#greatest hits from my drafts ^^

[divorceblogger]

If I was the wot showrunner I’d make rand gay in the final season cw show style and delete twitter from my phone

[em1i2a3]

Master list of My Writing

Now that I'm really going into full-blown craziness with my writing, I thought now would be the best time to actually create a master list for everyone! Especially because there's going to be tons more stuff I'm going to be writing and there's so many drafts that I literally just want to have a spot where people can go to seek out my other works because it's going to get flooded really quickly!

I'm also considering opening my request box soon too because I really love doing one-shots, and sometimes I really need a break from my big works lol. We will see though! :)

Please enjoy :D

BJORN (Alien: Romulus)

Twin Size Mattress [ part one , part two ] I Saw You In A Dream [part one , part two] Pieces of You (One Shot)

BUCKY BARNES

Hole In The Earth My Desire Party 4 U Girls Like You (Continuation of My Desire) Forwards Beckon Rebound Cradle All The Small Things BOB/ROBERT REYNOLDS/SENTRY/THE VOID Carry The Zero When The Sun Hits Cherry Waves Plainclothes Man All The Rage Back Home Sailor Song I Wanna Get Lost With You I Want You (Fever) (Part 2 of Plainclothes man) Signs It’s You I’m Thinking Of Send The Pain Below Spanish Sahara Fable (Part 2 of Sailor Song) The Greatest Light Is The Greatest Shade Test Drive Velour and Velcro Detonate Sports Car Affection Entombed (Sequel to Test Drive) Journal of Ardency (Sequel to Sports Car) Late For The Sky At The Beach, In Every Life (Final Part of Sailor Song) If I Believe You The Air That I Breathe Lovers Never Let Me Go Only He Can Heal Me Crying Lightning Big Shot Got You (Where I Want You) Body Paint I’ll Believe In Anything I Do Love You I’m On Fire Instant Crush Embrace Nothing Matters

RHETT ABBOTT

Purple Lace Bra Moonlight Desires Driver

[lemonduckisnowawake]

Happy 150th anniversary to the song "It is Well With My Soul" by Horatio Spafford and Philip Bliss

[ovadzs]

“sportscar”-

summary: you are an endlessly talented artist/model/influencer and adored by millions of fans, but remain stubbornly single. this doesn’t stop your fans from shipping you with Lando Norris, though. So your best friend (and agent) Clara decides to set some things in motion behind your back. unfortunately, what she didn’t expect was the fact that you fucking despise that man. but it’s only a week of shooting together, for his brand and for your new song: sportscar. so, how bad can it be?

word count: 7.6k

fic content/warnings: female reader, use of you/she, enemies to lovers (one sided), hate/anger, lando is kinda ooc, kinda angsty, not properly proof read!!

author notes: hi gang!! this was SO entertaining to write but longgg and exam season is KICKING MY ASS so once i’m done i have an oscar fic waiting to write 😙 (childhood friends/lovers, fluffy and with posts etc can’t wait!!) this fic is obviously based on tate posting that INSANE video in the lando jersey omg ??? also, pink haired diva Clara might be my new reoccurring character cause i LOVE herrr !! anyway enjoy

Sometimes you forget how truly famous you are. How expansive your fanbase is. An established model, with a mass following. And now you’ve just sold out your first stadium show. You never believed in those ‘I've made it’ moments, but you were sort of feeling that way.

And you managed to do all it, somewhat on your own. Sure, you had a bit of help. People you depended on. Unwavering support from your parents, and your best friend Clara-your agent. Soulmates existed, you were sure of it. She was a great example of that, and you loved her more deeply than you thought possible. She was truly your greatest friend. You meant more like, without a partner. You were too career focused, too determined, to let a man get in your way. A liability, not worth taking. You had a cat, and a fucking massive apartment, and Clara, and a family you adored. What else did you need?

Well, the fans sure didn't feel the same. They clung onto every arm in photos, every appearance. They were desperate to see you with someone, regardless of what you wanted. They really annoyed you sometimes, but you were eternally grateful. Their choice of eligible bachelor at the moment was Lando Norris, the F1 Driver. It was no secret that you enjoyed F1, because you regularly went to watch the Miami Grand Prix, occasionally making appearances at others. And you were often sporting some orange clothes, or sometimes even Lando’s iconic neon merch. So naturally, they wanted to see you together. A definite ‘power couple.’ But funnily enough, you’d never actually met him. Your social circles seemed to refuse to overlap. Sure, he commented on some posts, and vice versa. Consistent story likes and good luck messages. You’re pretty sure he attended one of your shows last year, but you don't know for certain.

However, what you did know is that you LOVED messing with your followers. So you fished through your drafts, and found a video of you in your LN4 jersey, lip-syncing to a snippet of your upcoming song, ‘Sportscar.’ Without thinking, you hit post, grinning to yourself.

And not even a minute later, it's blown up, likes and comments flooding in. And one catches your eye, from the man himself.

‘good taste.’

You smirk slightly but don’t bother to like it, you just wait for the inevitable phone call from Clara instead.

“Okay, as your unspoken social media manager, please please PLEASE!!! warn me before you start posting crazy shit.” comes her flustered voice, her surprise etched clearly on her face through the screen.

“Sorry, I had to. The comments are just SO funny.” you admit, laughing at your fan accounts literally losing their minds. Clara’s hands are stained pink from the damp hair dye in her hair, and you cackle at how overwhelmed she looks. “I promise I'll give you at least 30 seconds of warning, next time, okay?”

She huffs. “Yeah, yeah. Anyway, I was going to ask this yesterday and forgot, so this is perfect. I’ve been talking to Lando’s equivalent of me, I think. I don’t really know what he does. And he was hinting how brilliant a collab would be. I didn't agree to anything,” she says hurriedly, “but it would be brilliant. For us, and for them. Just think of the publicity!” she clamours, and you hear a chaotic crash behind her.

You’ve covered this before, so that's why she asks so quickly, because she knows what's coming.

“Clara, come on. You know I don’t want to do any collabs, or anything.” you say truthfully, but she just sighs as you, exasperated.

“Look, you’re like- shockingly famous and successful. You’ve made a name for yourself, and this isn’t going to change that.” she replies, and you know she's probably right, but you just can't do it.

You crave that independence, that knowledge that you’ve never thrown names around or cozied up to anyone to chase money and fame. You worked yourself to death, sleepless nights humming to yourself, sewing outfits. So you didn’t want anyone, even Norris, putting his name near yours. You could deal with the speculation, but you weren’t about to get outshone. Watch as with each photo that dropped, you slowly becoming an extension of him. Sure, you both owned your corners of the world, neither one of you more famous than the other. If anything, you were possibly more known than him. But there was something so horrifying, about your brand slowly becoming infused with foreign faces and strangers that you don't care for. You wouldn't mind having your family or Clara or your close friends dancing with you in a music video, or posing behind you in shoots. But a cash grab, a weak attempt to rise up the charts, you refused. Maybe it was petty. Maybe you were being stupid, but you didn’t care.

“Clara, it just doesn't feel right. Sure, it fits with Sportscar, and yeah maybe the fans would love it. And I'm happy to drop the occasional video or whatever, and I wouldn't even mind meeting him, but I don't want him anywhere near my name or my brand. I don't want anyone to clarify. I’m sure he’s great, it's not personal. You can tell that to HIS Clara, yeah?” you say clearly, and you see her nod, distracted.

And even though you trust her with your life, that faraway look in her eye stresses you out. There are very few things you disagree on, and this is one of them. You both know it. And you know how easily she could make a contract, and that's it. You and Lando, official partners. Of business, obviously. But she wouldn't do that, would she?

***

Funny, how varied your evenings were. Last night, typing away on your laptop, cosied up in bed, facetime Clara. Now, dressed in a tiny outfit and possibly too much makeup for such a dark space, catching the club lights on your belt buckle. You were in the poshest, most expensive club you could find, but the people inside didn't seem to reflect that. Rich, but dickheads. You wondered what you were doing there.

Clara was long gone, dancing under the lights nearby, twirling aimlessly with a group of people as wasted as her. You were often envious of how magnetic she was, easily drawing in people. You questioned how she was in the one in the shadows, and you were the famous one, prancing around on stage.

“HEY! Look who it is. Glad to finally meet you!” came a shockingly loud shout, right into your poor, unsuspecting ear.

“Fucking hell,” you mutter, batting away your assailant. You turn, expecting a crazed fan, but you’re surprised to see an offended Formula One driver instead.

“Oh. Oh! Lando, hey. Sorry about that.” you reply, dropping your raised arm. He comes too close to you again, shouting back into your ear.

“It’s okay!!!!!!” he bellows, and you have to resist the urge to hit him again. He’s slurring his words slightly, and you’re almost surprised he's still standing.

“Can you maybe, not? Shout in my ear, I mean. I can hear you.” you say matter of factly, suddenly feeling much more sober. You always got more irritable when you had something to drink, and right now Lando was getting on your last nerve, even if you’d literally just met.

“Oh yeah, sorry mate. I like your outfit, shame you’re not wearing my top though.” he says simply, swaying embarrassingly to the music. You smile at him gently, trying to stop your skin from crawling. It wasn't his fault, but you seriously didn't want to be there anymore. Maybe it was something about him being such a mystery, or some wild speculation. Him, being right there, barely thinking straight, was not what you wanted to see. You didn't even know why you'd come. You always hated clubs, the music was always too loud and you preferred dancing when you knew the choreography.

“Well, thanks. Didn’t feel like being a highlighter tonight though,” you joke, but it doesn't land. Probably because your arms are folded and your voice is deadly serious.

“Huh.” he says, clearly put off. “Thought you were a fan.” he mutters, rolling his eyes at you. And maybe he's joking too, but the tension isn't right, so you just roll your eyes back at him, and he stiffens.

This was not how you imagined meeting him for the first time. It was almost weird, how dry the air was between you. You just, didnt mind him? He’d annoyed you a bit, sure, but that was forgivable. But there was no excitement, no tension, nothing.

“Do you want to dance, or something?” he asks suddenly, watching you eye up the door.

You pause, trying to be polite. “Sorry, I’m actually exhausted. I promise I'm not usually this tense, really. I’m just going to go home, but I need to let my friend know. The pink haired one, there. You see her?” you point, grinning at her as she points back between you and Lando, but you subtly shake your head at her. You hope he doesn't notice, but unfortunately for you, he does.

He straightens up by you, scowling a bit. “Yeah, whatever. I’ll see you around then, maybe.” he says firmly, and you just nod reassuringly. You let Clara know you’re leaving and she quickly hugs you goodbye as you make your way to the door.

As soon as you step out, and the cool night breeze hits your face, you immediately feel so much better. You almost want to apologise to Lando,since he was clearly just loud and irritatingly happy, but it's too late.

“Hey, wait up!!”

Maybe it isn't too late.

“Huh, Lando? What are you doing out here?” you ask, and he pauses for breath.

“I felt like maybe it was awkward back there? Like I was annoying you or something, and I wanted to apologise, in case I did something.” he says, still hiccuping slightly.

You laugh, it coming out colder than you intended. Like you were laughing at his average apology.

“No, it’s fine.” you say firmly, smiling gently now.

He nods, unconvinced. “So, why’d you shake your head, when fucking Pinkie-Pie in there asked about me?” he replies, sounding sort of angry. You can tell he didn't mean to offend you, but your jaw slackens.

“She prefers other animated characters. Starfire, at least. Although her personal favourite is being compared to Granmamare from Ponyo. However, her name works just fine. Clara.” you say decidedly, giving him one last chance, before you actually do get annoyed.

“Don’t know it, sorry. But hey, that's Clara, huh? She’s been in contact with my agent a lot recently, right?” he replies.

Thankful he dropped the head shake, you nod. “Yeah, but I don’t do collabs.” you murmur, still not warming up to him.

He seems to feel the same. “What, not good enough for you?” he replies snarkily, sneering at you.

“What? Of course not.” you fire back, earnestly, but he’s clearly got that into his head.

“One look at me, and you tell Clara it's not happening. One shake of the head,yeah? Not worth the time, yeah?” he continues, and hitting him crosses your mind for a second time.

“Oh, get over it! It’s not about you. You’re too loud, and too drunk. I don’t even know you, what are you doing right now? Coming up with another bullshit apology? I told you I was tired, how egotistical can you be?” you shriek, and it all comes spilling out of you.

You rarely take your anger out on anyone, but here he is. A drunk, angry, confused, Lando, who keeps fucking looking at you like you’re some elitist snob, like he isn’t filthy rich too. An easy easy target.

“Fucking hell, I chased after you because I DID want to get to know you, and thought I’d blown it just cause you’re in a bad mood. But no, turns out you’re just, mean? I’m not egotistical, just aware. Don’t try and act like I’m wrong.” he calls back, matching your volume.

You scoff loudly, stomping towards him. The air isn't dry now, it's full of venom and anger. Also, you’re freezing, and he’s evidently warm from his flushed face and the way you can feel his hot breath and the heat radiating from his body.

“I’m not mean, dickhead. You called MY best friend Pinkie-pie!!” you protest, and as soon as the words leave your mouth, you realise you’re definitely drunker than you thought.

He laughs at you, and you lose it.

“You know what, you’re right. I don’t do collabs, like ever. But I was close to thinking about reaching out to you. I thought you’d be cool, or whatever. And instead you're just a little boy, who can’t handle alcohol and bellows in people’s ear. You’re obnoxious!!” you shout, your faces practically touching.

He opens his mouth to speak, but you shake your head.

“No, no I’m not done!!” you continue, spinning away from him, laughing. “Yeah, maybe it was bullshit. I’m not tired. You just made me irritated. Like, those two lines of talking with you dampened my fucking mood. But you know what? What if I was just tired? Tired, and drunk, and walking home. And you were going to come over and what? Hound me for answers about some weird gesture I did to my friend. Call me an angry, mean, antisocial bitch?” you ask, letting all your emotions fly out viciously from your hoarse throat.

He’s visibly hurt, but also visibly impressed. He just blinks, unsure of what to do next.

“Soooo, Mr Norris. No, I will not be seeing you around, maybe. Thank fuck we aren’t collaborating together, huh? It would've been a nightmare.”

“A trainwreck.” he agrees, clearly bemused.

“Wow, glad we finally agreed on something!” you say sarcastically, turning around to begin your walk home. But you pause, flipping him off first, and you stare at him long enough to see him return the favour. And the only thing you can think to do, to essentially get the last word, is to stick your tongue out at him.

And then he's blinking again, surprised, and you speed off before you see any other of his facial expressions.

“For the record, I didn't call you a bitch.” he calls out, but you keep your finger firmly extended in the air.

***

The next day flies by, but you spend almost all of it in bed, replaying the night before. His stupid, smug, face. You actually start to hate him more now. Who was he, to think he had some claim to getting to know you?

What a pathetic little man.

You were desperate to ramble about your interaction with Clara, but she was knocked out, you presumed. She hadn’t been online for almost 18 hours.

So when her little icon changes from an offputting grey to vivid green, you grin, eagerly calling her.

“Oh my GOD Clara. He was not what I was expecting at all! Insufferable, really. I’ve been thinking about how I dodged a bullet, and I’m so seriously grateful I can avoid him indefinitely now. Might have to burn my merch.” you joke loudly, properly waking her up.

She freezes, guilt clouding her whole face. And then she bursts into the loudest fit of giggles you’ve heard in a while.

“What if I told you you didn’t dodge that bullet, like, at all? And at 10am tomorrow you have a shoot with him? Wearing his brand?” she stammers, still giggling and you feel a laugh bubble in your throat.

But when she looks at you, suddenly deadly serious, that laugh sours and viciously burns you. And you've never wanted anything more than to strangle her. So you hang up instead.

CLARA:

im sorry

lol

not that sorry

no wait yes i am

i shouldnt of gone behind ur back like that, ofc

but im not sorry that lando is an asshole

can i come watch pls

YOU:

stfu

ur lucky i havent fired you

wait

why havent i fired u yet ??

consider this a formal warning

CLARA:

hes hot tho

YOU:

??

this is ur boss

what r u talking about

CLARA:

lando ?

liek sure maybe hes annoying asf but

like***

you’ll defo look good together

YOU:

idk what ur talking about

hes not even the best looking driver on the grid

also hes punching

CLARA:

its just a shoot babe ur not betrothed

btw the contract goes both ways

ur not just modelling for him

YOU:

whatthefuckdoumean

??

clara

what did u do

…

clara this is ur boss

reply immediately

CLARA:

“boy dont make me choose”

guess whos playing said ‘boy’ in the sportscar mv

thank me later???

YOU:

oh my

please be joking

have u READ??? those lyrics

ur taking the mick

im going to kill you

this actually cant be happening

has HE READ THOSE LYRICS?

oh my god

cnacnel

abort immediately

CLARA:

10am tomorrow

ill send u the address later

enjoy x

btw u legally have to go

like u might get sued if u dont

not might, will. please go!!

YOU:

i want u on the set for sportscar too

CLARA:

umm, why? as your intimacy co-ordinator

hah im SO funny

YOU:

no

so i can run u over

you can admire him up close as you both become speedbumps

that wasnt funny btw

***

You barely sleep, and when the sun rolls into your room, you sigh, waving it away. Doomsday is a mere few hours away, and you can’t get his stupid fucking face out of your head. You actually hate him. Truly, hate him. And you hate hating people, so this really isn’t ideal.

Also, ‘sportscar’ is kind of insane, by your standards. Unhinged, maybe. You didn't even WANT to make a music video for it, but they are sort of your thing. So you thought something cool, you driving around or something. A strategic orange car (again, you enjoyed messing with fans.) but you hadn't thought about having really anyone else but you. It was an awkward video to film with anyone, sure. And you weren’t exactly, not awkward?

You raise your head from your pillow, just to throw it straight back down, exasperated. A shoot, you could get through, just. But some of the lyrics, the general impression of the song? Even you wouldn't be able to pass that off as a little joke, that was actually crazy. What was Clara THINKING? You curse her again, for the millionth time that day, and you watch the clock tick. Until you seriously do have to get up.

She’d instructed you to come with no makeup, nothing. Just show up, and his stylists would take care of the rest. The silence, the lights, flashes would all be bearable. But posing with him, fake-smiling at him? Definitely a challenge. You actually felt the life being sucked out of you at the thought. So you breathe, cracking a grin, and you let your face get used to it. Since you’d be plastering that all day.

***

The studio is nice. Modern. Not too big, but not cramped either. Plenty of make-up artists, hair stylists, designers flit around, but you aren't claustrophobic. That is until he walks in, and then suddenly the walls collapse on you.

He grins straight at you, overly cheerily, and you instinctively scowl back. Oops. Good start. In response he mimes like he’s just been shot, deeply wounded, on the brink of death. You just shake your head, rolling your eyes at his immaturity. That practiced smile, immediately disappearing.

About half an hour later, you’re both dressed and ready. You sport a more subtle LN4 themed outfit, with small details sewn throughout your matching top and bottom half. He’s wearing a more masculine outfit, in a darker colour, but you both look incredibly harmonious. And surprisingly, you realise Clara is right. You actually do sort of look brilliant together. Shame he’s so fucking annoying.

The photographer seems blissfully unaware of how much you detest the man to your right. Either he’s an idiot, or you’re an incredible actor. You assume it’s a bit of both.

So when he asks you to sit on a block beside Lando, and rest your head carefully on his chest, you almost start a riot.

Lando winks at you, and you swear you might just kill him, right there on camera. But you just breathe, not looking at him any longer, and you smile gently for the flash in front of you.

“Are you uncomfortable?” he asks, murmuring into your ear. It's an improvement from when he deafened you, but you hate how close he is.

“Immensely so.” you hiss back, and he laughs at you bitterly.

So you decide to ram your pretty large heel straight into his foot, bitterly. And although he doesn't yelp, like you hoped, he grimaces and you feel him stiffen. Good enough.

“Sorry, are you uncomfortable? You sure look uncomfortable.” you whisper back, and you watch his bared teeth shift into a dazzling smile. ANd you realise Clara is right, yet again. A theme you were not liking. But admittedly, he was attractive. And that just made you even more annoyed.

The rest of the day went by about the same. You basically either looked like you wanted to die, or you wanted him to die, until you heard the click. Then you were smiling, like you actually didn’t mind staring at him warmly as the photographer walked around you.

Then came an unexpected brief- just talk naturally. Candids, they wanted. So they positioned you next to each other, spread out on the same sleek couch, your legs occupying the same small space, and told you to have a conversation.

You had nothing you wanted to say to him, so you waited for him to speak first. So he did.

“You truly are a professional, huh?” he comments, a permanent gleam in his eyes.

“Can’t say the same for you. I wouldn’t quit your day job.” you snap back, absent-mindedly.

“Wasn’t going to. I love racing.” he replies, shrugging, and you decide to give him a moment of respite from your disgusting looks and harsh words.

“Okay, that's common ground. Let's talk about it, alright? That way he’ll get his photos, and I can get out of here.” you say firmly, and he cocks his head to the side, staring at you inquisitively.

“Alright. Sure. So, what’s your favourite race you’ve been to?” he asks, and you pause.

“Miami, last year, was pretty good.” you admit, forgetting one crucial detail about that race.

He didn't, though. His eyebrows shoot up, hidden behind his curly hair.

“Are you kidding? My first race win, and that’s your favourite. And I thought you HATED me! Hah.” he laughs, triumphantly, and you groan.

“Shut up. And I didn’t hate you then. Cause I didn't know you then.” you say slowly, not realising how truly harsh your words are.

“You don’t even know me, now.” he replies, not missing a beat.

“I know enough.” you shoot back simply, but he just shakes his head at you, exasperated.

“You really don’t. Come on, you could give me another chance.” he mutters, and you hum back at him.

“Yeah, I could. But I pay a lot of attention to first impressions.” you fire back, and he smiles slightly.

“Pretty sure you flipped me off and then stuck your tongue out at me all in the space of two seconds, and I don’t hate you, so?” he sighs, and you just roll your eyes at him, suppressing your own smile.

‘I don't hate you, so.’

You think deeply, ignoring him getting up. Ignoring the photographer packing up. It isn’t until Lando sticks his calloused hand directly above you, helping you up, that you realise you’re finally done. How relieving.

And you take it gracefully, hoisting yourself up. But you just can’t help it. His smirking face. So you yank him backwards, throwing him back onto the couch, and you burst into laughter. The only genuine smile you’ve shown all day. And then you hear it, and you freeze. That stupid click.

And you see that idiot photographer, his face literally beaming. Like he’s just won the lottery. And as you admire the bewildered expression on Lando's face, you realise he has. It’s a great shot.

***

And two days later, your end of the bargain is over. You don’t give Clara any updates. You refuse. She doesn’t deserve the drama. All you tell her is that he’s as annoying as you expected, and you still truly loathe him, but you like his team. And it's funny, making fun of him. You tell her you preferred the Quadrant half of the deal, since you met the designer. How you thought she would love her. And how much you hate her for what’s happening at the weekend.

That’s when he messages you.

LANDO:

so

whats sportscar actually about?

me??

YOU:

ew no

i thought i blocked u??

get out my dms

LANDO:

harhar

seriously

drop those lyrics

YOU:

you don’t like surprises?

LANDO:

no,i do, but i see the way u look at me when i mention it

like u wanna scratch my eyes out

so go on

YOU:

u asked for it

*photo

LANDO:

oh

i see

that will be fun

YOU:

careful

or i actually will block u

LANDO:

no u wont

your fans will notice

and then u cant randomly drop references of me anymore

which u clearly love to do

YOU:

“harhar”

goodbye lando

LANDO:

see u soon

YOU:

unfortunately

***

The weekend came too soon. No one knew just how much content you and Lando were about to drop. You’d agreed to drop the music video simultaneously with his new collection, so the explosion happened once, and you could face the aftermath together.

And this time, when you arrived at your own studio, your own set, you felt much more relaxed, even though the filming was much more daunting. This was your team. Photos of you and them scattered around. Your favourite director, waving at you. Costumes and lights and greenscreens. Your name, on a door. Clara’s, beside yours. So when he walks in, scouring the scene, your stomach sours. You’d almost forgotten he was coming, to disrupt the peace.

“So, your turf, huh?” he announces, reading your mind.

“Yup. You ever been in a music video before, Norris?” you ask, arms folded.

“Nope.” he replies honestly, stuffing his hands into his pockets. And for a moment, a tiny moment, you think he might just be a little bit nervous.

“Well, you’ll be fine, I'm sure. I said Clara could look after you. She’s more of a fan than I am.” you joke, signalling her over.

She practically skips over, grinning at you. “She’s lying. Not a clue who you are, really. She’ll never drag me to a stupid race. I just called you hot once. To annoy her, may I add. Alright ‘boy’, let's go.” she says rapidly, but choosing to drag the word ‘boy’ heavily, glaring at you.

“Hey, Pinkie-pie. I was looking forward to meeting you, truly. I would've introduced myself the other night, but we all know how that went.” he replies, mimicking her dramatic tone, and she laughs at him. And you hate that they immediately fit together, really well. There's no fire in his eyes when he looks at her, only light.

And she drags him away, so you sidle up to your director. Bardia smiles at you.

“I must admit, I was surprised that you brought Lando here. I didn’t realise you were actually together, I thought it was a big joke.” he huffs, and you stare at him, absolutely horrified.

“Please, never say that again. Lando and I are NOT together- that would be- actually-” you begin, trying not to gag. You’re glad disgust is your main emotion, because for a brief moment you were worried there. That maybe you didn’t hate him anymore. But with what you feel at that suggestion, you’re reassured that you do still detest that man.

He looks at you, confused. “You know we’re filming for ‘sportscar,’ today. Yes? As in, this song.” he begins, playing it from the speakers. And when you watch Lando hear it for the first time and his breath hitches, you find yourself pausing too.

“Yes, I know. Don’t remind me. Clara was an idiot. But seriously, we’re just acquaintances.” you stress, trying not to listen to your own voice.

