luck with love don’t you [Name],” Jennie started in a low whisper, as she laid her head on her shoulder. “Always being left back, left unsatisfied -- none of them treat you the way you should be treated. It’s unfair, don’t you think? And it always makes you feel like it's your fault. Aren’t you sick of being tossed aside like trash? Being everyone’s last choice?” The more things she whispered, the more the churning in [Name]’s stomach increased. As Jennie intertwined her fingers with [Name]’s, with the very fingers that she had touched herself with and were slightly coated with her own juices, the unsettling discomfort became prominent and sat as the evident devil on her left shoulder. When [Name] tried to pull away from Jennie’s grip on her hand, her efforts remained fruitless because Jennie’s grip was too strong for her.

“Why are you pulling away from me? I’m the only one who’s always there to mend your broken heart. I’m the one who’s always here to comfort you.” A pause, before Jennie brought up [Name]’s hand to her mouth and started to lick her juices off her fingers slowly, and in between her licks, she spoke. “It’s only right that you reciprocate my actions and feelings isn’t it? Forget about being with everyone else and just focus on us, on me, and the love only I can give you,” Jennie murmured with specks of fixation evident in her voice. Then, without any further notice, she pressed her lips against [Name]’s.

---

I’m really sorry about the poor quality if you actually read this ;^)

#yandere blackpink #yandere x reader #yandere kpop #yandere smut #yandere imagines #yandere female #jennie x reader #yandere jennie #blackpink x reader #yandere scenarios #yandere x you #ambivalent writes

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hysteriium · 5 years

Text

Expect the Unexpected

Gif not mine!

(A/N): Okay maybe this is really specific, but there’s this one scent that’s literally the best smell I’ve ever smelt in my entire life? It’s like an oceany scented candle - my description literally does not do it justice I made it sound gross - and omg idk why but I could literally just picture Arthur having something along the lines of this cologne?? But maybe I’m biased. Here it is if you wanna check it out but omg like I’m not even joking when I say it’s the best thing I’ve ever smelt (and I collect a shit load of candles).

!! ALSO - FORGOT TO MENTION ‘C/n’ = child’s name !! lol

Summary: I honestly don’t know what to write for this one?? AHAHAH

Pairing: Arthur Fleck x Single mum!Reader

Word count: 8600k+ (I know, I know, shhhh).

Warnings: 18+ SMUT STUFF! Fluff and swearing!

////

When Arthur found himself in the slowly decaying, yet otherwise well taken care of backyard of one of his requestors, performing under the gloomy Gotham sky, never, would he have expected it to change his life. Especially for the better. No, never had he thought, for the better.

Arthur fiddled with his wig, the tips of his fingers scurrying under the strip of white which crossed his forehead, adjusting it. The fake, frizzy green locks were no longer lopsided, and he continued his routine in front of the kids before him. Laughter filled his ears. The only merriment he was accustomed to, and on that same train of thought, welcomed. It was nothing like the devious cackles of those who made fun of him.

No, the laughs before him were honest and kind; they appreciated him. Most touching of all, and similarly foreign to him, was the fact that they actually asked for his jokes.

He often wondered where things went wrong. When exactly did children, who were, for the most part, good-natured and compassionate, turn into horrible people? Transforming into the very same type that treated him like a punching bag? How and why, did they soak up the resentment of the world like a sponge?

He supposed it was during adolescence.

Teenagers were mean.

That much was evident from the purple blotches on his back, markings that were still yet to dissipate, and tender to touch. From such a horrible experience, at least he was able to draw one positive out of it. The positive being that his clown costume was ridiculous enough to hide his battered and bruised body. Away from prying eyes.

Then again, it wasn't like anyone would have cared.

Ultimately, he tried his best not to focus on the path his thoughts were leading him down. One of his biggest struggles was staying in the moment, and right now, with the crucial task of performing for a child's birthday, he needed to be grounded. To emphasise this, Arthur dug his nails into his palms. Painful enough to snap him out of his digression, lax enough to keep the blood rushing and undisturbed under tested skin.

As Arthur was finishing up his act, the magic wand which he seemingly pulled out of nowhere - at least from the kids' perspectives, produced a collective awe. He waved it around, bouncing from toe to toe in his giant clown shoes, flicking it towards the birthday boy. Said child was a small, (h/c) haired boy with twinkling (e/c) eyes; his name, (C/n).

(C/n) flinched when the wand was suddenly centimetres from his face. Though, he giggled when he saw the expression on the clown's profile. It feigned shock, a gasp leaving his apple-red painted mouth. The clown, which the child only knew as 'Carnival' retracted the stick, inspecting it with squinted eyes. Alongside this, his spare hand flew up to his face, scratching his chin in thought, looking as though he had never encountered such a complex dilemma in his entire life.

Then, without warning, the wand fell. No longer as sturdy as a stick, it wilted like a dying flower. The clown panicked, watching as it wiggled around in his desperate hands like a worm. While all seemed gloomy for the fate of the magic item in his hands, the children were giggling gleefully, intrigued at what would happen next. It was times like these that made Arthur's job bearable; made life bearable.

All he wanted was to make people smile.

Arthur, pretending as though he was about to give up, engaged with the object in one last attempt, the flick of his wrist propelling the rod into the air. Much to the children's astonishment, the wand had straightened itself, snapping back to its previously sturdy arrangement, with no sign of its prior drooping.

They had long since formed a circle around the colourful man, looking up in wonder, clapping for him.

Arthur then slipped the item back into his pocket, performing a victory clasp. He threw his interlocked hands over his shoulders and shook them in response to the applause. When the children hushed their amazement, Arthur stuck his pointer finger in the air, wordlessly requesting their attention. His eyes then shut tight as he concentrated. Whipping out the rod from his pocket once more, he gave it one final spin.

The children waited.

Nothing happened.

Arthur opened his eyes. Confused. It was difficult for him to process what happened next because it all happened so quickly. One second he was puzzled, the next he was rendered stunned, with a face submerged in flowers. First, he had heard it, the sprout, as a prominent 'whoosh' filled the air. Then he felt it; felt it tickling his nose.

The flowers themselves were not real ones, but they were vivid; pinks, purples, greens and yellows sprouting from the wand's end. Trying to play it off as though it was planned all along, Arthur mimed a sneeze, shaking his head.

With a sheepish grin, the clown pulled back. His face was now safe from the sinister touch of the vibrant, ticklish extensions, and he handed the hued bouquet to the birthday boy, hunching over to reach him. It wasn't hard to decipher what the boy was thinking. Unquestionably, a mixture of amusement and joy as laughter bubbled from his throat; his joviality a contagious song.

And thus concluded Arthur's act.

"You're so cool Carnival!" (C/n) hollered, waving the newly acquired flowers around.

Arthur beamed down at the boy.

"When I grow up, I want to be just like you!"

Arthur attempted to restrain the look of pain which crossed his animated features.

No, kid. No, you don't.

Not wanting to ignore the poor child, he shot (C/n) a forced smile and ruffled his (h/c) hair.

"No. One day, you're going to be even better."

The child gawked up at him, hope dancing in his gem-like eyes, reflecting light.

Thankfully, the moment didn't last long as Arthur's concentration was ripped from the depressing interaction. He had caught a glimpse of you, the parent, entering the backyard. You had tried to smoothly open the door, an attempt to reduce the obnoxious squeaking from the object, though your steady pace was futile. Despite the hesitant speed at which it was tugged, it was a protest that sustained.

It was just another complaint to add to the shitty standard in Gotham; everything was half-assed. A primary disease which ate at the heart of the city, decaying and transforming it into the bleak, loveless and harsh mother it was. When you were one of Gotham's children, affection was seldom. No matter how hard you tried to impress the mother, to display your achievements, to show strength, to get back up when you fell, the mother remained emotionless. Perhaps, she kicked you down some more.

Gotham was her name, and tough love was her game.

Arthur watched you, in all his costumed glory, and drunk in the way your hair was softly carried by the wind. How your skin was kissed by the suns rays; how you moved away from the shading of the roof, which protruded meters from the brick walls of the house, spotlighting your features. He honestly felt like he was in a movie, a movie that was set up for disaster - knowing his luck. He couldn't wait for the great mystery of how he was going to screw up, to unravel before his eyes. Could he even call it a mystery? He knew it was inevitable. A non-mysterious mystery? Expecting the unexpected except it was actually unexpected, though somehow, still expected?

Did that even make sense? He thought.

His brain hurt.

What was he doing again?

"Mum!" (C/n) shouted, rushing up to you, simultaneously breaking Arthur's buzzing thoughts as well as the one-sided staring contest he had engaged in.

"Hey, there buckaroo!" you grabbed onto his small form and hoisted him up against your hip, "how's my big boy?"

Arthur watched the heart-warming scene from afar, sorrow tugging at his heart. He couldn't help but flick through his memories, to try and find a time where his mother had been just as caring. Limited, but nonetheless there, he yearned for change; for his past to change. He'd been the man of the house for as long as he could remember. Even at a young age. With no father or even knowledge of him, he was forced to take care of his mother. And while he loved his mother, with all his heart, it was an arduous task to take care of yourself and your own needs when you were supporting someone else.

"Good!" The child giggled in your arms, "Carnival is my favourite clown! Can we have him over every week?"

You couldn't help but burst out laughing.

"I don't know buddy, I-"

"Please, please, please, please, please?" (C/n) whined, looking up at you with large hopeful (e/c) eyes.

"Run along and play, and maybe I'll talk to him," you tapped his nose, "that sound good?"

The boy frantically nodded his head, and as you set him down, he bolted off to join his friends. When he was on the other side of the yard, you turned towards the party clown.

"Sorry about that," you sheepishly grinned.

Arthur didn't really know what to say, the scene before him had truly made his heartthrob. It was a warmth that left him with some strange mix of belonging and attachment. Never before had he felt so appreciated. He wanted to say something, be honest, express his gratitude. And so, he said the first thing that came to mind:

"It's fine."

He wanted to kick himself.

"It's kind of strange how much he likes you. He's never really open. He can be quite..."

"Shy," Arthur finished for you.

When you gave him a quizzical look, he was quick to explain, "I-I, uh, I was the same."

Your lips upturned into a soft smile.

"Well, (C/n) must've picked up on it. Kid's are good like that - sensitive to vibes. It means you've got a good heart."

Arthur fidgeted, the words melting him.

"Oh! Um, thank you for coming on such short notice…sorry, I never caught your name?"

"A-Arthur."

"Glad to know your name's not actually Carnival."

His eyes sparkled at your joke, his amusement filling the yard.

"You're probably exhausted, come, I'll make some tea. Or coffee? Is there something you prefer?"

He was about to protest, not wanting to bother you, to go back home to his crummy apartment and lose himself in his journal for the rest of the day, but something compelled him to agree to the offer. He wasn't sure what.

"Coffee is okay, thank you," his smile hadn't left.

When you turned to lead, his eyes flew to your hands, searching for a ring. He also wasn't sure why he let himself.

There was none, however; no jewellery at all.

Huh.

He quickly caught up and shuffled inside after you.

"This really means a lot," you started, closing the screen door before turning to face him, "to me and, obviously to my son..."

A sombre look replaced your smile.

"...I haven't seen him this happy since we moved," you looked back at (c/n), watching him jump up and down with his friends, their voices filtering through the mesh.

"You're not from Gotham?"

You shook your head, rounding him to shift further into the kitchen, behind the counter. His eyes followed your zipping from, moving when you were out of view.

"Sugar?"

Arthur found his hands fidgeting with his wig again, refusing eye contact. A soft 'sure' passed his lips, followed by a 'two, thank you' as the porcelain clink of mugs being placed, echoed. The soft scatter of sugar followed soon after.

"Please make yourself comfortable, Arthur. You can sit down if you'd like."

The scraping of the chair from behind told you that he listened.

After a few moments of silence, he spoke up. You could tell he was starting to open up, less nervous than when you had first spoken to him. It was endearing.

"With all due respect miss-

"(Y/n)," you interrupted, turning to grin at the man. You noticed he had taken his wig off, his red foam nose too, displaying his almost raven coloured locks and chiselled features.

"(Y/n), he repeated. The way your name rolled off his tongue had your stomach fluttering, a sensation that caught you off guard.

"Why did you move to Gotham? It's not exactly the...best place to be."

"Life works in funny ways," you started, "one minute you're on top of the world, the next the floor crumbles beneath you, and suddenly you're in a hole."

Boy, did Arthur understand. Although he knew you weren't able to see him, with your back turned towards him, he nodded his head frantically. How were you able to so eloquently sum up his life? His whole existence?

"Sorry, I'm oversharing," you awkwardly laughed.

"No! I know what you mean..."

With one flick of the kettle's trigger, you returned to Arthur.

"I take it you're a native Gothamite?"

He nodded.

"I live with my moth- … my mother," his voice lost confidence towards the end as if he was ashamed of such a fact.

This was only supported when he scrambled to get out his next words, "she needs help sometimes, and I'm the only one who's around to take care of her."

"I'm all she has…"

You gave him a reassuring smile, gently touching his interlocked hands which were resting on the table. He flinched at the contact.

"You don't need to justify yourself, Arthur. I'm sure your mother's proud to have raised such a compassionate man."

You had caught him off guard - that was for sure. Flicking through the entirety of your interactions wasn't needed to come to the glaringly obvious conclusion that he wasn't used to being complimented. That he wasn't used to any form of nicety, and that fact well and truly broke your heart.

Who had hurt him?

Arthur had yet to find evidence of repulsion - yet to find anything that indicated you were weirded out by him; like the guys at work. He relaxed into the hold a second later, when he realised it wasn't anything threatening. Or, part of some malicious, ulterior motive.

"As strange as this might sound, you're really easy to talk to, Arthur. You're a good listener."

"Really?" He couldn't hold back the crooked, love-struck grin that infiltrated his features, and he was about to compliment you too when the shrieking of the kettle broke up the moment, causing you to pull away from him.

He felt cold; the warming action starkly contrasted with the wind which permeated through the mesh door.

In seconds, you had returned with your steaming beverages, warning of the burning hazards, though your touch hadn't returned.

Fast-forwarding through the small talk and the stories which decorated your conversation, Arthur eventually finished his coffee, and never before had he been so smitten. Out of all the jobs he'd gotten this week, which weren't many, this had been the most enjoyable. Although his work here had finished a while ago, he had tried to stretch out the minutes, just to hold onto the glimmer of happiness he knew would dissipate as soon as he left. He could feel time laughing at him, sticking its ghastly tongue out while telepathically hammering the fact home. He couldn't drag it out any longer.

And so, when it was time for him to leave, heading towards the door, he paused and swallowed his pride, doing what he thought was best.

"Did you want to get dinner sometime?" He said, turning back around as he placed an awkward arm against the arch of the hallway, leaning on it. He saw it in movies. The cool, nonchalant characters always got the girl, so it must work.

Right?

No, that was stupid, he thought.

He forced the limb down, it bumping against his side.

His fingernails dug into his palms again, for the second time that day, pressing against the very same spots as he waited for a response. He was expecting rejection. No way would she say yes, what was he thinking? At least he could say he tried; at least he'd had one positive interaction in the last few months.

Sorry kiddo, guess Carnival's not coming back.

His negative thoughts were disrupted by the sound of your reply. A reply in which made him delighted for taking a chance.

Because your next words were nothing but a sweet package of glazed agreement.

"I'd love to."

Uttering something about a day and a time, to which you agreed, he quickly found his way out of the house.

When he slipped outside into the fresh air, he shut the front door. Away from everyone's gaze - at least those he cared about, namely you. He felt compelled to move. One of his legs with a mind of its own crossed over the other, twirling him around against your patterned brick pathway; a path in which led to the small gated exit. His arms then followed a similar pattern, striking the air, drumming into it. With one slide, the soles of his shoes skated against concrete, pushing him towards the iron gate. He felt good as he opened it. He felt confident. Laughter bubbled from his lips, failing to halt as he travelled further and further away from your house.

He smiled all the way home.

And, it was only until he reached said home, emptying out his pockets while changing into more comfortable clothes, that his fingers brushed up against a flat, smooth surface; thin and malleable. He wrapped his digits over the peculiar material and brought it to eye-level, palm exposed.

It was a small, folded piece of paper. White, though crumbled from being cramped up in his pocket.

He didn't remember placing it in there...

Arthur's eyes grew wide when he unravelled the mysterious sheet, a line of numbers taking up a good portion of its space. Below it was a small 'call me - (Y/n)' written out neatly, a drastic variation to his own child-like scribbles. He reclined his head against a nearby wall, letting his childish exuberance take over.

Turns out you were quite the magician yourself.

———

Arthur sat alone, leg jittering as his eyes glanced back and forth from the clock on the pale wall opposite him, above the entrance. With each darting glance, barely a minute between them, he became increasingly aware of the chatter around him. While there weren't many people in the area with him as the tables were more empty than they were filled, he was highly conscious of the fact that he was the only one there without company.

For the first time, he looked out the window he rested against. The chilled frame soothed his hot face as he watched people stroll by, hoping to catch you. His attempts were, sadly, in vain.

You were late.

When he returned his gaze to look back at the clock again, he tried his hardest not to make eye contact with any of the staff. He knew that if he did, they'd flock to him like a swarm of bees. Instead, he kept his head low, pretending to look at the menu.

After another five minutes passed before the bell hanging off the door finally rang. His gaze immediately shot to the noise, locking with yours. Air left his mouth, both in relief and at the red dress you were wearing, coincidentally matching his own red suit. It hugged your figure, complimenting every curve, and he tried his hardest to keep his eyes from wandering.

You hadn't stood him up.

As your beaming face lit up the world around him, your clacking heels took you to the booth opposite him, observing the room with a smile as you did so.

"I'm so sorry I'm late!" You exclaimed, placing your purse down, sandwiched by you and the wall.

"Kids," you rolled your eyes.

"You came," were his first words, his eyes riddled with a strange confusion, yet a light - hope. He believed he had articulated his surprise internally, that was, until you gave him a look.

"Of course! Why wouldn't I?"

"I-I don't know." He sputtered out.

He did.

As you both got settled in, Arthur for the first time that night willingly made eye contact with one of the servers. Your orders were speedily jotted down and taken to the chef within minutes.

Conversation flowed, and his jokes actually got a reaction out of you, much to his surprise. The tension, or rather the anxious energy that seemed to bounce off the two of you melted, fading away light the lights of the cars that sped by the open window. In its absence, a playful aura took told. Small touches here and there, and your leg which rubbed against his, even if it was accidental, left his head spinning. This, he thought, was bliss.

"So," you started, a finger twirling around a strand of (h/c) hair, "I've decided."

Arthurs brows furrowed, allowing you to continue.

"I have to tell you something," you said, rubbing your hands against your dress; a nervous tick.

A finger curled into his collar, tugging at it to cool his heating body temperature. Arthur's anxiety which was already a mess, exacerbated from hearing one of the most infamously terrifying phrases.

"I feel like it'll be good for me to open up - I haven't told anyone since I've left. No one really knew in the first place, except a few friends."

Arthur didn't know what to say.

It sounded serious. Your words held a unique gravity to them. And while he felt the air around them shift, from light-hearted and playful, to darker, more solemn, he could tell you had been repressing what you were about to tell him for a good while. He knew the look.

His hand reached over the table to meet yours. They were timid, brushing against yours experimentally until he knew you were comfortable with his affection.

"How the tables have turned," you joked, allowing his hand to slip into yours.

"I was in a nasty relationship," you started off wavering, a sigh passing into the air, "I only dared to leave a few months ago."

Arthur's heart virtually broke as you revealed this to him. He watched as you swallowed the lump in your throat, noting how your eyes started to flutter from the stinging of tears.

"It endangered me and my son. It took a lot of strength to leave, but I had to for (C/n). He's my world, and I care about him more than myself."

Tears by now had fallen, running down your cheeks. Arthur intently listened to your confession.

"Moving to Gotham was the only way we could start over, and if I could have given him a better life, I would have, but it was the best I could do. I just wanted to see him happy again."