He scoffs. “Fine, I’ll cut out some of the ideas I had. They definitely won't work if you don't get along, but you’ll have to act like you’re together, alright?”

You blink and nod, trying not to think of what ideas he was thinking of.

***

You love Bardia’s vision, as usual, and paired with Brett’s styling, you both look admittedly phenomenal. And other than a brief moment, when you accidentally exploded at him for getting in your way (you said a lot of things that were unbelievably cruel), it goes quite well. Although, after your outburst, he seemed to shrink a bit. He didn’t argue back, just listened to instructions. Pulled faces when you needed him to. And honestly? You liked him more like that. You were just happy to be almost done with him.

A lot of it was solo work, or you and a few backup dancers. So you made an effort to not watch him and Clara joke off set, laughing to each other. You just focused on the carefully curated choreography, satisfied when you hit each beat. But because you weren't looking at him, you didn't see him looking at you. Staring. His laughs to Clara were absent-minded. He focused entirely on each move you made, admiring your determination. Your subtle skill.

Bardia always shot in chronological order, so you were fucking finally nearing the end of the song, and your torture could end. So when you catch Clara staring at you wide-eyed as he tells her his plans for the outro, you realise this was going to become an actual nightmare.

A train wreck, as someone you know would say.

She rushes over to you as you sip on some water, trying to avoid eye contact with Lando.

“You’re about to blow up again.” she announces, a disgusting smile stretching up her face.

“What.” you say sullenly.

“How comfortable are you sitting on Lando’s lap?” she asks wickedly, and your jaw drops.

“Um, that isn’t happening?” you reply quickly.

“Well, you wrote it in. ‘We can share one seat,’ and all that.” she sings, and you drop your head into your hands.

“No, I refuse to do that.” you respond, shrugging.

“Huh, Lando said you’d refuse. Funny, knows you better than you think.”

“No, he just knows I hate him.” you mutter, shaking your head profusely.

“I don’t think it's that. He thinks you’re scared of him. That you don’t want to be too close to him, but not because you hate him. He’s very cocky, I’ll admit that.” she says, shrugging back.

“You’re JOKING. He doesn’t think it's that, trust me.” you shriek back, and she nods sarcastically.

“I think I’ve spoken to him more in the last half an hour than you have, well, ever. He definitely thinks you’re into him.” she laughs, and you get very very angry again.

“Well, he can fuck off. Fucking idiot. Tell Bardia I want this done, so let's hurry up.” you mumble, and Clara runs off. And across the room, you meet his stare, and you shake your head incredulously at him. He just blinks back.

***

“How come you’re looking at me so funny?” he asks, sitting comfortably in the driver's seat of the car they’d rolled onto set.

While you were dancing, they’d done some outdoor scenes with him, and you’d heard him rambling about the drifting he’d done, grinning about the car. He did look like he belonged behind the wheel -in all fairness.

“Because Clara told me about your stupid ideas.” you mutter, ignoring the confusion on his face as you clamber over the gap between the passenger seat.

“Um, okay. This is new. What ideas?” he asks, shifting uncomfortably as you climb onto him, trying to hide your awkwardness.

“That I was into you.” you huff, resting your hands on his shoulders.

“I didn't say that, but you are literally all over me.” he responds, sitting up straighter. He gently lifts your legs, giving him space to move to get comfortable, and you pretend to ignore how his hands burn your bare skin.

“Oh, come on.” you say, turning to face him. But the genuine innocence on his face is so believable you actually realise what happened.

Clara was SO lucky they had started recording. You’d never hated her so much as you did right now.

His comment earlier about you being a professional was absolutely correct though, and you were proving it. You sang along quietly, so quietly that Lando was probably the only person who could hear you, but it kept you on beat.

And every word you moved, leaned, gestured. To anyone watching, it would seem like you belong there, your limbs intertwined with his. That he isn’t making you uncomfortable, no, merely the opposite. That you dont want anything more than to get away from him, the skin to skin contact actually driving you insane. And with each thought, with each shiver, you press further into him, feeling the music. It was your song, after all. Clara was right, you had written this in. And as much as you despise her, that snake, you are absolutely loving the bizarre look you are getting from Lando. He has a cap on, that matched your top, and that was very lucky for him. Because he was, like you’d said, NOT a professional. His obvious confusion, and the way he kept looking away from you, was hilarious. So you pull down his cap, so it almost completely covers his face, meaning his curls poke out the back.

“Stop blushing, Norris. And stop looking like you want to run away. I’m trying my very best to act like I don't want to throw up right now, please do the same.” you whisper, your lips grazing his ear.

He doesn’t respond, but he reacts instead. He throws the cap off his head, as if to prove to you he isn’t flushed, but you’re not very convinced.

“Brilliant. We got exactly what we needed. I can’t think of a better scene for the outro, really. You should pay Clara for her originality, alongside her services. IF I’m not careful, she’ll be taking my job soon.” jokes Bardia, and if looks could kill, the one you shoot Clara would’ve had her dead instantly.

You practically leap off Lando, like he was burning you, and you charge straight for her.

“You need to fuck off, Clara.” you say, seething.

You very very rarely argue, and you’ve never been so mad at her, so this was new. This hostility. Between her and Lando, you couldn’t tell who was worse.

She looks taken aback. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I was just, I thought it was funny. I was going to tell him to change his plan, but he had a vision by then, and you’d already got on set-” she starts, but you just shake your head at her.

“Cut the bullshit apology. You’ve been such a pain about this whole thing. I let it go, that you even did this, and I shouldn’t have. But I did, because I love you. And every fucking day that I spent angry, and irritable, and stressed, I tried to not blame you. I think that's why I hated him so much. Because I just didn't want to be mad at you, because I NEED YOU. You’ve always been there. One of the few people I trust with my life. And you stabbed me in the fucking back. And here I am, anxious and angry and way out of my depth, and then you pulled out the knife, just to stab me again. But yeah, hope that was real fucking funny.” you shout, ignoring her cringing eyes and the sudden silence of the room.

“Leave Pinkie-Pie alone, yeah? Come on, let's get some water or something.” comes a voice, and a hand on your shoulder. And why he thought you’d want to talk to him, of all fucking people, is absurd.

“Her name is Clara. You two aren’t friends, unless you’re part of some fucking club to piss me off, maybe? I do not need you wading in here, okay? Leave me the fuck alone. We’re done, contracts over. Video launches in a week, and that's it. Never have to speak to each other again, Norris. Let's start now. Get out of here, please.” you snarl, not looking him in the eyes.

You pause.

“Actually, no. I’ll leave. You two can have a chat or something, maybe about how else you can go behind my back, and how you can then make me want to shoot myself!” you shout, shrugging, looking from Clara to Lando. And you turn and storm out, practically running home.

***

Its ‘sportscar’ release day. You've seen the video. It was actually great. And setting the emotions aside, the ending made sense. But you can't really watch it, past the first minute, without wanting to scream. So you don’t.

The fans however? They go mental. Like, inconsolable. Losing their minds.

Comments flood in, endless. All the same, your name and Landos. A few, about the song being great. A few, crediting the designers of Lando’s new merch, but it's a few. And it's exactly what you knew was going to happen, that you were so upset by.

Everyone, violent and relentless.

‘‘The way they look at each other!”

“this is an insane hard launch omfgg??”

“wait , r they actually together?”

“I KNEW IT.”

“Lando, one chance please.”

“They look so good together”

“i just died omfg”

Millions. Literally millions of comments all like that. And you hate it, that you were so not in control of this. That now, everyone thought you were dating a man you didn't even like. Someone who had made last week one of the hardest of your life. Every comment, a reminder of Clara, laughing. But you didn’t want to let everyone view you like this. So you had to do something.

Photos, videos. Of you and Lando, at each other's throats. Your arguments. Someone had even managed to get a video of you from that night when you first met. So you made a somewhat innocent photo dump, throwing in the occasional fight. In a way that genuinely presented you both as insufferable.

Your caption was harsh, but honest. “Crazy couple of weeks. Nice to meet Norris finally, but didn’t expect him to be so annoying!!. Anyway, hope you all like ‘sportscar!’ thanks everyone xx” @landonorris

He commented almost immediately.

“yeh, crazy is a good word. thanks for the new experience. sorry for being such a pain in the ass.”

It was sad. Not even that flippant. And you almost, almost, felt bad. Your anger, maybe misplaced. But, he was still undeniably annoying. Regardless if he deserved your wrath or not, that was still true. It always was going to be.

But someone who definitely DID deserve your anger was Clara. You hadn’t spoken since, which was shockingly unusual for you two. But you were hurting, and she still hadn’t really apologised.

CLARA:

hi! i know you probably dont want to talk, but can u open the door? can we talk anyway?

You huff, and get up. Classic. She hated knocking, never did. She just came in. She literally had a key.

You open the door, to see her sad face. Red, probably from exhaustion. She didn't cry often.

“Come in.”

And she does, sitting on your sofa.

“Look, I’m so so sorry. Like really. I just, I didn’t think about how you were feeling. I just thought about the numbers. And, you know, you. I thought that maybe you only hated him so much because you liked him, and you were scared. It wouldn’t be the first time. And, look, I know this is awful of me, but you know I’ve always loved meddling. And I didn’t say it back, but I love you too. Always. You’re literally my sister, and I don't know what I’d do without you. I mean, this week nearly killed me. I know forgiving me won't be easy, but I didn't have malicious intentions. Yeah, maybe I thought it would be humorous. I didn't think you really hated him that much, that you'd say yes just to prove him wrong.That's unlike you, really. I was surprised.” she explains, her voice cracking.

“I just, the fans, you know. They wanted it so badly. It seemed almost unreal. I don’t know, I just thought you were making a big deal out of nothing. And although I could totally see how and why he pissed you off, he was more tolerable than I was expecting. “ she finishes shakily, and you really stare at her.

Her bloodshot eyes. Her messy pink hair, plaited lazily. Still dressed in her favourite pyjamas, like she came here in a frenzy. Like this was eating her up. And you just couldn’t. You just couldn’t let this ruin you.

So you hug her tightly, feeling her melt into your shoulder.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m okay. We’ll be okay.” you murmur reassuringly. And you realise that you will be, definitely.

“You didn't give me 30 seconds, by the way. Again. Before you posted that clear hatepost.” she mutters, her voice muffled.

You laugh. “Yep, sorry. The shipping was annoying. Thought that might make them back off.”

She sighs. “You don’t know your fans at all, do you? They think you rejected him, or something. Or you’re keeping it a secret. Or it was a joke, to cause drama. But most of them just think you’re madly in love, so. This isn’t going away. I’m sorry.”

***

Miami weekend. Upcoming anniversary of your favourite race, was how Lando was thinking of it. And you were coming. You’d been spotted around, a week early. Lando was also here early, because he loved Miami too.

You didn’t know that, though. So you weren’t expecting to bump into him in the city, surrounded by people in the busy street right by the track.

“Oh. Lando. Hi.” you say briskly, trying to walk on, but he stops you.

“Coming for the race? I’m going to win again, you know. Unless that would annoy you.” he replies, smiling weakly, but you know he doesn't mean it. That comment clearly hurt.

“Yeah, I am. Have your new hoodie in my bag, if you don’t mind me wearing it.”

He shrugs. “Of course not. Assuming Pinkie-Pie isn’t with you, I can get you into the garage, if you want.”

You pause. “No, don’t worry. And, you know I only posted that to try and shut up some of the fans. I didn't mean it.”

“Yeah, you did. It's okay. And I’m assuming you don't want to be seen with me then? All these fans, taking photos. Sorry. I’ll let you go now.” he nods, and he drops your hand. You hadn’t even realised he was holding it.

Shit, that wasn’t going to help, was it? Suddenly, you're hyperaware of everyone. Cameras, fans laughing and pointing, waiting for Lando to sign caps, or for a photo with you.

“You know, I’m sorry we can’t be friends. You know, maybe if we’d met differently. If we weren't stuck doing those stupid shoots. If we’d met, like here. Naturally. If the fans hadn’t built us into something. I don't know.” you mumble, thinking, and turning away.

“Well, I realised I didn’t want to be friends, like after we first met too.”

That takes you by surprise.

“Huh, was it the head shake? Or the middle finger? Or calling us an inevitable nightmare?” you ask, teasing. You walk back towards him, interested in what he was going to reply.

He shakes his head. “No, I meant I didn't want to be friends.” he responds, lowering his voice.

Oh.

And before you have time to figure out what to say back, or if you can run away, he looks directly at you.

“You know what? Fuck it.” he mutters, and then he’s right there. His face, right against yours. But he doesn’t move, just stares at you expectantly.

“Tell me not to. Push me away. Hiss in my face, tell me how fucking annoying I am. How much you hate me. Say it, right now, and I’ll fuck off. Genuinely, you’ll never see me again, like you wanted.” he whispers, daring you.

And you look at him, dead in the eyes. Admiring his curly hair, and the slight nervousness etched on his smile. And your heart is beating so loudly, it drowns out all the things you could say to him. So you say nothing.

And that's what he wanted. His lips crash onto yours, and your hands snake around his neck and into the bottom of his hair, while he wraps himself around you. You can feel him grinning against your mouth, and you pull away to laugh at him, and he laughs with you.

And he seems a lot less annoying when you go back to kiss him again.

[ily-sunghoon]

The Omen of Sterling | ENHYPEN

Pairing : vampire!enhypen x fem!oc

Genre : vampire, kingdom, reverse harem <3, fluff, angst, smut on some chapters

Summary : The name Sterling hits like thunder for the royal bloodlines. Sterling is the most dangerous vampire family throughout the ages. After they left Krashoviel due to their sweet human daughter, twenty-one years later the same daughter came back for help... or the omen that Cairneyes warned the others about.

WARNINGS : mdni, heavy content, deep world building (i went kinda crazy), blood, murder, manipulation, gaslighting, toxic behavior, curses, religious theme mentioned sometimes, obsessive, (more to add later). DO NOT PROCEED if uncomfortable

Disclaimer : THIS IS PURE FICTION, ALL THE BEHAVIORS OF MY CHARACTERS ARE NOT RELATED TO ENHYPEN REAL MEMBERS AT ALL!

Note : hi, guys. i finally contribute to the enhablr community by publishing this old draft that i wrote years ago. it was inspired by one of my loooong dream that i had on christmas eve night back then in 2020. i decided to stick on the original names that i have for them. all the fem characters doesn't have any face claims, i leave them to your imaginations. some random male idols might appear in the future as relatives/enemy/friends. without further do, meet the characters and i hope you guys enjoy!

CHAPTERS — PROLOGUE CHAPTER I CHAPTER II CHAPTER III CHAPTER IV

Introduction to our vampires:

Jestel Sinflame

/jé-ssel/ 299 years old — The rightful crown prince of Krashoviel. Choosing peace over war right now (living under the same roof as his brother-like best friends rather than in the sucking dry and toxic castle). A little bit classist like his family, Sinflame, except towards Ricardo, who he saw the potential of that kid himself. His parents died during the Red War and now he’s trying his hardest to contact his brother, Holstein, who also got lost in the war.

Sarco Phelanflame

/sár-ko/ 288 years old — Phelanflame has always been the first row at wars. They’re the leader of the soldiers. Very strong since birth with a little sadistic tendency. Their personality is cold, much colder than the other vampires around Krashoviel. If not cold, they’re always a little bit of an oddball. All the elders in his family were deceased during the last war. Now, Phelanflame only has three members, including Sarco and his two other cousins.

Ricardo Nikolai

/ree-kár-do/ 20 years old — Came from an orphanage, Ricardo is a third-class vampire in Krashoviel. He got lucky because Jestel and Sarco saw his potential while visiting his orphanage, they took him home and gave him all the facilities he needed. Ricardo likes to play fight with almost everybody, but his favorite activity to do is disturbing Jusarlie’s peace.

Jasper

/jæs-per/ approximately 23 years old — A new vamp who was found in the woods during their monthly patrolling. No one knows about his background, he lost his memory, so they named him Jasper.

Saine Cairneye

/sāin/ 201 years old — Grandson of the current Queen on the throne. His mother died during the war. The Cairneye bloodline is in charge of magick, witchcraft, astrology, omen, and so on. Their current job is reading people intentions and possible-futures with their crazy personality tests. They are blessed with good physical appearance, and all of them look like elves. They have a silly little hobby, which is accidentally having a vision that scares the royal family a.k.a Sinflame!

Jusarlie Grieffang

/jou-sār-lee/ 297 years old — Grieffang, the fang of Krashoviel. They are the greatest strategists and professors, Grieffang is one of the keys of Krashoviel’s endless winning of wars. They’re still relatives with Sinflame. Jusarlie is Jestel’s distant nephew, though their age gap is not far. Rival kingdoms tried to kidnap and use Grieffangs against Krashoviel during their wars, but it was no use, Grieffangs are loyal and far smarter than them. Plenty of them are still alive after the wars along with Sinflames.

Hiael Von Ruden

/heeæl/ 314 years old — His original nation is Slevado, Hiael was a crown prince. He turned his back after the Red War, and it creates a huge controversy. He is now working under Jestel’s command and is currently busy training Jasper. He’s reserved, calm, to the point where it becomes scary rather than comforting for his surroundings. No one knows what is on his mind, but for Jestel, as long as he has made a blood pact then he’s good.

© ily-sunghoon, 2024 DO NOT COPY, STEAL, PLAGIARIZE, OR REPOST ON OTHER PLATFORM DO NOT TRANSLATE WITHOUT PERMISSION

[solar-eclipsed]

@quitledlc Hiiiiii I I I I I . Hiiiiiiiiiii . Hell o o o o o. Hiii I I. Hello o o o o o o o. Hi I I I I I I I I I I i i i i

Also ermmmmm I made this a while back for a fic I started drafting an even whiler back but ALSO never finished . Uhm. One bed scenario and sleep cuddlingJUST PUT ME DOWN ALREADYY Y Y Y YY Y Y ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! {} for Sanji and [] for Usopp.

{“Oh my god. Sorry I- I’m sorry, I didn’t- fuck. I- I. If-“}

[“IT’S FINE!! I-“]

{“It’s *FINE* ? HOW COULD IT POSSIBLY BE FINE????”}

[“I JUST- IT DIDN’T …”]

[“ … it. I didn’t mind it. That much.”]

{“…”}

[“…”]

{“… you didn’t?”}

[“Yeah- it. It was … nice.”]

{“…”}

[“…”]

{“… really?”}

[“Yeah, really.”]

{“You’re … you’re not lying, right?”}

[“… Not this time.”]

{“… oh.”}

{“…”}

{“And- … and this isn’t a dream either?”}

[“,,, It’s not.”]

{“…”}

{“Do you promise?”}

[“…”]

{“…”}

[“Of course. Of course I promise.”]

{“…”}

[A silence fills the room. Usopp’s arm may as well pop open with how hard he’s gripping it. Usopp’s begging whoever’s out there to just let him run out of this room and away from this entire conversation and. … Sanji probably more so. Oh god, that probably was mortifying for him. Geez- this must be the worst conversation he’s ever had in his life. They should just- both say what they’re thinking at the same time and get it over it. And if he’s jumped to conclusions? Well! Then they can just pretend it was all nothing and move on, right? It’s the coward’s way out, but it’s better than confronting it.]

[Usopp starts, “Sanji-“, but he cuts himself off the instant he looks back up.]

[Sanji’s hiding his face behind his hair again. Sanji’s arms are glued around his waist, and he’s clearly itching to pull his knees to his chest and disappear already. Usopp’s never seen him look this small in his life, and it makes his heart ache. In fact … he doesn’t think he’s ever seen Sanji this nervous before.]

[It clicks.]

[He’s going to have to be brave for him.]

[“I …”]

{“… Yeah?”}

[“…”]

[“I’m sorry if I got the wrong impression.”]

{“What-?”}

[Usopp grabs Sanji’s face and pulls. He quite literally smashes their face together, and he screws his eyes as tightly as possible because he might be trying to have courage but God, he’s still a coward.]

[A poet would say that the kiss was still perfect as it is. A romantic would say the chaos of the love was the greatest joy ever brought to them. Sanji would cry and say a kiss from any lady is as wonderful as the rising sun. But Usopp isn’t a writer. And he isn’t a woman. So he tells it as it is.]

[It’s an awful kiss. The angle is crushing his nose, and he’s pretty sure he completely missed Sanji’s mouth initially. He also cannot think about how Sanji froze in his hands because if he backs out now, then Sanji’s going to slip out of his grasp and he’s never going to have him again.]

[He probably should’ve at least thought about how he’s supposed to do this, but it didn’t matter in the moment and it doesn’t matter now. Now, it’s uncomfortable and it hurts and it’s chaste and it’s nothing like those times he pictured it in his head or practiced on his knuckles or dreamed it in his stupid mind, and honestly, there’s no way he should be enjoying this and he should just back out as soon as he can.]

[But, well, Usopp’s never been known for honesty. Sanji finally relaxes, and melts into the touch, and his heart soars. Lightning whizzes through his body like a bullet, and it hits him square in the chest. Thank god. Thank god he understands.]

[But that’s probably enough.]

[He glides his hands down to Sanji’s shoulder’s, and he pushes him away to open his mouth, probably to apologize for kissing him without asking or doing it so suddenly or just talk about it. But whatever it was supposed to be, it doesn’t matter, because the second Usopp opens his eyes, Sanji grabs his waist and digs in.]

[Usopp’s breath hitches, and maroon red blooms on his face the instant he hears the sound. Sanji’s ravaging at his mouth like it’s his last meal, and Geez, just that comparison is making Usopp dizzy.]

[The sudden burst of confidence does not go unnoticed. One would think with how desperate Sanji is every day that he wouldn’t actually know what to do with himself here, but as Sanji starts clawing at Usopp’s scalp with his free hand, it’s getting more and more obvious that Usopp has no idea what he’s gotten himself into. The only thing keeping him upright at this point is a prayer, and his bet that Sanji definitely has practiced kissing extensively and probably got caught multiple times and that must’ve been soooo so funny and not totally endearing. Shit.]

[Speaking of nothing, Usopp has no idea what to do with his hands anymore. Or. Anything. For that matter. Sanji sucked whatever Usopp planned right out of his mouth- he should just stop talking. Thinking. He doesn’t even get to move his head so his nose isn’t in the way because Sanji already took care of it for him.]

[Then, Usopp brightens, because that’s just the first thing, and things like that are going to happen again. He starts grinning into the kiss, because this isn’t just a mission or an accident or a point to make, and this means that Sanji really does want this, and is going to continue wanting this. Usopp feels his heart bloom into poppies and daisies and carnations, since this is finally real, and he doesn’t have to hide around it and sleep early because that means he can dream of Sanji for longer, and now, he can stay up with him in the kitchen and not worry about overstaying his welcome. He throws his arms around Sanji’s neck and runs his hands through his hair, because Sanji loves him and he can be loved like this and Usopp can love him like this and everything just melts.]

[Well, until Usopp actually feels his head spin, and they both promptly realize they haven’t breathed in a good thirty seconds.]

[Sanji gasps as he pulls away, and the sight of Sanji’s hands shaking as he has to let go of Usopp is going to be etched into the back of his mind for years.]

[Sanji covers his mouth with the back of his hand - Usopp’s pretty sure he��s trying to hide his face, but you can still see the crack of a grin behind it. Sanji blushes all the way to his neck anyway, so it’s not like he can hide anything. A rhythmic warmth rushes from Usopp’s heart, and he can feel his fingers tapping. His stupid smile from earlier that’s probably plastered all over his face grows even wider.]

{“I … I think I’m in love with you.}

[Usopp chokes, his perfect chorus in his chest has ended, “You- you THINK?”]

{“SORRY I- I just hadn’t- come to terms with the idea yet- that’s my mistake.”} [He falls into nervous giggles. Usopp didn’t even realize he could make a sound like that. He can’t help but laugh along with it. Then he remembers something crucial, and he coughs it out.]

[“I- I love you too. By the way.”]

[And oh, how the silliest smile exploded onto Sanji’s face. Maybe if Usopp looked close enough, he could even spot hearts in Sanji’s eyes. And … oh. Usopp’s going to be able to see this smile forever now. How lucky he is to know he’s never going to get tired of it either.]

[writingmochi]

cast: heeseung ✗ fem.reader (ft. red velvet's seulgi, exo's kai, and original characters)

synopsis: a teenager with tormenting demons following behind her moves to a new school when she encounters a boy who has his own set of demons. together, they confide with one another's similarities as well as through music when the boy introduces the teen to his current obsession: the dreamy pop soundscape of moonstruck.

genre: coming of age, realistic fiction, bildungsroman, slice of life, drama, romance, high school au, early 2000s au, angst, fluff, mature content (bullying, harassment, explicit smut)

inspired by: music radiohead's "motion picture soundtrack" (2000), movie all about lily chou-chou (2001) and literature “heaven” by mieko kawakami (2009)

word count: 46372 (46.3k)

warning(s): physical and verbal bullying, sexual harassment and assault, suicide attempt, murder (please don't read if you can get triggered), familial neglect, descriptions of blood, bruises, wounds, and scars, drug consumption (cigarette, mentions for alcohol, marijuana, and other hard drugs), piercing(s) and sharp objects, crowd crush, mention of parent infidelity, mention of sugar dating/enjo-kōsai, mention of debt and being hunted by debt collectors, two smut scenes (soft sex and rough sex), loss of virginities (m&f), hand job (m&f receiving), oral (m&f receiving), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, creampie, manhandling, spanking, marking, breath play (choking), subspace

message of the moon: remember that this story is fiction and do be careful and read the warnings at the top. all the idols mentioned here are not what they are in real life.

this is my first fic since april 2024 my god! genuinely sorry. turns out my exchange program is much more overwhelming that i just can't seem to have the motivation to write and finish drafts. it is also a birthday fic from me to you guys! if you plan to read this, thank you for giving it a chance and hope you enjoy it!

motion picture soundtrack | trailer part of the frequency modulation anthology | an entry for discovery: 400

moonstruck: a solo female korean singer-songwriter known for the genres of dream pop, folk, new age, neo-psychedelia, ambient. inspirations: lily chou-chou, meaningful stone, ichiko aoba releases mentioned: windswept / breathe / angels

a sterile hum filled the space. clicks and clacks are followed in a chaotic rhythm.

pausing. clicks. pausing. clacks.