You let out another sigh, trying to blink away a few of the stray tears, though Arthur beat you to it, his hands moving to your face, wiping them with his thumbs. He felt how you leant into his touch, your eyes falling shut with a sniffle. As grim as the situation was, he was happy you were comfortable enough to tell him such a heartbreaking story.

"Sorry," you mumbled, forcing a laugh out to mask your vulnerability. Arthur saw right through it.

He gave you a look, one that virtually said 'are you serious?' before he spoke, exasperated, "what for?"

"I don't know...for crying? For dropping this on you, for-"

"Hey," Arthur's thick, dark eyebrows furrowed, his hands still cupping your face, "if I even had half the strength of you, I'd-"

"I'd-"

Arthur paused, his voice coming out as chokes.

Oh no.

He felt an overly-familiar twitch in his throat, a reflex in which he tried to stifle by clamping his mouth shut, contorting his face in pain to keep it at bay.

He never could.

And then, at the worst possible moment, the worst he could possibly think of, he hunched over and wheezed, cackling over the table. Your eyes, riddled with confusion from the lost contact, was promptly replaced with hurt at his sudden laughter.

He quickly noticed this, shaking his head.

Everyone else in the establishment, with what few were there, reared their heads to the ruckus, watching Arthur spiral.

"I-I'm so-" he started, desperate to contain himself.

It only made things worse.

"S-sorry."

He fiddled with his pockets, trying to produce the laminated card, he practically depended on. His fingers brushed the plastic, and he frantically pulled it out, sliding it to the other side of the table.

Please understand.

Please, please, please.

You had been the only person he'd connected with in months, perhaps longer. And now, he was about to ruin it with his stupid, stupid, stupid condition.

Guess the mystery had unravelled, he thought bitterly.

He tried to watch your expression for any indication of disgust or contempt. It was difficult, however, as he continued his fit, a hand hitting the table's surface. Another reflex. The pain was starting to set in, his lungs screaming, and his chest aching.

Please just let it end.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

Your voice surprised him, the kind tone and the understanding in your eyes was something he had to get used to. Something he wanted to get used to. How were you so kind? So accepting?

He shook his head slowly, trying to get a few words out.

"I have-"

"Have to-"

He tried to breathe, nearly choking.

"W-Wait."

"It's okay," you comforted, hurt no longer manipulating your features.

"Take your time."

———

In Arthur's eyes, the date had gone really well, or at the very least as well as it could have gone considering his outburst. He was happy, the feeling of warmth and nervousness he felt around you was something he hadn't really experienced with anyone, or really had the chance to. He kind of liked it.

He felt like he could be himself. You'd laugh at his jokes, his puns, regardless of how morbid they got; the most you'd do is playfully slap his shoulder and bite back a grin - guilty for laughing. He never understood the frivolous sayings about love, how things could sound so far fetched and dramatic, but now, he understood.

He didn't know how it was possible, how someone as beautiful as you, could be interested in someone like him.

After eating, you both walked under the darkness of the sky, the pinpricks which twinkled above, smiling down. Content was the air that surrounded your bodies, a loving blanket. With nothing more than a few minutes walk back to yours from the restaurant, you relished in his company.

It wasn't long before you both arrived back though, almost too soon, with the giddiness of your date still swirling around in both your heads. Arthur, at some point, had wrapped his red suit jacket around your goosebumped form, an action at which you had initially declined, but gave in when he insisted. You thought it felt good against your warming skin, the smell of his cologne intoxicating. As you entered the hallway, leading him back to the living room, you were happy to see the babysitter you had hired playing a board game with your beaming son. She was the teenage daughter of a friend you met at work, and you, happy to help out a struggling youth, decided it was the perfect opportunity to go out with Arthur. After paying her, and seeing her off, you excused yourself for a moment and vanished into one of the other rooms.

Arthur had sat down on the table like last time. The wood cooled his clothed forearms as he watched the child from across the room walk his way over, and push himself into the chair opposite him. Once (c/n), was comfortable, Arthur shot him a smile - one that wasn't returned.

(C/n)'s bright eyes were suddenly reduced to slits, his arms crossed and observing the dressed-up man. It made Arthur uncomfortable, to say the least. What had caused the dramatic shift in attitude?

Nothing was said, for at least a good two minutes, until finally, the small child in his blue space pyjamas saw it necessary.

"You know, my mommy really likes you."

Uh oh.

Arthur made a face back to the boy.

He wasn't entirely sure what face he made, though it didn't matter because the child picked up on his general disbelief anyway.

"It's true!" His arms shot out into the air, "I do too!"

There was no way a child could know such things; plus, nothing was ever certain. It was with this that he pushed down the hope that had sprung up, like a freshly bloomed flower in spring - its stem resistant and youthful, not yet pressed by the wilting life would inevitably bring.

"So you better not be mean to her!" (C/n) exclaimed.

The double meaning behind what the child said made him internally cringe. Arthur now knew the context of your troubled pasts and whilst what (c/n) had said was innocent, had saddened him. Not just over the fact you had been through hell in the first place, but because, for a moment there, Arthur saw himself in the child; a reflection of what he was still like. Always having to take care of his mother - look out for her. Support her any way he could.

Arthur's eyes softened in understanding, a great respect for the child forming. (C/n) sincerely looked up to you - loved you, and he was willing to resist anything that endangered that.

Arthur leaned forward, a forearm extending. His elbow rested against the table's surface and all his fingers, except for one - his pinky - curled into his palm.

"I promise," he said, eyes firm, a certainty the child was happy with.

(C/n) reached his small body over, his knees digging into the pads of cushioning on the chair as his significantly tinier finger wrapped around Arthur's skinny one. A smile was shared between the two of them.

When Arthur went to pull away, he was stopped by (C/n)'s whine.

"No! You have to lock it!"

"Lock?" Arthur questioned.

(C/n)'s tongue stuck out in concentration as he reached his small thumb over to Arthur's, tapping it. After much trial and error, the older man finally got the hint and connected the tip of his thumb with the boy.

"There!" (C/n) exclaimed.

Unbeknownst to the two seated at the table, you had snuck back into the room, watching the heartwarming scene unfold. The gentle noise of your knocking signified your return, and Arthur, with surprise, jumped in his chair, quickly standing. You bit into your lip, trying not to laugh.

He made his way over to you when you extended your arm, his red suit jacket floating in the air as your fingers gripped it from the top. In one quick movement, it was hugging his body again.

"Thanks," Arthur smiled.

As much as he wanted to stay, to talk to you all night, his eyes caught the time which had apparently flown by, like a flock of birds migrating for the winter. He had undoubtedly overstayed his welcome, and his mother was probably worried sick.

His eyes grew wide.

"I-I have to go!"

His sudden shift in mood had you worried.

"Arthur? Are you okay?"

"I'm really late. I'm sorry."

"Oh - okay well, let me walk you to the door?"

It was barely a few meters away, and you internally scolded yourself. How obvious could you get?

He quickly nodded.

Your form quickly moved past him as you hear Arthur's gentle voice in the background say goodbye to (C/n). When your fingers gripped onto the doorknob, pushing it, Arthur squeezed past with a small 'thank you'. You felt the nips of the wind against your exposed arms, causing you to shiver. The distant noises of Gotham - the blaring sirens which were muffled, and the faraway clamour of car horns, was something you had gotten used to; it was a city that never slept.

Arthur stood awkwardly in front of you, lost. It was then when you realised you had to make the first move.

"Thanks for tonight," you said, hands wrapping around him in a gentle embrace, chin resting on the pad of his shoulder. The smell of his cologne hit your nostrils instantly. It was oceanic, traces of bergamot and melon, with a hint of frangipani; so perfectly him. It was a fragrance that you associated with safety, the small feeling of comfort burrowing in your stomach.

He froze from your actions, evidently stunned. His arms then snaked their way around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

"I had a great time," you whispered, eyes closing against him.

The husky agreement which you felt vibrate in his chest induced a sinful shiver. As much as you wanted to stay wrapped in his arms for longer, hell for the rest of the night, you knew he needed to be somewhere. Tearing yourself away, the hands remaining at your hips stopped you, squeezing into your sides. This prompted you to look up at the man, into his hardened eyes. They looked to be concentrating, portraying an internal war. His Adam's apple bobbed. You didn't get a chance to ask if he was okay because he moved before you could, his lips quickly pressing themselves against the softness of your heated cheek before scurrying off.

You smiled, fingers grazing the area.

Arthur was a unique man. Strange, but endearingly so.

So soft and gentle; kind.

He would never hurt a fly.

———

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Arthur repeated the mantra in his head.

He'd fucked up - fucked up big time.

He'd shot three men - killed them in cold blood.

His ears were still ringing from the gunshots, and he remembered the way his hands shook as he held the trigger. How his tremors diminished with every squeeze until finally, a hardened look replaced his fear. His whole demeanour had altered within those critical seconds.

As he found himself back in the present, his makeup smudged and appearance dishevelled, he emerged out of the public bathroom, panting.

He felt different.

The eyes which had stared back at him in that mirror didn't feel like his own. They didn't harbour the terror they once swam in, nor the naivety. His body, which had moved with grace and finesse, had danced on the dirty tiles instead. His movements came from the soul; a conglomeration of motions he was unaware he was even capable of.

Yes - he was different.

So, when he wiped off his makeup, and kicked his leg out, against the resistance of the bathroom door, he didn't go back to his apartment. He didn't want to see the rats in the lobby, scurrying and squeaking, only a matter of time before they found their way into his apartment. He didn't want to stare at the wall for hours, envisioning what could have been, and the what if's. He didn't want to sit down with his journal and think about how depressing his life was - just to get his therapist off his ass.

No, he didn't want to.

So he didn't.

Preferably, he found himself going in the other direction. To the place where he felt most welcomed. Loved.

Although the date had been days prior, he felt the need to see you.

He didn't know how long it took him to get there, all he knew was the thumping of his heart, it's frantic beat echoing in his ears when he rapped on the door. The sound hollow.

Your head peaked out, groggy from sleep as you opened the door, its range widening when you saw him. It was late, perhaps late enough to be considered the early hours of the morning, but you didn't question it. Rather, his name passed your lips with concern.

Arthur didn't hear you call his name. Though he saw your lips move, plump and inviting. No sound reached his dazed state. His hands found your face alternatively, thin digits sliding below your mastoid, save for his ring finger and pinky. Wasting no time in seizing your lips, his mind worked overtime to memorise every little detail - of the moment he had been waiting for; the grand finale.

Every scent - like the perfume that seeped into your skin, faint and applied hours prior. It was a scent he often detected, sometimes rubbing off on his clothes, but an odour he never got sick of; heavenly.

Every feeling - like the way your hands wrapped around his form, gripping him tightly to steady yourself from your stumbling - from his pushes into the house. Or, like the feeling of his stomach, how it fluttered when you kissed him back, his heated blood pumping through him.

Every sound - like the soft 'click' of the door behind him, which he closed with the sole of his shoe.

Every taste - like the raspberry chapstick which coated your lips, mixing in with the contrasting flavour of his carmine lipstick. Although most of it was wiped off, there were distinct traces. Smudges.

Every sight - the way your playful grin took up most of it when you pulled away, teeth dragging your bottom lip, leading him to your bedroom.

When inside, Arthur dipped you down onto the bed, his slim frame hovering over yours with darkened eyes. The dim glow of your lamp residing on the bedside table allowed you to identify the hunger in his look. A lusting fire which burned right before you, behind those glassy, blue eyes. The warmth of his lips met your mouth once more, but only for a second because he shifted his attention to the base of your neck. The moments in between had you complaining from the loss of contact, a noise which he chuckled at.

He wanted - needed - to explore every curve of your body; every crevice. Map it in his brain.

"Arthur," you whispered. He shivered at the sound of his name breathlessly leaving your lips, goosebumps forming across his skin. In response, he hummed deeply - an acknowledgement which originated from the back of his throat, the vibrations sinful against your heightened senses.

"What's gotten into you?"

The confidence radiating off of him, although adding to the pool in your panties, had surprised you. You had to remind yourself that the previously timid Arthur and the man above you were the same person.

"I need you," he husked.

Amazed by his forwardness, though equally as desperate, your voice came out shaky, "then take me."

Three words. Those lovely three words were all it took for him to lose himself; his control. The tightness of his pants was becoming too much to bear. It was his own personal prison, and the anguished motivation to escape was only increasing by the passing moments. Judging by the way you were grinding against him, pressing against his crotch unfairly, he knew you were just as riled up.

His kisses seared into your skin, rendering you a whimpering mess. Your back arched against the mattress, an action driven entirely by instinct as his hands slipped under your shirt. In an attempt to make things easier, your hands hooked under the shirt as well, bunching it up. When he sensed the movement, he assisted you with the material. In your whirlwind of passion, the article of clothing had been removed, thrown away as it was left sprawled across the floor, uncaringly. His breath hitched in his throat when he realised there was nothing underneath it, except for your underwear.

"You're beautiful," he said, pupils full-blown.

Your eyes then smiled up at his in the delicate moment, the tender upturn of your brows leading to the capture of his lips. Without so much as moving away, his slender fingers fiddled with his dress shirt, he too, removing himself from its constraints.

He suddenly pulled away as his frustration reached its peak. His need for you had become overpowering, and he worked his way down towards the only piece of clothing you had left. The light, tickling touch of the pads of his fingers slid down your ribcage, tracing down your hips until they reached the waistband. His thumbs dipped under the elastic, and with the cooperation of your wiggling, it was promptly discarded. His caress was ever so gentle, his handling virtually leaving you quaking beneath him.

Arthur wasted no time in pleasuring you, this was proven to you quickly when one of his digits smoothly slid into your cunt. The sound of your wetness was vulgar, although all the more alluring.

He felt drunk; hazy. In some sense, it was surreal that this was occurring, that you were actually interested in him in the first place. Yet, there was another part of him that was screaming at himself to focus, to halt his berating comments and take pleasure in the way you were crumbling before him. He tried to do the latter.

"Fuck- oh my god!" You immediately cried out, hands darting to cover your mouth as he slowly started pumping his finger. His devilish movements had your other hand fisting the sheets.

Your breathing swiftly became ragged under the knuckle you bit down on, and he hastily added another finger, loving your reaction. He felt his chest swell with pride as he glanced up at your dishevelled manner. Encouraged by the enchanting sight, he picked up his pace. It was relentless and brutal, the thrusts forcing obscene mewls from you, some no longer containable. Raising your hips to meet his rhythm, to relieve the overwhelming knot forming, you knew you weren't going to last long. Arthur knew this too, your squirming made this clear, and he instantly added his lips to the equation, stimulating your clit.

You were done for.

As your walls clenched around his fingers, your hands rushed to grip his hair. They weaved through his untidy strands, pushing his head down while the wild flicks of his tongue assisted you with your earth-shattering orgasm. Ecstasy rushed over your trembling form, and as your thighs tensed, the tip of your head grazed the headboard; you swore you could see stars. Arthur's cock twitched in his pants at the sight of you unfolding before him, impossibly hard.

"Holy fuck!" You moaned.

He kindly slowed his rhythm when he knew you finished, yet his tongue licked a long stripe against your slit, moving to lap up your juices. The sensation, as well as the hums that lasciviously left his mouth, vibrated against your already sensitive core, setting you down the path for a second climax.

Perhaps he had done it on purpose, but when you felt the pressure in your abdomen, ready to burst again, he pulled away.

"No!" you cried, "Arthur, please! I'm gonna cum, please let me cum!" You sobbed quite shamelessly. In all honesty, your words surprised yourself, and apparently Arthur too, because laid sat there for a moment, eyebrows raised as a delicious smirk settled over his lips. He took his merry time, with no sign of returning to you, savouring your pleading.

"Beg," he purred, sitting up as his tongue lolling out to lick and suck on the fingers that had fucked you into oblivion. His eyes never shifted from yours, and you watched with absolute astonishment, upon desire, at the action. Your reaction only egged him on.

What exactly happened to him in the last 72 hours?

You were genuinely bewildered at the whole situation. The last thing you would have expected was to have Arthur rock up in the middle of the night and turn into a sex god. Though, you certainly weren't complaining.

While one of his hands was busy, in his mouth, his other trailed up your thigh. Eventually, it reached your bundle of nerves, tracing small circles with his thumb, agonisingly slowly.

"You're so good to me, fuck," you whined, stirring against his touch. He pulled away again when you bucked into his hand.

"Please-"

"Please, what?"

"I need you inside me, Arthur, fuck please-"

He couldn't take much more of your begging, his own self-control had wholly vanished by then, and he quickly shifted out of his pants, freeing himself. When his cock fell into his fist, he gave two steady pumps before lining himself up with you. You held your breath in anticipation despite your wild heart, making you feel dizzy. The relief you had been longing for - no aching for - had finally arrived when he pushed himself into you.

"Oh god- you feel so good," you gasped. The moan which fell from Arthur's lips had your name mixed in, a deliciously carnal sound. As he started moving, a slow rhythm from his hips developing, he shut his eyes. With his concentration on chasing his finish, salty beads of sweat trailed down his forehead.

"Arthur," your gentle voice had called, "w-wait."

Upon hearing your words, he immediately stopped, eyes flying open with concern.

"Let me take care of you."

He was confused as to what you meant until you maneuvered yourself on top, kissing him softly.

You could see the stutter in his confidence at your words, though his nod signified his consent. With a small smile, you made sure he was comfortable before your entrance started teasing his cock. You felt him tense up, and when you made the movement again, he thrust into you, an involuntary action which made you both cry out. His stroke hit you perfectly the first time, harsh yet euphoric. If you woke up the next day and found your body aching, you wouldn't be shocked.

His arms reached over to embrace your form as you buried your face in the crevice of his neck, teeth grazing the sensitive flesh. Then, fully adjusted to his length, you started to move up and down on his cock, the feeling of him stretching your walls overwhelming.

"You're doing so well," you gulped, your panting warming the side of his throat.

"I want to see you," he managed to murmur out, and his request was promptly granted when you pulled away from his neck.

His hands slid down to grip your hips when you shifted, guiding them as you bounced. No longer did he need to fantasise about being with you, image you writhing in pleasure as he touched himself. No longer did he need to envision the way you felt around his cock, the way you moaned; it was now his reality. Hell, even Arthur's wicked fantasies couldn't have prepared him for this. Nor the words that left your mouth next, sending him spiralling.

"Let go, Arthur. Cum for me."

He did.

And hard.

His orgasm rocked him to the core, and you milked him for all he had, his hot spurts of cum coating your walls. Both your paces slowed, becoming sloppy as you came crashing down seconds later.

Deathly tired, you collapsed on top of his chest, exhausted. The only sound that could be heard were your frantic breaths, and you could've sworn your heart too, considering how hard it was beating. As you both took a minute to calm, neither of you move from each other, his cock still buried within you.

Only when you felt him soften did you slowly depart, rolling beside him. Arthur's grew heavy when you did, though they tried to resist the weight of his lethargy. He managed to twist his frame over to you, giving you one last kiss, the taste of yourself prominent in the heartfelt and passionate kiss, before he finally gave in.

Sleep gripped your forms.

———

Arthur stirred at the alien sensation of warmth next to him. Your naked body was pressed against his, head leaning on his chest as his arms protectively enveloped your frame. It took a few moments for this to register, and a lot more minutes for him to realise this was real; that this wasn't a dream - a product of his imagination.

He hadn't woken up in his own bed with his sheets dirtied from, well, his...dreams.

Everything had actually happened yesterday.

Your beautiful form was really there in his grasp, face relaxed with soft exhales leaving your nose. He could feel the breath against his skin, a perception his body reacted to on its own.

Don't start, he thought, scolding himself.

Perhaps it was his staring that had woken you next, or the soft, dulled yellow tone of the suns rays projecting past the white curtains. He wasn't sure. But, when your (e/c) eyes bore into his, fluttering open with a grin he knew he'd never get used to, he realised it didn't matter. Its appearance always managed to sucker punch him in his gut, make his heart stop. And if that was the way he was going to die, fuck, he really couldn't complain. He'd choose it if he could. Your radiance was sincerely otherworldly to him, angelic - personally constructed and moulded by the angels themselves.