《hello》 《i didn’t know that there is a place like this before》 《from: bambi

the shine of the monitors reflects onto the iris. the blueish screen that lit up the room, letting the moon’s image show up on the edges of his sight before returning to focus on the incoming messages.

《a newcomer!》 《welcome to the space station》 《where people gather to talk about moonstruck》 《from: pearl

he gazes at the poster hanging behind his thick monitor: the printed moon seemingly glowing for him, yet it is because of the beam that is hitting the image on the correct spot. he follows the light beam from outside to then meet the sight of the real moon painting the outdoor sky. the guitar chords continue to play as the noise of the whirling cd is gone and covered by the beautiful masterpiece. his vision returns towards the screen as he scrolled upwards with his mouse. the boy skim-reads multiple conversations that have taken place in this virtual room.

《listening to moonstruck just feels... different》 《it is like you are floating》 《from: silver

《truly the greatest musician to have ever lived on this earth》 《from: 1004

《moonstruck is not even an earthling》 《she is just the moon personified》 《both its calmness and chaoticness. blessing us to the greatest music ever made》 《from: pearl

the boy glances back to see the familiar name, a smirk forming on his face. maybe this is the perfect place for him to go to. a perfect place to not think about everything and to just fully embrace what moonstruck has shaken within his soul. that is when he heard the piercing sound of the ringtone plays as he turns around.

gulping down his saliva, he lets out a huge sigh before pressing the button and pressing it against his ear. the voice that lingers in his mind calls to him as he stays quiet—letting the spoken message enter his ear and capture every detail as possible. the call ends not even a minute later. he lets out an exhale before returning to the keyboard, typing back his response.

《thank you, pearl》 《i will try to be active more here》 《from: bambi

he grabs his light backpack and stands up from his wheeled desk chair, seeing the box that forms the webpage become blurry as the colours melt together. brushing his hair for the last time, he stepped outside to do what he needed to do under the navy sky. the moon protecting him once more.

-

black shoes coming into vision as they both take steps in succession. the breeze of the spring weather blows, letting the new school uniform shake and move against the body that wears it. the third uniform in the past two years, and a new school logo every semester.

the socks cover right above your ankles enough that it won’t make you shiver as you continue striding towards the school you will be attending. your eyes gaze at the stores still with their entrances covered either by metal doors or wooden panels. a few of them being unlocked and uncovered as you went past them; a new day of business for this side of town. though, this is your first time seeing them with your eyes.

the steady drum rhythm enters your ears as you hold on to your cd walkman, decorating your morning in this unfamiliar place you only just arrived in a mere two days ago. then, you hear the other footsteps around you getting louder. looking ahead, you gaze at the girls wearing the same uniform outfit as yours. most with their alterations, such as the unbuttoned-up shirt all throughout and the little amount of shirt untucked from inside the skirt. your eyes continue to look downwards and forward, continue your journey to the class and, at least, meet up with your homeroom teacher first.

entering the gates, you gaze at the enormous field for football practice as you notice the goalposts on both ends. some students are playing there while others watch, waiting for the bell to ring as they sometimes glance at the large clock placed above the gate. the sound of guitar wailing in your ears creating a shield for you and the words spoken by students you passed by. nevertheless, few words come to seep through the barrier as you continue to walk.

“that’s the new student in year 2.”

“i heard that she was number one in her previous school.”

“but isn’t her school not that good though, especially compared to us?”

“yeah, well. i heard that she’s filthy rich.”

“really? nothing of her look speaks rich.”

“maybe it’s intentional?”

you continue to walk as you let your face rest in its default state, taking a deep breath in as you stop yourself to shake your head; to not let them show that this affects you.

not again.

but, deep down, you know it will. word spreads between people fast as you have recognised from time to time.

the talk of a new family renting such a dilapidated, out-of-place large house with a large courtyard area outside of the known residential area. the couple’s appearance has the looks that could compare to the celebrities seen on magazines. there is also a rumour on how the matriarch of the new family slept with the vice principal so her daughter could get into the good high school of the town—something you wish you could actually forget about as you can still hear the moaning sound from the other room when you’re setting up your personal computer set. the patriarch is nonchalant about it in the dining room whilst reading the newspaper as the voices reverberate throughout the house, knowing that he will and is doing the same with other women for the sake of his, his wife, and his family’s status. to uphold it and keep that image going on.

well, you aren’t even going to be surprised if the rumours you left behind from the other town come to chase you here too. especially with the many acquaintances you have from school only to be left stunned by the sudden announcement of your departure, but also the people who have tormented said family smiling widely on their faces as they see you all go away in a hurry.

knocking on the door gently, the voice inside signals you to slide the door as you enter the room full of teachers. your eyes gaze at the many adults sitting at their desks, opening and checking their files, preparing their books and notes for the upcoming classes of today.

“ah, new kid.” you turn your head towards the side to find a male teacher in a jumpsuit. one of the teachers mom and dad sit across from as they talk about you entering this new school alongside that vice principal mom hooks up with to get you a seat here. coach kim as you remember what he likes to be called because you sat closest to him in the whole discussion.

“what class did you get?”

“uh...” you press the stop button on your cd walkman before speaking, “2-2.”

“ah, seulgi’s class.” coach kim pushes his legs on the ground, his chair moving towards the front of your pathway from the half-wall maze-like desks as he gazes at the female teacher by the window. her hair tied into a lousy ponytail with her head tilted to gaze at the desk.

“seulgi-nim.” her head turns to follow the call of her name, looking annoyed at coach kim before lifting her eyes to look at you standing by coach kim’s desk.

“oh, (y/n). come, come.” she gestures with her hand as you turn your body towards the coach, bowing your body with a quick spoken “thank you” as you walk towards who you assume is your homeroom teacher. by the looks of it, miss kang—as you read from the document in the mail you’ve gotten—seems to be pretty young. maybe in her early 30s with a youthful presence that can make her blend in with the students here.

“g-good morning.” you bow your head as soon as you arrive by her table. miss kang lets out a smile that also makes her eyes smile. something that warms your heart because you never meet someone that excited to see you. yes, not even your parents who are particularly too focused on themselves.

“(y/f/n), yes? or (y/n) is fine?” she glances at your nametag that you handsewn into your school blazer.

“(y/n) is fine.” you echo back. your voice meek to follow her gentle voice. the sight of the wind brushing against the growing leaves makes it much more magical to peer at. you glance down as you catch sight of a folder with your name opened up, transcripts of your scores from your previous two schools displayed there in handwriting.

“welcome to woonmyung high school. i suppose you have gotten your class schedules?” you nodded to her answer, looking back to gaze at her eyes as you ignored the scarily bad score you’d gotten on the paper she was definitely observing. the history of the multiple times you’ve been mugged of your homework before resulting in them being that bad. it’s a miracle that you still do your tests well even with the many sabotages you’ve endured.

“i will bring you to class as we also announce things that will be happening in the new semester.” the chair is pushed back as she stands up, organising the messy paper and folders back onto the shelf beside her desk.

“ok,” you replied with an exhale, tucking the headset wrapped around your neck as you carefully put it alongside your walkman inside your backpack. you could see the tears it has near the seams: your trustee backpack that has been by your side since a long time ago. it has stains of dirt and other condiments on it that you could not count because of the multiple times it was thrown around and things thrown onto it. zipping it up, the sound of the bell ringing makes you jump as you turn your head towards the corridor—staring through the window as you watch multiple students walk into their classes in a hurry and even in calm.

you step into the corridor when it is empty—trying to take in the path to your classroom but get distracted by the view you peek through from the many classroom windows. you catch the various sounds of teachers talking about this week’s homeroom things with the students settled in their individual chairs and tables. some of them put the information on the board and the other thinks speaking about it is enough for the students to take in. your path follows that of miss kang as her walk seems much more like a glide even though she wore such a tight skirt. her walking pace slows down as you tidy your uniform once again, tugging your skirt down so that you won’t get any wardrobe malfunctions before the familiar sound enters your ear as you look forward to finding the class door labelled 2-2 opens to the side with the woman now out of your sight.

the commotion becomes quiet as miss kang steps inside first. the students looking at her as she speaks her greeting before they turn their heads towards the door that she didn’t close. they peek to the door to find your static figure as you pause yourself like you are being spotlighted.

then it started.

snickers. giggles. whispers.

the familiar sounds you’ve heard all the time settling onto some of them as you shift your head to catch miss kang looking at you. gulping down your saliva, you step inside the classroom and carefully slide the door closed.

taking in the classroom clearly, your eyes landed on the empty table two rows from the cupboard at the back of it where students put their belongings. the lights from the sun coming in from the windows in rays that lighted some people while shrouding others. but you can still feel eyes on you as you walk the walk you’ve experienced multiple times in your young life once again.

“we have a new student, everyone.” miss kang said before her hand rested on your lower back, signalling you to continue the usual steps.

“g-good morning. my name is (y/n). i do hope you will treat me well.” you bowed your body near a 90-degree angle, lasting for around three seconds as you slowly blinked and lifted your body upright. hoping that, yes, they do they will treat you well this time. even though you know it won’t by the looks on some faces as they are holding back on expressing something.

“thank you, (y/n). please, take your seat.”

you exhale a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, feeling your cheeks getting warm as the usual tingling caresses your skin once again from the gazes of your new classmates. eyes gazing at the empty table, they trail to the familiar item on the table behind it. shifting quickly, you glance to find a similar cd walkman to the one you own resting on the table. trailing further upwards, you found the owner.

he is wearing the school’s navy blazer but minus the vest you’re wearing. the first two buttons of his uniform shirt open where you could see the inner light grey t-shirt peeking out. his eyes are wide and his hair is styled so that a few strands at the front frame his forehead well. his full lips are a bit chapped before you take a quick glance at the eyebags underneath his wide brown eyes. you reach your desk too fast to gather any information about a name, turning your body towards the front to avoid suspicions but you could hear the movement behind you. the sound of something moving on the wooden table as you gaze at the desk with a drawer underneath it. the number on the desk’s corner telling you of the cupboard you can put your belongings into. textbooks, notebooks, stationery, and more.

putting the backpack down inside the desk’s legs, you tidy up the skirt’s fabric against your thighs as you settle down on the chair where you will sit the rest of the semester. miss kang continues to talk about what is usually talked about in the homeroom session as you rummage to get your things out for the lesson after this. ignoring the many glances and whispers you know are targeting you.

the class has gone well for most of the part because you ignored them, well, nearly all. you just move your head and body enough for you to be able to read what is written on the blackboard with the chalk’s unstable clarity. the snickers continue as you focus on the board at the front. that is when you catch a folded paper coming into your vision from your right side and landing on your table.

twisting your head to glance at where it comes from, you find a boy sitting beside you only with his unkempt uniform on. his eyes gazing at you with a squint in it. the corners of his eyes becoming more of a straight line as you watch him smirk. eyes moving from your bewildered face to the note on your table. focusing out of him; you notice other boys in seats around him doing the same thing. looking at you like predators.

quickly, you pick up the note as you place it on your lap, thumbs on either side of the fold and push it open.

hey newbie. you definitely look better without the uniform on.

heat rises once again to your cheeks as you take a small glance at them before you hear another snicker coming from near the corner of the room by the door. a group of girls who are also looking at you with looks that seem so distinct from the boys. yes, you received notes like this with such disgusting words. but never one that seemed to imply something sexual. swallowing the saliva gathered on your tongue, your fingertips rub against the paper. to rip it up like you should do, to hide it like you would always do before, or to leave it be so that the teacher could see it.

your hands quickly move as you finish taking in all options: folding it back and tucking it into the drawer underneath. it earns you more chuckling from the boys and girls as you just want to hide away in the darkest corner of this school you could ever find. instead of wanting more attention to you, you cower into your seat and grab your pencil once again. tucking your head near your chest so that nobody could see just how flustered and shameful you are.

the snicker also comes from the boy sitting behind you, taking a small peek at him with his messy desk before his eyes move towards the boy seated beside you. observing their interaction, one glance from the boy beside you quiets the snicker of the boy behind you, adding the description of this boy’s power dynamic upon people. the boy behind you has the corner of his lips falling down, his head hanging low as his bangs covered the top half of his face. returning your sight back to the front of the class, you continue to make yourself small, taking as little space as possible for movement, until the class is finished.

as the teacher said his farewell, students flocked towards the door as they headed towards somewhere for the lunch break. you went back to the cupboard to put the books inside before you pulled out something from your backpack: the lunch box filled with food you created for yourself this morning. feeling the condensation of the hot meal against the lid, you lifted it open to smell the tasty aroma of kimchi fried rice that makes you drool. resting your backpack on the cupboard so you can settle back to your seat, you lifted your lunch box and turned your body, slamming onto another hard surface as you picked up gasps coming from around you.

the sound of your utensils landing on the floor follows with a big splat from your lunch box as you see the red of the kimchi staining the tile floor. your head lifted to see someone in a similar outfit to you but with a big red stain and grains of rice on her blazer. your vision landed on the nametag of jung seona.

“what the fuck, bitch?” her voice makes you look at the face it is from. eyes widening to recognize her as one of the girls who were also looking at you and snickering with the boys. and so are the three girls around her and you, caging you in. you knew that this would eventually happen. that they would accidentally slam onto you to spill your food on them. but not on your first day being here.

“i, i’m so sor-“

“sorry doesn’t cut it,” seona says, her grimace combined with a hidden grin you could recognize as you know you can’t do anything when you are being surrounded. her finger points at you, “you have to pay for this. for the laundry, at least.”

you wanted to open your mouth when one girl beat you to it, lifting your backpack as she shook it so the contents fell down. your hair clip, your cd walkman, your wallet, and your phone with silver strap and star decorations on it. you wanted to grab onto the walkman when hands grab onto your own arms and shoulders as they held you still. hearing the click of the tongue, you watch another girl—risoo from her nametag—giggling as she pulls out the cash you only have in your wallet. a 1000 won banknote in her hand as she gave it seona standing behind you.

“that should be enough,” she said.

“enough and more.” seona replied and giggled.

“also fucking disgusting of you to drop food like that,” another girl said as she lets go of you, making you tumble and fall down beside your leftover food.

“come on, bitch. eat it,” one other girl said as you tried to stay strong, yet your eyes were trembling as you could sense the tears forming up. you wanted to stay strong, but you could hear how your stomach was rumbling at the wrong time.

“oh, girly is hungry. such a shame that her only food is the one on that disgusting floor.” the girl who held onto you says from beside you.

“yeah, and she should definitely clean it up,” another girl echoes as they all snicker.

“you know, there is a two bird one stone solution for this...” risoo said as her steps sounded closer to you. then, a grip on your hair pushes you towards the fallen kimchi fried rice. your face hitting the rice as it stains all over your skin. your head still pushes back before more weight is added with the force, making you have to open your mouth so oxygen can enter you because of your blocked nose.

“come on, doggy. eat your lunch.” risoo voices behind you as you can’t help but actually swallow the rice or else you might choke. that is when you discover the clicking and sound of a digital camera that you stop to fight back. shame clouding you once again as you don’t want to show your face.

with hair covering your eyesight, you lift your head as you pick up the clicking sounds on a phone that has a silver strap and stars. your phone being messed with as you see the dexterous fingers pressing against buttons multiple times. spelling out a name or message or something when you heard a ringtone on another phone that comes from seona’s shirt pocket.

“if i call, answer, alright?” said girl commands, dropping the phone down as it landed on top of your hand on the floor. softening its hit, but you could feel your flesh breaking on the impact as blood flowed through them and warmed the area up. the girls moved away from you. messy hair covering your face as you can only glimpse through them and your blurry sight.

“come, girls. we have a much more decent lunch to get to.” seona taunts as the girls stepped away from the class and closes the back door of the class. leaving you alone to wallow in the condition you find yourself in once again. the chirping of the bird helps you to think your next best action as you just... be. wanting even more to search for that darkest corner so you would not be found.

your hands move to scoop the fallen kimchi fried rice into the container and grab tissues from your backpack to wipe the stains away alongside the water from your water bottle until it is as clean as possible. you also took your pocket mirror and opened it, seeing the cracked mirror on it as you rubbed away the stains that rested on your skin before it dried up. your hair is messy as you stare at yourself and your eyes are swollen with a teardrop actually falling down, making you quickly brush it away with your hand.

the grumbling stomach reminds you of the food you made as you drop it into the bin alongside the whites of the tissue. you glance at the open wallet leftover from what happened to find nothing in it, feeling so angry at yourself for not committing to the idea of putting emergency money in another pocket if this thing happens again. you have gotten personal items stolen from this exact wallet and you are smart enough to not include them in it, but you have to remind yourself you should put emergency money either inside the cardholder of the wallet or even other pockets of your bag. with nothing to do for this lunch and no money to even buy lunch, you tuck your phone into your blazer pocket and grab onto the walkman that they seemed to leave alone.

after putting the backpack away into your cupboard, you step outside the class to notice a much emptier corridor than you expect because most of the students are at the cafeteria, field, or other hang-out places in the school. you walk towards the sets of stairs as you look upwards. maybe you’ll find the deepest corner you were searching for on the floor upstairs.

the climb up doesn’t feel as tiring as you thought when it is combined with the little gush of wind blowing. on the floor landing, you look to both sides to find more classes and the half wall before you that overlooks the front of the school and field. sounds coming from meters below you as you try to observe as best as you can on things on the floor. that’s when you see a corner between classes with the one nearest to the light showing you another set of stairs.

your feet striding again towards the shrouded space as you see the stairs leading up and you smirked. you know of your fair share of rooftops as a hangout place. and you don’t care about how windy, rainy, or sunny it is. you will be on the rooftop nearly all the time in your previous schools and no one seemed to know about it the school’s staff who have to do maintenance there. hopefully, it’s the same thing here.

the green exit sign shines above you as you push open the door to the rooftop. another gush of wind, albeit harder, blows against your face and body as you carefully let go of the door so it doesn’t slam into the frame. you could see the view you saw from the lower floor, but it was much, much smaller and blurry. stepping more onto the open space and underneath the noon sun, you walked towards the edge of the rooftop fenced with fences even taller than you, much different from the half walls you see on your previous schools’ rooftop. your hand reaches for the fence, feeling your fingers wrapping around one of its holes as you can visualize the cage changing into the sight of the skirt-wearing girls’ legs that were also caging you as you don’t want to look up. memories that seemed so long ago, even though it was from months before today.

sighing, you turn your head to walk towards the side of the door so that no one can see you when they arrive at the rooftop. pressing your hand against the walkman that is between your armpit, you put on the headset and cover your ears as you walk towards a wall: a barrier from the box containing the staircase down. turning around, you glance down and hold onto your walkman as you slowly slide down against the wall. your finger pressing the power button as you see the light turning on alongside the whirling of the cd inside. you press the rewind button as the cd rapidly spins before a sudden stop, and then you are met with the sound of a subdued synth piano coming.

you rested your head against the wall, closing your eyes as you let the breeze blow against you as you breathed in and out the clear air. the beautiful sound going on in your ear captures the moment so well that you can sense the weight of rest landed on you, making your body calmer as you capture the notion of sleepiness once again from the hard nights of not even getting a minute of sleep. your legs stretched in front of you, feeling your muscles relaxing as your body releases the tension it endures on nearly every muscle.

letting out an enormous sigh, you open your eyes to find a silhouette right across from you. blinking away the blurriness, you tuck your legs closer to your chest as you stare at the figure. a figure you recognize.

a boy with his own pair of earbuds inserted into his ears, connected to the cd walkman he has lying beside his body. the school blazer opens more with the gust as you find more of his broad shoulders. the hair fallen by his forehead blows along with the wind as he watches you. his wide eyes on you.

here you two are, sitting on the walled area beside the rooftop entrance where the rest of the roof is barricaded by the fences. music enters each of your ears with both your headset and his earbuds on. you wanted to stand up and walk away to find another place, but you stayed as you eyed him. his gaze looks between your face before towards your blazer, scanning your name etched there. and you do the same.

the boy sitting on the desk behind you: lee heeseung.

-

《do all of you know mazzy star?》 《i heard that she inspired moonstruck to create her songs》 《from: cosmiccomet

《hope sandoval specifically》 《psychedelic sound that》 《if you listen to it》 《will actually make you float》 《both moonstruck and hope sandoval has this aura to them》 《what the station calls the celeste》 《something out of this world》 《only those who possess this can be assigned as the greatest musicians of all time》 《from: pearl

《started by the weird band out there》 《the velvet underground》 《its popularity can be compared to the beatles if they’re not so underground》 《from: walker0

《and it culminated into moonstruck》 《all its influences?》 《from: bambi

《sure thing》 《from: pearl

the boy sits down on the path between growing fields. the greenery overtook his sight and expanded into the horizon he could see. the moonstruck album, breathe, played in through his ears as he holds onto the walkman with both hands. pushing himself up from the asphalt road, he steps down and walks towards the dirt path visible from the growing grass nearly as tall as his thighs. the wind blows the pollen as it helps the plants grow. the edges of the flourishing leaves caressing his skin as he continues to walk, grazing his hand as it combines with the touch of the music player.

heeseung takes in the ethereal sound of moonstruck’s songs. something that always helps him to calm down his nerves. a remedy he had been obsessed with recently and to think that he wouldn’t find it if he walked away from that cd store too fast to hear the song playing over the speakers.

since he got his cd walkman on his 14th birthday, he had moved from listening to music on the radio to buying cheap on-sale cds in the store near school. songs like trot that he had heard in nearly every mom-and-pop shop he went to and the pop songs airing on tv made him tired of hearing them. and his introduction to more rock-sounding songs added colour to his otherwise colourless life, albeit only a bit of tone. on one of those trips, when he had to generate some money for eunho most easily, he discovered moonstruck.

the other boys didn’t search for him that day as the store clerk lets him listen to one song with the expensive headphones music people usually have. hearing the drum starting on time, not brash like the rock songs he listened to. much more relatable to his situation as he found his way to not think of what the others might have thought—they didn’t even realize he disappeared.

bruises and scars, inflicted by multiple people under one control, frequently decorate heeseung’s forearms. eunho was, is, and still a friend of his since middle school. but the domino of one after another changed him and his life, taking control of most if not all aspects of his old friends into his hands as he became the king of woonmyung high school. heeseung has to if he wants to survive. he had been on the opposite side of it once in the first year of high school and he swore he would never do it again.

two days ago, his dad had given him extra cash for his pocket money that he hid fast so that he couldn’t get mugged off. he ran towards the cd store by the school to see two discounted albums of moonstruck, windswept, and the latest, breathe. quickly, he grabbed them and stuffed them into his backpack. he had never left the house without his backpack housing his cd walkman, riding around on his bicycle into the days and nights where he had errands to do alongside his two other friends. chores he had to fulfil and if he succeeded, he would get a bigger cut. field trips to the grassy patches of greenery were when he had finished doing those errands; his usual bandage wrapped around his palm and only 500 won in coins given enough for him to eat a pack of the 500 won ramyeon.

coming home from the fields, the wailing cries of a newborn baby make heeseung realize his reality. when looking into the living room, he sees the scrunched eyes of his baby brother as tears fall down his cheeks.

“heeseung, is that you?” a voice comes from the kitchen.

“yes.”

“take care of heechan for me.”

the boy looks down at the crying baby. a sigh coming out of his open lips as he crouched down beside the blanket where his baby brother was resting. pushing his hand out, he cradles the head and little body and lifts it up before adjusting his holding position. the cry continues as heeseung gently moves heechan so that his little head can rest on his older brother’s shoulder. heeseung coos, seeing the drool staining his unbuttoned shirt alongside the dirt from the field. calming him down, heeseung eyes look between his brother and the living room filled with the remnants of his baby brother. new clothes and a new stroller, all seem to blend in alongside the wooden wall and his parents’ belongings. but he doesn’t see his own until he enters his room. glaring at the baby one last time, he sits kneeled down, hearing his brother’s cry calming down as the boy continues soothing his little backside. he wanted to scream at the baby with all that was happening to him ever since he was born, but he knew it was not the baby’s fault he was here.

his parents had heeseung when they were young. nearly the end of their last year of high school as his mom couldn’t even come to her graduation ceremony cause she had to give birth. having a younger set of parents is a turmoil in at of itself. children will grow up alongside their parents with this and he felt himself. he still remembered how sometimes his parents came home drunk, taking care of themselves more than his 5-year-old self. sometimes, they only remember him such as when he fell off the tree when he was 10, making them have to pay for his stitches and the leftover scar on his collarbone. and with his parents now in their mid-30s having a baby once again, their attention is on him more. making heeseung have to fend for himself until his parents gave him his allowance again.

mom approaches heeseung as she kneels down behind him. the boy hears how mom coos for his brother as he turns his head once again, being face to face with the wide brown eyes that he also has.

“dinner’s ready,” she tells him as the older boy hums, giving the baby to his mother as the coos continues and he walks towards the dining room. the steamy rice caught his attention as he grabbed his plate to scoop some up and the other dishes. he usually waited for the rest of the family to gather at the dining table. but, with the sound of the tv turning on and no hint of dad’s car coming, he has to be by himself again today.

laying down on his bed, his view of the whirring sound of the personal computer in the corner of his room is upside down. the tall cpu settles beside the desk that houses his desktop which looks so similar to the tv outside, the mechanical keyboard, and the mouse wired to the processing unit. beside it, a picture of a monochromatic spherical object looks like it is rising into his view. he turns his body to view it upright, reading the upside-down jumbled words of moonstruck. he got lucky when he was heading home from doing his errands, finding a store putting a poster of moonstruck’s first album’s promotional on sale by the window front—“i wanted to throw it away anyway since nobody listen to them” said the owner. the rope hugging his waist holds on the poster behind him as he rides his bicycle back home.

heeseung’s eyes gaze at the black-and-white picture when his ringtone fills the air as his hands crawl across the mattress and rest on the vibrating item.