"Goodmorning," you yawned, arching your back into a stretch. Soft groans left your lips and pops from your joints filled the air. Arthur's finger trailed your spine, forcing you to shiver.

"Morning," he replied lazily, a drowsy smile gracing his lips.

"I don't wanna get upppp" you whined, voice still affected by sleep as you nuzzled into him.

"We don't have to," Arthur shot you a look, one you were quickly starting to identify as his sex expression. Its appearance forced you to roll your eyes playfully, something he laughed at.

"Maybe later, loverboy."

After one soft morning kiss, you both decided it was best to do the complete opposite of what you wanted and get up.

As you both tossed on the discarded clothes from your nightly activities, Arthur beat you to the kitchen, refusing to let you sort your breakfast out. Your giggles decorated the hallway as you admitted defeat, knowing he wasn't going to give in. In no time, Arthur had somehow transformed into a chef, something he casually brushed off, stating he learned for his mother.

Not long after, a long metallic groan - of hinges - sounded. Then, frantic footsteps littered the hallway, a short form entering the kitchen soon after, eyes observing the scene before them.

"Are those pancakes?" The boy asked, looking between you and Arthur.

Arthur winked at (C/n). It was enough confirmation for the kid and his feet lept off the ground repeatedly. His cute red pyjamas had green patterns of t-rex's scattered across the fabric, a fact he exhibited to Arthur every few minutes.

So, this was what having a family felt like, Arthur thought, smiling.

When Arthur eventually finished cooking and experimenting with pancake shapes (he had managed to morph yours into the outline of a heart and (C/n)'s into Pacman), he was the last to join the table.

Excited to take a chuck out of his consumable masterpiece, Arthur sipped on his water. But, before he could move on, the boy's words across from him, stopped him, forcing the liquid back into its glass.

Arthur damn near choked. Deep coughs emerged from his chest, and while he was repulsed by the sight of his saliva swirling with the chilled drink, it was the least of his worries with the child's words buzzing around his head.

"Does this mean you're my dad now?!"

———

Side note: I was genuinely considering putting the summary as ‘Arthur shoots people and gets laid lol’ because I couldn’t think of anything. I need help PFTT

238 notes · View notes

xiuhnny · 5 years

Text

a montage of love / mark lee

genre: college!au, acquaintances to lovers!au, slow burn, fluff, a lot more angst than anticipated

pairing: mark lee/female reader

word count: 26.5k jesus christ

warning: alcohol and drug abuse, explicit language, suggestiveness, a bit of heart-wrenching angst

summary: High school was a time in your life you didn’t like to think about, especially when the present days were the best ones you had ever lived. But when Mark Lee shows up in the form of blast from the past, you’re left with emotions you never planned on experiencing.

author’s note: i’ve been working on this for almost a year. amid the mess that is my life, i poured my heart and soul into this project, which is the first official piece of writing i do for the kpop community. it has taken longer than i expected, and i apologise to everyone who had been waiting for this to be published since i posted the preview quite some time ago. however, it is here! i’ll never be the person who can put out a short story because my need to go into fully specific details about every single thing is stronger than anything else. pleathe be mindful of the fact that this is fiction and i dont think any character in this work resembles their real life counterpart besides their physical appearance. also, i’m aware that i mix british terms with american ones, mind you that i’m neither so bear with me for a sec lol

High school was a time you weren’t particularly fond of.

It was just a clustered mess of stillness-infused events happening one after the other, never having anything really good coming out of it. It was either neutral or downright disastrous and embarrassing, so sometimes you pretended it either didn’t exist or it was a foggy, distant memory in the back of your mind.

Everything had been just plain, normal, detached, never good enough to think of it fondly.

You supposed being the new kid was probably one of the causes that made your attempts at fitting in with the others fail miserably. The people you hung out with were the type of people you knew your friendship wouldn’t stretch further than the last day of high school: you relied on each other for convenience. That didn’t hurt you at all because it was something you did too. And it wasn’t like you were the best version of yourself back then.

The best came when you entered college.

The college you was the person you had always dreamed to be. Liked by people who genuinely cared for you and your wellbeing, with whom you shared good and bad moments. Carefree in the sense that you were no longer afraid of sharing your opinions and being yourself yet carrying all the same struggles every other college student did. This was your peak. You were at the top of your game in every aspect possible. And even if you were still flawed, like you would always be, the life you lead was still worth it.

However, not everyone shared the same path as you. Some people just had it all since the beginning: they were consistent in the way they presented themselves to other people throughout the years, and consequently that in itself appeased the masses no matter the environment they inserted themselves into. It didn’t help at all if they were truly nice people, which was the case.

You weren’t sure why the fact that Mark Lee was as loved — if not even more — in college as he was in high school surprised you, but the truth was, it did.

Going through a blast from the past was something you were expecting, seeing people from your old school navigating through the halls of a place you really liked became second nature. You saw Sicheng every once in a while, the Chinese guy you had to become acquainted because both of you had transferred to your high school closely after each other. You saw Dahyun who was from your Math class though you never really made an effort to be friends, neither did she. You saw a variety of faces with whom you had shared tiny speckles of basic interaction.

But Mark Lee wasn’t just any person.

Mark Lee was the cool guy who looked like he had everything without even trying or working hard for it. He had reliable friends, good looks, good grades, recognition and respect from pretty much everyone surrounding him. You were sure there wasn’t a soul capable of hating or so much as even having hard or negative feelings towards him. And rightfully so, for while Mark looked like someone who breezed through life without a scratch, he was severely passionate and strived hard for good results on whatever he put his mind in to. To top it off, he had luck on his side.

You couldn’t hate the guy, you’d give him that. He was too much of a good person.

It was nearly the end of the first semester of your second year of college when you saw him for the first time after you had ended your senior year of high school. With Mark being younger than you by one year, you had been swept away out of that hellhole before him. But as luck would have it, you were back to sharing an education facility. Not that it bothered you that much, except you had to be shocked not only by his presence, yet also by the happenstance he was talking to one of your best friends with whom you were supposed to meet up fifteen minutes ago.

You were the one who was late, of course. So many years had gone by and you still weren’t able to be on time whatever the circumstance was. And when you tried to be responsible and leave your dorm early, the universe seemed to be against you. It remained a mystery why public transportation would fail you on only those specific times.

At that moment, being late was the least of your worries, because there, in front of you, stood two people who represented completely different times of your life colliding with one another, while you watched in the sidelines and wondered why something like this was even happening to you.

It truly felt weird to you seeing the out-of-reach Mark interacting with completely-approachable Jungwoo.

Pursuing a friendship with one of the school’s most popular people did not charm you in any way back then. You thought about it sometimes, what would happen if you were to befriend Mark, or his best friends Donghyuck and Yeri, but reality brought you back before your imagination pulled you in too deeply. Besides that, you were never interested enough in that kind of people, the ones who seemed like they were known by everyone and their mothers. The difference between you and them was ghastly, bound to never work out.

“___!” A voice shook you out of your memory lane themed thoughts, your eyes blinking into focus to the image of the two boys now looking at you, one with sheer happiness to see you and the other surprised. For what reason you couldn’t decipher why. He had always been like that. Not that you had paid Mark Lee too much attention in high school. It was just inevitable once in a while to look over to where he was sitting and analyse his behaviour for a tiny bit. You had that habit.

“Hey, Zeus,” You smiled softly, “Sorry for making you wait. Traffic sucked balls.”

Jungwoo rolls his eyes, clearly sensing your politeness had a reason. You had stopped apologising for being late after the first ten times. “Don’t even bother, you talk like I’m not used to it. Oh!” He seems to remember something by the way his eyes jump a little, and then he looks to his left where Mark Lee is, for a fraction of a second before looking back at you again, “That’s right. How rude of me. Remember that guy I told you about named Lucas? The one who is Kun’s cousin?”

“Tall, loud boy?”

“That’s the one.” He grinned, “This is his friend, Mark. We’re heading together to Lucas’s. They invited me over for a game night! How cool is that, uh?”

“Very.” You deadpanned, completely averting the fact Jungwoo was introducing Mark to you. He would have a field day if he knew you knew who Mark was. Because there was no way in hell Mark would know who you were. Moreover, you couldn’t believe he asked you to meet up just because of a measly textbook which you could have handed to him another time. You were still going to meet up with other friends, but the fact you had to take a last-minute detour when you were already late to your original plans stung just a bit. “Here’s the book, by the way.”

“Thanks, you’re a gem.” The sad thing about your best friend was that he knew you couldn’t resist how cute he acted. It worked every single time, including this one. “Why don’t you come over too? If Mark doesn’t mind, that is.”

Mark immediately becomes flustered, eyes widening as if he’d just heard wrong, but you beat him before he can even utter a word in response, which could destroy your nonchalant façade, “Thanks, but I already have plans. The girls and I are actually sleeping over at Eunwoo’s today, and we’re going to the movies in about…” You take your phone out of your pocket to check, the numbers that stared back at you zipping you back into full awareness that you should probably leave if you wanted to make it on time. “Half an hour. We’re watching Venom.” There’s a strange heaviness in your chest making it hard for you to breathe. Being the centre of Mark’s attention felt so alien to you, so unreal and wildly unimaginable. “And I’m sure Lucas and his friend wouldn’t really be comfortable with having a stranger in their home.” You laugh at the end to soften the truth behind your words.

As fun as it is meeting new people, bringing them unannounced in the last minute was never recommended, and it could seriously deflate the comfort in those who were present. Jungwoo had good intentions, but that’s all it was.

(You’re not a stranger, Mark thinks, I’ve had a crush on you for embarrassingly too long.)

“That’s a pity, really.” Your best friend pouts adorably, and you chastise yourself inwardly before you changed your mind, “Let’s set up something as soon as possible, though. I feel like we all will get along well if we get the chance.”

His determined enthusiasm was cute, almost contagious if you willed yourself to let your guard down. You’d let him get away with it this one time.

“Of course! Just let us know when and where, and we’ll be there.”

Mark goes back to looking like he could be feeling every type of emotion possible, chewing on his lip with his eyes unreadably stoic, and the three of you part ways at the school’s garden but not without the thought of how well Mark had grown between the last time you saw him and now infiltrating and contaminating your brain.

Turned out Jungwoo’s ASAP was earlier than you would have ever imagined.

Actually, if things had gone according to the way you had planned, he would forget about the whole ordeal and you would go on with your merry little way without any unfortunate recollection lurking around and probing into your life. You truly didn’t feel the need to meet many new people; everything was already perfect as it was, so why would you even ask for more?

Clearly, your best friend thought otherwise, seeing how seriously he had taken those words, and in the following week, prompted everyone to hang out at his place a Thursday night after classes ended. Much to your surprise, most of your friends seemed okay with it.

Vernon and Kino were just ecstatic over the prospect of meeting and chilling with new people since their social circle was always willing to expand no matter who tried to come in. Eunseo already spent most of her time in Jungwoo’s house to load off of his Netflix subscription and free food so having three or four more people coming over didn’t bother her at all as long as she had her spot on the couch. Yeeun and Eunwoo seized every moment Eunseo wasn’t home to suck each other’s faces off and do God knows what.

And you… Well. You wouldn’t normally mind under other circumstances, really. It wasn’t like you were actively seeking other friendships per se, but you also didn’t avoid them. So you decided that you weren’t going to scheme your way out of a meeting where half of the people there were people you cared about. Mark made you feel a tad uncomfortable because he was someone you had never thought of interacting so closely with — and by interacting you meant standing within a few metres radius while you looked at Jungwoo’s totally unnecessary yet nonetheless appreciated large 4K TV.

What were you supposed to do? Confide in someone about it?

It felt overall illogical to tell one of your best friends about the issue, especially when you knew they would say you were blowing things out of proportion. You could already imagine Eunseo saying something along the lines of ‘High school is shitty for everyone’ and Kino agreeing with a stern look that totally said ‘Just because you had a hard time it doesn’t mean you can project those feelings onto people who don’t deserve it’ because Kino was just the kind of introspective person who would lecture you about how to detach yourself from the problematic behavioural ways you possessed. And you would do nothing but stay quiet, because the truth was, whatever words they deemed fit to tell you were going to be true. Furthermore, you knew you had no reasonable explanation as to why you clamped shut every time someone from your past popped up in your line of view. It just happened. Like the invisible string you had around you tightened every single time, and stupidly, you just let it happen. It was wearing you out little by little.

So for today, you were going to suck it up a little for everyone’s sake and relax around a person whose presence felt so foreign and unreal.

The walk to Jungwoo’s was filled with a 00’s hits playlist blasting through your earpods as a way to let yourself loose and calm down your stupid nerves, your steps matching the beat of whichever song came on shuffle. This whole situation was affecting you so absurdly that for the first time in a really long time you had left the confines of your dorm room earlier than you were used to, so you could get to your destination on time, if not before what had been scheduled. Arriving late meant everyone’s attention would be on you as you awkwardly waved to everyone, and you weren’t really in the mood to be the centre of attention to people you weren’t close to. You would fling yourself from the nearest window if you had to go through what happened when you saw Mark, having his gaze burn uncomfortable holes along every single visible surface of your body. Being fashionably late was not on your plans. Not today.

“Uh,” You should’ve guessed Jungwoo was going to be confused when he saw you standing on the other side of his front door at 19:45, your backpack slung over your shoulders and your university hoodie almost covering you entirely because of how large it was, “___… You’re early.”

You snort, “Yeah, I like to keep you guys on your feet from time to time so you never underestimate me.”

He lets you in with a scratch on the nape of his neck, and when you glance around expecting to see the entire expanse of his lengthy living room littered with known and unknown faces, you’re faced with only Eunseo sitting on the sofa with her computer perched on her crossed legs, face too close to the screen as she typed away.

“Wait,” You frown, craning your neck so his kitchen was visible to you, “Why isn’t everyone here? Am I too early?”

Eunseo suddenly chokes, looking up from the screen, “___! What are you doing here?”

“Don’t tell me you guys…” Trailing off your words, you begin glaring at your friends with a hand perched on your hip indignantly, “You guys… Wow! What time did you guys plan with the others? Let me guess—”

“Before you strangle me to death,” Jungwoo raises his hands over his shoulders in surrender, “We never thought you’d be here so early!”

“I don’t even remember the last time you were on time, ___,” Eunseo is pouting exaggeratedly, pleading her case alongside the other traitor in the room, “We just didn’t want the other dudes to have that first impression of you.”

As much as it pained you to confess, they had a point. If you were planning on actually appearing somewhat likable to these other people you didn’t know, several measures had to be taken. Even if deep down you felt stingy about it — about how your mind seemed to only focus on the fact that they probably had done something like that several times — you understood it. Time was precious, and some could even interpret your lateness as valuing your time more preciously than theirs, which wasn’t really the case because you never did it maliciously. It truly felt like it was apart of your nature, being like that.

“I thought it was one fake bitch in this house, but there’s two.” You sniffle dramatically before going into the kitchen to fetch food to eat in the meantime.

Jungwoo fist-bumped the air in victory. Something was up, he was pretty sure.

Until now things had been going amazingly well, as always. Having Kino, Jungwoo, Vernon, and Eunseo together inside the same place was as familiar to you as the way you recognised yourself in the mirror, so the inside jokes and jabs you threw at everyone were comfortable, homely even.

You were peeking into Eunseo’s laptop with your head against her shoulder, your glasses perched on the bridge of your nose to top off your lazy outfit of the day as you proofread the essay she had been working on for the past three days when the doorbell rang and your attention diverted.

It was incredible how you heard Loud Boy before you could even see him or whoever was accompanying him. A cacophonous, high-pitched symphony of unintelligible screams filled the whole vicinity, Jungwoo’s softer voice practically muffled underneath it all.

“Well,” Eunseo closed the lid of her laptop before putting it back inside her bag, shrugging, “I was expecting this.”

“I don’t even know why you brought it with you, this is supposed to be a chill night,” Vernon quipped from his spot on the floor, the deafening sound coming closer and closer until it was blaring ridiculously loud in your eyes, “Oh, there they are!”

You weren’t sure why you were expecting not to see Mark amongst the other two unknown faces, yet alas, there he was indeed. Looking like a Sim waiting for instructions, stoic with his bugged-out eyes absorbing his surroundings until they land on you. And then he just observes you like he’s trying to make a point you’re unaware of coming across, just until the messy reunion between the other guys dies down. An intense stare-down between the both of you that ends with you averting your gaze not even five seconds later because you’re a little bitch when it comes to eye contact. You swore you would rather gauge your eyeballs out rather than stare at someone for a really long time, and if that someone was Mark Lee, even five seconds was too long.

Lucas, the boy you had coined as Loud Boy, was just as handsome as he was extroverted. The way he carried himself and the atmosphere around him left you with a good impression of him, just like the other boy who was next to him. Minhyuk — “Call me Rocky,” he said, like the discrepancy between his real name and his nickname wasn’t that big — looked like he was a fun person to be around by the way he reacted pertinently to everything that happened. Mark, however, waved at both of you and Eunseo with what looked like a strained, forced smile, a stark contrast to the ease he seemed to exude when he did those weird handshake guys always did, despite the fact it was the first time he had interacted with either Kino or Vernon.

The way Eunseo gripped your hand tightly against hers when the boys fell into a never-ending conversation about the most recent PlayStation 4 games was a foreteller that tonight was going to drag through painfully slow, the emerging testosterone spreading through the air as the themes of their talk rarely strayed too far from gaming. Which wasn’t normally something you would find so boring if it was just your group of friends talking about it. Because Eunseo and you also played, avidly, as a matter of fact, so the fact your friends were getting lost in the hype of having new gaming buddies was reason enough to put a damper on your mood.

You had her there, though, and that was more than enough for you. These kinds of situations never failed to leave you unsure how to act, afraid of looking like an antisocial snob who looked down on others. Together, the both of you looked the way you felt, a bit ostracised and uncomfortable with the undesired and unintentional division between gender, but you accepted it begrudgingly like the other things that had happened so far.

Half an hour into their bickering and fooling around you decide to go somewhere else within the house, dragging Eunseo with you, and it’s the lack of shuffling behind him that alerts Mark of what’s going on in the back scene. It’s then that it clicks — you. You were still there, alongside your friend sitting on the sofa while the rest of them laughed and talked without even thinking about how you must have been feeling. His chest suddenly feels heavy with guilt, mind flashing back to the way the hem of your sweatshirt almost touches your knees and how much he wanted to roll your sleeves.

He’s reminded of past times, times where you were both just a little younger and surrounded by a completely different group of people, but he thinks the way he looked at you back then hadn’t changed at all in comparison to the way he looked at you now. Like he wants to get to know you so much it strangely makes his heartache from time to time. Like he can’t find a way inside your world when he had been given the chance to see you again after two years of desperately agonising over whether he should send you a friend request on Facebook or not. Yet there he was now, just a breath and a half away from speaking to you and just like the God damned fool he was, Fortnite, of all things, cockblocked him into getting distracted by a conversation which he couldn’t get back on the groove because of how truly shitty he felt.

“Uh,” He clears his throat, “I think we forgot about…”

“Shit,” Vernon says, and Jungwoo flings his head back to the now empty space on his sofa, eyes widening to the point of almost looking like an exaggerated animation.

Lucas is shrugging indifferently, “They probably went to drink some water or something like that,” And then he’s back to telling the rest of the story he had been telling before Mark interrupted the flow. That doesn’t deter Jungwoo, who gets up from his spot and goes through the same path you had gone a few minutes before.

“They were sleeping,” He announces when he comes back, “Said we should catch up while we’re at it, and to wake them when we decide to be… inclusive.”

Kino hisses, his face contorting a little at the blow, “That’s something ___ would say.”

“That’s because it was her who said it,” Jungwoo snorts. Mark feels a pang in his chest at your choice of words: they were words said to cause an impact, to bring awareness, to hurt those who were inconsiderate. You didn’t like these type of things, and now he was not even in the mood to be roped back into a setting where he knew it left you uncomfortable.

“Let’s just play two or three rounds, and then let’s watch the movie,” Lucas suggests, still trying to revive the situation.

“It’s not cool to leave them out,” Mark frowns, and he means it. There were many instances in the past where he really wanted to find a way to bring you into his circle of friends, maybe befriend one of your friends just so he could have you around, but as good he was in some things, Mark was disgraceful in everything related to crushing on someone else. He knew he would make a fool of himself, akin to everything he had done ever since he saw you last week. The closest he had been to you before had been in the cafeteria line, and even then he was cockblocked; you looked at him briefly in the eyes and trapped him there, and when he was ready to smile at you, a sign of friendliness which he hoped was inviting, one of his friends calls him and that bubble involving you two was burst just as quickly as it was formed.

That had happened the last days of his junior year, your senior year. And that was the last time he physically saw you. Until last week, what he considered destiny brought you two together. Or Jungwoo brought you two together. He supposed Jungwoo would be absolutely elated if he knew the extent of his thoughts concerning his best friend.

“Yeah guys,” Mark hasn’t known Kino for that long, but he just knew the guy had a serious and righteous aura surrounding him like a superhero cape. “Let’s keep the game talk for another time. This is a movie night for a reason.”

No one seemed bothered about it, as if the original plans weren’t watching a movie, and Jungwoo once again took it upon himself to go call you and your friend, disappearing once again from their eyes, and then returning some minutes later with a very grumpy looking you with said friend rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“This better be good if you felt so compelled to wake us up,” You huff, pushing the bunched up sleeves of your hoodie over your fingers, and Jungwoo pouts from beside you before throwing his arms over your shoulders. He’s hugging you close to his body and you don’t seem uncomfortable by that: you’re neither recoiling in his arms nor freezing, you just roll your eyes at his antics and even go the extra mile to hold the hand that’s dangling pretty close to your chest. Rub your thumb against it. Lead him to somewhere on the sofa where he leans against your chest so freely it stings Mark’s heart for a moment.

He’s unsure of what to make of this. When he saw you last week, Jungwoo didn’t really make an effort to introduce you to him at all. He didn’t say you were his girlfriend, but he also didn’t say you were just his friend. He’s pretty sure the way he’s looking at you both is obvious, because Vernon nudges his shoulder to catch his attention, and whispers, “It might look weird, but they’re friends.” And just then, your other friend — Eunseo? Eunhee? — sits down and cuddles right against Jungwoo, the three of you doing this really strange yet endearing three-way spooning Mark could never think of doing.

The mood is somehow better now, he thinks. You are all watching Coraline — your choice, because ‘it’s only fair we choose it’ — and Mark’s friends don’t seem bothered by it, neither do yours. Maybe it’s an occasional reoccurrence of yours, watching animated movies, or maybe it was just pure coincidence, but Mark is storing all of this information inside his brain greedily like a man starving for life, because it’s information concerning you, and he’ll take whatever he can get if it means it lets him get a small glimpse of who you really are. He had always doubted you were that quiet and neutral.

When the movie ends, almost everyone is sleeping. Lucas was knocked out cold against Rocky halfway through, and little by little eyes start closing and fights are lost against tiredness. The only exception to this is, of course, you. You’re still awake, looking at the TV screen with the palm of your hand propped against your cheek, squishing it so cutely Mark has a hard time concentrating on anything else. It’s stupid, he thinks, how you’re somewhat of a badass — or at least that’s the way he sees you — yet you’re still very capable of melting his heart to a dripping mess without even meaning it. It’s not like you’re doing it on purpose, to appease him or something of the sort; you’re just… Being you. Minding your business. And he likes that a lot already. He wonders how he would react if you ever directed your energy towards him to offer him a smile, or caress the back of his hand, or even hug him. He’d combust on the spot.

But you’re not even giving him the time of your day, and for now, he’ll take that. You probably don’t know who he is, can’t remember how you two go way further back than everyone else thinks. He wonders how he can get close to you when it seems like ten million miles are separating the both of you as opposed to the fact that you’re actually sitting close to each other.

You shake him out of his reverie when you meticulously and carefully withdraw yourself from the tangly mess of limbs you had been for the past two hours. Your friends don’t wake up if anything they snuggle even more against each other like two baby otters hugging as they sleep. Mark’s heart is crawling up his throat with the desire to follow you to wherever you had gone, probably the kitchen, and for the first time ever he doesn’t let the opportunity go to waste. There’s no one to stop him from his quest, he’s a man with a mission and he will knee kick whoever tries to stop him on the throat.

As predicted, you’re in the kitchen. Your back is turned to him, the billowiness of your large sweatshirt — the colour this bright orange that immediately caught anyone’s attention — engulfing your frame, making you look so tiny and huggable it’s no wonder Mark imagines a scenario where he just approaches you and hugs you from behind, cheek poising on your shoulder before your own arms reach back and stroke his hair. It was ridiculous of him to let his mind run so wild when the reality was that you two had never spoken to each other directly. But that was about to change, even if he was on the verge of peeing his pants because of how nervous he was.

A sound startles you, seemingly someone clearing their throat from behind. Much to your dismay, it’s the person you least expected to be there.

Mark.

You’re stunned beyond words to see him standing with his eyes trained on you and nothing else. There was no apparent reason for any interaction between the both of you, nothing was tying you together expect the fact that you both had gone to the same high school. But you were sure he didn’t remember you. You weren’t that recognisable. Just a normal looking face amongst the crowd.

“Um,” He starts off, blinking twice as if he’s gathering his thoughts and pondering how to word them correctly, “Sorry ‘bout… What happened out there.”

Now, this was interesting. Verging on the edge of uncomfortable if you really tried to apply some logic and let your mind take over. Though the mild curiosity plaguing you felt more enticing. You really wanted to know why he was here, apologising on behalf of the others for something you had decided wasn’t that deep. Annoying, perhaps, but deep down understandable. It had already washed out.

“What do you mean?” You cross your arms against your chest and lean back with the bottom of your spine against the counter.

“I, uh. I guess what I’m saying is that I’m sorry that we ruined your night.” He sounds strained like he’s not proud of the things he just said, but had to do it because that’s how normal conversational situations worked.

It was cute, you thought. His words. His stance. The way he was jiggling his foot up and down in what you assumed was nervousness. Him, in general.

Mark Lee was an attractive boy, and the stiffness you felt at the absurdity of what was happening wasn’t enough to stop you from acknowledging that. He just had to be absolutely handsome, because being perfect in almost every other aspect probably was insufficient to him. No matter the circumstance, even now — looking like he would rather pop off his head like a balloon instead of standing there — he looked divine.

If you could bet he was unaware of how heartbreakingly good-looking he was, you would. He looked like that kind of person.

“You don’t have to apologise, Mark. It’s whatever.” His name slips out of your mouth so unfamiliarly you’re taken aback. This is the first time you’re addressing him personally, hell — this is your first conversation. You almost want to discreetly pinch yourself to see if it’s true, but you don’t. Mark was apologising to you for something you no longer cared about as a way to spark a talk between you two, and if that was just a figment of your imagination then so be it.

“Really?” He’s surprised, that much you can tell by the way his irritatingly cute lips round up. “You looked pretty pissed…”

“I was,” You shrug, “It was a bit shitty of you guys, if I’m being honest, but I’m over it.” You meant those words. It wasn’t something you were saying as a means to sweeten him up. You wouldn’t do that. Not to him, not to anyone else.

“I still feel bad… But I promise we didn’t do it on purpose.”

“I know.” Words cease, because you truly don’t know what to say other than that. What were you supposed to do? Instigate something that wasn’t related to the current topic? You felt weird even contemplating it.

Seconds go by, the sounds coming from the TV in the living room muffled yet audible, and voilá, there it was.

The uncomfortable silence you knew would happen if you ever were to speak to someone like Mark. It was there, and it made you inwardly wince at how obvious it was. You were looking to everywhere but him. Feigning interest in the speckles of black in the marble countertop of Jungwoo’s home was better than looking to him. Deep down you were planning your escape route. You were ready to gulp down the rest of your glass of water and flee to the living room, maybe grab your stuff, go home to your bed where you could think about whatever you wanted without fearing someone peeking into the mess your head was.

And then,

“I’m… I’m not sure if you remember me, but we went to the same high school.” His voice is soft, so soft but still so capable of boggling you to the point of silencing your inner thoughts.

Mark Lee knew who you were. He knew you, and not just because you were Jungwoo’s best friend, but he knew about your existence since the time you had always dreaded. The heavy feeling in your throat resembles bile, and you try to push it down for the sake of looking presentable and okay in front of Mark, despite feeling completely the other way around. Your hands are clamming up, you can sense them and the urge to fidget with something, the urge to shrink in size to the littlest you possibly could.

But you couldn’t just disappear out of thin air. Unfortunately. So once again, you suck it up, remember who you are and where you are, and reply with a meek, gentle, “I know.”

He laughs dryly, a hand scratching the back of his neck, “I thought you didn’t know who I was.”

You’re somewhat befuddled by his statement, “What?” A chuckle leaves your throat, and abruptly you’re no longer feeling mortified by all of this, just bewildered, curious, intrigued. He made the leap, opened a path where you both could meet in the middle, and you weren’t going to let this one go without prodding it to its bone and core. “Mark… Everyone knew you. How could I not know you?”

“Not everyone knew me,” He sounds exasperated, and you deadpan at his reply, calling him out on his bullshit. The hue of the lights in Jungwoo’s kitchen must be completely fucked up because you swear if you squint there’s some lovely baby pink dusting Mark’s cheeks. “I was just… trying not to let the conversation die. Also, you’re the only person I have recognised so far that went there. It’s nice to see someone familiar.”

You almost choke at him calling you familiar, “Your best friends go here too, though.”

“That’s different.”

You want to roll your eyes but decide against it. “How so?”

They’re…” He trails off, “My best friends. I know them. I’m with them all of the time. And you’re…”

He must have a habit of not finishing his sentences, you realise. Either that or his brain cells are trying their hardest to formulate coherent, plausible thoughts so he can say them. If that’s the case, they’re failing miserably.

“A stranger.” You quip. It’s the truth. You racked your brain for a more appropriate word, but the scan you did for approximately two-thirds of a millisecond failed you. He bites his lip and looks away like he knows you’re right but he’s afraid of confirming it. Great, you muse privately, now I’m focusing on his god damning lips. “You know something? I think I should be the one saying that.”

“Saying what?”

“I thought you didn’t know who I am,” Dropping the tone of your voice by an octave, you mimic what you think Mark’s voice sounds like. As a response, he bursts out laughing at your silly imitation, even going to the point of lowering his upper body against the island separating the both of you, and covering his mouth a few moments later because of how loud it was in comparison to your tranquil surroundings.

His laugh starts low but then ends high-pitched, and as surprising as it is, it doesn’t overwhelm you like you thought it would. It’s kind of ridiculous how something so absurdly normal is capable of making your night, but it does. Also, his face looked kind of cute when he laughed, but you weren’t dwelling too much on that.

“Sorry… That was funny as hell.” He lifts his head, scooting his body closer so he’s closer to you, so he can see you better, so he can be more attentive. There’s still that island blocking him from being too close to you, and for that you’re thankful. Having him where he was already proved to be nerve-wracking if he was mere centimetres away from you… You’d take your previously forgotten escape plan in consideration. You note that it’s the first time you can physically recognise how he’s feeling. “But to reply to what you said, I saw you around school a lot, so it’s normal for me to know who you are, I guess?”

“It’s not, Mark. Okay, let me see if I can explain it to you the best I can.” You sigh, hopping onto the counter behind you. This boy had to be oblivious of all things. “You were popular in high school. A lot of people liked you because you were cool and funny, and good-looking, and a plethora of other annoyingly good qualities.”

It’s too late before you can fully grasp what you just said.

Because being the normal human being you were, you had just revealed to Mark you thought he was good-looking. To his face. On the first conversation you two were having.

This was one of the reasons why you had always steered away from people like him. They were dangerous, but your idiot of a brain, which was known to be very quick when thinking, was worse, and subsequently, it left you with a variety of unfiltered, unbridled voiced opinions you should keep to yourself from time to time.

It didn’t happen this time. And if Mark is aware of it or not, you can’t really say. The weird lighting is still playing tricks on you, making his cheeks appear flushed. But you know he’s not. His expression is as confusing as it had always been.

“You have to at least know that,” You giggle nervously, “It’s okay to acknowledge it. It’s not bad to be popular.”

“So a lot of people knew who I was. What’s the big deal about it?”

“Nothing,” You shrug, “I just find it weird how someone like you recognises someone like me, that’s all.”

He furrows his brow, “I don’t follow.”

Of course not.

“I was the most ordinary person in that school. I guess I’m just surprised you know who I am from back then since we pretty much were on opposite sides.” He sends you a look, silently asking you to explain further, and with a grumble, you add, “You ran with the cool kids. I ran with… normal kids.”

He rolls his eyes and crosses his arms against his chest. You’re impressed with the range of emotions you’re pulling out of him. “We ran with different crowds. That doesn’t mean I can't know who you are. If that was the case, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” Pausing for a dripping second, he eyes you intensely, the same kind of look he gave you earlier when you saw him. So he was trying to make a point come across after all. “I’m not an asshole… or a fuckboy if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“That’s exactly what a fuckboy who’s an asshole would say.” You’re obviously joking. Mark was a wonderful person, you heard it a lot through the grapevine back in high school. How much of a selfless person he was. How caring he acted towards his friends. How serious he took things. It was simply impossible to hate the guy. You tried to hate him for being so nice, back in your sophomore year when you moved, but that just said more about you than him, really.

He’s grinning at your choice of words, so you know he took it as a joke. You’re thankful for that. You already felt stupid enough trying to clarify your point of view in this whole You-Know-Me fiasco, it felt childish now that you thought about it, but if he wasn’t able to detect your sarcasm it’d be awkward time anew. “No, but really. I’m not that kind of person, ___.”

It’s the first time you have heard him say your name, and it floors you so inexplicably you can’t help but scratch the non-existent itch you were feeling in the back of your hand.

Mark Lee was dangerous, you already knew that. He was that person who was able to lure you in without even wanting to, to make you feel important because you were on the receiving end of his attention.

You were dipping your foot, testing the waters. Seeing if the temperature was ideal. Like you’re standing above a swimming pool, buzzing with the rush of wanting to dive in, but holding yourself back because you don’t want to suffer a shock.

Curiosity gnawed at the frays of your being. You wondered if you would back out because you’re lazy and scared if you would submerge yourself in it, little by little as not to spook.

Above all, you wondered if you would leap intrepidly into it and let yourself drown without a care in the world.

You smile, genuinely, “I know. You’re a good person, Mark Lee.”

Jungwoo pops up in the exact moment you finish saying Mark’s name, rubbing his fists over his closed eyes as a child does. Your heart swells at the sight. “Hey guys, what’s up?”

You grin. His timing was impeccable, as always. You were thankful the conversation ended that way.

One hour later, when you’re in the comfort of your own home, huddled underneath your warm, fluffy blanket, you put on your big girl shoes and do something for once.

You were going to add him on Facebook.

Mark had the initiative to talk to you, which you were somehow grateful for, even if you were positively puzzled by his effort. So taking a big breath to calm down the incessant knock of your heartbeat, you click on the little Add Friend button before locking your phone quickly and shoving it under your pillow.

Turns out the prospect of never befriending Mark because you two were too different was embarrassingly ludicrous.

Your friend request on Facebook had been accepted not even five minutes after you sent it, your grubby, anxiety-ridden hands clutching your phone as soon as you heard it vibrate against your pillow. And when you woke up the next morning and checked your phone for notifications, one of them belonged to him, standing out and asking you to click on it while the others blurred in the background.

Did you get home safely? He texted, followed by a smiley emoji. In the haziness of the morning, where your senses weren’t still quite acute, your heart pounded intensely. It wasn’t like it was something out of the ordinary, but the fact it showed an inkling of worry and courtesy left your mind reeling and aware of your surroundings.

That was the beginning of a long string of texts that just never seemed to stop. From genuinely getting to know each other through questions to tagging each other on funny memes you saw on Facebook and reminded you of each other. You finally understood and were experiencing first-handed the hype about Mark Lee. And even if you didn’t hang out that much in person, the way you two had connected through messages was satisfying to you already.

Your schedules didn’t exactly match most of the times, so you could only see him in fleeting appearances when he popped up in front of your classroom, waving enthusiastically with a smile so cute it made you melt a little. Or when he went to lunch with your group of friends on Wednesdays instead of going back to his dorm room to study because he wanted to spend time with you. You supposed he was also speaking about Jungwoo, Vernon, and Kino too. He had gotten close to them as well.

On Christmas break, Mark goes back to Canada. The brief thought that floated through your mind about distance being an obstacle to your friendship is quickly washed away when he calls you through Facetime at 1:27AM, daylight clearly radiating in his surroundings while only your forehead showed on your side of the screen.

He wanted to show you the snow.

There were these instances in your conversations where your heart almost leaped out of your chest because of him. You weren’t going to make a big deal out of the first time he tagged you on Facebook until you saw the thought about you lol comment that was right after your name.

It was annoying, the way he was making you feel.

You try to convince yourself you’re just thrilled over the prospect of being so close to him because your high school friends would be jealous of you. You tell yourself over and over it isn’t deep at all, that you have a greedy, superficial, and mean reasoning behind befriending Mark. But every time your phone dings with a notification, it feels like your heartbeat is crawling on your throat, leaving you no room to breathe at all. Like stepping on a seemingly shallow puddle yet it swallows you whole by surprise. Surprisingly enough, you don’t mind being underwater.

Even if it means you’ll be gasping for oxygen soon.

______

It’s December 31st, and you’re sitting in the middle of Kino’s apartment deep in thought. Drunk, yet pensive nonetheless.

If your calculations were correct, you still had two more weeks of classes left, and then the semester would be over. Normally you wouldn’t allow yourself to become so inebriated when you had finals just around the corner, but Vernon had told you Mark returned earlier than expected, subsequently confirming his attendance to the New Year’s party your friends had planned.

Spending some days away from everyone really had put everything into perspective, and that scared you beyond words.

The truth was, perhaps you were crushing on Mark Lee. It was insignificant, though. Everyone had a crush on him, it was as ordinary and common as liking superhero movies. As singing along to songs you like when they come on shuffle. It was as ordinary and common as breathing. So you weren’t dwelling on it too much. Except you nearly panicked at the thought of seeing him in front of you while your emotions ran high, unfiltered. It left you no choice but to chug three vodka lemonades in five minutes.

It was 11:05PM, there was a random song rumbling through the speakers you neither didn’t care about nor recognised, and you were sitting down on the floor, wondering about your academic life. Not one of your best moments, you reckoned.

But that’s how Mark finds you, anyway.

He had shaken Lucas off of his back the moment he arrived at Kino’s, the boy clinging to him like a Koala, yelling a much-slurred m’ssed you bro against the shell of his ear, and hugged the other guys quickly. There are a lot of people he doesn’t know or run within his circle of friends. Furthermore, there seems to be a particular spot amongst the crowd that’s void of physical presence, like a black hole of sorts keeping people away from getting near. He doesn’t understand why he’s walking towards it until he gets there, sees you, siting crisscrossed and completely zoned out.

The most irrational chunk of his being wants to blast someone’s ear off for leaving you unattended and alone while you’re clearly not in a position to be so, but he’s Mark and you’re you. So he kneels beside you like he’s on autopilot mode, touches your shoulder to get your attention, and when you look up to him he just knows.

It would truly be an understatement to say he didn’t miss you.

You blink twice at him as if you’re in disbelief. He tightens his hold on you ever so slightly, just enough to make you realise he’s not a figment of your imagination. It’s obvious you’re questioning his presence. The way your eyes are glossed over so heavily plus the inconvenience of being sat on the floor rather than a normal sitting surface. They indicate your lack of sobriety.