“hello?” he calls.

“come to the usual place. now.”

the call disconnected as he wants to reply. his hold on the phone weakens as he drops his lifted arm to the mattress. he eyes the desk and poster of moonstruck once more and sighs, lifting his backpack up as he approaches his room’s door. opening it lightly, he hears the whines of his baby brother and the tv playing in the background. the bedroom on the other side of the house has its door closed as he catches the sound of running water flowing to the en suite bathroom his parents have in their room. stepping out of the front door, the gravel front is still empty of dad’s existence as he grabs onto the bicycle and sits on it, pushing with his foot as he balances himself before going into the familiar rhythm.

the raven colour masks the sky as heeseung’s bicycle headlights and a few street lamps light up the road. dark and obscured fields become the dominant space as he continues to pedal into the place he has been called to. he can see it in the distance. the moonlight created a backlit to the junkyard where he spend most of his time after school, especially when he has to do errands.

arriving on the rocky path, heeseung is enclosed by the junkyard of old vehicles that have been left to rot into pieces for years. no one greets him as he looks at the spotlighted area from his bike’s headlights. yet, he could hear the additional sound other than the gust of wind hitting the rusty metals. the laughter of boys that seemed more similar to hyenas—and it is approaching closer.

“there he is.” heeseung peers more into the darkness. four figures approaching the headlights as they all stand tall and mighty. one has his hood on as smoke comes out from his mouth.

“step off the bike and come here,” the familiar voice commands. heeseung’s hands hold on the handle tight before it loosens. the piercing gaze punctures something in him that hurts more and more if he continues to hold.

he lifts one of his legs and steps off the bicycle, letting it fall against the rocky road as the headlight still continues to turn on. the hooded boy steps closer to him. his facial features becoming more and more prominent as heeseung adjusts his eyes to darkness. a smirk adorning his face that he is all too familiar with. now towards him instead of someone else.

“a flock of birds told me you had extra money and didn’t give it to me.” eunho’s tone is mocking with a little gruff from his cigarette smoking. the light from the end of his blunt shines a bit of his mouth and nose before he blows the hot smoke towards heeseung, making him inhale it not like he had inhaled some of his own before.

“you remember the rule, right heeseung?” the boy chuckles, wiping his face with his clear hand. “of course, you do. you’ve been here since the first day.”

“and you should know your punishment for that.” heeseung stood there idle as the words got to him. yes, he knows the rule. yes, he has been with eunho since the start of all of this. he had kept heeseung at bay with this while many other boys changed. yes, he knew he had to give up on his money because eunho said so. because without him, heeseung would let go of one of the last anchors he had attached to this earth.

eunho steps backwards as heeseung stands there quietly. he watches the guy’s hand flicking towards the other three as they approach him. yet, heeseung still has his eyes on the pebbles by his shoes and that’s what he last saw before the force hits him hard; the darkness he sees is darker than the night.

one boy pulls the backpack strap holding onto heeseung’s shoulders as he can’t help to let out a groan, trying with his might to pull his arm close to his chest yet failing as the other two hold them open. his face buried against the rocks as someone puts pressure on his shoulder blades. he felt the end of this backpack strap slip from his fingers as he looked up, seeing youngbin—the new number 2—zip open his school backpack and turn it upside down. items upon items fell down as he watched his walkman fall to be cushioned by his notebook.

“not the walkman.” heeseung groaned before another boy pushed down again against his back. youngbin seems to take that in mind as he looks between the device and the boy who owns it.

“not the walkman.” youngbin echoes, yet his action says otherwise. he grabs the device in his hand. his finger pushes the button, and the lid opens as he looks at the disc. “but, yes to the cd.”

heeseung continues to be held back before a hit to his stomach pushes his breath away. his eyes becoming blurry as he watches youngbin takes the cd from the walkman and drop it back on the pile of notebooks. the boy looks at the disc, a grin threatening to show up as eunho looks on from behind him.

“moonstruck? who the fuck is moonstruck?” youngbin commented as he lets out a hearty laugh and look back at eunho who gives a look with a neutral expression on his face. heeseung heaves as the pain continues to build with another kick to the stomach. eyes focus on the disc that reflects the light from his bike’s headlights. he never thinks he feels such a big pain before this. the sound of a blitz crack pierces the air as heeseung’s quiet stun gazes as the cd falls onto the ground beside.

split in two.

heeseung arrived home that day, stepping inside the corridor as quietly as possible towards the bathroom. switching the lights on, he turns his head to look in the mirror. the scars creating blood red on his face. one of his eyes is swollen and he can see the area near the apple of his cheek becoming purple. lifting his t-shirt, he met the view of the bruising abdomen as it became harder for him to exhale. the breathe cd rupture into two haunting him as he placed them on the sink, continuing to gaze at it as he aided himself as best as he could.

the errands continue as if the boys forgot what they did to one of them a few days prior. heeseung had the windswept cd close to his chest, always bringing the case around so he could keep it safe. the sound of the calmness of moonstruck’s music playing as he leans his head back against the wall, letting the wind blow on the rooftop. both sounds create a synergy in his head before the sight of an open door halts it alongside the sound it makes. a girl turning her body towards the area beside the tall wall that houses the staircase going to the school building, the area where he sits and the area that he shares with the girl. the area that he shares with you.

sitting down across from him, he gazes at you who is also wearing your own headset connected to the cd walkman that is the same colour as his. you pull out your lunch box and eat it up, body still heaving to take enough breath as if you are running away from someone. he sometimes has his eyes on you, but most of the time, he actually takes a nap there. the spring weather having the right combination to lull him to sleep—him being outside until late at night doesn’t help. and so he rested, even for just a moment.

after giving the money to eunho and stepping away from that, heeseung is still haunted by the broken cd of breathe that he had walked himself to the store. being one of the newest cds out, he couldn’t find any breathe disc in the smaller store. but, just the atmosphere of the display captures his sight so badly. the promotional poster of moonstruck—a woman in a long, flowy white dress with the moon covering her face—stuns him. he eyes the stacks upon stacks of copies of breathe at the lower price that he had bought it a couple of days ago. but, with his hands rubbing inside the pockets he could reach, he knew he didn’t have the money.

yet, he takes one.

and he stares at it sitting on the desk. his head tilts down from where he sits. the bitter tone of the room sending chills down his neck as he sees a figure standing beside him, looking down at the cd and him. his fingers rub against each other on his lap as only the light coming from the window on the door is making the space much more visible. that is until shadows cover the light, twisting the knob and pushing the door open.

“the teacher is here, boss,” an employee says as the clicking of high heels becomes more prominent. he doesn’t want it to rattle him more, and that’s why he has his eyes closed, letting the words hit him more.

“good afternoon, sir-“

“is this your student?” the man standing by him asks after the familiar voice greets him. when he recognized the face, his eyes came to flutter open. indeed, he is the one who called miss kang here.

“yes, he is,” she replied. steadiness in her voice.

“miss, your student here has been caught shoplifting,” the man says, opening his palm to refer to the moonstruck cd. heeseung’s head tilts lower, shame bubbling in himself. he could pick up the ruffling of clothes moving behind him, voices that were loud becoming only whispers as tinnitus overwhelmed him more and more. vision becomes blurry not because of tears: like a vignette frames his eyesight as he only stares at the cd he had held in his hands.

“you sure?”

he continues to look at the cd before a hand grabs it, lifting his head up to see the cashier scan the item as someone puts cash on the counter. peeking from the corner, he finds miss kang standing there, looking at the employee who gives the change that she picks up. miss kang picks up the cd, holding it to her body as she reads the cover and track lists on the back. her footsteps left the counter as heeseung followed behind her.

they now stood by the side of the entrance, still staring at the cd casing with information that is relevant for the people interested in buying. but for heeseung, the information tells him what this album is supposed. windswept is more of a creamy sandy colour. while breathe is very green. the aura of celeste he learned about envelops him both visually and aurally to identify this clearer.

the cd appears in front of his upper body. he looks back to see miss kang with a tight-lipped smile. “for you.”

heeseung’s fingers wrapped onto the cd casing as he held it close against his chest, hearing her clearing her throat before speaking, “we still have to inform your parents of this. of your behaviour.”

the sentence makes heeseung turn his head back down, looking at the cd as he sighs, nodding his head. knowing that he has nothing to refute that.

arabesque plays in his ear as he stares at the yellowish-brown coloured wooden sliding door of his homeroom class. the bud sits snugly in his ear as he stares forward, not minding anyone who goes past him. then, two shadows stood in front of him in a prolonged manner that he lifted his head, seeing both miss kang and coach kim standing side by side. heeseung slowly let out a sigh even with the minuscule size of his parted lips. he pushes himself up, already knowing what their request is.

he walked behind the two teachers, folding the wire around the cd walkman as they brought him to the other wing of the school buildings mostly filled with laboratories. looking straight, he recognized the appearance of some rooms from outside: the infirmary that holds sick kids and the consulting room.

heeseung could pick up the commotion behind him as he walked—either some talking about him or they just don’t give a flying fuck. it is still recess time after all. his body is tall enough to let him see into the room from the window; seeing how a student is being treated in the infirmary. they arrive in front of the counselling office. coach kim opens the door to let miss kang in and he follows. his eyes on his mom’s figure already sitting on one of the sofas.

gently, he took steps to reach the sofa and sat next to his mom in a flowy dress and the stroller on her other side.

“good afternoon. i didn’t realize that you had company. heeseung hasn’t told us you have given birth,” coach kim says, breaking the ice as heeseung hears his mom chuckling. heechan is sleeping inside his carriage peacefully and all heeseung can do is give a small glance before looking forward at the glass coffee table.

“yes, coach kim and miss kang, right?” they nodded in reply as she continued, “is something happening to heeseung? is everything okay?”

heeseung’s eyes continue to stare downwards feeling something piercing through the side of his head just with a small glance from his mom. the boy’s hands clench and fidgets on his lap, staying quiet even with a minuscule time to peek to see that his mom is looking towards him.

“well... we cannot sugarcoat this predicament your son has gotten himself into,” coach kim replied. his angular face creates a stoic expression that make heeseung have chills running down his spine. his mom turns her head forward, staring between the two teachers with furrowed eyebrows.

“heeseung got into trouble. he got caught shoplifting a cd,” miss kang says in a soft voice as said boy lets out a long exhale alongside it.

then, it hits him. a thud against his side and a sharp hit against his cheek.

multiple hits as he had to gaze towards the door of the room, mom hitting him with her clenched fist. the baby’s cry adding to the tension. his eyes look at the window beside the door. eyes from multiple people staring at him as one of them has a smirk on their face. eunho’s face.

the hitting stops as coach kim creates a barrier between the woman and her son’s body. the boy twisting his body so that he could get a grip on the baby’s stroller. his hands reaching inside to grab onto the baby’s side and lift him out of his resting place. heeseung lets the baby’s snot and tears stain his uniform, helping to calm him down as heechan’s cry is something that he has been doing inside his soul. to just let out such an agonizing scream, hopeful that someone wanted to check out and tell him it was okay to feel that way.

a liquid trails down his cheek as he stops it right before it hits his brother’s head. looking at the side of the finger, he found a smear of crimson as the little breeze pushed on his skin, feeling the icy pain against the cut of his cheek. his mom has seated down once again. heeseung’s eyes focus on her fingers to see that she is wearing the wedding ring on her designated finger. a drop of blood on the corner of the gemstone.

“it’s only one cd. i have come and clear his name. he does...” miss kang pauses, gazing at her student, who has droplets of blood forming from a cut and is on its way downward, calming down his baby brother at the same time.

“still...” mom replied with a just voice, “stealing is stealing.”

the words hit him so much. having money taken away from him, milking him of his allowance to benefit others: it is so messed up that for him to survive the day, he has to resort to stealing. if not, he might not eat. dad has sometimes given him more allowance than usual yet, even that was taken. is it not his right to do whatever with his money can do? why don’t they understand him?

why won’t everyone just leave him alone? leave him to actually be responsible for himself?

yet, why does he feel so lonely, even with a little brother in his hand?

air grazes the open wound on his cheek as he plays said disc, letting the music fill up his mind as he can receive the little grumbles of his stomach. stepping into the class alone, heeseung laid his backpack on top of the cupboard. he glances at his fingertips that were holding onto heechan before mom picks him up from him. he is reminded of when his baby brother was born: his little palm and fingers gripping onto his fingertip so tight. chirping of birds also decorated the entire atmosphere, where he rummaged to put unneeded items back into his cupboard.

the sound of the door opening doesn’t bother him, yet the giggles are; sending goosebumps along his skin.

“ah, heeseung...” one of them calls, a tinge of raspiness in his voice making his imagination spiral. then more steps are heard. a large shadow overcasts before him. turning his head, he comes face to face with the boys he calls his friends—whatever “friend” means...

heeseung saw one boy pointing at the hurting scar on his cheek, the face tissue he wiped the blood from still tucked in his pocket. that and their snickers reminded him of the very night when the incident that started this whole chain reaction happened. if he just gave them the money, this would not happen. if he just held back from buying a moonstruck cd, he would not be feeling pain and just... continued doing his other things with this group of boys.

“you’re so stupid, huh?” eunho started, “you think because you shoplift much stuff that you can do it by yourself without the others by you?”

“i see it more as a skill issue.” youngbin added, making the other two laugh alongside him.

“ah, please. and a cd too? don’t tell me it’s that moonstruck singer again?” one boy continued, the other three looking at heeseung sheepishly as he said nothing. his silence is him telling the truth of this very question. and it makes them laugh out loud, too loud that it makes heeseung scrunch his face.

“gosh, you think you’re tough, huh? well, look at you. even got a slap from your mom, for fuck’s sake,” eunho remarks before youngbin gives him a nudge. “his mom looks hot though. i think she is still pretty young.”

“fuckable i might say,” the other boy said as heeseung balled his hand into his fist. sure, he knows of the age difference between him and his parents are 18 years. yet, that is his mom that they’re talking about. the same mom that scarred his skin and startled her other son awake from his slumber. the boys continue to giggle, adding to the cacophony of the sounds and voices in his head as his breathing is rapid. and that’s when he heard the school bell ringing, ending lunchtime. he looked behind the boys towards the door to the back of the class door.

your hand slides the door as he meets your face. your cupid’s bow is curving downwards as he can see a plaster also adorning the bridge of your nose. a slight frown added to the whole appearance of you as you take quick glances at every boy surrounding him before giving a look few seconds to heeseung. other footsteps emerge from behind you as the boys turn towards their chair and he turns back towards the cupboard. he takes many more peeks behind his back: the boys sitting down in their seats, the popular girls being loud as they enter the classroom. and you who have put down your backpack and are ready to face the class.

heeseung fidgets with his pen as the teacher comes into the room. soft noises of turning pages and clicking emerge as the teacher writes keywords onto the chalkboard. he opens his notebook and lets the teacher’s words make sense in his head first before he writes it down. his pen moving along to the way heeseung moves his fingers. he picks up the pan and plays along on his lap, not wanting the teacher to notice that it can disturb the class.

the pen was hitting air molecules before a distinct noise came out instead. looking down, he found a folded note on the verge of falling down from its confine. taking a scope around the class, he picks up the note and folds it open. a handwriting that is written clearly for him to read.

“i know what you feel. meet me at the rooftop after school.”

-

leaning your head back against the wall, you could still feel the pain surging down your body.

you tucked your knees to your chest as the blow of the breeze lets the ends of your skirt grazes against your legs. the backpack lies beside you as you eyed the bandage wrapped around your wrist. your walkman rests on your thigh as you gaze upwards at the blue sky that is turning orange. birds are flying in flocks from one end of your vision to another as you follow them. the way they spread their wings so wide and glide through the air molecules. being in tandem with each other. no one left behind.

a week has passed since you’ve been here and you are left behind once again. the rumours about you don’t help, how they still believe you are this rich kid disguising yourself. the lunch box doesn’t help either, resorting to you just buying some cheap kimbap that you know other people are also eating for their lunch—hiding the lunch box deep inside your backpack and eating it before you go home. the lunch box is now empty as you settle into your usual place. bandages litter your arm, hand, and one across your nose bridge.

it happened in the first recess. just a small 30-minute window of time is enough for seona and her girls to get you and do whatever they do to you. all you can do is grit your teeth as you hold on, not wanting to let go of the allowance money you told them you didn’t get. taking the brunt of the hit from risoo that cuts the skin on your nose and could be a worse bruising if you don’t compress it with ice quickly. it results in you going to the infirmary, letting nurse park treat you once again other than the bruising you got on your shin a few days prior.

you remember resting your head on the bed as the nurse walked away, telling you to stay back until you were ready enough to go back to class after lunch. straightening your body, you put the pillow upright on the wall behind you so that you could sit comfortably. the jingling keychain on your phone rings as you pick it up, see the sms notification that you open to see the message of dad telling you that both he and mom are not gonna be home tonight. sighing seems to be a routine for you as you click away and open the game folder, finding the snake game and you press it with the middle button. the screen changes as a line forms alongside a random dot on the screen. your nimble and bandaged thumb presses the arrow button as the snake moves around for you to collect its snack.

one snack and the snake will be longer, trying your best to not hit the border. it continues as the constant movement of your fingers keeps you in focus. the clicking from the keyboard mechanism of the phone creates a steady note in the infirmary. the sound of the other students having their recess while you are here, playing snake into recovery. but giggles caught your attention.

lifting your head from the phone screen lets you see the window of the infirmary towards the hallway. high school students and their ability to be seen from said windows makes it easier for teachers to know which students are running late or a student searching for their friend if they are coming to class or not. instead, you found the head of a bunch of boys huddled on one side of the window. the side where-

the door slams open as you turn your head to the left. a light shadow cast on the floor of the angular shape as you watched a figure stepping from it and turning its head to gaze at the rooftop. his eyes are observing the empty rooftop you’ve been staying on for the past few minutes. that is before he turns his body to head towards his usual seat on the rooftop: right across from you.

sitting down there is heeseung. the boy who sits behind you as he has his shirt uniform opened, exposing a grey t-shirt underneath. in his hand is a folded paper as he lets go of the backpack and lets it rest beside his figure. prominent scarring shows on his cheek, a straight line from one side of the cheek to the other. it’s strange to not see him with his earbuds on. but with the frantic flick of his eyes, looking around the rooftop before the sound of the people leaving the premises of the school campus, he seemed to think of something differently.

then, he met your eyes. they trail down to peer the rest of your face before going down more to your bandaged hand. your eyes still continue to stare at his scar before you glimpse at the note in his hand. your lip twitches before meeting his eyes once again, a look of recognition in his eyes.

it didn’t take him long to stand up and grab his backpack by the handle on top. his footsteps getting closer and he now stands beside you. dropping his backpack carefully, he lets his back lean against the wall before sliding down. the song continue to play in your headset as you push the pause button, expecting something when he also turns his head. his face reflects of yours, in a state of wounded as he pouted his lips; calculating the words he would like to speak about.

“i-“ he paused as he put his hand in his pant pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper before opening it, showing the inside to him before he pushes his hand so you can see it.

“did you write this?” he asked in a mumble, yet still loud enough for you to catch on. you glance down at the writing in the note, the handwritten style reflects your own.

“yeah.” you exhaled. your fingers moving on their own as you rub the bandage on your fingers. soothing yourself with the unexpected nerve as you caught onto heeseung’s light gasp? awe? you can’t describe it. then, the chuckles came. the same chuckle you heard on your first day in class. yet, it’s more carefree. authentic compared to the one in class when it seemed so forced. a chuckle that came out freely instead of fear and obedience.

“i, i thought that they knew about this place...” heeseung replied, rubbing his face with his hand before soothing himself, massaging his creased forehead before lifting his head once again. he turned to you, the corner of his lips falling down as the emotion changed in a flicker of his blinking eyes.

“how do you know about...?” the boy tidies himself up, putting the note alongside his own walkman on his stretched thighs.

“i just felt it, you know? though they aren’t as prevalent as what i endure in school.” you started. you lean your chest to your folded legs, arms around the front of your feet as you hug yourself, head turning towards heeseung. “i, uh, also heard what happened to you today. the consulting room.”

you picked up the smack of skin and a woman screaming from the room beside yours. you’ve been in that room before, mostly talking about how you were adapting to the new environment and how the school explained converting your scores from your previous high school. points are connecting in your head: the side profiles of the boys you’ve seen and what happened, noticing that one of them was not with them. and you conclude it.

the boy nibbles on his bottom lip, gnawing on the skin as he shifts his head to look towards you. “i’m sorry you hear that.” your eyes widen at his answer but you didn’t account for the next words out too.

“and i’m sorry that i didn’t stop what happened to you this morning.”

the memories of today seem more like the past. the endurance you have to exert on yourself, knowing deep down that no one can’t even sympathize with you. but his words tell you that someone saw you being beaten by them. well, you aren’t surprised that heeseung can’t intervene. fighting against seona will be as bad as fighting back against eunho for him. they are linked somehow. you don’t know how. romantically? emotion-wise? ideology?

you let out a small scoff as you sensed your headset fallen down to your nape. your hands reaching it to adjust it better, but you can still see the number changing on the little screen on heeseung’s own walkman. the words are nudging you again and again, especially as you turn back to examine your own numbers against the afternoon sun.

“what music are you listening to?”

it’s heeseung’s turn now with his eyebrows raised. pressing the pause button and a rewind, he pulls out one bud of his earbuds before pushing the button down. the lid opens up as you peer down at him stretching his hand with the walkman. inside is a gleaming green tint cd, a picture of what looks like a lone tree with the moon behind it. the white outline of it is right at the centre of the cd. you read the words etched onto the cd.

“moonstruck,” he said, reading the word to you. you take a peek at him, looking down at the cd with the corner of his mouth lifting before widens into both corners.

“it’s the cd that made me get caught. that made all of this happen,” he says with a tense grit on his jaw before it loosens as he slowly caresses the cd with his thumb. his fingertip brushes against the name. “i still don’t know why miss kang just bought it for me at the end.”

you know, he was mumbling at this point. but you didn’t care. heeseung has always seemed to be someone a bit more timid in his rambunctious gang of boys. reluctant to do things, but you still see a shine in his eyes on something he enjoyed. one of them was in the first physical education class you have in woonmyung high school. he had a liking towards the half-court basketball, though his build isn’t in the optimal shape for it. the same class you were cornered by seona, risoo, and the girls for the first time in the bleachers of the gymnasium. coach kim disappears for that little window of time just enough for them to do their thing to you.

“can i listen to it?” you mutter.

heeseung’s hand seemed to give an answer before he spoke it. he pinches the cable of the bud towards you as you grab it with your own fingers. pulling the bud and pushing it into your ear-hole, you notice the other end of the bud still in his ear. he closes the lid as the cd whirls on. the little screen shows the track playing back from track number 1. the sound of a synth yet it resembles a woodwind instrument comes to your mind. the steady percussion creates the anchor for you to relax. then the music expands: introducing a whirling sound that contrasts the soft instruments and vocals, creating a whimsy and relaxing mood.

looking back at the boy, you find him already looking at you. a small smile etched on his face as his eyes flutter shut with how magical the song sounds. the voice coming from the various instruments creates colours in each of your ears. colours that form together as it continues. its colours combined with the light of the sky shining down on both of you. serenity achieved in such a simple way: to find the right moment or material that reflects it. the song continues as it familiarizes with your own mind, feeling your heartbeat slowing down as it counts along the beats of the track.

“this is her second album. breathe. her fans on the space station identify this album to have a green celeste. her previous one, windswept, is more creamy.” heeseung started, saying words that seemed so out of context for you if you don’t listen to the whole context of it.

“what is celeste?” you caught on.

the boy chuckles as he strokes his hair gently, “the station or what i can call the forum for moonstruck fans doesn’t define it. but i interpret it more as a feeling where art makes you feel like you're in another realm of reality. a realm where you can just... be you. getting away just for a moment of whatever you define your reality as.” his reply makes you shift your head, eyebrows raised as you subconsciously pout with his profound answer.

“i could say that that’s the reason i listen to music so much.” you lift your walkman to show to heeseung. “a form of therapy through letting your senses be overwhelmed by one thing before it spreads into your mind. from the lyrics to the melody, and all that.”

heeseung continues to chuckle, yet it still has the same earnest tone you’ve heard of today. as the track changes many times, you and heeseung stay quiet and take in the day as it is nearing its end. sun approaching closer to the horizon before sinking past it. your upper body rests against the wall with your knees still tucked to your sitting figure, hugging yourself as you lean your head back and let the songs come in. in your imagination, you could see a full moon with a glowing green colour. the green colour that resembles more on vitality, health, and a path to safety.

glancing beside you, heeseung is also doing the same thing. his black hair swept against the little gush of wind. its sound creates a more authentic listening experience with the music playing in one ear and nature’s music in the other. combining all the colours together in creating, not an explosion, but more of a blend that still shows each strand of colour yet it's still intact. its colours appear before you and heeseung, floating into the sky as it dances around you.

for the first time in a long time, you have felt less lonely.

but the ringtone of the phone ruins everything.

heeseung pulls out his phone, seeing and hearing it vibrate against his palm. its piercing and different melody clashes with the ones that are formed from what you both heard. yet, as you turn your head to see him, you find him looking down at the vibrating device before taking a long, deep breath. reaching out, you press the pause button on the walkman as the sound of the ringtone fills the surrounding air. his finger reaches for the button that is going to answer the clock. however, he flicks his eyes and meets yours. all you could do is pout. you were having a good time getting into the fourth track before it rang, shattering the atmosphere.

you wanted to grab the phone and hold it back, not letting him succumb to answer it. but, finding the name “eunho” on the screen makes chills run down your spine. the realization that even with this boy beside you were also being tormented—from the boys gathering as they listened to heeseung’s consultation to the harsh words you gathered outside of the classroom door that makes you hesitate to step inside—he is still a bully somehow. he is still responsible for making someone’s life harder, taking into account the story of this very cd that was once stolen but is now bought.

the boy presses the button and puts the phone by his ear.