And when it dawns on you, amidst the fog of your thoughts, that he’s really there, you’re looping your arms around his middle, spooking him beyond words as you pull him into a hug. “Marky!”

This is uncharted territory. Public display of affection wasn’t something you two ever did, well, except the occasional shoulder bumping or once when you grabbed onto his wrist because he was going in the wrong direction. There was no logical reason behind what you were doing, Mark was aware of that, you were drunk after all. But you have your forehead against his chest — awkwardly, if he really thought about it — and your arms are crushing his back, and yeah. In times like these, all logic flies right through the window.

“Hi.” You’re beaming and Mark feels nauseous.

“Hi, you okay?” He says in your ear, brushing away a small strand of hair. Not even the loud pounding of his heart could overtake the worry he was feeling. “Do you need anything?”

“I’m good, Marky boy! Now that you’re here, I’m even better.”

There it was. That jolt in his chest.

It was much like a constant whenever he was with you. Whether you were with friends or not held little to no importance, it happened every time you said or did something that left his mind reeling with unrealistic possibilities. Normally, these things would be mildly dubious, like that one time where you wiped some sauce he had on his chin with your thumb — he dubbed that your motherly nature, you did similar stuff to pretty much everyone in your group. But you had hugged him, indicated his presence was a positive aspect in your life. He was about to overthink the hell out of that for the next two weeks.

“How much have you drunk?” You blink at him, pat the spot in front of you. He’s so focused on everything concerning you he doesn’t even feel the strain on his thighs from being on his knees. But he humours you anyway, sits across from you and mimics your position.

“M’drunk.” You shrug, “Not too drunk, but drunk. My feet hurt so I sat here, there’s nowhere else to sit.”

“Kino’s room?”

“Yeah,” She snorts, throwing her head back, “That was my plan until I saw Jungwoo and Eunseo aggressively making out. I’ll pass.”

Mark’s eyes just about grow twice their size at your statement, “Jungwoo… and… Eunseo?” He pauses for some time, “Is it surprising that I’m actually not that surprised?”

“I’m not either. It’s like you’re expecting it but when it happens you’re surprised that it actually happened… It was a matter of time, I suppose.”

“I mean, she spends so much time at his place. I’m surprised, but not shocked.” He says, “It seems like everyone is getting a significant other, don’t you think?” His attempts at flirting are lame, yet he was going to try nevertheless, considering the circumstances you two were in, of course.

“Everyone but me, m’forever alone.” You’re pouting dramatically, wringing your fingers together. He wishes he dared to say you didn’t need or were fit to be forever alone because right in front of you was someone who would die to make you his.

But Mark was a coward. He would sooner shit his pants than say that out loud.

“Let’s cheer to that.” You take him seriously, rejoice at his suggestion, and drag him to the kitchen to get alcohol into his system. He doesn’t mind the implications of what he was about to do at all, you held his hand all the way through, only letting it go so you could grab a cup and mix a concoction you promised he wouldn’t regret drinking. And it wasn’t those palm in palm kind of hand-holding. You had your fingers laced in between his.

There’s a bitterness in the drink you hand him, yet he can still feel the sugar rush in the aftertaste. It’s something acidic, a mixture of passionfruit and lemon, and he winces at the first gulp only. It gets progressively easier when your eyes seem to make him burn a lot more than the alcohol.

One cup turns into two, two cups being enough to make him way past the tipsy stage. To make matter worse, Kino drops by the kitchen, slobbers a kiss on your cheek and offers you a blunt before skidding away. You get giddier than you already were, jumping around in your seat like a small child. It’s actually endearing.

Mark already knew Kino and some of the other guys indulged themselves with weed, and even if deep down he already knew you were one to do that too, it still shakes him a little.

It was kind of hot, the prospect of you smoking.

And he was about to witness it.

“This place is filth. Let’s go somewhere else.” You say. And by somewhere else you mean the floor. The one you two were sitting before you came here. But this time you find the rug in the living room empty and take him there, claiming you two should be comfortable.

His vision is spinning and blurry, the loud voices and music in the background muddled, and he curses himself for being such a lightweight. Mark was never much of a drinker.

You plop down on top of the fluffy red rug and he follows suit, watching you take a lighter from the back pocket of your jeans. You light the joint and take the first hit with calculated expertise only someone who did it way too frequently could pull off.

“M’conflicted.” You say after a while, blowing the smoke far from his face. Mark keeps quiet, just eyes you silently, waits for you. “I want to offer you the blunt because I don’t want to seem indelicate or selfish, but at the same time I don’t want to because I’d hate it if you felt pressured.”

There’s a twitch in his heartbeat. He hates it. “I… I have never done it before.” He gulps, pinching his hand to keep himself sane, “So I wouldn’t know how to do it.”

“I can teach you. If you want.” You quip, the joint still poised against your finger, “Only if you want, though. It’s cool if you don’t, more for me.”

It’s somewhat a dilemma to him. He wants to try it, not because you’re the person he has been crushing on for quite a while, but because he was always curious about it. Lucas was his housemate after all, and getting contact high was inevitable around him. That small buzz he felt those times was appealing to him, it made him wonder how it would be if he experienced it firsthand. He had always been curious, but never really acted upon it. Until now, with you right in front of him, offering him a chance at squashing his curiosity.

That was his problem. You.

Mark was all for taking risks, and experiencing what life had to offer, but only if the people embarking with him were his friends. His friends friends, who knew how fucking silly and weird he was, and that definitely didn’t make his heart feel like it was about to explode inside out.

But here you were, right in front of him, being so incredible considerate it was borderline annoying how even tipsy he could feel every nerve end.

“Okay. Yeah, teach me.” Those are some dangerous words, he realises after he says them. His tummy feels like it’s a pot of lava, burning and waiting until it spills over.

You scoot closer to him until your knees are knocking against his, smiling brightly when he jumps a little. “It’s no big deal, really. Put the joint between your index and middle finger.” He’s frowning in concentration, and to avoid any messy situations — because of your hazy surroundings — you grab his palm to steady it and put the spliff in between his ready fingers.

“Feels weird…” He says, and you roll your eyes playfully.

“Of course, it’s your first time holding it. It’ll become second nature to you once you do it more often.” You hum a bit, “If you keep on doing it, that is.” You hope he does. You’re nowhere near prepared to see the glorious sight of Mark smoking, and if he decides it’s just not it for him you’ll have to store that mental picture forever in the depths of your brain.

He doesn’t take his eyes away from the blunt, or if he does you miss it, so you continue instructing, “Now, you put it in between your lips, just the tip.” You’re aware of how blatantly sexually charged these instructions could sound to anyone else, and you were feeling it too. The crude images on the back of your lids were truly unnecessary when you were trying to teach the guy how to take a hit, not how to… do other things. You felt too hot in your clothes. “And you inhale. But lightly. I don’t want you to cough to death.”

Mark giggles at that, his shoulders less tense than before, “Okay,” He exhales nervously, “I’m gonna do it.”

“Lightly, Mark. Don’t forget it. After you inhale it, try to keep the smoke in for a little, and then you can push it out.” The hand he’s keeping free is wiped insistently against his jeans. Before the little rationality you have left on your brain kicks in, you put your hand on top of his and squeeze. As a way to comfort him. As a way to maybe let him magically know you had a stupid crush on him without saying it out loud. Who knows.

He inhales just like you taught him, the flame burning alive in front of you for a few seconds. The small cough he lets out is expected, and you laugh way more than you should have, considering it was his first time.

“You’re making fun of me!” He whines, the little pout adorning his lips testing your patience.

“M’sorry, Marky… It’s just cute, that’s all.” You mumble, feeling a blush take over your cheeks at your unfiltered confession. “Was it good? Did it feel nice?”

“It’s… different.” He places the joint back to his lips, takes a drag once again. His eyes widen at the intensity, and the way he exhales the smoke seems like he’s somewhat disgusted. “This shit is strong as fuck, Jesus.”

“Kino has a soft spot for me.” You shrug.

“It seems like everyone has a soft spot for you,”

“I wouldn’t say that,” You roll your eyes at his statement, “I just feel like I have really good friends. I love them a lot. They mean so much to me I don’t think I can put it in words.”

Normally, you weren’t much of an emotionally forward person. The dullness in your life had never allowed you such novelties.

Sometimes it truly felt like you were void of them, void of the feeling of showing someone how much you cared, outwardly. That changed when you got drunk, or high. It was as if every repressed emotion you crushed into the pit of your being just spilled out without any warning. You didn’t mind it though, neither did your friends. Jungwoo said it was a very you thing but still berated you constantly with hugs, which you didn’t mind. Eunseo always bragged about being the only person with whom you were affectionate. Kino and Vernon probably didn’t even realise it. Eunwoo and Yeeun were similar to you except when they were alone together.

“I’m glad, really. You deserve it.” He’s looking at you in a way you can’t possibly describe because he’s Mark Lee after all. And he could be looking at you in ten million different ways and you wouldn’t be able to decipher which one corresponds to how he’s really feeling. Sometimes you wished you could crack open his skull and take a peek inside his mysterious brain.

The two of you keep chatting and passing the blunt to each other, the paper burning at the tip of your fingers as time flew by. Your eyes were droopy and your vision blurry, Mark’s body becoming one with the background. Even if you had important things to take care of, there was nowhere else you’d rather be than there with him. And so the two of you keep passing the blunt back and forth, enjoying each other’s company in silence.

Two minutes or five hours could have passed, and you wouldn’t even realise it. You’re unaware of how it happens but when you come back to your senses you have your cheek pressed against someone’s chest, their hand loosely wrapped around your back. At first, you assume it’s Jungwoo or any other of your friends. But the gentle pout of lips you see when you raise your head slightly tells you otherwise.

It was Mark.

If you were in your right state of mind, your heart would probably be catapulting out of your chest, splattering against the nearest window. Lucky for you, the weed just leaves you calm, and the slow drum of your heartbeat proves it.

There’s a sudden startling commotion in the room, voices rising in pitch as they start screaming a countdown. The countdown for New Year’s, those specific ten (and plus) seconds that held so much meaning for so many people, but to you had always been sort of a silly thing you did with your friends. When it came to the dreaded New Year’s kiss last year, Eunseo had been your partner since both of you were single and close enough to peck each other amid a drunken state.

“10! 9!”

The year was about to end and Eunseo was nowhere in sight. You figured she was finally smooching the hell out of Jungwoo, leaving you alone to kiss the back of your hand. You didn’t even have the strength in you to get up from Mark’s comfortable hold to go bother her about it.

8! 7!

Right.

The year was about to end and you were cuddling Mark Lee in your best friend’s living room, tucked away in a corner where no one could see you both. You sit up, the arm he had around you sliding to the rug. He only opens his eyes for a second before he closes them, a smile permanently etched on his lips.

These stupid traditions were not your thing.

You were not getting swayed into kissing someone just because 2019 was six seconds away. Though it had been too long since you kissed someone. To make matters worse, you were a needy drunk.

Sure, you weren’t one to fall through with silly traditions. But then again, you had a crush on Mark and he was a breath away from you, looking so peaceful it hurt you to even disrupt him. And you had liquid courage coursing through your veins.

Maybe you were going to kiss someone this year.

To keep the tradition going.

The seconds are ticking by, and there’s a foreign weight settling on top of Mark’s thighs. When he opens his eyes, he is almost sure he’s dreaming, the weed he had smoked fabricating cruel inceptions out of spite. Because the prospect of you really sitting on his lap, legs caging his, was so unrealistic he had to prop himself on his elbows, gaze wide and unblinking as if he was being deceived, scared it would vanish.

You don’t have much time left.

Processing the fact you were about to kiss Mark Lee for the sake of tradition — an excuse you would take with you to your grave, and the excuse you would give to anyone and everyone who asked you about it — was making you sober, the rush of acknowledging your decision clearing up your vision just enough so you could see how beautiful he looked.

He really was stupidly attractive. And you were going to kiss him.

“Mark,” You yell over the voices, scooting yourself closer to his waist and leaning closer to his face, “M’gonna kiss you, okay?”

This was a dream, it had to be. Reality was probably playing sick tricks on his mind. Still, the weak, cowardly part of him was going to enjoy it while it lasted.

So he nodded towards you — the fabricated version of you sitting prettily on top of him.

You were one second from kissing Mark Lee.

Before the last second dissipates you clasp the sides of his face gently, eyes zooming in on his lips. He swipes his tongue over them just then, and it resonates so deep within you it’s imperative to close that space distancing the both of you.

“Happy New Year!”

Calculated plans usually looked and sounded better in theory, when they were just a pencil-drawn draft with little annotations scribbled around it. The end result doesn’t always go exactly as planned. Theoretically, Mark and you were supposed to be passionately making out as others did the same around you. You had envisioned it clearly in the few seconds you had before putting your plan into action.

That’s not what happens.

You miserably miss your aim by a few centimetres and end up kissing half of his mouth instead, the force behind the puckering of your lips so strong he loses his balance, elbows giving out below him. There’s some nose bumping on his jaw, chests touching, a mess of limbs even the non-sober you feels embarrassed about. Mark knocks his head quite harshly against the rug, but his reaction ends up being a laugh. This severely high-pitched squeak like he’s truly in disbelief.

(He wasn’t dreaming, after all.)

“You okay?” He keeps on laughing loudly as you put your hand behind the nape of his neck, “Stop laughing, you idiot!”

His laugh is also stupidly contagious. As if every other quality he had wasn’t enough to make you like him. So you end up laughing with him, put your head on his chest again and listen to the sound of his heartbeat.

You’d worry about the consequences tomorrow.

You prided yourself for never getting serious hangovers in the past — usually, alcohol ran fast in your system and by the end of each night you drank plenty of water to avoid those terrible happenstances. Being the designated drunk mom of your group didn’t come with many perks after all. But the dull throb palpitating in your temples was a telltale on its own. When you opened your eyes, it only intensified. The blinds had little sits in which the light came in, and they only seemed to worsen your state.

If a pile of shit was a state of mind, it would be exactly how you were feeling.

The kitchen is completely spotless when you enter it, the bottles and snacks that used to be littering every possible surface simply gone. It’s not much of a surprise since Kino abhors having a messy house, his reasoning being one’s personal space reflects one’s inner self. Another thing that’s not a surprise is the fact that Kino is cooking, his back to you as he concocts something you are pretty sure it won’t disappoint you. Vernon is as useless as one can be in the kitchen; if it wasn’t for Kino he would be living off of frozen meals and warm tap water.

“Good afternoon, Sleeping Beauty.” He only acknowledges your presence when you sit down in one of the kitchen chairs, resting your closed eyes against your palms due to the sunlight hurting them. You don’t even make an effort to look at him.

“Afternoon— Jesus. How much have I slept?”

“It’s almost 3PM.”

“Jesus Christ. Get me some sunglasses, will you?”

He snorts but still obeys. It takes a minute for him to come back, yet when he does he drops not only the sunglasses in front of you — which you scramble to put them on —, but an Advil alongside a water bottle as well. “Can’t believe I’m friends with a real-life vampire. Do you want to feast on me for breakfast?”

“Shut up,” You groan, pausing to unscrew the bottle and down the pill, “I’m a wreck.”

“That you are. We found you last night drooling on Mark’s chest. The boy was positively spooked for life.” You nearly give yourself whiplash with how quickly you glance up to a head-shaking Kino, yet he turns his back on you and goes back to preparing his food.

There are a lot of things you want to ask: if Mark was okay, if he had told anyone what happened, how he had left, if he really had been spooked by your whole behaviour — even the one you prayed only you and him knew about, but you compose yourself before all of those questions tumbled out of your mouth without you even wanting it.

“What did he say?” A seemingly innocent question on your behalf. You couldn’t show too much emotion.

“Not much, if I’m being honest,” He shrugs, reaching upwards to grab two bowls from the white cupboard, “Just told us to get you safe on a bed and to make sure you drank water. He was baked as hell, by the way. I didn’t peg him as a stoner.”

Your heartbeat picked up unconsciously at his display of concern, once again. “He’s not. It was his first time yesterday.”

“Look at you, you little nymph, luring the innocent boy in with your illegal ways.” He’s taunting you, you can feel it. Kino always knows more than he lets on, it’s one of his specialties besides being incredibly insightful and introspective. There’s this little smirk on the right corner of his mouth you are entirely too familiar with. He doesn’t say anything else, just puts down the bowls of rice mixed with vegetables and scrambled eggs on the table, and sits on the chair opposite of yours.

“I know, right? I’m such a bad influence. Someone tattoo BAD FRIEND on my forehead, please.” You roll your eyes, spoon digging into the mixture, “Speaking of bad friends. Where are Jungwoo and Eunseo?”

“They—”

“I know. I saw them eating each other’s faces off last night, unfortunately.”

He shudders, “They left together. It was painstakingly obvious, but it still threw me the fuck off. If he does so much as comment about what they did, I’ll choke him to death.”

“The fucker would probably like it.” You say in between a mouthful of food.

“That’s what worries me the most.”

The conversation dies down comfortably after that, both of you indulging in your bowls of food and throwing the expected occasional jabs that came along with befriending an idiot. Your friendship and Kino’s was just like that, there was this mutual understanding that neither of you pressured the other into spilling their hidden thoughts or emotions to the other. The glint in his eyes was loud enough, it said ‘I’ll be here whenever you need me. Take your time. Don’t rush things. They need patience to grow, to gain form’. Each one of your friendships was different, distinct in their own special and important way. Kino’s held a dear place in your heart for the eminent trust rooted in its foundation. You would always find a safe haven in his presence.

“Oh, that’s right. Yesterday, Mark also told me you should check your phone after you woke up.”

“You only tell me that now? We should skip strangling Jungwoo, I think you should be the one to go first.” You push the chair back and get up, making your way to the room while your friend only laughs.

“It’s probably on the bed!” He yells.

The blinds are still closed, so you paw around the bed aimlessly until your fingers clutch the glass screen of your phone. You don’t even grab it, you just throw yourself onto the bed and frantically tap the screen twice so it comes to life.

You could swear you had never clicked on something so fast.

[03:09] mark: I know you’d probably say to text you when I got home safe so

[03:09] mark: I got home safe

[03:11] mark: Rocky was the designated driver last night lol Lucas and I were fucking out of our minds

[03:24] mark: I already told kino but make sure to drink a shit ton of water, you’re not getting a hangover on my watch

[03:25] mark: Text me when you get up so I know you’re okay

[03:36] mark: Tonight was a dream

[03:49] mark: Goodnight

[13:33] you: hiiiiiiiiiiiiii

[13:34] you: i’m glad you got home okay!!!! you know damn well i’d freak tf out if you didn’t lmk

[13:42] you: btw i’m sorry i drooled on your shirt. and got you high as a kite. amongst other things……. lmao

[13:45] you: woke up with a bitching headache but i’ve drunk water and taken an advil so worry not kind sir

[13:53] mark: Good morningg

[13:53] mark: Have you eaten yet?

[13:53] mark: I mean good afternoon lol

[13:54] you: gmornin!! yes kino cooked for me omg:( i love him

[13:54] mark: Also don’t apologize you dummy, I really didn’t mind any of it

Grabbing the pillow from beneath you, you put it over your head to stifle the embarrassing yet necessary scream you let out. Mark hadn’t given you any sign he didn’t remember the sad excuse of a kiss you shared last night, so you would have a little bit of faith in him, pray to the Gods he dared to make the next move since you had already taken quite the leap.

The ball was in his court now.

Or you hoped so.

For someone who had the ball in his court, Mark Lee did absolutely nothing that proved it. You were dreading for a move on the inside, every single moment you spent with him leaving you analysing in detail all his mannerisms and actions while hoping something would be a dead give away of a smidge of retaliation to your feelings.

Nothing. Weeks went by, and nothing happened. Nothing. Nada.

The hope you once felt dissolved slowly into plain misery and heartbreak like toxic acid on untainted skin. And still, you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing you bend and break before him, even if you didn’t really believe he was at fault.