“hello?” his voice turns monotone. much more different from when he was telling you about moonstruck. “ok.” he exhales. “i’ll be there.”

the call ends as you already grab the bud out of your ear. you push your hands on the floor as you stand up alongside heeseung. grabbing each of your backpacks respectively before tugging the strap to your back, you face against him. both of your hands holding onto your walkman as he wrapped his earbuds wire along the outside of his own music player.

after putting both straps on your shoulder, you catch a short ringtone playing from your own phone. looking at it as you tuck it out from the pocket, you see the familiar name of seona written on the screen. heeseung seems to notice it too and the way your eyebrows furrowed.

yet you still give him a small smile.

“bring her other releases too. i am very interested,” you replied, stepping away from him backwards before you give him a small wave before disappearing into the door to the school floors, leaving heeseung behind, who is also growing a small smile on his face.

-

《do any of you ever wonder how powerful moonstruck’s creations are?》 《it helps me get through tough times》 《from: bambi

《i relate to whatever you say, bambi》 《because it helps me too》 《from: silver

《ever since i discovered her》 《her celeste got me to go through many things in life》 《even hard times》 《from: pearl

《can you elaborate more on that aspect, pearl?》 《from: bambi

《well, i think it is pretty common nowadays》 《when people are pointing out how wrong you are living your life when you are just... be》 《that no matter what you go through, you’ll always find someone who will make your life harder in whatever way》 《moonstruck’s songs help me escape from that and i heal myself through hearing her》 《that there is someone there who can relate to whatever thoughts and emotions i’m having》 《i want to have that》 《that celeste》 《as a shield to protect myself even tougher》 《from: pearl

《well, as the owner, you have been doing well, pearl!》 《from: 1004

《agree》 《i could sense celeste exuding from even this small space in this forum alone》 《from: silver

《thank you for that 1004 and silver》 《from: pearl

《well, thank you for telling your story, pearl》 《i haven’t known someone who is facing the same thing as i do》 《from: bambi

《thank you so much, bambi :) 》 《i believe that we are not truly alone》 《from: pearl

the world gets lonely. the presence that was imprinted in his life ever since he was little is shedding away with the lack of enthusiasm helping to push it out of the other reasons. with every step he takes when going to school named after the word “fate”, it feels like a droplet of himself seeps out from his soles and blanks him more. every drag of the cigarette he takes now that he has to search for more things to cope with, literally and figuratively, sucks a section of your lifetime away.

yet, as of now, heeseung felt less lonely. his backpack is heavier than last week’s as the sound of the plastic hits one another with a mini clank sound he could hear. he uses his long legs to skip two stairs at a time, wanting to flee from the boys’ presence as fast as he can—especially with the little meeting they have in the first recess that is making everything much more complicated. all he needs is his now newly injected dose of serenity: the one hour at lunchtime which has passed the entire week. and the company he has that elevates the entire experience.

his hand pushes open the door to the rooftop, being met with the gusts of wind that make him a tad shivering. yet, taking a few steps in front, he turns his body to the side of his little spot on the rooftop. you’re already there with your legs stretched out, your skirt covered enough of your limbs as you have your headset on while putting the spoon in your lunch box. lifting your head up, his figure obscured you from the sunlight and yet you still give him a smile. the scar on your nose is all gone but he now sees a leftover of a bruised shin, a similar occurrence that he also has with his bruised knees that nearly rips the cloth of his pants.

crouching down even with the pain, he settles down on the spot he called his now beside you. your hands already lifting your headset off as you wait while heeseung untangled the wires from his earbud. placing it gently on your open palm, heeseung then turns to his backpack as he unzips it to reach for one of the cd case inside. pulling the item he grab, he finds the windswept word written in front with the cover of the moon that stand behind a woman reflected on a body of water. pressing the eject button, the lid opens as he carefully put cd inside, not wanting to scratch it. the boy felt the tug from the earbud he already insert into his own ear as the scrapping noise continues, making him press the play as to not make you wait any longer. the familiar sound of synth combines with waves enter both of your ears at the same time as heeseung leans back against the wall.

this is the serenity that he has been craving. listening to his favourite musician in a quiet location with someone who won’t judge him. the backpack rests beside his outstretched legs that rest beside yours. his eyes find the moon showing up in the afternoon sun. the half moon shape is split right down the middle. that’s when he felt the slight icy touch on his forearm to shift and saw you pushing out your lunch box, rubbing your tummy with your other hand. you have been making heeseung finished your lunch recently and as someone who always got his lunch money stolen; he is satisfied with how his stomach could be satisfied even with just a few spoonfuls of food.

and that is all that he has done for the past week. sitting beside you while hearing moonstruck’s song from her time in her former band, nexus, until the recent ones as he shares with you the moonstruck trivia you always asked about: “what is this song about?” “interesting use of synths there, what does that imply?” after eating lunch, he pulled out a cigarette box and a box of matches. pulling through the filter, he inhales as the fire lights the end of the blunt and the familiar smoke pushes out of his lips. he didn’t expect for you to snatch the cigarette and take an inhale yourself. and now it has become another thing that you both share with each other.

heeseung swallowed the last of your food before he cleared it with his water. words forming in his mind like it is a normal occurrence from the week you have. yet, because he had known you for a week, he felt like he could be more truthful about things to talk about. clearing his throat, he pushes himself to speak.

“i’m glad that i’m here with you.”

“hmm?” you turned your head to face him, eyes squarely on him as he flicks his to see you.

“you don’t... make fun of me for sharing about moonstruck.” his usual steady tone shrinks in volume as he finishes his sentence. your hand reaches for the lunch box. his movement paused when he looked back at you. yet you never step away. you stayed beside him, even scooting closer to him as if to tell him that, yes, you are here to listen. you’re glad you are here too...

“where do we start...” heeseung said after the sigh, recollecting all the similar scars adorning both of your visible limbs and how he remembers how got nearly all of it on him. “i treat music as an escapism from everything that happened, you know?”

you hummed along.

“my life is... jumbled. if i have to describe it in one sentence. most of the actions i do are for my survival.” he glances at you from the corners of his eyes. “you must be thinking that i’m crazy for even being friends with the people that make me grit my teeth in pain all the time. but that is survival.” the boy doesn’t want to spill everything about himself, just the minor part of his that he assumes you might relate with.

“if i don’t stick with them, it’ll be harsher. many other students were also threatened by them and-“

“and yet, you’re still the one hurting more.”

heeseung pauses himself as you cut through. the words already formed on his tongue dissipate in an instant with the utmost authentic response. you sigh and blink rapidly before you open your lips, “i’ve seen how they treat you. the lowest among them.”

his eyebrows furrowed, making him think back on the various memories and bruises on his body. “well, you’re wr-“

“they asked you for your money. eunho and his cronies. that’s why you bring no lunch. that’s why they tease you so much and even bring your family into it. that’s why you have to shoplift a moonstruck cd.”

“how in the hell did you know they mentioned my family?” it’s his turn to interject, making you turn your head as your foot touches his right beside it.

“i heard it. last week. that day you received my note.”

he remembers how you were the first person he saw when the class’s back door opened by the cupboard lockers. the rush as the boys seemed to stop whatever they were doing and leave heeseung be with his backpack.

“i was in the infirmary when you were called to the consulting room. the wall is so thin that i could hear what you’re discussing. i noticed your boys standing by the door of the room. and i watched them watch you.”

the boy’s nose flared as he looked down at his lap and yet the music continued with soft, repeating notes from the guitar. added more to the atmosphere of the talk.

“i’ve seen how they treat you. i experienced the same thing, and it is...” your voice trembles as you blink another set rapidly, catching on that your eyes seemed to glisten and reflect the sunlight more.

“it’s such an overwhelming feeling to find someone who you can relate to, especially since i’m always been more of the black sheep in any of the schools i went to.” you rub your hand against your skirt-covered thigh. “the rumours and all and i got the brunt of it. it’s why i wear such an old and dirty backpack. my parents look like they’re rich but never even make a room for that rich look for me. i feel both visible and invisible at the same time.”

“i felt that too. i can say that my parents are more focused on themselves and my baby brother now and not me. i know that they had me young but i just felt much and much more invisible when i came back home,” heeseung added, scooting himself closer as his words covered the incoming groan from when he noticed the ache again.

“yet, here we are...” you conclude. he hums to reply, earning a small smile from you as the music continues. minutes left before the bell rings that is interrupted by the sms jingle ringing. your phone was not trembling but heeseung’s was. he looks down to read the text and adorns the neutral facial expression once again. his resting face has a little frown on it.

“duty calls...” heeseung says exasperatedly, making you give a thin-lipped smile as you hear the groan coming from him as he tugs his backpack on one shoulder. he pushes his hand on the floor before pushing himself with the force and against the wall behind him. that’s when he sensed something touching his waist before he looked down, finding a pair of arms from beside him to see you pressing too tightly but effective in making him stand up. he gasped in pain, making you take your hands off of him as he stood up. yet, you still clutch the walkman in your hand. the earbuds still connecting as you stood face to face with him.

you still have your own walkman left on the floor by your backpack. yet, you didn’t make any remark about the wires connecting both of you as you say hastily.

“leave them be.” your eyebrows furrowed. the music continues to play as the boy looks at you and at the walkman in your hands. the both of you were only near the first half of the album and with the little tap on the flowy skirt, he could see how much you’re enjoying it.

but, more things come to heeseung all at once. if he stayed here until the bell rang, they would hunt him down. then they will find you, and he doesn’t want to ruin that. he doesn’t want to ruin this blossoming friendship. this sanctuary aura of this rooftop for both you and him. escaping even for a few minutes to collect yourself physically and mentally. the sanctity that is your presence and the connection.

he has to set boundaries about all of this.

“i got to go,” he mumbled before meeting your eyes, searching for any sincerity in it. and with that, you pull the earbud and give it back to him. you nodded your head before crouching down to gather all your items into your backpack quickly. and then you give him another small smile before you take the steps to leave the premises of your area. turning your body and noticing how it is gone from the walls. leaving him alone instead, yet with a warmth that even helps with his abdomen injury.

-

sliding down onto the rooftop’s floor, you look across from yourself to find no one. the gush of wind sent shivers down your spine as you sighed, continuing to listen to the music blasting in your ears as you unzip your backpack to pull out your lunch box. the familiar loneliness blankets you once again.

for the past few days, you were alone here. the silhouette of heeseung’s recognizable body didn’t anchor on this very place for the seventh day. at first, your eyes widen and flicker at the empty concrete floor by the half wall. maybe he had been late because of something. a meeting with miss kang about his scores or eunho getting on to him once again. yet, as time goes by and you look down at the clock by the school gate with its long hand nearing the 12th number, the bell ring startles you as you hurry to pack up your belongings. the wire of the headset dangling as you continue to walk downstairs; hoping the heeseung would come to the rooftop on the next day.

yet, as the next day comes by, he isn’t on the rooftop. it repeats all over for the next week, the way your heart aches as you don’t know what happened to him. you haven’t shared your phone number with him even though having the innovation of sms on your beck and call, yet your stupid mind didn’t think about it. once again, you sat alone as you opened the lid of the box. the aroma of spicy ddeok hits you as it clears your sinuses. a shelter against the winds of spring.

then, you turn your head.

the shadow of the rooftop door opens as you catch the scratches of someone stepping onto the concrete. eyes enlarged. you meet the boy’s face. his expression neutral borderline fury with his squinting eyes, those eyes that relaxed as he saw you as the wrinkle between his eyebrows contracted.

your heartbeat marches the way he takes his step, his hand holding onto one strap of the backpack on his shoulder. the top three buttons of his uniform make the white undershirt peek out. he steps in front of your sitting body as your head follows, each step he takes mimics yours as if he has learned about it when you come to the rooftop right after him. the rustling increases as he stands at his designated place, pulling off the backpack before sliding down against the wall. the boy turns his head, finding you with your lips in a straight line. eyes flicker to gaze around his face, reading what he wants to say. though, instead of speaking out about why he had disappeared for the last week, worrying more if he had received a fresh wound that you also have at your extremities. he let out a huge exhale and spoke.

“we should stop meeting up here.”

“what?” you interject, “why?”

heeseung’s eyes glance at his fingers playing with each other before speaking, “i’m worried about all of this. how we meet up. how-“

“you’re tumbling over your words, heeseung.” your eyebrows furrowed. before you are the sight of something familiar. something your parents have every time they announce that the family will move once again—making you reset everything that you had done to survive school. deceitfulness flickers in his eyes before it is outshined by a sparkle, gritting his teeth. “tell me the truth-“

“eunho found out about this whole thing. how i escape going from him to go to the rooftop instead of being by his side and tormenting other people.” his voice is a little hoarse as he takes a deep breath. the boy’s head droops towards his chest. “if eunho comes here and you’re here also, you will be the target of the day and, and i just can’t see you being tormented for me with your,” he opens his palm, pointing towards you with the fading scars on your arms and legs to how you have a bandage on your kneecap, the blood wanting to seep through the cotton.

“i can’t...” he looks forward once again, “i don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”

the silence after his revelation startles you into being a statue. the music continues to blare in your ears as it is a mishmash of instruments playing above and below each other. you nodded your head, hearing heeseung’s breath as you continued to trail down his body. the blazer tied around his waist enables you to see the scars littering his forearm. faded yet will be another mark on his skin that he will have to get used to.

but, you shake your head. it starts slow. one cycle of shaking from left to right. then it gets more and more, quicker, and heeseung can’t help but notice before you stop yourself. the muscles around your neck straining from the movement that had you close your eyes, slowly opening the lids as the blurriness meets the sunshine.

“you don’t have to obey them.” your gut pushes you to say, eyes flicking to his side. not wanting to face his features overall. “but, if it means that today will be the last time we will hang out with each other, then grant me one last wish, heeseung.”

your right hand curls into a fist before straightening once again. you gaze at your lunch box. the food is only eaten halfway before you get interrupted. well, you never finished your lunch anyway these days. it was only cleanly empty when heeseung helped to finish it.

“after school, let’s go to seoul. just the two of us. away from here. away from...” you gulped down your saliva before opening your arms wide, capturing the wholeness of the situation you and he are both in. dropping them instantly, you brace yourself and shift your head to meet his. you guessed that you’ll meet disgust.

why are you suggesting that when i’m staying away from you for your own safety?

yet you can see the glint in his eyes. his neutral face has his cupid’s bow lifted even slightly before he chuckled and looked down on his lap.

“after school. meet me near the corner shop.”

“good.” you lifted your lunch box and handed it to him, “eat it up. you got to have energy for any activities that we want to do.”

giggles ring out from both him and you as you continue to listen to your music, looking at heeseung, who picks up the chopsticks before pausing. he looks straight at your walkman for a few seconds before he picks up the food and eats it. picking up your belongings, heeseung gazes upwards at your now-standing body, hugging your cd walkman close to your chest.

“bring the lunch box back to me when we meet up.” you remind him as he hums, savouring the lunch as he still watches you. chuckles come out of you as you step backwards to turn your body when it is in line with the door of the rooftop. the echoes of your footsteps are loud enough for heeseung to hear until it is far enough to disappear.

the rest of the class in the afternoon, you fidget with your pencil as you feel the familiar soft hit on your body. the crumpled paper falls down onto the floor as you let out a silent exhale, picking the ball of paper in your fist as you tuck it into your desk drawer. letting it join the rest of the crumpled ball of paper that you got more times than you could imagine. curiously, you shift your head as if looking for something or maybe someone who threw you the ball—which you already know is seona, risoo, or the other two girls. but you do that to take a glimpse of heeseung. his eyebrows slightly furrowed as he had both his forearms and elbows on the table. his eyes catch yours as you see the look on his face you awfully recognise.

the same emotion you always let out when you gaze at his fresh wounds.

walking out of the school gate as fast as you can after the last class ends, you blend in with the rest of the students that are flowing out from the school grounds. yet, instead of the usual walk towards your house, you turn to the corner shop from the first junction you meet. tugging your blazer off, you felt shivers on your exposed skin making you hiss. the bruises that you had there are still visible as you press your skin with two of your fingers. you’ve experienced itchiness so much when you are wounded and you found a remedy for that instead of scratching your skin until it bruises up again. you slowly tap on it, letting the blood flow through the veins and arteries and soothe your skin from the itchiness.

folding your blazer and put on the outdoor table alongside your backpack, you untucked your shirt out from beneath your clothes, creating a much more baggy look you like more on yourself. zipping the backpack up after putting on your blazer instead, you see the recognizable silhouette approaching closer and closer. the corner of your lips lifted as the shadow recedes to let you recognize the person.

“hey,” heeseung greets as he joins you and puts his backpack on the table beside yours. zipping open the backpack, he pulls out the lunch box before giving it to you and replaces it with his blazer, making you have to arrange your belongings once again as you take a peek at him unbuttoning the rest of his uniform shirt, the undershirt becoming more prominent with its area size and contrasting colour.

“let’s go before anyone catches us,” you reminded him as both of you put your backpacks on your backs respectively. you tug your phone inside your skirt’s pocket alongside the smart card you still hold on to, especially after living in the seoul area even with the many times you have to move.

the walk to the commuter train station heading to seoul isn’t that far. both of you stand by on the platform as you wait for the train to approach. you and heeseung stand side by side. your appearance with your untidy uniforms makes you both unrecognisable from which high school you two are from compared to the other students who still have their uniforms on them tidy. the rumble on the ground followed by the gush comes along with the train that now stops in front of you. many of the seats on the train are empty as you suspect that the train heading the opposite direction into your town and beyond is much busier with people getting back home to their families. yet, well, for you, you planned to stay as long as possible outside, maybe until the sun sets for another day.

sitting down on the seat, the door closes as the train moves on the track. heeseung sat right beside you as you gazed at the window behind the empty seat across from you. the sight of the fields shining green alongside the spring weather calms your eyesight. the constant sound of the wheels on the tracks creates a steady noise from you that even makes you relax enough to go into a meditative state. eyes open yet hooded to not let the muscles strain, darting to an ever-changing view of the clear weather.

the view changes from the fields to the buildings, before the tracks get covered by walls as the train goes underground. the light inside the car that was on before becomes more prominent. from the few stations the train has gone past, many people have come and gone. yet a small amount of them were sitting near where you and heeseung sit, both beside the two of you and on opposite seats. with the train moving around from side to side and all, one side of you is now stuck beside heeseung. skin on skin touch as you looked down to check on your backpack. lifting your head to the window now with the wall behind it, you find your reflection instead under the interior light. heeseung nods a little of his head alongside the music he is playing. behind the clear plastic part of the walkman, you recognized the breathe album of moonstruck. yet, you didn’t want to ask him about it like you used to.

after all, this is the last time you’ll be with him.

the train announces its arrival at the next station and you hear a stomach roaring. shifting your head, you looked down at heeseung, who had a hand on his abdomen. the rumbling sound still can pierce through the noisy train. his adam’s apple gulps when you raise your sight to meet his. a look of indifference meets with sheepishness that only he communicated with his eyes. you heard the next station announced once again as you felt the train slow down. your arm that was resting on your thigh grabs onto the nearest one of his as you pull his hand and backpack at the same time.

“getting off here?” he asks an obvious question as you tug one of the backpack straps on your shoulder. both of you now standing in front of the door.

“i know a place,” you replied as the door opened and both of you walked out of the train car.

the steps of the stairs added more to heeseung’s hunger as its sound echoed against the winding hallway towards the road. arriving there, you scan the surroundings that you are familiar with. one of the neighbourhoods near your old house from your last year of middle school that has everything. it has changed little from what you remember, only the appearances of fresh signs you haven’t seen to signs that were there that have vanished. the right amount of modern and traditional living at the same time with the lack of franchises. the sound of the zipper catches your attention as heeseung only holds his backpack before he places his hand back in yours like when you both traverse the way to the exit. scanning for the last time, you find a familiar street with a few of your favourite eateries as you gently pull him.

the shops you went by are mostly restaurants that have a bigger portion or price. knowing heeseung and your situation with how you both share foods, you can’t pick something too expensive even if it is making you both full. that is when you heard a small gasp coming from heeseung as you both arrived at your destination. it is filled with people but still has some seating room, especially a table that overlooks the street it is on. but when you turn your head, you catch heeseung’s wide eyes looking at the colourful packages inside on the shelves—predominantly red.

numerous packages of ramyeon from different brands. heeseung’s jaw dropped clear with the small gap between his lips as you could also feel your saliva gathering from the delicious food. you eyed a package of neoguri inside as an older woman helped to pick it up for the customer inside before said customer paid and went to the counter beside it with kitchenware from stove to knives.

you knew this place because you had walked past it before. but the reason you visited this place is the affinity the boy beside you has for ramyeon. you have caught on to the way he ate half of your lunch when it is ramyeon. how concentrated he is when he is eating it and how he drinks all the broth until it is spotless. with seoul and its modern antics, you knew that this would be a perfect place for heeseung to fill his appetite. and by his reaction, you’re right.

ringing comes from above the open door that heeseung pushed as you trail behind in to step into the store. the various smells of different brands of ramyeon waft the air inside the interior as steam can escape through the opening above the door and large window. the old woman behind the counter greets you as heeseung still looks behind at the shelves with any ramyeon he could ask for.

“um, can i get one shin ramyeon and one egg, please?” heeseung uttered his order first as the woman picked up said ramyeon and the egg in one swoop before placing it before heeseung.

“you’re both together?” the woman asks, picking up two pots and two sets of chopsticks. your eyes widened when you realized she referred to you, even though you stood behind heeseung. said boy turning his head as he points with his head movement.

“uh yes, ahjumeo-nim. um...” you marked the piece of neoguri that you’d been eyeing when you both stood behind the window, outside looking in.

“can i get the neoguri, please?”

“of course,” the woman says as she picks up the exact neoguri package and puts it inside the pot before you, right beside heeseung's. “any drinks you both want?”

“i would like a cider,” the boy replies.

“me too,” you added as the woman grabbed the two sprite cans and placed them alongside both of you. she eyed your order and told you the price. you looked at heeseung as you just remembered you didn’t bring your wallet—the fear of your money being picked up by seona and the others bubbling inside as you have experienced it before your second day in woonmyung high school. shifting your head, you instead found heeseung crouching down on the floor, opening his backpack as all you can see is the void before he pulls out 1000 won for both of your orders.

“thank you, young man. you cook your ramyeon on that side where we have the water jug and stoves for both of you. after finishing, move from the stove so that other customers can cook theirs too.”

“thank you, ahjumeo-nim,” both of you said together as you picked up the pan with the handles on each side. carrying it to the vacant stove right beside heeseung’s. setting it down on the stove, you pick up the jug to fill the pot according to your liking when you cook neoguri. the sound of the stove turning rings before you as you see the blueish-orange fire heating the water. turning your head, you find heeseung pouring the water into the jug carefully; measuring it with his eyes.

the boy then goes away for a bit as you observe the two boiling waters for cooking the noodles. then, heeseung returns with a bowl before placing it on the counter and cracking the egg in it. using his chopsticks in each hand, he breaks the egg yolk and mixes it up with both chopsticks twisting around in different paths.

“you’re making egg ramyeon?” his ear seemed to twitch as you could see that he was looking at it from the corner of his eyes.

“yeah. it’s my recipe for egg ramyeon- shit, almost forgot.” he drops the chopsticks as it leans against the bowl before he picks up the packet for the ramyeon seasoning and shakes it. his action makes you let out a pout as you did the same while ripping the packet and pouring your neoguri seasoning into the boiling water. heeseung follows before putting the empty packet on the ramyeon packaging beside the noodles waiting to be dumped in.

glancing at heeseung—who is still continuing to break his ramyeon—you dump your noodles inside your pot before stepping sideways so that you can step behind heeseung. grabbing the noodle on top of the package, you carefully put it inside the heeseung’s pot as you can’t help but touch his back because of it. his shoulders feel warm and comfortable even with that slide graze as you slip away as fast as you can because you have to stir your ramyeon so the noodles separate and cook evenly.

stirring the pot with your chopsticks, you glance at heeseung’s side to find him pausing for a few bits from stirring before he continues gently, stunned by your action that makes you a tad giddy inside.

“thanks,” he asks.

“no problem.” you eyed him and gave a small smile as you looked at his pot. one of his hands holding onto the chopstick as the other held the beaten egg-filled bowl.

“this makes it delicious.” heeseung declared as he felt you leaning in from your side. both of you looking at him gently flipping the bowl as the egg pours into the boiling soup. you eyed as the egg disappeared before, one by one, they all floated back to the surface. like clouds surrounding one side of the pot. you can’t help to look at heeseung’s face, finding the familiar determined expression alongside a little smirk on his lips, eyeing the noodles that he will devour when it is done cooking. you could hear your own stomach rumbling now as you looked at the mouth-watering sight of both of ramyeon getting cooked.

turning the knob for the stove, you picked up the handle so you don’t touch the hot wall of the pot before placing your ramyeon on the table overlooking the window. it snugs in the small part of the window where only two seats are available as you pick the seat that overlooks the street outside. the sound of the thud of your backpack hits the floor as you sit down, waiting for heeseung to settle down with his own belongings. the steam flies up from both of your pots as you mix the noodles and broth when a topic propels you to speak.

“can i try a bit of your ramyeon?”

the boy turns his head, a small smile growing on his face as he drops his backpack, “if i could also try yours.”

“deal.”

with your chopsticks, you pick up some of his noodles as he nudges the egg for you, making sure you pick it up. gently, you brought the ramyeon into your mouth as the hot temperature seems to be the right recipe to combat the wind that has been blowing you up. then, the spices came with the cooked egg neutralizing it.

“hmm!” you reacted, peeking at the boy who still had his smile as he picked up some neoguri noodles from your pot. nodding your head, you react to how perfectly the way the shin ramyeon melted on your tongue.

“it’s not overcooked. the noodle.”

“yeah, that’s why i have to get the right amount for the water,” he replies before slurping the neoguri like you do. carefully pushing the kelp slice in as he chewed and let out a groan. “yours are good too,” he replied whilst covering his lips, not wanting his saliva to fly everywhere.

“yours is better.” you answered as you opened your can of cider before taking a gulp down. “you cooked ramyeon often?”

he wipes his lips with a napkin provided on the table as he opens his mouth and closes it again, hesitating.

“i, uh...” he tried to stop himself from chuckling before continuing, “i had to, honestly.”

“oh?” your eyebrows furrowed.

“yeah...” heeseung closes his eyes, giving a push so that it covers tightly before opening, “i don’t have that much pocket money with all with eunho but...” he lets out a silent sigh, “also with my parents as well.”

a pout forms on your lips as you both devour your ramyeons respectively, you’re facing the window as you observe people living their lives, still reserving your hearing for heeseung’s story which you remain quiet so he can speak at his own pace. because you understand that. no one has ever stopped to listen to you before, so you want to do that to others as well. hopefully.

“my parents are still together, but it’s just, they had me young. like our age.” heeseung uses his pointer finger to move to point between himself and you, “and they’re in their 30s and i’m a teenager, and i have a newborn little brother. and they...”

the boy slurps up a few noodles before using the spoon to drink the broth, letting out a satisfying sigh before his expression returns, “well, the consequence of having young parents is that they aren’t fully ‘grown up’ when they have me.” he drops his hand from making the air quotes. “so i grew up with parents who had fun. so much fun. i was five when i stumbled upon them arriving home as i was getting a drink from the kitchen. they had this wretched scent on them that when i grew up, i realized it was alcohol and weed smell.”

you glimpse at him, your head twisted towards him to let you know that you’ve been listening the whole time. “so, i don’t grow up with much care from them. had to resort to ramyeon to satisfy my need. but i grew up, and they also grew up. their jobs become even more stable. and then my mom got pregnant again last year. and so, heechan was born. my little brother.”

taking a breather for himself as he eats. you rub your hand on your head—feeling along with the frustration that you can assume will get worse as he continues.

“they have a stable income now and my baby brother was born and i just can notice the difference. heechan got new things and is coddled because he is that young which i acknowledge. but, my parents took care of him, and seemed to, i guess, forget about me. like they are a trio of family, the real family, and i was just there. like a fucking mistake they had no choice but to give money to so that at least i don’t fucking die in their care.” he lets out a scoff and shakes his head, thinking of how ridiculous it must be to be jealous of a fucking baby.

“so, i had no choice but to resort to ramyeon almost all the time until someone back home made enough homemade food. parents give me a good amount of pocket money but...” his eyes move to capture yours in contact, “you know who i am friends with.”

you nod your head, continuing to eat as your creased eyebrows area still hasn’t gone relaxing once again. the way the boy seemed to let go of a bit of control in the middle makes another squeeze of your heart clear. neglection is the topic that bruises you as you have your fair share of neglection as well.

“well, you made killer ramyeons though, heeseung. and you should know about that.” he giggles at your statement, before letting out a small ‘thank you’ as you both continue to eat.

his words stuck in your mind as it is such a familiar story, albeit with the different details of yours; you noted that both of you are different sides of the same coin. yet, the awkward silence lingers between the two of you as you finish both of your meals—knowing just how bleak your situation is because you don’t know how to reply to his words. in pity? empathic? you don’t know. as you take another sip of your neoguri broth, only a few millimetres are left inside the pot as you can see the bottom of its surface. you glance at heeseung’s pot to find it also emptied before looking up to meet his face. even with a slight gesture with your head nodding to the door, he catches your thinking and nods his head.

you stack up his pot onto yours and help clean the table where you both eat as the boy stands beside you waiting, but you feel his gaze on you as you finish up. the breeze of the open air hits you as you step outside the restaurant, your mind determining the way to go as you catch the footsteps of heeseung following right behind you. it takes a few strides before heeseung can keep up with your pace, both of you walking side by side with nowhere to go except the direction you picked. but, the silence lets you enjoy more of what this part of seoul has. even if you aren’t here that much when you move in near the neighbourhood, it is still the most peaceful neighbourhood you’ve been to.

turning your head side by side randomly, your eyes caught onto one store as your movement paused. heeseung, who was still walking, had turned his head to see your stopped figure, before returning to stand beside you. then, he realizes what stopped you.

you strolled forward one foot at a time before stepping onto the step that houses the door that you had to push open. a smooth jazz song plays as you step into the room. the walls are a mix of plain painted alongside one that is just collages of musician posters. racks stand at the centre of the room, housing pressed vinyl discs covered with sleeves of colourful pictures. it’s different from those large cd stores you visited when you searched for the next disc to play on your walkman. smaller, intimate. yet, the aura is still familiar to you.

the people who are walking are mostly older than you, showing the generation and technology differences between you and them. most of the sleeves you’ve seen are of genres you rarely listened to. jazz, soul, funk. and then you approached the rock and alternative section and you found artists you’ve recognized. it is ordered in the alphabet but certain musicians have a section based on them, even based on one of their releases. a certain album caught your eye, bigger than what you used to see.

“hmm...” you chuckle as you pick up the sleeve from the rack, letting you observe the people sitting down on the sofa with the black background.

“the cranberries?” heeseung reads the name, now standing beside you, leaning to look at the album you are holding. you turned the sleeve around to read the recognizable tracklist.

“i own the cd for this album. i maybe played it so much that if i don’t take care of it, it might have scratches.” you chuckle as you trace the list of songs with your fingertip, stopping on each song as you can hear the certain tune playing from your memory.

“music has been the only thing that kept me grounded throughout all of this.” you blink away when you feel the strain from staying eye contact for a long time, finding the boy beside you from the corner of your eyes. “you know, from moving around so much and with the situation i am in.”

“how many times have you moved?” heeseung questioned, his hands also reaching out to study the rack in front of him.

“much more than you can imagine. it started in fourth grade and every year since then, i moved around. mostly throughout seoul and the towns near it. that is before we had to get farther out and that is why i moved to woonmyung for my second year of high school.” you mentioned the name of your high school; your mind too tired to even add the high school at the end because you have too many schools to be added into your catalogue.

“the thing is the reason i move around is very unconventional. my parents aren’t part of law enforcement or military where they have to move. they’re just... i don’t know. a corporate employee? con people? i can’t pinpoint.” you sighed as you felt your shoulders relaxing.

“is your family the one who moved to that big house near the field?”

you put the cranberries vinyl back into the rack as you hummed whilst nodding your head. slowly, a smile grows on your face as you turn your head to heeseung, “what, what other things have you discovered?”

heeseung scratches his nape before replying, “that that family- well, your family was running away from something. that your family was filthy rich and that people wanted to get a piece of something. like people our age too, greedy for more money and all. that you are a genius.”

you chuckle, taking in the rumours of your family in clarity and succinct manner other than the many whispers you always received as no one ever dared to even confront you about. to challenge the truth when a reliable witness is there all along.

“well, to clarify, if i may,” you turn your whole body towards heeseung, “i’m not a genius. i don’t know how it came to be of the rumour. i’ve overheard people talk about me being ranked first in my school or whatnot and it’s just plain false. my scores are shitty until now because of the multiple people stealing my homework to claim it as theirs. i realized that people mentioning me for having the first rank would then put more targets behind me. and so... well it does alongside everything else.” you nip your bottom lip after finishing your monologue as you walk around the section where you did. finding more of the alternative artists you usually listen to before caressing your hand to move the vinyl around so you could see the familiar and unfamiliar album covers.

“and, with my family, there is truth in there.” you started, peeking from the corner of your eyes to watch heeseung’s eyebrows lift with a slight pout on his lips. “the reason we moved around so much is the people my parents owe to. when we moved around a lot, we had to work in tandem to move important items and all of that. so, it’s not a surprise when i found out my parents’ collection of letters from banks, debt collectors, and all that. so, i choose and read them cause i realize that they’re not opened for a reason.”

you chuckled, “i heard the stories of their glory days when dad had this stable high-paying corporate job. i was so young back then that only vivid memories played in my head when i remembered it. but they can’t keep up with it after dad was fired and ended up splurging with their money, trying to keep up with their socialite lifestyle. when i found some random men on the living room couch after getting back home from school, i realized how much greed had gotten into them. we had to move the next day and i can assume it’s because of the men who visited the other day.”

eyes moving around the shelf, you landed on the rack that had the label m on it as you approached. you pushed the vinyl back to the rack when you looked down to see the ever-so-familiar name of mazzy star. “it’s the reason i don’t show any of that side about my family even if they want to. that wealth which then can be referred to as their con lifestyle. but, i usually got the brunt of it, anyway. how could i not when i have to get out almost every time? not because of school, but also how suffocating living with them is. that’s why i settle with music playing and eyes on the computer and living my day like that.” you shift your head towards heeseung as the last of your words.

his figure approaches you as he leans in, eyeing the album cover before noticing the band name that is etched on the cover. “oh mazzy star! i just gotten to know them, from the space station.”

“space station?” you asked back.

“the moonstruck fan i mentioned to you before. there’s been discussion of the music inspirations or people that are in the same realm as moonstruck. mazzy star is one of them. we called it the celeste aura. the music is magical enough it transcends space, otherworldly.” heeseung explains as he pulls out the mazzy star album.

“because of that, i got into mazzy star. though you can feel the difference between them being a bit more folk than moonstruck’s rock. but, i like it.”

your eyes blinked as you looked down at the album in his hand, a smile growing on your lips as your mind whirled about the information and what to say next when it came back to you, “well if i want to add to the list of artists that has the same aura, i would say the cranberries. it’s the right combination of dreamy but also grounded, and then it is a gateway to other bands similar to them like slowdive. though, i agree with what you say that moonstruck seems to be much more elevated.”

heeseung chuckles after flipping the sleeve to the back side, scanning the track list before looking upwards to the window to see how the sky has become the orange of twilight. you heard the short ringtone playing from his phone as he picked it up and observed the message. typing back, you pick up the familiar clicking noise of the phone’s keyboard as heeseung spells out his answer.

“my mom asked me if i could take care of heechan for a bit. i, uh, agree but said to her i was playing pretty far from home so-“

“we should head back then.” your eyebrows furrowed as you looked at the text from the small screen.

“yeah. i’m sorry that i cut this part short-“

“no, no, that’s okay.” you reached out to him, feeling your hand landed on his upper arm as if to stop him from looking away. you felt the warmth travelling to your palm as you let go of him. that’s when you sensed a sigh on your face as you continued to peer at him. blinking away, you let out a small smile as you shifted your head towards the entrance and heeseung followed with a nod.

walking towards the train station, you and heeseung stood side by side as even a graze of you against each other made you both giggle. then, you use your power to nudge him harder and he has an offended look on his face as you take a few strides away from him before he catches your hand and pulls you back beside him. you give him a side eye as it’s his turn to push you around playfully across the empty street. the walk continues as you recognized the familiar sight of stores nearby the station. but you paused your body once again as you read the signage in front of you.

“body piercings and tattoos. walk-ins welcome.”

it is a desire of yours to want piercings. you’ve seen girls who wear beautiful earrings on their earlobes and you used to have those but the holes close in on themselves when it has been a long time of not using a pair. you wanted a familiar ear piercing but also a different one, but either the time or place didn’t match up with you so you haven’t gotten time to actually do it.

that is when a shadowy figure goes past in front of you and approaches the open door to the establishment. following it, you watch the familiar backside with the light blue shirt stepping into the shadows as you can’t help but follow him, going up the stairs before he grazes open the frail curtain that lets you see the place. it has many drawings stuck onto the walls and a leaning chair by the window before it stretches back to the other side of the room where a hallway leads to other rooms.

“hi guys,” a young man spoke up from behind the desk. his arm has tattoos all over it and a few piercings on his face and ears. your eyes focused on the miniature ear on top of the reception counter, seeing the many piercings on it of all variations.

“you have booked an appointment?”

“no, i’ve seen that you accept walk-ins,” heeseung replied on your behalf before looking at your side who is staring at the pierced ear displayed.

“i would like to get a piercing,” he replies, making you lift your eyebrows as you turn your head towards him.

“and her?”

“oh,” you felt an arm warped around your shoulder bringing you closer. “she’s with me.”

“y-yeah. i would like a piercing too,” you replied.

“great!” the man said as he wrote something before standing up and leading you towards the area by the window. you and heeseung sat beside each other as he asked, “what piercing do you want?”

“um, can i get one right here?” you ask as you pinch your left ear on the place that you want. having seen people having this specific piercing makes you want to have one for yourself.

“a helix piercing. what about you, man?”

“i’ll get the same one but on my right ear.” you turned your head towards heeseung as he continued to look forward.

“nice. well, do you both want to have the same piercing?” the man stands up and he picks up the piercing gun and alcohol wipes.

“yeah, if you want to.” you realise he was referring to you as you face him and nod your head.

looking at the catalogue of ear piercings available, your eyes landed on one with a star on the front. pointing towards the pair, heeseung nods his head as you show it to the man. that’s when he also asks, “how long does it take for it to heal? i’ll probably want to change piercing to a hoop one right after.”

“well, helix piercings usually take pretty long for it to heal around 6 to 9 months. i’ll give you two an ointment that will help with soothing the skin from the pain,” the man replies as you nod your head. he then drags a rolling chair to the seat in front of you both.

“who wants to go first?”

you and heeseung looked at each other with small smiles on your faces before heeseung spoke up, “i can go first.”

the rolling chair moves in front of heeseung as you notice something on your hand. looking down, you could feel his fingers slotting in between yours as you turned your head to see heeseung moving his head. his eyes looking right at you as he blinks, perceiving the alcohol wipe on the helix part of his right ear.

“take a deep breath,” the man says as heeseung curls his fingers into your hand, making you do the same as you try to distract him. the sudden hard grip on your head combines with a slight hiss coming from him as the man goes to the back of heeseung’s ear to screw the piercing up.

“you didn’t bleed, but you might feel your ear getting warmer. let me move to your girl.” the man spoke out so nonchalantly that you can’t help your cheeks warming up by the words. your ears were already heated, so when you felt the cold alcohol wipe, you nearly jumped out of your seat. but heeseung held you down as you turned your head to face him once again.

“you’re gonna be okay,” he mumbled, your grip on his hand tightening as you sensed heeseung brushing the back of your hand, soothing you as you looked at him.

“take deep a breath,” and a quick pierce on the skin follows it. your hands gripping onto him as you breathe out.

the interlocking hands didn’t let go as heeseung paid for the piercings to the man. it doesn’t let go as you meet the purple sky of the outside world, walking down the pavement. it doesn’t let go as you find yourselves on the train station’s platform, both of your heads looking at the track where the next set of trains will come and pick you up. and it doesn’t let go as you hear the beautiful vocalization by moonstruck. both of your bodies remain in mercy to the moving train as you have your head leaning against him.

he offered it, actually. heeseung knows that with your headset, it will be uncomfortable for you to wear it and listen to your cd. even with the littlest amount of moments that still feel so large, you would not take this opportunity for granted. but truthfully, you hoped that this little trip would change his mind. that all you had to do to complete it is to tell him you’re going to be more careful, more aware, for his and your own sake in the eyes of his “friends”, to not let them see you both associating with each other.

heeseung rested his head on the window behind him, making both he and you watch the sunset around the field outside. moonstruck’s music becomes the perfect background as you are in a meditative state. the grip of the interlocking fingers is a little loose to let both of your hands breathe, but still with both curled fingers for both of you.

“(y/n)?”

“yes?” you lifted your head, turning to face him.

“do you want to go to my place? just so that i have someone to look out for heechan? i can bring you home too right after.” his voice was gentler with a little raspiness to it.

you try to not the corner of your lips lift too high as you stare at him, nodding your head as he replies with his own smile before he brings his arm behind your shoulders and lets you lay your head back on his shoulder—lasting until you arrived at the train station for your town.

shadows cast from both of you because of the streetlights above, walking in the dark towards heeseung’s home with your interlocked hands and shared earbuds. heeseung seems to bring you through alternative routes to avoid the busier places where he and you both know that they will be there eating or just hanging out. so you breathe out in relief when you sense your walking pace slowing down.

in front of you is a quaint house with an open gravelled parkway for a car to park. you instead only found a bicycle with a manageable look, crooked on the front part but still is rideable. heeseung guides you to the front door as he slowly opens the door. the sound of the running tap water rings from another part of the house whilst you take your shoes off. he then guides you towards a partly open door and pushes it, letting you look at the dimly lit room and the screensaver from a computer set adding colour.

“heeseung?” someone calls for him as far as the running tap.

“stay here. i’ll be right back,” the boy answers as he steps out to meet with the person who called him. because of that, this is a perfect opportunity for you to observe his room. the first thing you notice is the large moonstruck poster beside his desk. an image you have seen before sticking onto the sides of the building back when you lived in seoul. you can definitely feel the eagerness that you received from heeseung when he talks about moonstruck reflected in this very space. a shelf stands tall as a familiar case shows its image to you, letting you see the moonstruck and nexus’ cds he has, but also the cd of artists you’ve spotted have similarities to them, evidently with the mazzy star cd.

you turned your head when you picked up the sound of a closed door and a shadow by the room’s window of a woman stepping away in heels and what you can assume as going out clothes. you turned your head once again and saw heeseung’s head peeking inside the room from the door which startled you.

“he’s ready.”

nipping your lip; you carefully walked towards the living room as you heard a sigh, then a little exclamation. sitting in front of the couch and on top of a blanket rested a baby boy. his limbs wide stretch as his gigantic eyes stare at you and at heeseung, who sits beside you. with a baby bottle ready, heeseung lifts the baby up and holds it comfortably with his hands on the baby’s waist and resting him on his thigh.

“this is heechan.” heeseung says with a much brighter tone like the one that you only caught when he laughs. “and this is (y/n). you can call her noona when you’re a little older. hi noona!” heeseung lifts baby heechan’s arms to create a wave, making you approach closer to the kid.

slowly, you kneeled down in front of the two. your eyes staring at the little hand with a pout formed on your lips. “hi heechan.” you replied while waving your hand in rhythm with the baby. then, you push your open palm forward, making heeseung put his brother’s hand onto your palm. the size difference makes you silently coo, your eyes watering and your vision blurry. taking a sharp breath, you blink it away and give a gentle smile as you also catch the baby giggling. you looked up to be in eye contact with the older brother, a smile etched on his face as he let go of the baby’s hand; letting him drag his hand on your palm until it came in contact with your finger, wrapping it around it tightly.

chuckles come from both of you as you turn your body so you can comfortably look at your phone without bothering them. the time is nearly 7 at night and you know you can’t stay here longer.

“i have to go.” you looked at heeseung and your finger wrapped around heechan’s hand.

“let us bring you back then.”

“are you sure? didn’t your mom give you some tasks to do with heechan?”

heeseung scoffs before answering, “just taking care of him. she’s heading out to meet her friends. it’s what she always asks me to do when she wants to go out. i’ll let her and dad too, of course. i’ll let them have fun and enjoy their life too.”

your shoulders sag as you take in his answer, looking away as you recalibrate all of this. he did promise to bring you back—and you also see heechan’s eye smile as if he knows he will go outside. you nodded for the answer.

the streetlights line up the empty streets that encompass heeseung’s neighborhood. you with your school backpack tug behind while heeseung’s upper body is wrapped around with a cloth long enough to carry heechan against him—as if it is a thing his mom asked him to learn too. looking downwards, you see how heechan’s legs wiggle in excitement as his head is tilted back. eyes shining on both the lit lights but also the moon that decorates the raven sky.

“heechan seems happy,” you commented as heeseung chuckled.

“he’s always happy when he gets a chance to go out of the house.”

“he doesn’t?” heeseung turns his head to face you, walking in tandem as he thinks about the answer to your query.

“only when he has to go to check-ups. mom and dad also don’t have that much time to bring him outside. so i’m usually the one to do so. we hang around by the fields, mostly. this is the first one he goes out at night. usually, he gets sleepy after i give him his food.”

his answer seeps down into your mind as you nod. you let out an enormous sigh as you continue to walk in silence. the step and little drag of footsteps decorating the atmosphere alongside the busy lit-up signs coming from the different blocks that still have their shops open. yet you both walk farther from it, heading to your house that is near the outskirts of where civilisation dimmers. a house with hedges surrounded by fields and a view of a transmission tower a little farther down the road.

“i’m glad that none of us gets called today.” your lips pour out the thoughts that have been clouding your mind.

“what?”

“you too, right? eunho calls you to come to him anytime?” you ask, testing your hypothesis. but when he seems reluctant to answer. you decide to open up about your side.

“seona too. she usually calls around 4 to 5 near the sunset. i had to go to her, with my bags full of paper filled with the homework for next week so she and the rest could copy that. or even stealing them, for that matter. then, i-“ heeseung gazes as you paused, a slow blink coming from you before you continue, “they usually forced me to do something for them. cleaning their shoes mostly. treating them food while i will stand aside and watch them eat.”

“and you don’t deny them?” heeseung asks back, a question that seemed to affect him with the way his eyebrows furrowed and his nostrils flared just a bit.

“i, well, truthfully, i can’t.” you force yourself to say the truth that you want to cover up with some obnoxious reply. but, heeseung just gives off the right aura to make you tell him. maybe because he is also experiencing the same thing.

“you have to know, people are not really keen on me. even those in my previous schools. it’s a cycle, if i can define it. the same thing happens every time i move schools even with different flavours from each of them.” you scratch your head, wanting to feel the invading thoughts go away. a huge exhale comes out of you once again as you both take the walk approaching a street that goes to the outskirts of the neighborhood. standing alone in the middle of the fields is a house lit up behind hedges of leaves.

you both step into the darkness as heechan’s face is covered with shadows; letting him see more of the stars shine bright, taking dominance from the artificial lights.

“i’m glad that they seem to not want us to go to them today. it’s nice to not think about her and all the things i haven’t done to please her,” you concluded, pouting your lips as you also looked upwards like heechan, finding the sprinkles of stars adding to the majestic sight of the moon and the night sky. heeseung seemed to not reply to the answer that you wanted, and so, you just let him walk with you—side by side—until you arrived at the front of your carpool that still goes deeper into where your house stands.

the lone streetlight perfectly shows people is living here. you turn your body to face heeseung as you slowly step back before pausing.

“thanks...” you remarked.

“what for?” his eyebrows lifted.

“granting that wish of mine. I know you might go to the rooftop less because i understand your situation. it’s better if we go our separate ways rather than make these whole things happening to each of us worse.” you replied with a steady voice, hoping that it was stable enough that he couldn’t hear the little trembles on some words you’ve spoken.

heeseung replied with a small smile on his face as you also etched yours on your face before fixing your hair, letting the light refract on the piercing on your ear like he has on his own. so you turned your body around to head down the path to your front door.

“hey, (y/n)!”

you paused, turning your head to peer behind your shoulder.

“i’m not going anywhere. you still have to put the ointment that i’m holding for your piercing.”

you giggled at his proposition. turning around to face him again as heechan is also looking at you with a little pout of his own.

“okay,” you replied before turning your head as heeseung stopped you once again.

“and we haven’t shared our phone contacts yet.”

“oh yeah!” you approach him as you tug your phone out of the skirt pocket. the silver strap shining as it reflects the light from the streetlamp. you step to stand beside heeseung as you open the new contact. the boy said his numbers one by one as you pressed the key of the keyboard, heechan’s eyes staring at your nimble fingers before he let out a small shriek to see them move.

“done and i’m sending you a text.” a chime came from heeseung’s pocket after what you said while stepping back.

“thank you. and one last thing?” heeseung cuts your movement once again.

“yes?” you pushed your tongue to the wall of your cheek, holding back a cheeky laugh at his action.

“you want to go to the fields with me?”

eyebrows raised, you take in his request as you remember he mentioned it as the place he usually goes out with heechan.

“you shared your side of seoul with me. so i think you might want to know what i do with my pastime,” the boy added, his adam’s apple moving as he gulped. you let out a tight-lip smile whilst thinking back to what occurred between the two of you today. your eyes looking down at the hand that was holding yours almost all the time when you both head back to your town. the connection between you two feels more and more like a chemical reaction that can be bombastic.

“let me know when through sms,” you replied and watched as his smile widened. his eyes are also smiling, just like his little brother does before he stops himself and glances back at you with a sheepish smile on his face.

“alright.”

“okay.” you answered his answer, tilting your head to signal to your house. “good night, heeseung.” your farewell reaches him even as you step backwards. your eyes staring one last time at the brothers who are staring at you. little heechan waved his hand as heeseung looked at you before you turned around to head into your house.

you beeline straight to your room, putting your backpack on the bed as you look at your minimalist room with only a few posters that survived on every move of your interests. eyeing the computer on the desk, you grab your headset from the walkman and go to the desk, putting it gently so that it doesn’t press onto your pierced helix, plugging it into the cpu before you open the music player.

as you press play, the sound of a familiar dreamy song reminds you of the boy with his own ear piercing showing up in your head, letting you let out a small smile as you open the browser of the world wide web.

-

《this is not a drill》 《this is real》 《moonstruck is releasing a new album in a couple of days》 《from: silver

《oh my gosh! oh my gosh! oh my gosh!》 《from: 1004

《i will make a new thread on the forum to discuss the new album》 《so that it doesn’t crowd this side where we talked about general things》 《from: pearl

《thanks, pearl!》 《from: silver

《thank you once again, pearl!》 《i will discuss anything about this album as new information comes out》 《from: 1004

heeseung eyes the texts between the three users as he can’t help the giddiness flowing inside him. it’s not the first time he had ever been there since the beginning of a moonstruck release. he was there when breathe was released, but a surprise release like this sends his expectations high. yet, he knows that moonstruck will not disappoint. and he knows he can now share his giddiness with like-minded people.

he knows he had to share this information with you as soon as possible. yet, something about you is also pressing into his mind. something that he needed someone to help untangle. someone who won’t make fun of him for expressing his feelings unlike eunho, youngbin, and the others.