At the end of the day, Mark never did anything specific that could be interpreted as flirting or as a suggestion of different intentions other than a friendship. You were foolish to believe he’d look at you in any different way: you had created expectations all by yourself and now you were left to collect the shards of not only your broken heart but the hope you had built up alone as well.

He never mentioned the kiss, never even allowed himself to be presented in any other way than the way he always was, the social, happy-go-lucky boy everyone loved to be around. And you were stuck pretending you felt fine, pretending everything was okay. You should have known better than to even dream someone like him was interested in someone like you. Becoming his friend had already been a marvelous feat considering how much of a disparity existed between you two.

You delve into your studies to take your mind off of him, which works out for the best, really. Getting good grades, as a result, soothes your heart in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time.

Before you know it, the semester ends.

The gang meets up after the last exam at Jungwoo’s house to discuss plans for the holidays. One month was a lot of time, so some of you are expecting to visit your parents for the most part, while saving the last week for the group trip. Not any group trip, the group trip. This was going to be your second year, and you were excited to go back.

“What about you, ___?” Eunseo inquires from her spot where she has only one foot on top of Jungwoo like she was lazily claiming her property. The two had started dating on the first day of the year and since then they had been the grossest yet cutest couple to ever exist. “Jungwoo, Mark, Vernon, and I are staying for the whole month. I don’t really feel like going back to my mom’s.”

You look at Mark to find him already looking at you in the same way he always did. It used to bemuse you but now it only irritates you. He looks dead inside. Averting your sight from him with the most stoic expression you can give, you then hum, “I think I might go home. I really miss my family.”

“No,” Jungwoo moans, dragging on the vowel, “Stay with us, ___. Please.”

“And risk me into getting roped in couple activities with the lovebirds? Thanks, but I’ll pass.” You snort, and Kino joins in.

“We’re gonna miss you, though.”

“Yeah,” Mark adds, “You always make the mood better.”

Your heart still skips a beat for him, there was no denying that. Even listening to his voice was enough to make your mind reel, but now you were no longer on cloud 9. Rationality had taken control of your heart. Getting over this stupid crush was the best for everyone, especially for you.

“Sucks for you, because I can’t wait to take a break from seeing you almost every day.” You looked Mark dead in the eyes as you said it, desperate to make him understand the coldness of your speech had a reason. You were hurting on the inside, though you couldn’t let it show. Words of indifference and annoyance were your defense mechanisms, the armour you had to built to preserve and protect yourself. Before your words felt too personal and too targeted at someone in specific, you quipped, “You guys tire me.”

The laugh was collective, but Mark’s was forced. Maybe his eyes were unable to make you see his true self, but the way he squared his shoulders while he laughed couldn’t fool anyone, not even you.

It seemed like the shoe had fit. He looked uncomfortable.

Good.

Mission accomplished.

Seeing your mom smiling at you because she missed you was almost enough to make you sob right in front of her.

But you don’t do that.

You only allow yourself to break down when you close the door to your childhood bedroom, the secureness it transmitted being enough to break apart the dam holding you together by the seams. It wasn’t like the tears rushing down your cheeks were there only because of how stupid you felt for liking Mark. Sure, part of it was because of that too, but you had the tendency to bottle your emotions until they couldn’t be contained anymore, so everything that had caused you pain during the past few months was being let out after suffering repression for a long time.

Spending three weeks in the company of your family proved to be a better remedy than you expected. Even the inevitable arguments and misunderstandings were welcomed, for they brought a sense of nostalgia which calmed the storm inside of you. In the times you isolated yourself in your room, it gave you a safe space to freely think about everything surrounding you, especially the Mark situation.

He didn’t want to talk about the kiss, and that was fine. You were sure he had a reason for it, namely not wanting to go through the whole I’m sorry but I don’t see you like that scenario, which once again, was understandable. Mark didn’t owe you anything. You had set up the trap and fell for it all on your own.

You still talked to Mark throughout your time away from the group, because you’d hate yourself even more if you alienated him for something that shouldn’t intervene in your friendship. It was weird at first, the chemistry and dynamic between the both of you didn’t change whatsoever, which was good. Whenever he mentioned doing Facetime you always found an excuse to avoid seeing his face. Hearing his voice in the inevitable phone calls you did was already causing so much damage to begin with, imagine if you tended to his every wish. You would never improve. But you held on and followed through with it, as you knew you would.

Those three weeks made you rationalise your feelings, swallow them whole and cage them in the depths of your chest. The longer you kept on daydreaming about you and Mark doing mundane couple things instead of focusing on the harsh reality that he didn’t like you back, the more it was going to hurt.

So when you got back in the city you deemed yourself normal again.

Jungwoo gave one of his infamous dramatic speeches about you never leaving his side again otherwise he would commit atrocities, while Eunseo did her best as the supporting role of a sidekick. These two were the closest to you out of everyone else, and the fact that they were dating now used to scare you in the beginning. Scared they would eventually distance themselves from the group like many couples do when they start dating. But that ended up being far from the truth since they annoyed the hell out of each other so frequently they even begged to be away from each other whenever they were with other friends.

The gang only had one week left until the second semester began, and this meant it was time for your group trip.

Besides being several things, Jungwoo was also absolutely loaded. Well, his parents were rich, which technically made him rich too, though he always preferred to say he just lived a comfortable life.

When the two of you met in your first year of college, in a class both of you were starting to abhor, you would never imagine how close you would become in the span of a few months. But little by little, your group began to form — Eunseo and Vernon came next, then Kino — and when the end of the first semester neared, he had suggested for the lot of you to head down to his vacation house, the one he went to every Summer. The prospect of going to a place like that in the middle of February was ridiculous until he said he had an indoor pool. Just like any other person who lived comfortably.

This year, though, there were going to be new additions to the trip. Including, of course, Mark and Lucas.

Everything was going to end up just fine because, at the end of the day, your friends were there. And no matter what happened, they were more than enough for you.

The downfall of Kim Jungwoo was being too kind and considerate of others no matter what the situation was. He didn’t have it in his heart to say no to most requests, especially if those came from someone who he considered a great friend of his. He really disliked seeing other people unhappy or lonely.

One hour into the drive to your destination for the next week, shit had already hit the fan. Jungwoo breaks the news that some friends of Mark and Lucas’s friends were tagging along because they were going to be left all alone back in the city without anyone else to keep them company. Lucas supposedly mentioned quite aloofly that statement, and Jungwoo, ever the altruist saviour, couldn’t resist but to make a proposal.

Eunseo almost choked on her gum, Vernon was sleeping with his head resting against Kino’s shoulder, Kino made this awfully funny stank expression, and as much as you wanted to, you couldn’t really avoid the poker face after he drops that bomb on the four of you.

“Are you fucking serious? Again?” Eunseo sounds completely exasperated, rightfully so. You were thankful she was taking the lead, as his girlfriend, it was more acceptable if the nagging came from her, and not from you. Even if deep down you were itching to slap the side of his head.

“Listen,” He tries to reason, side-eyeing her to keep his focus on the road, “They were going to be all alone until the semester started! And it’s not like we can’t accommodate two more people. My house is enough for all of us.”

She scoffs, “It’s not about the size of your fucking house, Jungwoo. It’s about how you just said fuck it to a comfortable environment between people who know each other to bring two more people because you pity them!”

“I know, honey,” His voice is soft, a twinge of regret and desperation coming through, “They know Mark and Lucas, though! It will turn out okay, trust me.”

You doubted it, but you couldn’t possibly hold some judgment or impact over Jungwoo invited over to his house. It was his after all, and if he had deemed fit inviting people who weren’t apart of your group of friends, you just had to accept it. Much like when Mark, Lucas, and Rocky came over to Jungwoo’s place for movie night. They were strangers to the rest (except Mark, but well, no one knew about the circumstances of your prior acquaintanceship except the both of you), but your best friend really tried hard to make his both group of friends become one.

If these friends were like Rocky, who unfortunately had gone abroad with his parents for vacations and couldn’t be present, maybe the environment was going to be amicable, fun even. You were willing to keep an open mind, despite the primary discomfort of mingling with people you weren’t familiar with refusing to wear off.

Eunseo slapped Jungwoo’s hand when he tried to hold it across the console, and you closed your eyes, repeating everything will turn out fine in your head over and over like a mantra until it became true.

Fake it ’til you make it.

Someone had to be playing some kind of sick, cruel, and twisted trick on you.

Whoever was pulling the strings up there in the sky, God, that abstract deity or deities, were definitely set on making you suffer. Or perhaps someone who was into voodoo had a little stuffed doll version of you, and they found pleasure in pinpricking you whenever they were bored. That person must have been bored to death because nothing had prepared you for what you saw when you stepped out of the car.

You knew it was over as soon as your eyes landed on the two petite, dainty, and incredibly beautiful girls in front of you.

In your stupid, dumb, sad excuse of a brain, these friends Jungwoo was talking about were boys, rowdy, stupid boys, to match the rowdy, stupid energy Mark and Lucas emanated whenever they were together. It never crossed your mind, the possibility of these friends being girls, so unaware yet so powerfully able to destroy your self-confidence and childish hope that something would blossom between Mark and you. One of them, the tallest one with long wavy dark brown hair, has her arm on Mark’s shoulder as she laughs, head thrown back like he had just told the best joke of the century.

You feel sick to your stomach, there’s something akin to bile rising to your throat and you furiously try to swallow it down alongside the feelings you thought you had buried and locked safely in the confines of your chest.

“Guys!” Lucas bellows, and everyone’s attention shifts to your group, “Now the party can officially begin!”

A forced smile breaks on your lips, the kind everyone could see how fake it was. The girl’s hand slides from his shoulder as Mark shuffles forward, eyes on you, towards where you were standing next to Kino. The anxiety makes you grab his arm for safety, to keep you from acting stupid. You can tell Mark knows something is up by the way he scrunches his nose at your small, dismissive wave in his direction, but he neither says nor does anything about it. Thankfully.

The girls — the petty, hungry and jealous monster living inside of you ached to call them intruders — introduced themselves as Yoojung and Doyeon, the latter being the one who had been cosying all up on Mark. Much to your dismay, they’re both incredibly sweet and genuine people, to the point of helping the rest of you set up everything in the house so your stay is comfortable.

On the first night, Doyeon cooks everyone dinner and nothing but high praises are sung to the food she makes. Mark repeats the dish twice, compliments leaving his mouth incessantly, and the dagger piercing through your heart is dug deeper. You were painfully aware that she wasn’t to blame, but when even your friends begin asking for more of it, you were bound to feel the metaphorical blow on your stomach. The cook of the group was you. The person whose food always had everyone raving about was you. You can’t even stomach more than three bites before you say you’re not feeling too well.

It was starting to resemble like that fateful movie night all over again, with you feeling retracted and alienated. For the remainder of the night, you claim to be extremely tired due to the traveling and withdraw yourself to the room you shared with Eunseo, — since she still wasn’t completely over the stunt he had pulled, but you just knew she was going to trade places with Kino midweek, who was rooming with Jungwoo for the time being — covering your entire body with the duvet. You can hear the cacophony of laughter coming from the living room. It rings in your ears until you fall asleep.

On day two, you wake up earlier than usual. Scoping around the enormous place, you find that no one else is awake, just you. Not even Lucas, who was curled in a ball on the U-shaped sofa, snoring. You tiptoe your way to the kitchen, set on making something guilt-free to ease the relentless growling of your stomach. After last night’s dinner, you were positively starving.

Cooking had always been something you loved to do as a hobby. As a kid, you had watched your grandmother, and your mother too, make the most delicious food with so much gusto it was inevitable for you to follow their steps and prove how cooking ran in your blood. Acknowledging how good you were at it was far from bragging: it was barely the result of kinship. So it was safe to say your ego was bruised at the lack of request from your friends to cook last night’s meal. This particular breakfast was meant to be therapeutic, to settle the sensitive nerves you had clawing inside of you.

You were finishing pouring the first spoon of pancake batter onto the oiled frying pan when the scraping of a chair against the floor sounds behind you, announcing someone else was now with you. The sudden heaviness clutching around your heart is a foresight, it’s like your body had become so in tune to his you were now able to feel his presence without any of your five senses.

“Good morning.” You don’t turn back to look at him, afraid the sight of a sleepy Mark would devastate you beyond the point of no return.

“Morning,” He hums. You’re floored at how sultry and comforting his voice sounds. “What are you making?”

You were silly to think sharing a vicinity for a whole week with the person you were crushing on was going to be okay. The hand holding the scoop trembled pathetically against the bowl, and you hadn’t even look at him whatsoever. Every little thing concerning him was enough to make your heart grow in size and volume until it occupied the entirety of your chest.

“Nutella pancakes.”

Mark groans, the sound rumbling deep from his chest, and it’s so effective in the way it elicits a shiver down your spine, “That sounds amazing. Care to share some with this boy who feels like crap?”

That’s enough to make you face him. As expected, it shakes you to your very core. You couldn’t even muster up beautiful and coherent thoughts about how good he looked. His hair is obviously finger brushed, yet there’s a cowlick standing cutely stiff against the rest; the urge to put it down is so immense you claw your nails in the meaty part of your palm. “Did something happen?”

“I could say the same thing to you. You barely ate yesterday, and fled so quickly I didn’t even see you.”

You roll your eyes, but inside you’re scrambling to find an excuse while you go back to your main task, “It’s called being car sick, Mark. I’m not used to really long drives.”

“Sure,” His lips twist as a visual cue to show he didn’t truly believe your words. “If you must know, I feel like crap because I didn’t check up on you.”

You hum once again, taking a dollop of Nutella and dropping it in the middle of the pancake before covering it with another scoop of batter. He continues, “I was going to, though. Then decided against it because I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Maybe you should have.” You say, using the spatula next to you to flip the pancake, “I wouldn’t have minded the company.”

“I’m sorry.” He murmurs. You don’t reply, and the pancake sizzling on the stove speaks on your behalf.

Silence wraps around you so uncomfortably your skin crawls at how awkward it feels. What were you supposed to say? ‘No, Mark, I’m the one who should be sorry for acting all stupid around you’? Or perhaps saying ‘The reason I’m acting this weird is because I have a big, fat crush on you and seeing you act all chummy with an attractive girl makes me want to bash my head against a wall’ would reflect the dangerous tides drowning you better. So you do what you always do best, and place your feelings in front of him in the form of probably the most perfect looking pancakes ever. He would never realise it, and at this point neither did you want him to. The sting of being rejected had over-imposed itself over any fake bravado you could possibly pour out.

He digs in like he hadn’t eaten for days, the moan coming out of his moan paired with his eyes rolling back into his skull so obscene it propels you to swivel your body so you could actually make something for you to eat.

You sit across from him while you eat your breakfast, and all Mark does is stare at you in the meanwhile. It weighs burdensomely on your shoulders for the first minutes, then disappears when the familiarity settles in. After you’re done, you go back to your room with exhaustion seeping through your pores as if you hadn’t slept in years.

He doesn’t get up after you, just stays there sitting on the chair.

On day three, you try to keep a more positive aspect about every possible outcome. Sulking around in possibly one of the best occasions had little to no sense. You mingle a lot more with everyone, including Jooyoung and Doyeon. It pained you to admit, but they were really sweet, witty girls, which made it incredibly hard for you to hate Doyeon when she was so likable and genuine.

You didn’t want to be consumed by this restricting feeling of insecurity whenever she was around, because really, she wasn’t doing anything wrong. Sure, she was extremely touchy when it came to Mark, it seemed like she had to be touching him in any way, whether it was the side of their arms touching whenever they were sitting down — because they always ended up sitting next to each other, leaving you to be sandwiched between Lucas and Kino — or her hand seeking solace in the slope of his shoulder as she laughed and leaned forward, but that could be simply coincidental. Or maybe Doyeon and you were on the same boat, sharing a crush on the most oblivious guy on Earth. Yet the difference between the both of you lied in the fact that she wasn’t afraid to act upon it unlike you. Even if you had kissed him, which was probably way more than she had ever done.

But Mark either didn’t remember, or he was pretending not to.

By the end of the afternoon of the third day, everyone seemed to be in the mood for a dip in the indoor pool. And your nightmare began to unravel from that moment onwards.

If Doyeon already looked absolutely stunning with loose-fitting, comfortable clothes and minimal makeup, it was no wonder she was five times better with a swimsuit and barefaced. The simple pink one-piece she was wearing outshined your navy striped one by a long shot. You never really stood a chance against her to begin with, but now that everyone was as less clothed as one could be in public, you were feeling insecure beyond words.

Especially because Mark and she kept on splashing water towards one another, the underlying tones of flirting barely visible to anyone else but you. The way he ruffled up his wet hair, his lips parting whenever she spoke, the crinkling in his eyes. It all made nausea boil up in your throat, so you tried to distract yourself by playing silly games with your friends. Pretending was your strong suit.

Or you liked to believe it was.

That night Doyeon huddles in a sweatshirt that is too big to be hers with her head poised delicately on Mark’s shoulder, and whatever resolve to keep being strong you thought you had withered away, the bitter poison of definite heartbreak taking over and spreading like an incurable virus.

This was it.

You had reached your limit, there was no going back. A silent sob tears through your throat, your hand reaching to clamp over your mouth to prevent any sound from coming out. This was too much, even for you. Parading his probable relationship in front of everyone while completely forgetting to acknowledge what happened in New Year’s Eve was proving to be too cruel. Never in your life did you think Mark Lee, the person who you didn’t believe had a bad bone in his body, was capable of crushing your ribcage and whatever was inside into fine dust.

The waters had completely pulled you under, and there was an anchor strapped to your ankle continuously dragging you down until you no longer could fight back.

You had taken for granted how sweet it was to breathe.

Eunseo is sitting on her bed, back leaning against the headboard when you storm in with your face blearing red and tearful. Her eyes catch yours and your knees buckle under the metaphorical pending weight of your heartbreak, still covering your mouth to stifle the ugly sobs reverberating against your palm.

It was funny how amid your sinkage, the main thought going through your mind was not to alert anyone but to suffer in silence and alone. But it seemed like she wasn’t going to allow that.

You hear the clicking of your bedroom door closing followed by frantic hands grabbing your shoulders. Your best friend has shock painted all over her face, like this façade you were allowing her to witness was not one she was expecting.

“What happened?” Her voice is shaky, hands shaking your frame, “___, what the hell is going on?” There’s no strength left in you, you can’t even support your own weight, let alone verbalise the tsunami inside your chest. Eunseo lets you drop your body against her, her arms wrapping around you to cradle your head against the juncture between her neck and shoulder.

She doesn’t pry any further, and for that you are thankful. You just keep on crying quietly while her fingers run through your hair, humming a tune so soft and sweet it lulls you to sleep, the now dry tears leaving stain marks in its stead.

You wake up in the middle of the night to find yourself sharing a bed with your best friend. She is latched onto you so tightly it almost glues back the broken pieces of your heart back into place, and the protective streak it possesses brings a fresh wave of tears to your waterline, but you hold it back because you already feel too bad for ruining her — it was Jungwoo’s, actually — shirt. Sleep comes back to you once again, the headache resulting from your mental breakdown dissipating in the process. When the morning comes and both of you are awake, she lets you be the one to open up instead of being the one to poke through your sensitive state.

“I…” Red burns your cheek yet for a different reason than yesterday. You felt so disgustingly embarrassed to confess to another person about your innermost feelings, disregarding the fact this was one of the people you trusted the most. “I like someone.”

“I see,” Her reaction is neutral. She’s void of facial expression as if she’s cautious with the way she should react to your words. “You like someone. And the reason you cried yesterday was because of this person.”

You gulp, “Yeah. It was.”

“This person hurt you.” Eunseo doesn’t ask any questions. She resorts to making blanket statements to help you untangle the mess going on inside of you. As if you didn’t already love her enough.

“He did, but I don’t know if it was intentional.” You laugh low on your throat, shake your head in disbelief. “He’s so fucking oblivious about everything, I highly doubt it was.”