《i’ve been having a predicament》 《someone in my life has been opening up about their life to me》 《it is very personal and i notice we have similarities in how the world treated us》 《i introduced moonstruck to them and they seemed so happy with it》 《whenever we listen to her together》 《but》 《i am hesitating if i should reciprocate》 《from: bambi

heeseung sighs as he awaited for a reply. but when a minute passed, he knew it wouldn’t come. everybody seems to move to the other thread to discuss the new moonstruck album. he wanted to move there too, of course. but then he won’t see if anyone replied to him.

then his eyes flick to the chat portion of the screen when a line of text shows up underneath his lines.

《that’s a dilemma for sure》 《have you opened up to them as well?》 《from: silver

《yeah, i did》 《i mostly talked about the reasoning why i could make a great ramyeon》 《from: bambi

《ramyeon seems so good for a late-night snack》 《and that’s good on your part》 《you have opened up to them》 《why still hesitating?》 《from: silver

heeseung stared at the last sentence silver gave to him. words clouding his mind as he tried to piece them up to create cohesion.

《i guess i don’t want them to rid of the persona of me they see because of it》 《they’re so nice and gentle》 《from: bambi

《seems to me they see you as a companion, bambi》 《from: pearl

《i agree with pearl》 《you have opened up to them and they have opened wider to you》 《why not go all the way?》 《from: silver

《if it does well》 《from: bambi

《i feel that it will do well based on what i’ve read》 《maybe introduce them to something that you usually do》 《maybe you can tell them about the new moonstruck album since they seemed to enjoy her as well》 《make a space for both of you to talk about anything》 《from: pearl

that could work. heeseung remembers his promise to you for that field. he wants to share that side of him with you. the side of him which encompasses all of his feelings into one activity of the day as he refreshes his mind while listening to moonstruck. maybe he could invite you to do the same.

《i will plan for that》 《thank you to both silver and pearl》 《from: bambi

《of course, bambi :)》 《from: pearl

《you’re welcome, bambi》 《hope it goes well between the two of you》 《from: silver

the next day at school, all heeseung can focus on is the back of your head. it is leaning down, writing both the written and verbal explanations given by your teacher in front of the class. in small glances, he could catch eunho sometimes looking at you, but also seona a few seats at the front. when he had done his task, heeseung had no other activity but to “hang out” with the boys—usually sitting in silence as he let the vulgar conversation bounce between the other boys in the background of the waste dumping site.

there he caught onto a few other things that eunho has the boys do for financial gain. sometimes, girls will come to their hideout alongside youngbin. they all are in the same shirt uniform as the one he usually wears, but creases form in them like they do in the frowns on their faces. youngbin then gave them a thick envelope for eunho to open and find a stack of money. said boy split it up, giving little to the girls before they stepped aside. with the pattern forming the conclusion itself and the time that he had seen one girl he recognizes out and about with a man much older than her and himself, he realizes these girls were doing so to get paid under eunho’s command.

but the same vulgar words were sometimes related to you. he had read the letter that eunho gave to you back on your first day when he saw it peeking from your desk’s doorless drawer. his eyes scanned the words written in familiar handwriting, making him clench his hand to close them against this palm, tearing the paper. it reminds him of how eunho usually refers to “the girl”. there are so many girls that he can talk about using that phrase, but eunho knew of these girls’ names when they came to give him the money. and so, he had associated that eunho was talking about you; and heeseung is forced to listen to it.

it’s the reason he is hesitating to tell you. to want to avoid you as best as possible. yet, it only lessens. the rooftop is still a sacred place for the two of you. sharing the ointment that could help with both of your ear piercings, head nodding to the song playing on heeseung’s walkman of your cd collection you brought home. cds that remind him of moonstruck such as the cranberries and mazzy star. and, sometimes, you place your head on his shoulder like two connecting puzzle pieces while cigarette smoke rises in front of the two of you and your fingers give him the cigarette stick for him to hold between his lips.

it’s the same thing as today. he peeks from the corners of his eyes to watch you drag another smoke. the fire on the blunt flares up as it burns more and more of the outside layer.

“hey,” heeseung cuts off the silence.

“hmm?” you peek from the corner of your eyes just like him.

“i still want to bring you to the field, you know? do you have time today?”

looking elsewhere, your eyes flicker back to him as you flick the ash from the burning cigarette, a small smile on your face. “i have nothing to do after this. so yeah.”

“great. i’ll see you by the gate after the class finishes?”

“always.” you give him a thin smile. his eyes examining how your own are looking downwards. the way you had to hold your face from smiling wider made him smile instead, nudging his shoulder against yours as you both burst into giggles.

heeseung stepped aside by the main gate as he looked back to the class building, eyes scanning every person who went in front of him until his eyes landed on the girl that had been running around his mind for a month now. you who walked with a sense of timidness, your eyes looking around the people around you as you had this neutral face that did not allow people to read. yet, heeseung can read it. he walked like that before, anxiety coursing through his veins, as he had to stay aware. and when you catch his eyes, a small smile grows as you quicken your step to reach him.

watching you make his heartache as he looked at your bandaged limbs and reality hits. how could someone hurt a person this innocent? you don’t even try to bother other people with the stories you told him, but they still see you as inconvenient. someone that could be ruled over. that and the stories you’ve told before on how you moved around, not able to create a stable support system outside of your forsaken family. it’s also how you opened up to him, recognizing the similar agony that washed over the two of you.

heeseung had to scramble his mind once again, repeating every sentence that he had practised by himself, every scenario that could happen after he told you. he used to seek help, seek comfort in other people such as eunho back when they were still “friends” and civil. he remembered a trip he, eunho, youngbin, and the boys had when they were having their summer break back in middle school. using their saved money to actually head to jeju island. no parents are involved. just a bunch of boys having fun and forgetting every single problem they have here. torments that clouded every single one until it succumbed to eunho too at the end of the trip, changing him into the best friend heeseung ever had to his primary tormentor instead. because of that, he never seeks help again. until you reach out with your story to him.

“where to go?” you stood in front of him, making him startled as you let out a chuckle reserved only for him. instead of pointing and saying the direction of his usual resting place, he holds onto your hand and tangles them in each other, pulling you to walk beside him as he throws away the worries even for just a moment.

a few roads taken, he brought you to the beginning of the fields. the tall emerald green grass blown by the breeze that also reaches him. he brought the steps to a stop, observing the way the grasses moved about following where the wind came from. heeseung senses the heaviness in his lungs washes away as he takes a deep breath and exhales. a gentle brush against his pierced ear makes him focus on his hearing—catching a large exhale coming from beside him as well.

“this is breathtaking,” you mumble to yourself. his head turns as look at your face. the timidness is long gone as you let yourself relax. your hands wrapped with each other still as he guides you on the narrow asphalt road before heading to the side, the grassy patch that slopes down towards the field.

letting your hand go, you followed his movement as he sat down on the patch—legs curled as he rested the soles of his feet on the slope, allowing him to rest his hands on his thighs. you let your legs outstretched as if you’re a child waiting to be pushed down on the playground slide. your eyes follow heeseung’s hands who reach for his backpack and pull out his trusty cd walkman, giving one wired bud to you as he puts one for himself. his thumbs press against the rewind button. the sound of the cd spinning before it stops: signalling him to press play.

taking in the music, you both stayed quiet as heeseung took in the familiar view. the clear blue sky is decorated with thin clouds. kites flying at the back of his view near the large electrical tower that reaches to touch the space above. its large wires holding onto the other towers stretched further away from both of you. when he shifted his vision, you already had your eyes closed, a sway from your head before you opened your eyelid slowly, blinking twice before turning your head to meet him.

“this is what i usually do when i have no other things to do. moonstruck and the fields,” he mumbles. his hands holding each other as the walkman rested against his thigh.

“it’s genuinely nice. i can see why heechan seems to like it so much.” he chuckled as you remembered the brief mention of when he usually brought heechan here with him.

and it goes quiet once again. you both letting the ends of your outfit flutter against your skin, not minding that your bottoms will be grimy from the dirt.

“eunho and i are, well, were friends.” heeseung pushes out the first sentence he has to make you know, eyes slightly tilted so he can read your reaction. “we’re friends from middle school. we joined taekwondo together and met the rest of our friends there. he was actually a smart kid, ranked top 5 back in his elementary school and he also got bullied for that.”

“he was there for me and i was there for him.” the boy spoke, his face continuing to grimace as he recalled how everything was wonderful for younger him. “that is until this trip we had when we all went to jeju island. eunho was richer than all of us. his parents owned a manufacturing company operating in this very town. on that trip, he learned his mom was cheating with his dad’s best friend when his dad called him about their divorce proceedings. after that call, he swims in the ocean alone in front of where we and the guide were hanging about.”

heeseung closes his eyes and tightens them until he can only see the darkness before he opens them again, “the waves were crashing hard and he was pushed to the shore, unconscious. the guide gave him cpr as i stood aside, worrying for the first person i ever labelled as my friend. he coughed up the salt water and i noticed how his eyes were tearing up. it is because of pain, but there is also something else. that accident happened one day before we went back and on our last night there, he isolated himself. the next morning, he became reckless. like something stretches his self-control, and then it snapped. and it escalates.”

the boy wiggles his thumbs with each other, licking his drying lips. “the first day of school after that trip, he tackled our school bully, who has been insulting me, him, and the others since our first year. i stood beside him as eunho was looking at the field that was just mud from the rain last night. the bully stands there naked and covered with mud. ‘he has to act like a pig for being the pig he is’ he said. that’s when I realized eunho was not the friend i once knew. and i stay by him until now.” he peeks at you as you nibble on your bottom lip.

“then why didn’t you stay away from him?” your soft voice speaks out with your eyebrows furrowed.

heeseung can only sigh after he picked the sentences that he knew you might ask. after asking the people on the space station forum, he had to reflect on himself. he knew that staying by eunho’s side hurt him much more than when he realized he changed three years ago, and it escalated more and more. but he realized the reasons were simple for a situation so complex.

“eunho still looks at me as a “friend”, well, crony. he gives the other task to get him money that will also help with our meals and he needs it fast. that’s why he makes us to do some shit. mostly porch stealing and shoplifting. but he also had girls under his grasp, working after school to meet with older guys to give him money." heeseung shakes his head, reacting to the words he uttered himself and how ridiculous it sounds, “other than that, it’s better to side with him rather than being solo. the other students already refer to me as eunho’s friend and they can’t let that nickname go no matter how much i’ve been avoiding him. more bullies exist in our school, even the year above us and under us. if i’m alone, i’m more prone to being bullied further. it’s just that the bullies who bullied us are the top of the top in woonmyung high school.”

moonstruck’s voice continues on in the background of the conversation. the worry on your face changed into sorrow as your chest takes in the air rapidly. the shining sun reflects its light into your pupil, letting him watch the way your eyes glisten. heeseung raises his arms to wrap around your shoulders as he brings you closer to him. your head tilted as it rests against his shoulder before you turn your head to the sleeve of his shirt. sniffles come from you as he can’t help to feel it as well. his eyes looking somewhere else as he tried to balance out the explosion of emotion he is feeling.

“i feel so sorry for you,” you mumbled before leaning back so you could glance at him. a small smile formed on his face.

“i feel so sorry for you, too.” heeseung replied, “but when you told me about your situation, it made me want to open up too. i just can’t let you bear that burden on me when you open yourself to me so easily.”

“it’s not easy for me at all,” you nip your bottom lip, “i- i find you comfortable to talk about this because i saw myself in you. the similarities of our situation and all that. i know i can see myself as a friend of yours, bonding about our suffering.”

the boy gives such a face that makes you cower away. that is when he cups your jaw and makes you return to him once again.

“thank you for trusting me,” he said, his thumb caressing the apple of your cheek.

“thank you for also letting me hear your story.”

heeseung’s smile grows as he continues to stare at the beautiful view, the lingering heaviness still evident and how it crawls towards you as well. “you know? there’s something that i usually do to get rid of this feeling.”

“yeah?”

he hums to answer, nibbling his lip as he turns to you. “cover your ear for this.”

squinting your eyes, you let your hand reach up to cover your other ear, amplifying moonstruck’s voice instead as you looked at heeseung. that is when his next action startles you into chuckles.

“AHHHHHHHH!!!!”

heeseung squeezes his eyes shut and forms his hands into fists as he lets out a loud yell that vibrates against the atmospheric field. the sound wave disperses alongside his worries, opening his eyes, he calms his hyperventilating self, much more aware of his beating heart as he tilts to find your baffled face that lets out little chuckles. he follows, scanning your guffawed self before you give him a smile.

“you look better,” you stated, earning you a smile from him as well.

“it’s nice. screaming is nice cause it lets out all the pain you have in you in one swoop,” he echoes.

“cathartic...” you mumbled out and heeseung replied with nods.

“being the one without a voice, screaming out just helps me realise how big of a voice i am. that i still have myself to rely on,” the boy continued, adding more to his usual doing by the fields. that’s when he sensed your palm pushing him backwards. his eyes widen as he watches you.

“FUCK YOU!” you let out a loud and elongated yell until nearly all the breath in your lungs is out. your hyperventilation follows his as you glance back at him, a grin on his face as he can’t help to brush your cheeks. his thumb caresses near the corner of your mouth, pushing it outwards to make you let out a smile.

“you looked much more relaxed,” he commented. the creases on your face are smooth out, letting go of certain burdens you must have held back for a while now. he enjoys seeing you like this.

“thanks to you,” you replied, your hand not even reaching up to move heeseung’s hand on your cheek. instead, he watches as your eyes flick upward and downward on his face, lasting a few more seconds than usual before going back to his eyes. to answer, he scoots himself closer to your body—skin-to-skin contact. his eyes observe your facial structure, how all of them culminate into the beautiful face that is yours as he leaned in. your eyes flutter close as the boy watches, his forehead resting against yours as well as his pointy nose grazing yours.

push through and push through he did, tilting his head to one side as he slots his lips on yours. his thumb caressed your cheek before the other hand reached up, grazing against the rubbery skin of the wired buds on each of your ears as he cradled your face. your eyelashes rest against your cheeks when he leans back, finding how your lips are parted as you open your eyelids. your eyes staring back at him, cloudy before it dissipates as your hand reaches for his face.

heeseung held back his breath as you caressed his prominent cheekbone. every caress seems more like you want to remember every touch of his face. the boy leans forward once again, feeling the graze of your breath against his skin as he lets you take a turn and steady the pace. your fingers walk along his shoulder to his nape one by one. hooded eyes staring back at him as he nudges his nose back against yours, letting you take the lead as you tilt your head and place your lips back onto his. your hand that is on his nape pushes his head forward.

fireworks and butterflies all flutter inside heeseung. his limbs taking control to hold you close as you raise your other arm up and place on his back. his hands slide down your body as he holds onto your blazer-covered waist. both of your lips are moving in tandem with a tinge of chaos that he doesn’t mind. little clashes of teeth show the eagerness alongside your parted lips that makes him try to poke his tongue through. instead of being disgusted by it, you accept with how your mouth wide and take his tongue in. hums come from both of you as his grasp on your waist brings you closer, lifting you slightly onto him when he senses the circular music player pressing against you two.

he pulls away, looking downward to observe the connecting string between the two of you that got instantly cut as you approached him and sat across his thighs. your skirt overflowing, creating a circle on top of heeseung’s lap as he continued to kiss you, holding you close like you are the only person who could make him this sane after a long time. sunlight is blocked by your figure as you continue to kiss him, returning your hands back behind him as he wraps his around your waist tight. the warmth coming from you thawing the coldness in his heart that has remained frozen for a long, long time. you rest your forehead against him, brows furrowed as heeseung is still taking in the whole emotion and senses that overwhelms him.

slowly, he lifts his eyelids and lets his eyes take in your face, especially your swollen lips. he kissed your jaw before loosening his grip on you so he could admire more of you. the connection between the two of you that are increasing in chemistry as he felt ever more connected with you. and the connection that compels him to ask this.

“moonstruck has a new album coming out in a few days. my parents will not be home then and they will bring heechan too.” his words slowed down as he sensed your hand cupping his cheek, brushing gently against his skin. “do you want to listen to it together and maybe we can... you know...”

“make out?” you guessed and heeseung shakes his head.

“more than that,” he replied, resulting in you raising your eyebrows.

“are you sure?” you then cupped his face with both of your hands.

“with you, i am sure.” he pecked a bit of your palm that he could reach, resulting in you leaning in and pecking his pouty lips.

“okay. i do.”

-

with both of your hands holding something, you looked back at the decorated shelves with their intricate feather ornaments and light-blue colouring. a large poster that reflects the colour of the pink moon in front of the blue sky background. the appearance of the familiar female artist standing at the front looking at the camera; the silhouette of a pair of wings behind her.

angels. the name of moonstruck’s latest album.

placing the cd case on the counter, you let the cashier employee take in your item as you follow your other hand which is still holding something, trailing up the arm to see heeseung who was already peeking at you. his vision returns forward, gazing at the many posters of music events around the wall as you watch him. he had told you that this very store is the one that he shoplifted and then caught, with a tremble in his voice as he spoke those meaningful words even if it is a tad bit different. but you curled your hand against his tight.

“you have me now. we can buy the new album together.”

and indeed you did as heeseung put the amount of cash half of the price before you pushed your hands to the counter and finished the other half. the cashier glances between the two of you, a few seconds longer staying at heeseung before he picks up the money put on the little tray, counting down. you both are still hand in hand, facing forward with your heads following the cd on top of the counter. a sigh of relief coming from heeseung as you both heard the familiar ding of the cash register.

“here you go.” he pushes the cd as you reach to grab it.

“thank you!” you remarked.

“thank you so much.” heeseung follows.

zipping up your backpack and placing the straps back on your shoulders—sensing how safe the newly bought cd is between your own stuff—both of you stride out of the music store as heeseung pushes the glass door wide. the sun is still in the sky, albeit getting lower and lower towards the horizon. you both turn at the intersections and all towards heeseung’s home, towards the commitment you both agreed with when you found out about the new album release.

after that day on the fields, kissing heeseung is slipping into being a part of your nature. sitting down beside each other, having a few talks about today and other things that aren’t mentioned in your text thread, a puff of smoke comes from heeseung’s agape lips as you shared the earbuds of his walkman—the area where you got pierced has a little throbbing feel to it. when you tilt your head and let heeseung meet the gap between his and your lips, the wind brushes your skin alongside the butterfly in your stomach. you could taste the tobacco and menthol flavour you recognised before he pulled away and gave the burning cigarette to you. hooded eyes looking back at you before the eyelids open up once again.

both you and heeseung walked beside each other as you walked the empty road where one to two cars parked alongside bicycles. the intrusive thoughts in your head win as you give heeseung a huge push with your shoulders before you jog away down the road. your giggles ringing throughout the street as heeseung chases you down with a bigger stride and faster pace, nudging you off your momentum as you look back at him. stomping towards the boy before you give another nudge as he retaliates and you move away at the right time, making him miss his target. giggles turned into laughter as you could see heeseung’s pout forming, making you return in front of him as you gave him a little peck on his lips. no words uttered between the two of you, yet you can still communicate with each other.

however, stepping out of your shoes as you enter the front door of the lee household brings you back to reality. your eyes scanning the corridor as heeseung takes the lead—focusing on his room as he seems much more eager than you. not that you are not eager to listen to moonstruck’s new release, but the activity that you’ll be doing whilst doing it. maybe it is because of heeseung’s “friend group” that he is much more brash, but you had to prepare for this too. it is the first time you’re doing it and you're nervous about how will it last and how you will satisfy heeseung. you have little knowledge regarding sex after all even from the reading you did.

yet you trust yourself. that what you both agree to is something you both have trust in each other. something that can elevate your blooming relationship with him. by doing it, heeseung does trust and goes through so much more emotions towards you.

heeseung slides the door to his room to a close. the window that overlooks the front of the house is close nearly shut as you can still see the light coming from the sliver right down the middle. he switches on his lamps to let the room be illuminated enough. placing down your backpack on the chair of his desk, you open the main pocket where you store your stuff. notebook, your stationary case, your own walkman you had to use one side of the headset because of your healing ear, and the cd that is refracting the light in the room. you felt warmth enveloping one side of your from behind, a slight breathing that then is replaced by a searing kiss to your shirt-covered shoulder to then the juncture between it and your neck. angle you to one side, your chilly hand holds onto the casing as heeseung overwhelms you with his touch that you also hold with your other hand.

turning yourself around inside his embrace, you wrapped your arms behind his shoulder as you returned his kiss with your own. holding onto the casing as both of your bodies twist to meet each other and the tingling sensation. heeseung pushes his tongue into your opened lips, making you let out a muffled moan as he holds you tight against him by your waist. pulling away to breathe, he trails his kisses from the corner of your lips to the front of your neck as you open the first few buttons of your uniform shirt.

the boy notices it instantly, reaching his hands to continue unbuttoning your shirt as you reach for his own. with a few of the buttons undone from his side, he nuzzles away the ends of the shirts as he sees the hint of your torso. you let out a shaky breath as heeseung kisses the area by your sternum before he raises his head to look at you. his eyes questioning before it changes as you give him nods. heeseung caresses one side of the shirt away as he meets half of your body. you expected him to be in shock, especially with the numerous times you have said to him of the pain you endured. your body is the canvas that is marred with these proofs of pain, most inflicted on you by others. yet, heeseung’s action said otherwise.

every little blemish on your skin, he will kiss it. these scars that have littered your body, from the most prominent to the most obscured. he traces them one by one with his lips before giving a small yet long kiss. he takes off the sleeve and twists your arm so he can reach every single patch of skin that will always heal until your time is up. your head follows his, trying to stay as static as possible. but the actions he did dig deeper into your gut than you expected. as the small breeze brushes the other side, he peels it off from you, letting him see you breathing through your diaphragm, he continues to trail your skin with his lips when he sensed your chest shaking.

tilting his head back, the view of you squeezing your eyes shut as tears flow down the corner of your eyes makes him pause. “are you alright? did i go too fast-“

you whiffled your head, hands lifted to his shoulders as you opened your eyes and the blurriness faded away as you were met with heeseung’s concerned face. you let out a smile that turns into a small chuckle. heeseung brushes the fallen tear away as he cups your cheek.

“no, i’m alright. i, i haven’t felt this feeling in a long time.” you gulp down your saliva. “i’ve never felt this loved before.”

“aw,” he exclaimed, furrowed brows showing on his face as he leaned his forehead against yours, giving a quick kiss. “you deserve it. so much, (y/n).”

you nodded your head in his hold as your hands reached up to his uniform shirt, unbuttoning them one by one as you felt the cotton material of his inner t-shirt. heeseung reaches for his opened shirt and removes it in an instant before he continues his path down to your torso.

“let me take care of you first,” he remarked, pulling the other sleeve down as he continued doing the same thing from the side before this. he trails his lips to your arms where scars from scabs remain before he went back to your torso, tracing the simple white bra as he teasingly sucks on the material. his warmth seeps into the fabric and reaches your skin, goosebumps showing on your arms.

“can i?” his hands trail to the back of your body as you beat him first, reaching for the clasp as you take them off from the hook. the fabric of the cup falls as you look at him, nodding your head as he tugs the straps of your shoulders, letting him see how your nipples are already erected both from the breeze and the actions he had done. his hand reaches up to cup your right breast, a sharp gasp coming from you as he follows along with kisses around the left areola before he gives the nipple a suck. the hands that were rested beside your body reach up to heeseung’s head, rubbing it as an encouragement for him but also to guide him. his grip on your love handles tightened as he could hear your little whimpers when he brought you closer and changed to also treat the other side the same. it continues as he trails down to your abdomen, his furrowed eyebrows showing again as he kisses it all over when he finds the scarring there from the many times you know you’ve been hurt from the abdomen.

his hands reach for the clasp of your plain uniform skirt as he pulls it off alongside the zipper, tugging it downwards as his nimble fingers also pull down your socks alongside it, guiding you to step one foot at a time so he can pick it up and throw it somewhere where he had also thrown away your uniform shirt. his kisses focus on your calves and shins where the blemishes are prominent there, especially the prolonged kisses on your kneecaps that have to withstand the abuse you’ve endured. his hands reach behind your thighs and trail to your buttcheeks, giving them a squeeze as he met the sight of your pastel underwear.

a small kiss there makes you let out a gasp, his finger trailing the patch of fabric that is wet from your arousal. that’s when you felt his wet appendage taking in a taste, a hum coming from him as he tugs the band of the pair down your legs and you let him with how he easily tugs them away from you as soon as you step out from it. heeseung reaches back to your butt as he continues, finally tasting your leaking arousal as your hands continue to rub his hair and grip the back covered by his t-shirt.

he laps around your lower lips before he finds your opening and licks a strip there. and again, and again, as you moan in response.

“hee-“ you moaned as he let his tongue lick up the excrement.

one of your hands reaches down to your private parts, trailing your finger between your lower lips as you found the clit that brushes against heeseung’s nose bridge, pressing down and rubbing against it as to show him the other ways you felt more pleasure down there. his hand reaches for your calves as he picked one up and put it behind his shoulder letting him see the slit’s opening and the nub clearer as he uses his thumb there to rub it, letting him continue to lick up the area before plunging his tongue into the wider opening.

“fuck...” you gasped and continue to let out breathy moans, not wanting to be too loud so his neighbours won’t be alerted. your eyes looked down, brushing away the bangs that covered his forehead so you could observe how heeseung’s hooded eyes focused on pleasuring you. a moment later, he switched around as his tongue is the one that licked up your clitoris while he pushed his forefinger up your opening. you brace against him with your hand on his head so you can watch him and a claw against his back. your body is quivering as you feel something has risen down at your abdomen with how the muscles contract.

“you’re getting tighter,” he mumbled his observation.