“What happened yesterday was prompted by something you saw, then.”

She was getting closer to unveiling the grand truth. The thrum of your heartbeat picked up as if your body was giving you a sign that even if it felt like you had drowned, it was still beating for you. You were still alive. You weren’t okay, but you hadn’t died because of it. “Yeah,” Confirming it was leeway to compressing the scope of potential people. She now knew it was someone in Jungwoo’s house.

“Okay, correct me if I’m wrong. You like someone so much it made you break down, and that said someone is currently in this house. Therefore it’s a person you and I both know quite well, except if it is either Jooyoung or Doyeon. Which I highly doubt because you haven’t known them for longer than four days, and the fact you said he.”

You scoff, flicking her on the forehead, and Eunseo tries to swat your hand away but fails. “Of course it’s not them. Who do you think I am?”

“I was just crossing people from the list,” She shrugs, “This was the easiest way. I also suppose you’re not in love with Jungwoo.”

“Eunseo! What the fuck!” You shove her now, appalled. She laughs aloud at your reaction, and it only makes you even madder.

“Oh, bite me, will you?” She huffs before shaking her head with a grin, “It’s called process of elimination. “I have to narrow my options here. Do you want me to take a guess or do you want to tell me who the person is by yourself?”

And there it was again, the stinging of incoming tears behind your eyelids. They don’t come out, however.

You knew to cry meant you had held on for too long, but you couldn’t shake the nagging perception that it somewhat weakened you. Especially since the reason behind it was related to the mechanics of your heart. But this was Eunseo, your best friend. The person who had been there for you through thick and thin, while never belittling you for your complex way of being.

She deserved honesty.

Even if finally admitting it to someone out loud was beyond scary.

“It’s…” You take a deep breath, “It’s Mark.”

She doesn’t show any major physical reaction to your confession, zeroes in on something behind you and keeps her gaze there for a few seconds. It’s unsettling to you, the anxiety buzzing underneath your skin as you wait for her to react.

“Oh my God,” You whine. It has been too long since she has spoken, and it was slowly getting on your nerves, “Just say something.”

She exhales loudly, her shoulders sagging, “Am I allowed to freak out?” You roll your eyes at her comment but nod nonetheless. Any reaction was better than none. “This is so exciting. I’ve been holding it in since yesterday but now I can finally lose my shit.”

“This is not exciting, Eunseo.” You frown. There wasn’t anything exciting about heartbreak. “He doesn’t like me back. These feelings I have aren’t mutual.”

“And how do you know he doesn’t like you?”

“Because yesterday he was all cuddled up next to Doyeon as if we didn’t fucking kiss on New Year’s Eve!” Thinking about it again made the anger you tried to tamper down close to surface. Mark was cruel.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait. Kissed?! I haven’t had time to process the fact that you even like someone, and you drop the K bomb on me like this? Tell me everything. From the beginning.”

And that’s what you do. You tell Eunseo about how you two go way back, way farther than everyone else thinks you go.

You tell her about how your high school experience hadn’t been the best, and how Mark was the person you had always aspired to be back then. How popular and versatile he was. About how meeting him two years later had been extremely uncomfortable because a person like him wasn’t supposed to mingle with your people, yet there he had been, laughing at what Jungwoo was saying. About how you had reluctantly given this friendship thing a try, since her boyfriend was so keen on him and his friends, and since deep down you had always wanted to see how he was truly like.

You tell Eunseo about how well you two match. How every conversation was never-ending, like an infinite, sturdy string that went for miles and miles and never stopped. How caring, and genuine he had always been, even in high school. You tell her about how little by little your resolve wore off, and his company began to feel both needed and appreciated. How on New Year’s Eve you get drunk together, and you teach him how to smoke.

You tell your best friend how you both ended up cuddling on the rug of Jungwoo’s living room. And you tell her about how compelled you had felt to kiss him when the countdown began. Not because of some lame fucking tradition like you had tried to convince yourself, but because you really wanted to. You had never wanted anything in your life so badly.

Heartbreakingly, you tell her then about how the saddening part of the story unfolds. He doesn’t acknowledge your kiss, he doesn’t make a move, he doesn’t give you so much as an inch of leeway to convince yourself he could be feeling the same thing as you were.

By the time your storytelling ends, her hand is overlapping yours in what you consider empathy. She’s rubbing the back of it with her thumb, and the way she’s looking at you makes the lump in your throat almost lurch. You want to cry, to show how sad you were, though you don’t do it. Yesterday’s shenanigans had proved themselves to be enough — you were mentally tired. There was no more room or strength to do so.

“I can’t believe all of this happened underneath our noses and we never realised it…” She’s incredibly surprised, that much you can tell. Her face scrunches like she’s trying to remember something, and you just keep looking at her in amusement. “I seriously just thought the two of you were really good friends.”

“And we are.” You pause, remember how recently things hadn’t been that okay on your side. “Or were. I don’t know, honestly. I just feel like it will be really difficult for me to pretend that nothing is affecting me, because I have the urge to punch someone every time I see them together.”

“I’m not gonna lie, I noticed that they’re close but I just assumed it’s because they’re friends.”

“That’s such flawed logic.” You roll your eyes, crossing your arms against your chest. “You and Jungwoo were also close but there was nothing platonic about it.”

“That’s differen— Okay. You’re right. So what are you gonna’ do?”

“There’s really nothing I can do. I’ll have to get over him.” You shrug innocently, and Eunseo glares at you. She wants to call you unbearable, you know it. “Three more days to go, and then I can put my distance.”

You can tell she wants to lecture you, tell you to find another way other than giving up. But she doesn’t, in true Eunseo fashion.

The rest of that day is spent holed up inside your room without contacting or interaction with anyone except Eunseo, who takes one for the team and keeps you company during the whole time. She tells you Mark asks for you when she gets back from getting snacks on the break between the second and third Harry Potter movie you were marathoning on Netflix. You shrug in response, drink big gulps of water as if it would drown your feelings to death.

Sometimes you wished that was possible.

Day five arrives, and the prospect of things looking up is nothing but a mere pathetic theory. Quite on the contrary, it’s on day five where everything gets worse than worst.

Throughout the day, the interactions between Mark and Doyeon are so disgusting to your whole system that you actually end up dry heaving against the toilet, retches tormenting you as you try to make sense of the situation. You had reached the lowest of lows, the rock bottom.

But this wasn’t you. This had never been you. Not even back in high school where you longed to belong somewhere.

The migraines had been the only constant on that trip, and they kept on becoming stronger and stronger as the days went by, much like your mood. You had gotten to the point where the only people you tolerated were Eunseo and Kino, everyone else just contributed to the hammering going inside your head.

Still, you had been able to avoid Mark.

That is until the fateful day six begins, and Jungwoo corners you in the kitchen, a furious scowl etched on his face.

“Would you care to tell me what the fuck is going on with you?” His tone is accusatory, hurtful. He’s not there to be nice, that much you had already gathered.

“Is this an intervention?” You cock your eyebrow at him, leaning your lower back against the counter. He keeps staring at you, stance aggressive.

“Let’s call it an intervention, if you want. Why the fuck have you been acting so weird lately? Why have you turned your phone off? Why are you avoiding Mark?” He’s firing question after question, not even giving you room to process them. The way he’s handling his energy is so chaotic, it makes your blood boil underneath your skin. Jungwoo had no right to be mad at you when he didn’t make any effort to consult you about your wellbeing during this whole trip, and the moment he does, his only instinct is to spit venomous words instead of choosing a more careful approach.

“And why the fuck do you care?” There’s a fire building up inside of you, the flames licking up your throat. You’re now almost chest to chest with him, your eyes wide and vicious. If it was possible, laser beams would be shooting out of them.

“Are you serious right now? You’re my best friend, of course I care about you!”

You scoff, “Took you long enough to figure out something’s not okay.”

“You’re being so unfair.”

“Am I?” You laugh darkly, eyes roaming around the room. Jungwoo hated being left in the dark. It made him feel powerless like he wasn’t doing enough for those he loved. And you were deliberately doing what you knew would hurt him. Because that was the person you had become. “Or were you simply too occupied to realise it?”

“Now you’re just pushing it, ___.” He grits out, “I don’t know what is going on, but you’re acting like an asshole. Everyone is commenting about how you’re avoiding us. Mark is like a lost puppy wandering around because it’s like he’s the plague to you.”

The thought of Mark feeling miserable because of you is just so absurd you don’t refrain from laughing out loud sarcastically. “Mark looks absolutely fine to me. Doyeon seems to be a qualified substitute.”

“Okay, I get it now. Something happened between you two.” He says, plain and simple. You feel the blistering heat on your cheeks, and words can’t even slip from your lips because he carries on, “Honestly, I’m not really interested in knowing what happened exactly. I care about the fact that you’re being an asshole to everyone else because of it. Don’t take your anger out on someone who doesn’t deserve it.”

Shame is staining your face in such an ugly red shade you can’t even muster up the courage to look him in the eye, and fight back. Mainly because there’s nothing you can really say to him.

“I’m putting you on shopping duty today with Mark.” He pauses, reaches for the back of your hand, and runs his finger just once against it, “Running away from confrontation is literally the worst thing you could possibly do. It will never fix things.”

He’s right, of course, and it hurts you.

It hurts you, but not because of how bittersweet truth can taste. It hurts because of all people, it had to be Jungwoo. Jungwoo, whose words had always been like rivers of honey flowing through your ears, now felt like they had blasted your eardrums off, leaving nothing but blood trickling down in its wake. This was a side of him you were seeing for the first time. But then again, this was also a side of you nobody had ever seen.

The extremes to which you had taken the situation was destroying everything around you. This vacation was supposed to be filled to the brim with beautiful memories you would never forget. Instead, you were letting your childish emotions dictate your whole persona, and disregard everyone else around you as if they didn’t exist, only him.

You had nothing left to lose.

Maybe the truth would set you free.

For a few seconds, Mark thought he was seeing a ghost, the apparition of something supernatural right before his eyes. He was more surprised than the moment you kissed him on New Year’s Eve if that was even possible. But it wasn’t a ghost, it was you making your way to him while he waited for the person who was supposed to help him with grocery shopping.

Now he understood why Jungwoo was acting all secretive and straight-up refusing to say who that person was.

“Are you going to stand there all day?” You sound annoyed, and he has no clue why. Actually, Mark has been in a permanent state of confusion ever since that day.

He remembers how going home after being so intimate with you felt like he had been floating in a cloud, instead of having Lucas push him by the collar and throw him on the bed. He remembers how soft and supple your lips felt, even if they had missed the initial aim because of how much of a fucking idiot he was. Everything had felt so surreal, like a dream too sweet to come true.

But you never said anything about it or mentioned it ever again.

And Mark didn’t have the guts to invest further, because he was a scaredy-cat who felt too weak when it came to you.

“Oh. Sorry.” He makes his way to the driver’s seat, spares a quick glance in your direction only to find you staring stoically ahead. You’re wearing a navy blue cap, it sits so low on your head he can barely see your eyes, just the end of your nose and the lips he had been fantasising about for the past month.

The lips which had touched his — kind of — and since then Mark only grew defeated at the lack of response coming from you.

There was such a tense atmosphere between both of you, in comparison to how comfortable you had been around each other at the party. Everything had been going so well, Mark had never been so happy in his entire life, and in hindsight, the end of the night was just perfect. But the truth was, the kiss had been the catalyst to how distant you had become.

No more facetime calls, no more feeling at ease whenever you both were together. And in Mark’s perspective, this trip was supposed to make the spark from the New Year’s Eve party ignite between you both again.

His expectations paled in comparison to the reality. The person he saw was avoiding him, glaring at him across the dinner table, refusing to interact with other people. Something was going on, and it was killing him not knowing why. Or worse, if he was the reason behind it all.

The eery silence ceases when you’re inside the supermarket, standing awkwardly still in front of the small magazine stall near the registers.

“Do you have the list?” Your voice lacks any emotion, yet it still startles him. He misses talking to you freely, hearing you laugh through the speaker on his phone as he buries his face against the pillow because he’s smiling so big his cheeks hurt.

“Yeah,” He takes the folded slip of paper from his back pocket. It’s crumpled and frayed at the edges — he had been fiddling with it before he saw you.

You clear your throat, avert your head to look at the tabloid newspapers, “We should split up, it’s quicker that way.”

“No,” He takes pride in the way his answer makes you look at him, the sternness in his voice showing. Mark wanted to be selfish for once. “I don’t want to lose you.” The pregnant pause is meant to make you think about his words, but he continues before things got too awkward, “This place is huge.”

You say nothing, but still rip the paper from his clammy hand, and storm ahead of him to find whatever was written on it.

Jungwoo’s scrawny chicken handwriting is barely legible, Mark notices once he peaks over your shoulder. You’re deliberating between two brands of rice as if it’s the hardest choice you had ever encountered in your entire life. It’s adorable, to say the least. But he doesn’t say anything, like always, because that’s what people like Mark do: they wallow in self-pity until feelings dissipate within the particles of the wind. They cower behind the false pretense of unrequited affection. They never chase their dreams to the fullest. They let them wither and fall between the cracks in the pavement.

Change scared him. Still, the thought of losing your friendship was enough to sear his heart.

So that’s why Mark was going to tread a very fine line, in hopes of at least getting back what was slipping through his fingers.

“Can we talk?”

You look over at him, a light frown adorning your face in spite of the poor attempt at hiding your face with your hat, grabbing a bottle of Coke at the same time. “We’re already talking.”

“We’re talking about groceries.”

“Are you saying groceries aren’t important enough to be considered a conversational topic?” You muse, laughing dryly right after. This indifference was starting to get on Mark’s nerves.

He strides so he’s standing right on the other side of the cart, hands holding it so tightly his knuckles turned white. “Cut the crap, ___. What’s going on?”

“Nothing. Now move.” Scoffing, you try to push the cart in your direction, but Mark tightens his hold even further so you’re unable to take it with you. “Mark. Let go. Don’t make me cause a scene right here in the middle of a fucking supermarket.”

He falters with the intensity of your voice and takes his hand off, sighing loudly, “We’re not done. I’m tired of this.”

Your head flings back violently to stare at him with the widest eyes he had ever seen. Mark finally takes note of the incredibly purple under-eye circles, the tired, dull-looking skin. The deep, heart-wrenching feeling in his gut was slowly confirming what he had been fearing: he probably was one of the reasons why you were like this, if not the only one.

“Oh, you’re tired? How sad, Mark. Maybe take your head out of your ass for once and take a hint. So many things are happening around you and you either choose to ignore it or you’re just fucking dumb enough to not realise it.”

“What do you mean?” Mark feels like he’s being stabbed all over again with every poisonous word falling from your lips. It’s not the words themselves that are hurting him, it’s the fact that he was the person who caused you to become this way and not knowing exactly what he had done.

You let out a low shriek of frustration, “Unbelievable. You wouldn’t see it even if it hit you in the head.”

“Let’s talk in the car.” He sighs. You don’t say anything back, but Mark takes the eye roll you throw in his direction as a small victory for now. The rest of the grocery shopping happens in complete silence sans the squeaky wheels of the cart and the Ed Sheeran song humming throughout the store.

Mark is dreading getting in the car with you, afraid of getting another earful of rejecting comments or worse, not being able to find out what exactly he had done for you to completely shut him out. Was it because he allowed you to kiss him while you were both not in your right state of mind? Should he had been more firm in his morals instead of giving in to what he had been wanting for the past three years?

More silence carries both of you back to Jungwoo’s house, Mark’s hand gripping the steering wheel on the way back so tightly his knuckles are ghostly white against the dark leather. The air felt stuffy, full of resentment and opportunities for new beginnings. You reckon the time to pour your heart out has come: there, inside that parked car, you were going to tell him everything without holding back. This crush had grown to lengths you had never expected, it had turned you into the shell of the girl you used to be.

Your inferiority complex had never gone away.

“Can I ask you something?” You start off, taking the baseball cap off of your head before running a hand through your slightly greasy hair. Mark’s eyes immediately lock on yours, nods in your direction. “Did it even mean something to you? The kiss?”

“I- I thought you didn’t remember that.” He gulps, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

“You thought or you didn’t want me to remember?” You hate how feeble your voice sounds, how crystal clear the pain echoes with every word you say. “You know, Mark, it’s okay if you don’t like me back, the thing is that I can’t really go on any longer pretending everything’s okay when it’s not.”

Mark’s body coils like a springboard at your implied confession, his muscles tense, and the way he looks at you resembles a madman. You allow him some seconds to formulate some type of reply, yet all he does is open and close his mouth as if there is nothing he could say.

“Yeah, newsflash… I like you, Mark. I thought the kiss made it pretty obvious but then again we were drunk and high so I understand if you didn’t think too much of it.” There’s a lump sitting at the top of your throat and tears brimming in your lash line. The urge to cry is so strong now, you had never imagined that confessing your feelings to the person’s face would be so emotionally and mentally straining. “I guess I’m the one to blame because I expected you to make the next move, to show that this crush wasn’t one-sided but… Yeah… We all know how that one went, uh?”

“Anyway… This is why I’ve been distant.” You chuckle, wiping the stray tear that decided to go rogue against your will, “And as you can imagine, seeing the guy I like acting so close to another girl was bound to make me feel all types of sad. I don’t know if you’re dating or not and if you are I am sorry for telling you this. I guess I just needed to let this all out before I began moving on.”

He’s completely still, zoned out as if his body was there but his soul was absent. You’re unsure of what to make of this since you were expecting him to say something back. But maybe this was for the best, him not saying a word. It would spare you an even bigger heartbreak.

“I’ll ask the guys to come get the groceries.” You smile sadly before opening the door, leaving him confined in that tiny car alongside his thoughts.

You don’t see Mark for the rest of the day, fortunately. While in the previous days you had been the one acting all weird and evasive, now Mark had taken it upon himself to fulfill that role. It gives you time to reflect upon yourself and your situation.

Dinner that night is made by you and everyone loves it. The conversation flows beautifully between everyone, even with Doyeon: you find out the two of you have a lot more in common than you imagined. Surprisingly, the heavy burden sunk in the depths of your chest is no longer there, only a dull ache which throbbed only whenever your brain conjured any thought about Mark. You’d take that as progress. Except you can’t help yourself but think about what prompted him into isolating himself. Maybe he was too embarrassed to face you now that he knew you liked him. Or maybe he didn’t have the courage to be your friend anymore. All in all, your pride was hurt. Not having your feelings reciprocated sucked.

Later on, you watch Bird Box sandwiched between your best friends, let yourself shed a few stray tears over the sentimentality of the movie. You can hear sniffles and stifled sobs coming from Doyeon and Kino while Jungwoo holds Eunseo’s hand and brings it to his lips to gently peck it from time to time. It’s enough to make you reminisce about New Year’s Eve, about how right it felt to be with Mark in that kind of intimate setting. You want to do it again and again and again until you can’t even remember how many times you have been like that until it becomes second nature to you. But that won’t happen. So you force yourself to eradicate that painful thought from your mind and train your eyes steadily on the screen until it all blurs.

People start going back to their rooms little by little, eventually. The clock is ticking near one in the morning and contrary to what you were expecting, there’s not one ounce of exhaustion in your body. You are awake, you feel awake like there’s a buzz in your bloodstream that’s preventing you from getting sleepy. It’s as if not even your own brain wants you to stop thinking.

Lucky for your brain, you can’t stop thinking. So while everyone else is sleeping soundly in their beds, the cogs in your brain twist and turn desperately trying to formulate any reasonable explanation for everything that had happened recently. And in spite of the sting caused by rejection, your heart still called to him, pathetically so, and during this whole fiasco, you were worried about his wellbeing. You were worrying if he was hungry, thirsty, tired, either if he was crying or in need of a hug. Above your state of passion for him stood a friendship you valued tremendously; you were losing both at the same time.

The blood boiling beneath your skin makes the air around you feel too stifling like you’re in the middle of a heatwave on a July afternoon instead of a February late night where the temperature doesn’t even waver beyond 20ºC. You trudge outside to where the pool is, the moon illuminating and reflecting upon the tiny ripples of water ever so gently, just enough to showcase how beautiful stillness and darkness can be. There’s this urge within you to just dive in, even if the water is not as warm as you want it to be, and you do just that, damned be everything and everyone.

You’re swimming in Jungwoo’s summer house backyard all by yourself in your underwear and somehow, despite the trials and tribulations of your pathetic life, you wouldn’t change anything about that moment. They are the ones that make you grow as a person, that help you shape yourself into a more mature, better version.

But moments like these are also meant to be changed. Like the way the pitch-black sky is coated with hues of pink, yellow, and orange just as dawn becomes daylight. Those seemingly slow and everlasting shifts in nature you can’t help but acknowledge: they’re meant to happen.

That’s why you don’t even flinch when you hear a small splash behind you, yet that restlessness comes to life, the one where you can feel in every fibre of your being whenever he was around. But you don’t turn around, don’t act surprised. You’re ready to embrace whatever it is that is about to come your way.

“Hi.” Mark’s voice is so soft and faint you can barely hear him. If it wasn’t for the stupid fact you like him so much to the point your chest felt like it was about to split open violently in any second, things like his uneven breathing pattern would go amiss.

You flip around, see how sunken his face looks. It breaks your heart even further than it already was to begin with. Resisting the impulse you were having of swimming across the pool so you could hold him in your warms was proving to be the most difficult thing you had ever done.

“Hi, Mark.”

In any other occasion, seeing Mark shirtless would be more than enough to make you go through hot flashes for the following hour, especially when you were only wearing your bra and panties, yet there was absolutely nothing sexual about this moment. You were both near-naked, stripped of barriers, of façades you put on in order to protect yourselves. At that very moment, there was only vulnerability oozing from your pores and his.

This was it. The grand finale was finally about to happen.

“How are you feeling?” You start off, lowering your shoulders inside the water to keep them warm from the breeze. “You look like shit.”

That elicits a snort from Mark’s lips followed by a gleaming smile which you can see from your spot on the other end of the pool. It’s sweet and it sticks to your memory like golden honey, reminds you of how much you have missed him in general. He was your friend before he was the one who could either make you or break you, so you yearn for his friendship way more than any other thing in the world. No one could understand you with the same intricacy and intimacy as Mark did; you would rather not be able to feel the suppleness of his lips than to lose him altogether, lose the gift of his friendship.

“Honestly?” He asks, mimicking your position and lowering his shoulders as well, “I don’t think there’s any way I can convey how I feel right now without it sounding like complete nonsense.”

This statement intrigues you. It sparks something deep within that you know it shouldn’t, but falling in love with someone brings out the person’s most vulnerable state to the forefront. A person in love will go back on their word if that means one step closer to the heart they want. “Try me,” You shrug, “I’m all ears.”

“I don’t even know where to begin.”

“If this is all because of what I told you… because I like you, then I’m sorry.” You cast your eyes downwards and flick mindlessly the water around you. “I know that it’s a lot to take in and maybe it was selfish of me to let it all build up and then lay it all on you like that.”

“No,” He interjects quickly, treading the pool waters in slow but steady strides until he’s more than an arm’s reach from you. “I was surprised, yes, and it was overwhelming because that was the last thing I was expecting you to say.”

You laugh, “You were malfunctioning back there. I get it though.”

“You don’t,” He deadpans, voice solemn, “You don’t understand at all… What it’s like waiting for years to hear something and then your brain completely shuts down when it does finally happen.”

Your heartbeat is thrumming so loud you can feel it reverberating all over your body, it courses through you like a rush of blood, intensely so, that you refrain from pinching yourself. The nuances in his speech are making you feel like you’re dreaming the sweetest dream and if it was indeed a figment of your imagination, you didn’t want to wake up any time soon.

“I’ve had a thing for you since high school, ___.” He confesses, angling his body to the side as if ashamed or embarrassed or afraid. Deep down you want to laugh because there’s no reason for him to feel like that at all. You’re desperately in love with him in every intricate and complex way possible in the world. Like a galaxy and constellations, and the moons, the planets, and the stars within orbiting in sync yet light-years away from each other.

But the heavy rise and fall of your chest and the tears welling up in your eyes tell a different story.

Mark liked you back.

He continues, “And I know you used to think I was too popular to even become your friend, but that sure as hell didn’t stop me from liking you. Hell, it made me like you even more… I knew it back then and I know it now too… I really, really like you. A lot. Like, you make my heart do these funky, weird flips every time we hang out.”

You’re crying by the end of his little confession, sniffling quietly so he doesn’t notice, yet when he finally dares to lift his eyes towards yours, he sees you wiping the back of your palm against your cheek. As if it was an instinct, he crosses the space left dividing the both of you, pausing right before his hand could touch you. Like you were a dainty marble statue that could break even with the tiniest of touches.

“Shit, I’m sorry— Don’t cry, please.”

“No,” You protest, “I’m crying because I’m happy. I’m crying because I never imagined this moment would actually happen. It’s just surreal.”

His hand stutters when it finally grazes your skin, yet his thumb still spans the surface of your cheek ever so gently, ever so softly. You refuse to believe it isn’t real, these last interactions you two were sharing were so dream-like your own hand reaches up to press against his, to feel the texture of his skin, your eyes closing in the process because of how full your heart was feeling.

Mark liked you. The person you liked, liked you back. You had been torturing yourself for the past week with thoughts of not being reciprocated to the point that you felt the very core of your being dim. And it had been all for nothing because he had a thing for you way before you even considered him a friend.

Miscommunication was such a fickle thing. This whole situation could have been avoided if the two of you had been more open about your feelings instead of repressing them in fear of the reaction of the other.

“Mark,” You say, his hand still cradling your face, “Can we hug? Is that okay?”

Mark is unable to properly reply with words to your question, only a smile breaking through his lips at the pure disbelief of how happy such words could make him feel. He doesn’t need to say anything at all, he reckons, as he lowers your hand, and his too, before snaking his arms around yours, tumbling you softly into his chest in the process.

There’s a newfound comfort in the way your face is squished against his shoulder, like every single worry that had been weighing him down had completely vanished the moment you stepped into his arms. The pounding of his heart is no longer rooted in venom, it has tiny flowers blooming along each branch and stem, a small, lovely glimpse into paradise on earth.

A wave of nostalgia hits Mark in the gut and he can’t help but to think about New Year’s Eve, think about how similar this moment feels to the one almost two months ago yet the contrast is so very stark. Back then you were both tiptoeing around your emotions, scared of taking a leap and finding out that there’s nothing but concrete down there. Now you’re worn down, you and him, by the cluster of emotions and the lack of experience on how to handle them. Yet you’re together in whatever this is, may that be navigating through the corridors of young love or finding out what’s on the other side of the door doesn’t quite correspond to what you’ve been idealising.

“I’m sorry,” You’ve been in an embrace for probably more than ten minutes and Mark’s voice breaks a little, right hand spanning the middle of your back, “For not being so forward… I’m not very good at this— I’ve never been. I tried, back in high school, you know? I tried but it always felt like the universe was against me. Every time I mustered the courage to do something, another person cockblocked the shit out of me.”

You bring your head back to look him in the eyes, “It’s okay, Mark. I’m not very good at this either. I had this crazy way of thinking that you were like… unreachable to someone like me. So I never expected us to become friends, let along like you or have you like me back.”

“Please,” He scoffs playfully, tightening his arms around you, “I liked you first.”

You roll your eyes, stepping out of his embrace and flicking some water in his direction, “Anyways… I’m also sorry. For being too pushy and demanding too much from you. And for ruining this whole trip for everyone.”

“I wouldn’t say you ruined the trip, just… confused the shit out of everyone, maybe?” He tries to reason, voice a little doubtful. You’re aware of how your little jealous stints made the mood a little sour for everyone, and you feel remorseful for letting such negativity consume you. Love really made you do the unthinkable.

“Jealousy is a bitch, I’ll say that.”

“Jealousy? Were you jealous?” Mark asks, curiosity splattered on his face, “Jealous of wha— Oh. No way…”

Mark has a stupid little grin on his face like he already has you all figured out, and you stubbornly, yet playfully, turn your back to him as you begin to tread back to the other end of the pool to try and get him to follow you. Maybe hug you from behind. Kiss your neck or whatever. You’d leave that for him to decide.

A giggle leaves your mouth as you hear the water swishing from behind you. You keep going until you reach the border and when you twist your body to rest your back against it, Mark is hot on your tail, immediately caging you in between his arms.

“Jealous, uh?” He’s coming across as cocky, and given the circumstances you were now, it was far from making you annoyed or turned off.

“Yeah,” You breathe out, focusing on the droplets of water gliding from his neck to his collarbones. This game was getting dangerous. “What about it?”

“What were you jealous of?” He begins, taking another step towards you until you were chest to chest. “Or let me rephrase that. Who were you jealous of?”

You’re beginning to like seeing this new side of Mark. The Mark who unveiled what he was thinking and feeling free instead of masking it behind a façade of confusion. It was making you unravel a lot more from within yourself as well, the way you were reacting to his advances and stance just proved even further the extent of your emotional and romantic involvement.

“You were all cosy with Doyeon during the whole trip. It was so annoying.”

“Okay, first of all, Doyeon and I grew up together.”

“That’s even worse,” You roll your eyes and Mark is feeling so inexplicably elated over seeing you express something as ordinary as jealousy that he decides to be ballsy and grab you by the waist. He ought to compensate you somehow.

The blush dusting your cheeks makes it worth it.

“I only like one person, and that’s you,” He rasps, heart skipping a beat when you put your hands on his shoulders, feel the sturdiness of his muscles.

“I know now,” You say, caressing the nape of his neck as you look up to him, a fond smile on your lips. Mark feels so overwhelmed with the urge to kiss you. Kissing you had always plagued him, but now when it was just a breath’s away he felt dizzy with the anticipation of it really happening.

“Can I—”

You don’t even give him the chance to finish his prompt, for you take the initiative and kiss him yourself, too thirsty for something you were sure you were never going to get tired of.

Mark’s lips are exactly what you had always dreamed about being, yet more at the same time. They’re soft and supple and timid, and you don’t really mind taking the lead, spanning your hand across his jaw and tilting it to the side so you can deepen the kiss. You’ve been waiting for the opportunity of properly kissing him since what feels like forever, it shows in how you press yourself against him desperately, turn him around so he’s the one being pinned against the wall.

That seems to shake him out of his shy reverie: he poises his hand against your throat to keep you in place as the rush finally kicks in and he begins to take over, tearing a gasp from you at the sudden change in dynamics. He hums low in his throat then, using it as an opportunity to add his tongue to the mix, bravado fuelled by the desperate nature of the moment.

When the heat of finally being able to kiss each other dies down, the kisses become slow and languid, the touches delicate and sweet rather than frantic and wild, until you both stop completely to catch your breath.

“Shit,” Mark is heaving as he starts laughing crazily, “If this is a dream I’m going to be so fucking pissed.”

You begin to pepper pecks all over his face to prove a point, “This isn’t a dream, Mark Lee. We like each other.”

“And had one hell of a kiss in the middle of the night at a pool. This is going to be a cool story to tell. After I tell the New Year’s Eve one.”

“First off, this was our first kiss.” You retort, grabbing his cheeks in between your fingers to shut him up when he starts protesting, “That will not account as a first kiss, it was a sad, sad attempt at demonstrating how much I liked you.”

“I can’t believe it didn’t dawn on me back then that you liked me back.” Mark snorts in disbelief, “What can be more clear than a kiss? Jesus Christ.”

“I was honestly disappointed but not surprised, coming from you. Such a dense, dumb ass person.”

“Take it back!” He starts tickling you in retaliation, the giggles coming out of your mouth so loudly you were sure you were going to wake someone up. But that didn’t matter at the moment, the unavoidable sweetness of the occasion is all you could think about.

You and Mark eventually get out of the pool when you notice your fingers get pruney, which in hindsight should have happened way before it did. He goes inside to fetch two towels while you sit on the little deck with your legs crossed, looking at the sky before you and wondering how a little over an hour ago you were looking at the same exact spot plagued with the opposite mindset of the one you had now.

He drapes the fluffy towel over your shoulders and sits right to your left, knees knocking against yours as he gets comfortable. His hair is sticking up in every possible direction and when he turns his head to look at you you notice how dull his skin looks and the tired under-eye circles, an exact match to yours. If this was another time before now, you would feel the itch to smoothen your thumb against them yet refrain yourself from doing so, but this isn’t the then, it’s the now and you no longer feel anxious about acting upon your desires. So you do as you wish and when Mark grabs your wrist to kiss it absentmindedly, you feel like nothing in the world could ever bring you down from the state of mind you were going through.

You and Mark stay together outside just until your underwear stops sticking obscenely to your body, not even saying anything to each other. The comfort in being around someone in complete silence, namely the person you love, warms you to your very core like there’s a fire gradually burning in the pit of your stomach, not strong enough to hurt you but not soft enough to go unnoticed.

“Mark?” You say when Mark slides the patio door open to go inside. He turns back to look at you with that facial expression you had grown to love instead of hate, the one where it truly looked like he was unreadable.

“Lord knows if I wait for you to do this I’ll be fifty before it happens.” You laugh dryly, gaining momentum and courage, “Do you— Will you be my boyfriend?”

His eyes widen in response and he stays frozen in place, much like what happened in the car. This was not happening again, not on your watch. “Are you having another mental breakdown? What I meant was— Do you… Do you like me enough to maybe like, want to date me?”

The cogs in Mark’s brain kick back to life the moment your voice becomes small as if you’re beginning to feel uneasy and uncertain about the situation. He really needs to work on how he reacts to positive events.

“Shit, yeah— I, yeah. I do.” He says hurriedly, fumbling for the right words, “Let’s do this thing. Let’s date.”

You duck your head to hide your smile inside the towel, but Mark notices it either way. It makes him all fuzzy inside, cotton-candy hearted.

“Okay,” You tiptoe quietly until you’re right in front of him, reach for the back of his neck so you can press a quick peck right on the lips. “Goodnight.”

Mark blushing at you kissing him is a wonderful sight you want to see repeatedly.

Contrary to what you think, you don’t dream about anything at all. It’s like you’re now catching up to all of the sleep that you had lost in the past, blacking out the second your head hits the pillow.

You were now going back to reality, back to civilisation. Back to having a routine and a schedule and abiding by it. For the first time in a long time, you were actually looking forward to it.

Since Mark was on your side.

Literally and figuratively.

To the others, the fact that Mark and you are sitting next to each other in Jungwoo’s car on the way back home was just pure coincidence, but Jungwoo knows what’s up. In fact, he didn’t even need to do much digging. He was such a light sleeper he had woken up in the middle of the night due to some strange sounds coming from his backyard. At first, he was afraid someone had broken in, even going the extra mile to grab the baseball bat from the kitchen.

But when he peeked through the glass door leading to the outside, what he saw left him in a state of disarray for only a few seconds before it settled in and he saw you smiling, giggling, and Mark beaming at you. Deep down he always knew something was bound to happen between you two, and he didn’t know the extent of your circumstances, but he was glad whatever happened before now was a done deal.

You deserved to be happy.

“No funny business back in there, ___.” Jungwoo says loudly, bumping his arm against Eunseo’s.

“What?!” You gasp, quietly sneaking away the hand you had inside of Mark’s hoodie pocket, “What are you even talking about…”

“Yeah, yeah. We’ll talk later, missy.” He replies, amusement in his tone, “You better not complain ever again about Eunie and I being all up in each other’s business. I’ll revoke your best friend privileges right away. And you,” He glares at Mark, “No breaking my best friend’s heart unless you want to end up like a headless chicken.”

“I…” Mark gulps, his trademark bug eyes widened to the max, “Yes, sir.”

Everyone except Mark (and Vernon, who had fallen asleep the second his head hit the window) start laughing at his response and a few moments later he ends up joining in. He looks at you then, holds his hand in front of you expectingly, and when you interlock your fingers right in the middle of his, he ends up putting both your hands inside the hoodie pocket once again, a big, goofy smile plastered on his face as he drops his head against your shoulder, shuts his eyes close, and snuggles closer.

You peck his temple affectionally, because well, you loved him. A lot. You weren’t afraid of acknowledging it any longer, even if you hadn’t told Mark how deep your feelings ran for him, even if there was a possibility he took a little longer to come to that conclusion as well. You just really, really loved him and everything that entailed being in love with him. Your mind goes back to that time where you tried so desperately to root obstacles between the both of you, for you belittled yourself so much and put him in such a high pedestal, avoiding constantly the slightest chance of interacting with him. Mark wasn’t stuck up or anything of the sort, he had never been that kind of person. It wasn’t his fault your high school experience hadn’t been like his. It wasn’t his fault that he had what he had. And maybe it wasn’t your fault either, but you shouldn’t have assumed he’d be iffy about getting to know you. About becoming your friend. Because those were your insecurities coming afloat and projecting onto Mark what you wanted him to be, so it would be easier for you to detach yourself from him, to not sympathise or like him.

Well, you had failed miserably at that. Gladly so.

You could only be a dumb ass for so long.

“You’re late.”

“The bus—”

Mark sighs, “The bus arrived earlier than you expected. I know.”

“Yeah,” You beam at him, kissing him softly. “Hi.”

“Hi, baby.” He tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear, “Let’s go, the guys are waiting for us.”

You grab his hand as both of you start walking from the bus stop to Jungwoo’s apartment. “We’re still leaving after the movie ends, right?”

“Yes, don’t worry.” He bumps his shoulder lightly into yours teasingly, “You’ve been so frisky lately, Jesus Christ. Can’t wait until you have me all to yourself, uh?”

“Mark!” You gasp, stopping in your tracks to hit him in the chest. He giggles at your feeble attempt at hurting him, “Okay, let’s not go to my house later, then.”

“Noooooo,” He whines, enveloping you in his arms and tightening them so you can’t leave, “I was only joking. You know I, uh… I like it when we’re alone.”

“You seem to like it too much if I remember correctly.”

Three months had flown by in the blink of an eye, so quickly you didn’t even realise it until Mark texted you one day with a screenshot of Lovedays, an app that showed how many days you had been dating with your significant other, and the number 100 was staring right back at you. A lot had happened in the span of that time since it was the first relationship for the both of you a lot of trial and error had taken place during the first weeks. That pent up flame you felt had been completely let out that time at the pool, which was followed up by a bit (read: a lot) of the awkwardness of navigating through intimacy and sentimentality for the first time.

Especially when Mark’s so clumsy and his brain runs one hundred miles an hour. But you had gotten used to it. Just like he had gotten used to your incessant rants about what you’re learning in your most interesting class, even if they leave him confused 99% of the times. Mark said you confused him in general.

You called it compromising.

“Shh…” He puts his hand across your mouth, “You’re being too loud.”

You strike back by putting your tongue out and licking his palm and he yelps in surprise, pulling it back, “Oh, now you don’t want to talk about it.”

He goes back to holding your hand“, You know I’m not very vocal about… that stuff.”

“Oh, you’re vocal alright, Mark Lee.”

“La, la, la!” He screams childishly, and you roll your eyes playfully at his antics, “I can’t hear you!”

When you arrive at Jungwoo’s, only Eunseo is there, as per usual. While getting a boyfriend had changed some of the dynamics in your life, some things would never change, like your friends scheming into making you arrive on time. Or three-way hugging Jungwoo and Eunseo in a way Mark never understood how it was done, yet respected.

Or how college was proving itself to be the best timeframe of your life.

Sure, things weren’t perfect, though we can’t expect them to be something that isn’t by all means achievable. You still had a long way to go, growing up and maturing was a never-ending process and every day that went by you learned something new either about the world or yourself.

Yet the very imperfectness of it all was what made it all worth it. In spite of every trial and tribulation that life had thrown or was going to throw at you, you’d face it with vigour and strength.

Because you were happy.

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