“i’m- i’m gonna-“

“cum for me.” he pushes in another finger as they stretch your muscles alongside continuing to the pace of the thrust. he gives a gentle suck to your clit as he chases after your release. your head tilted back, vision blackens from how your eyes went back from your lid as you felt the liquid squeezed out onto his two fingers. a whine comes from you as they pull out before heeseung’s tongue returns and taste what you produced. your grip on him tightens as he continues to arouse you.

when he leans away, you can breathe steadily as he carefully pulls your leg off his shoulder and stands before you, hands returning to your love handles as he kisses your breath away, making you savour your arousal from his tongue as you continue to grip onto him, the t-shirt lifted from the clench from your hold as he leans away to cross his arms in front of him, lifting the hem of the shirt as you could finally observe his torso. you figured out his build as the right amount of muscles, fat, and bones, creating the prominent muscles cluster around his upper arms, pectorals, and abdomens with how the fat creates a softer look. the bones on his forearm and collarbone become more prominent alongside some protruding from this ribcage.

he looks beautiful. and he also had scars littered around his body.

the first scar you notice line across his collarbone. it doesn’t seem like something his bullies would do as the skin colour is so different between one and the other, creating an obvious shape for the keen people. you trace it with your thumb as heeseung watches how you observe the particular scar.

“it’s stitches that i got when i was 10,” he answers your curiosity.

“it’s beautiful,” you replied as you leaned closer and gave every trace of the stitches kisses.

you followed what heeseung had done, trailing the prominent scars on his skin with your kisses even with the slight difference in skin color. your hand reaches for his back and you can feel his muscles move and contract. you kneel down, your head resting on his abdomen as you trace every patch of the large scar on there. your hands move the waistband of the uniform pants as you lean your head against his thighs and look upwards.

“can i?” you echoed his request earlier.

“please...” he answers.

your fingers reach for the button and zipper to take them off before you tug the pants down, following the scars that are exposed on the skin that were covered by the material. your head tilts up as you find the prominent bulge from his boxer briefs. leaning in closer to it, heeseung’s grip on your shoulder tightens as you breathe on it. you could see a bit of the head side peeking out from the waistband and you don’t want to make him wait any longer.

pulling the fabric down, his member springs up as you touch it. the muscles contracting creating a sturdy cock to touch. the tip of the head leaking drops from the slit as you push out your tongue, looking down at the tip of your tongue and gently licking up the drop. heeseung’s sudden movement pauses you as he steps out of his bottoms before bringing them to pile up by your knees.

“you can kneel on them so that it won’t hurt you more,” he spoke as you looked up at him, your hand reaching for his as he helped you to find your position. the tip of his cock nudging against the bridge of your nose as your other hand reaches up and gives an experimental stroke. the boy hisses as he grips your hand before removing it to cup your cheek. your eyes looking up to meet his, his bangs hanging by his forehead with his mouth open. his chest rises and falls steadily as you follow with your own. you move your head, letting the tip slide along your face as you open your lips and give it a suck. your hand holding onto the cock so it won’t move anywhere. you hummed, the vibration sending chills to heeseung as he let out a breathy noise. tilting your head, you let him see just how well you suck him, wide up your cavern so that he won’t feel your teeth dragging against his skin.

“just like that,” he commented as you felt his hand reach the back of your head. the tip nearly reaching the back of your mouth as your saliva coats the area you suck. pulling away, you reach the layer of it and spread it against the rest of his member, feeling it getting longer and sturdier as you perceive the ridges of blood veins on them getting more prominent. your head moves without question as you push your tongue to lick one vein across the ridges towards his bulbous head. pushing your head to let more of him inside, you surprised yourself and him with your gagging, making him pull your head back as you let out a groan.

“you okay?” and you reply with your nodding head as you clear your throat.

“i am. just want to make you feel good.” your hands clutching against his thighs as his grip loosens to let you move on your own accord. his cock enters your mouth once again, bracing yourself as it hits the back of it as heeseung’s hand holds onto your head. your hand continues to stroke the rest that isn’t inside of your mouth while the other holds onto his body, his other hand on top of yours. his breathy gasps turn into low-note moans as you continue, sliding your saliva-covered fingers upwards to his abdomen and resting beneath his belly button. you can sense him chasing his high, his hips moving a bit to chase after you.

his moans become erratic and unsteady as you continue to stare at his expression. his teeth biting his bottom lip with the scrunch on his face, making him look much more delicious. “i’m cumming,” he exclaims. but you don’t stop sucking him as you move both of your hands towards his parts, one stroking his cock, the other stimulating his balls.

your breath was taken away as he pushed your head towards his hips, eyes wide as you could feel the warmth bursting in your mouth. a bit of saltiness that you push around inside your cavern as he pulls his cock out. your lips continue to pucker until the last of him is out, swollen and glistens as you push his cum down alongside your saliva.

“fuck...” heeseung exclaims as he moves his hand back to your jaw before guiding you to stand up. your hands enrapturing him as he kisses you, licking your agape mouth to let both of you taste each other’s cum. his hard cock pushes against your skin as you trail your hands down his back while he has his on your waist. your forehead resting against each other as you take deep breaths.

“i can’t wait anymore.” he shakes his head as his lips trail down your neck, making you push him back as you walk to grab the angels and his cd walkman before you sit on his bed. opening the lid, the sight of windswept’s cd shines on you as you pull it away before placing it on your lap. you gently rip the plastic sheet covering the cd, its sleek material glides against your fingertip as you push the lid open to be met with the booklet and the shining disc. the colour of the moon reflects its blue design unlike windswept’s cream and breathe’s green. heeseung’s hand touches your thigh as you look at him, signalling with his head for you to lie down on the bed. you pull the cd out and place it in its place.

with your position, you can see heeseung’s full figure perfectly as he stands beside the bed. his hand reaches for the cd casing as he looks at the track list. “48 minutes. 12 tracks.”

“as long as windswept,” you remarked. his eyes move to you as they trail down your exposed body from the light of his bedside lamp. placing the other cd inside of the casing for safe-keeping before returning it back to his table.

heeseung straddles you as you widen your legs to let him know his place. your eyes focus on your fingers as you untangle the wires of the earbuds. your giggles float in the room as he moves to adjust himself and you, the head of his cock resting against the skin above your lower lips. he gently lowers the head down, tapping it against your clit as it makes your body quiver, your knees already folding up as it rests right beside his hips. you grab onto of of the buds as you push your arms upwards, making heeseung lean down as he lets you push the bud into his ear, brushing against his piercing before you return to place the other bud into your own pierced ear.

“it will hurt,” he spoke above you.

“yeah...” you reply, your other hand already grabbing onto his tricep as you both look at how heeseung helps you get ready—how he also is getting himself to take you to the next level. he pushes his cock more, letting the tip caresses your clit and lower it as it widens your inner lip. you lean back more, letting your hip push up to let him see the hole.

“ah!” you gasped when you felt the head nudged at the entrance, shivers and sweat running down your spine as he pushes the rim of the hole so it got wider. your wetness makes the stretch easier when you can feel his head enter, from the narrow tip to the middle until the rest of his head is inside of you. your body is quivering, eyes stuck on his shaft entering you as a cacophony of moans and groans coming from both of you. hands held onto his arm and the walkman respectively as his hands on the pillow beside your head tighten up.

“fuck!” heeseung leans his head back, letting you admire his throat that has little blemishes from your kiss. you feel your walls closing in on him even just the little bit that he had entered. but it makes you shake your head.

“keep going,” you mumbled to him as he looked down to meet your breathtaking face. your nipples are perky as you reach his hand with your own. “i can handle it.”

“you’ll be the death of me,” he said under his breath as heeseung pushed himself deeper. more of your walls open up to encompass him as you keep your fingers locked in between his. the expression of your pain dissipates as you familiarize yourself, feeling yourself getting fuller as he pushes more of himself in.

the brush of his tip against your cervix widens your eyes as you feel his hips against yours. his body is still on top of you as you raise your legs up. his heavy breathing against your ear with the wires searing your warm skin with the cold material. heeseung’s lip trail kisses from your ear to the corner of your lips, his other hand holding onto your waist so that he can’t crush you. you embrace him by kissing him, a blissful smile spreading against your face, calming the boy.

“does it feel good?”

“very,” you respond, lifting your head to give a kiss as a seal. he looks to the side, glancing at your hand that's holding onto his walkman as you follow. your thumb reaches for the play button and pushes it down. the cd whirls inside as the sound of guitar strumming plays with the first song. your eyes staring into each other, overwhelming more of your senses from the touch to the hearing.

supernova, as you remember the title to be. a supernova also bursts inside of you, from the beautiful sound along to heeseung who invites you to join in on this intimate moment. and as the song continues, hearing moonstruck sings, the boy moves his hips, sliding his cock nearly out before pushing it back in.

his movement continues as the song continues, taking things slowly as you both take both sensations. your hands wrapped around his back alongside your legs on his waist. the feeling of the walkman resting on his back as you both look between each other and the place where your bodies conjoined. his kiss lingers as you stay in eye contact with him, yet sometimes it rolls back when you feel him hitting some spots within you. your eyes resting on his expressions as he looks down at you, sparkles in his eyes resembling supernova as you brought him down to kiss him with your hand on his cheek. gently, you brush his bangs resting on his forehead as both of your moans get louder in time with the rhythm he said. heeseung’s grip on you tightens as you can sense the fluidity of his hips moving faster, making more of your eyes roll back.

“hee, hee-“ you moan as you stare at him who is gritting his teeth, holding onto something you could assume is his release. you both come from the same position after all and it admires you more that he manages to hold on.

“let go,” your whisper reaches heeseung’s ears as his doe-like eyes enlarge, nodding your head to justify what you imply.

“cum for me,” you continue. your free hand reaches to play with your breast as your gleaming eyes silently plead to him, “cum in me.”

heeseung’s groan continues as his movement gets faster, chasing after his release and—with his thumb rubbing against your nub—making you chase after yours. he moans out deliciously as he collapses, his head returning to nudge into your juncture. as the fourth song plays, you can feel his liquid warming you up. yet he continues to rub his thumb against your clitoris as he turns his head to look at your side profile. the walkman still resting on his back as you push against it with your hand.

“my... angel...” he kisses your cheekbone as your loud moan comes out from your lips before he muffles it with his deep kiss. you could feel his outstretched smirk as your orgasm gushed out to your walls and his member. you breathe heavily as heeseung calms you down, his usual cockiness seeping out of its shell as he touches the area where you and him connected, making your body jitter.

“angel...” he mumbled against your skin as the fourth song finished and continued on with the fifth one.

“baby...” you replied with an airy voice, bringing him down back onto you as you felt his hand on your breasts and play with them. the sound of wetness coming from the bottom of your body as he continues to playfully nudge his hips, the coldness of both of your cum spreading across your warm skin.

“you want more?” you mumbled, eyes catching his as the corner of his lips wide, matching your own bliss expression.

“just one more.” his words come to you as he holds on to your waist and turns both of your bodies around. you nip on your bottom lip as both of your cums flow downwards. hands reaching for heeseung’s torso as your grip is still on the walkman. that’s when you felt a little tug on it as heeseung held it in his hand. you straighten your back, holding yourself up as trickles of your releases seep in between your walls and his shaft. and more of them as you push yourself down.

leaning your head back, you let out a satisfying moan as you push heeseung deeper into you, already feeling his tip right against your cervix as you push a bit more. the boy hisses underneath you, his hands holding onto your hips as the cold, slippery touch of the walkman adds to the sensation. the music continues to play, the dreamy synth sound that is being overdriven by the noisy guitar. you slowly lift yourself, groans coming from both of you as you sink once again at the same pace.

“angel...” he whispers, making you lean forward as you continue the pace with heeseung’s own following behind. your lips open wide, eyes on his as both of your lips graze each other’s. he puckers his lips, capturing yours as you hold your up still with your hands across his torso. heeseung’s lips continue to move down and meet your collar; giving it a hard suck that you know will create a mark.

“heeseung-“

“you feel so fucking good. you’re doing so well.” his words encourage you more and more, changing between bouncing and grinding above him. your crotch sticking to his as you look down to see where you both are connected: strings of the sticky liquid joining both of you as you experimentally slow down, listening in to the moisture created by both of you. your muffled moan comes along with a smile as heeseung’s lips contorted to it as well, rolling on him as you lean your body back. heeseung’s free hand graces your front, brushing against your nipples and your tummy; creating goosebumps on your arms.

one of your hands reaches for his as you bring it to your clitoris, his finger moving once again as you can’t help to let out a loud gasp, quickening your pace.

“i, hah, i love-“ you bite your lip tight, hands pushing against heeseung’s body as you have to lift yourself up as your legs become tired from the folding and floating from before as well. “I’m gonna cum.”

the boy’s hand reaches for your upper back and pushes you down as you follow the pace of the rock-sounding song, reacting accordingly as you hear the chorus melody by rolling your hips before changing back to bouncing. heeseung brought your lips close to him, feeding each other’s moan when you felt your knees buckle and hands shaking. your neck is outstretched as you take in to breathe from your orgasm.

and the beats quicken, turning from heavy bass to heavy drums, and heeseung doesn’t stop the pace. hands holding onto your hips to push it down as he chases for his release.

“fuck!” your arms buckle as you sigh heavily against heeseung, hiding your face in the crook of his neck as he breathes into your ear. your lips leave a little mark on him as you focus on the atmospheric sounds. skins slapping, moist, heavy breathing, your whimpers, his praises mumbled under his breath, the droning music in your ear.

he doesn’t need to say it when he pushes your hips down on him with a loud moan. warm liquid shoots inside of you as you already lift your head to watch his blissful face. heeseung’s eyes also rolled back—his adam’s apple bopping as he took huge breaths—before returning to his hooded state. the track ends with the chirping of birds and it fades to a stop.

only your exhales are heard as you stay in eye contact with him before you kiss him, signalling the end of your listening party with a full mind and heart.

-

everything seems to go back to normal, whatever normalcy is for you, but with a constant of heeseung in it.

he returns to his careful self—staying away or outright “making fun” of you—following eunho and the others. yet, lunch is always the time for you and him, resting your head against each other’s shoulder and then head, telling stories about each other as you expand about everything you know about heeseung and especially his love of moonstruck. angels dominate the conversation of the rest of the week, from the calm start to the sudden yet exciting dark yet upbeat songs. and because of that album, he interchanges in calling your name and angel.

your normalcy also includes your still existing “connection” with seona and the rest of the girls. the constant barraging, stealing of homework, and mockery are the ones that you still have to endure. you also had to realize that you’re not the only one being tormented by them—the result of a sudden encounter when you see a girl from another class curling on the floor, her glasses strewn away that you can’t help yourself but to interject before someone breaks it. and it results in you taking a beating right as they push the poor girl away in pain. but these days, you have a hunch that it’s getting harder. their punches have more force, resulting in your inner bleeding bruise actually turning very dark; the papers thrown or landed on your desk much more frequently, the girls encouraging eunho and the rest of the boys to add much more overt sexual sayings to you as you can’t help to peek behind you, finding heeseung’s mortified expression masked by an insincere smirk.

the phone buzzes inside your pocket as you pull it gently with the chains brushing against your hand. your eyes skim-read the message full of abbreviations as you hold on to your resting face, already knowing what to expect as you head to the side of your school building. a place where you had only seen the school gardener tend to the bushes there, a little alleyway in between the school building and the wall marking the school’s parameters. the usual place where you get more markings on your skin that you had to pull your socks higher to cover them up—always checking up on your blazer’s sleeves.

yet, even with such a predicament, something still feels off as you arrive at the narrow path: the smell of smoke.

even if it is familiar to you, you haven’t caught the girls smoking until now. they each have their own stick, holding it by pinching with their thumb and forefinger even with the stick still nearly as long as the one unburned. the way they smoke seems so unnatural to you it raises your awareness. and you can see it, behind the floating smoke, the appearance of seona and her agonizing smirk.

bracing yourself against the brick wall, you can sense your head pulsing and immediate dizziness coming in. risoo holds onto your blazer and you then realize that there is a torn in between the seams of the right arm sleeve and the shoulder area. your hearing turns into an automatic muffled option—letting their words enter from one ear and exit the other ear—as you brace yourself to toughen up your body and hold on to the pain once again. but the introduction of fire held by them is something that you don’t want anyone to experience. hopefully, it’s you and only you who will endure this.

because you had to look down at the newly formed round scars. you can already imagine the pain it is to heal and hide. the cigarettes were left on the floor to burn until the filter parts as you cower down, wiping away the tears of pain before you stomp them until they die. leaving only ashes and scars on your forearms. the heavy weight of the blazer burns against your open wounds, but you just can’t bring yourself to the nursery. as much as the school nurse will be there to treat you, you have been there so much that you feel ashamed about it. because you don’t deserve to be treated so much, knowing that there might be other people who need faster treatment than you.

you grind down on your teeth as you head back to class for the short break, walking past the unknowing people as you try to bear the pain by curling up your hand, the tense muscles making them more painful. a detour to the restroom makes you face yourself. you can see how pink your eyeballs are from the dried tear marks near your eyes. hisses coming from you as you hold yourself down from letting out such an agonizing scream when you feel the cold water brushing against the wounds, more tears forming from the corner of your eyes. your swollen nose is such an obvious appearance of your tearful self, so you clean your face too with the cold water, shocking yourself as you brace for the rest of the day.

as lunch comes and goes by, you hide it from heeseung—holding onto his hand as you snuggle up to his side while he eats the rest of your food from the lunch box. fingers curl in between his as sometimes you give a little pressure to dissipate the pain in your arm. but there is still someone that you can’t seem to hide as miss kang’s appearance startled your class by the end of the day. her eyes looking around the class as she talks about the dates for your final exams for the end of the semester, yet she seemed to land her eyes a little longer on you and especially at your hand that curled around the edge of your table, pressing it down with your grip to subside the pulsing pain.

that’s the only time that they play with fire. but, you might think that it might just be the beginning, especially with the increase in cat calls that many of the boys similar to eunho and heeseung’s group have been throwing at you even when you walked past them with your headset on and the cranberries cd playing in your walkman. and then, it started: heeseung didn’t show up to the rooftop for three days straight without even giving you an sms.

the rolling bandage wrapped around your forearms has covered the burned scars, hiding it still underneath your blazer even with the rising temperature as the season approaches summer. when you entered the class and approached your seat, you saw heeseung with his head laid on his table. slowly, you knock your knuckles gently against his table.

his head lifts as you meet his eyes as you observe him. a bandaid across the tall bridge of his nose, a faded bruise on his cheekbone, a clear sign of a black eye on the other, and a cut on the corner of his thick lips. your mouth opens, ready to let out whatever reassuring words that come to mind when his piercing glare stops you, he mouths a simple word.

“don’t.”

the back door of the class opens up with a loud bang as you take a glimpse at the boys coming in. heeseung gives a brief look before he pushes himself upright. recognizing the faces, you instantly move to sit on your chair, unpacking your bags to get out your stationary case and notebook. your ears revert to its “natural” phase of pushing people’s conversation out of your mind, especially if they are talking about you. the girls also arrived, but you see risoo is playing with her digital camera that has been there alongside your suffering.

as the morning class started and continue on, you felt a slight buzz in your skirt pocket. your eyes are focusing on the blackboard as you try to find the opening and drag your phone out by the strap. pressing the middle button, a notification appears on your screen that makes you want to let out a smile.

“hey, wanna meet up at the back of the school?”

you turn your head around as you meet the crown of heeseung’s head before he raises to meet you. yet, you were met with the same poker face you’ve always seen him wear to blend in. but you give him a small smile, hopefully that is enough of an answer for him, that, sure, a change of scenery will hurt no one, especially since you never interacted with him on school outside of the lunch break window of time. the first thing that you want to do when you meet him is to ask what happened to his beautiful face.

the constant happenings in your home make you succumb to tiredness, having a perfect quick nap in the middle of the class until you hear the rummaging and slides of chairs around you. pushing yourself up, you find a few students staying back in class. that’s when you remembered the meeting with heeseung at the back of the school. you’ve been there before and it is beautiful even with the small land as it looks like you stepped into a terrarium.

the leaves and branches from the tree separate the sunlight into beams, creating a perfect shade to the clear sky. your feet move with a mix of enthusiasm and hesitation, dragging them as you can still feel the bandage wrapped around your ankle. you abandoned the blazer, reminding of your trust in heeseung as he doesn’t even cover the bruises on his face. they drag across the gravelled path, as you turn your head around the corner to find the familiar sight.

the sight of his wide shoulders, ruffled black hair, with a brief glimmer in his eyes. but when you found him, he had his head hung low and hands behind his back.

“heeseung?” you called out. but when you want to step closer, ruffles are heard behind you with a sudden grip on your shoulders. the boy before you stood still, eyes on the ground and maybe just peeking to see the ends of your shoes.

dread fills you as you hear the person speak.

“well, isn’t it lovely? seeing you both here instead of the usual rooftop you both hang out on.”

eunho.

two forces gripped your hands at the same time as you could recognize the chuckles from the boys that stood there. youngbin approaches heeseung before standing behind him, taking hold of his hair before forcefully tilting it back. your eyes scan his appearance, how dim his usual shine is, and you shift your gaze beside him to discover the familiar girls standing aside, camera ready in risoo’s hand with seona standing by her with folded arms.

“you think we don’t know?” eunho added, feeling his head nodding as seona replied with a nod. “you think we don’t know the connection that you both have, huh newbie?”

“we can see them in class and don’t you think we didn’t catch you when both went out together?” youngbin said loudly from behind heeseung, hand holding his head still as you feel eunho’s breath brushing against your pierced earlobe.

“i knew that you were like your mother, but him, huh?” the boy behind you chuckles as his words plunge more to the acid in your stomach, making your gut react more than the sunken feeling it has felt as it lands on the bottom of the pit. you sense his hand moves from your shoulder to the side of your body, the uniform shirt clinging against your torso as you squirm when the fingers trailing down beneath your bosom. teeth grinding before you let out a cry that was muffled easily with eunho’s other hand.

“is heeseung really that good of a fuck?” youngbin speaks, taunting heeseung as he looks across at you and the way your body tense as eunho’s hand untucked your shirt from your skirt. fingers unbuttoning from the bottom of the shirt. your eyes shift to the chuckling girls as risoo has the camera right on you. yet, heeseung stayed still; you can’t read what he wants with this. why did he agree to this? you knew of the predicament you were in. being the lowest of the lowest in this very school.

eunho’s fingertips brush against your exposed skin as you hold on to your cry. “look how sensitive (y/n) is. well, all we want for you two is to entertain us.” the fingers continue to unbutton the shirt until the collar, exposing your bra to them. “you are our entertainment. so...” your eyelids widen as you see the furrow on heeseung’s brows. yet he stayed quiet. both eunho and youngbin lean in close to your ears as you hear their command at the same time.

“fuck him.”

“fuck her.”

your body is pushed to the front as your shirt flails, exposing more of your skin as you brace against heeseung’s body. lifting your head to glance at him, you take a peek around you before you whisper, “please.”

but when you felt heeseung’s arms wrapped around you, you knew that his familiar warmth was telling you something. something that makes your heart broken into smithereens.

“close your eyes. just feel me,” he whispers back.

he was coerced. he dangers himself to be with you and got caught. and now you are the collateral of his punishment.

heeseung’s kisses to the crook of your neck that is warmer as you close your eyes. focusing on his touch and shakes of the leaves that cover the rest of the people’s snickers. his grip begs you to let go of this world just for a moment, block out this memory so that it doesn’t traumatise you more. hopefully, it’s he and only he that will endure this.

you felt your body lying down on the gravel, the prickling little stone brushing against your skin as every rushed movement would caused another scratch on your body. heeseung’s hands brush against your bandaged forearms, a quick swipe as if he had to punish himself for not knowing these on your body. behind your eyelids, you see heeseung’s silhouette and focus on it. his hand brushes against your thigh as you are at the precipice of letting go. disassociate from your body for a second.

the boy leans down to cover your body with his as he plays with you as their entertainment but still covers you up for your dignity. you held down your lips as whimpers came out of you—you don’t know how long this will last, but you let yourself go to heeseung as your bandaged arms wrapped around his back. the sensation felt from your lower parts continue as the gravel movement increases around the both of you. heeseung’s head resting in the crook of your neck, wetting them up with the tears he can finally let go in a freefall-

“WHAT IS THIS?”

your eyes open wide as the piercing sun hurts them more. the legs of your bullies stood still as you looked from the gaps to discover two figures.

“we’re-“

“move out of the way.” the harsh voice sounds familiar as the legs are moved away alongside its bodies with the two figures approaching.

“oh, (y/n).” you looked up to find the worried face of miss kang, your homeroom teacher, and coach kim who was assessing the situation. and you had to wrap your arms around him more. the boy sobs muffled into your collarbone.

“p-please don’t punish heeseung.” you spoke up in a gravelly voice, “he’s with me. we’re-“

coach kim calls for someone as they turned the corner to find the school’s security guards surrounding the rest of the boys and girls. miss kang crouches down as she finally looks at your wrapped hands and the single bruise on heeseung’s face.

“oh...” her calm voice embraces the two of you as coach kim and the guards round up the people that were being entertained by you. yet you don’t want to let go of heeseung, scared for him more than he will face wrath from the teachers for your case. that you will defend him to be treated just like you are, because he had to endure it longer and he deserves them better than you.

-

《you know》

someone stands at the side of a large patch of grass. its emerald green piercing the eyes with some semblance of freshness. but also something dangerous.

《when you have stayed for so long in the space station》 《do you feel like you are able to reach for the moon itself?》

the figure walks forward, immersing themselves in the sea of grass as they approach one of the many steel towers that looked like dormant giants awaiting to be wakened up.

《yet space itself is a vacuum》 《and i heard that being in space with proper protection is like feeling the same pressure as when you are under the water》

much far away, a group of kids are flying colourful kites above the sky. the figure blinks, eyes following along with one of the kites that have tails trailing behind them. a small smile emerges on their face.

《and i feel like i am at the bottom of the ocean now》 《while all i want is to reach for the sky》

bandages adorned their arms as they dropped their backpack. some items spill out from the unzipped main pocket. a sight of the peeking walkman reflecting the sun.

《why does it hurt so much to emerge from the depths?》 《why does it hurt so much to even breathe the fresh air?》

their sweaty hands reach for one of the steel legs holding the transmission tower upright. with a huff, they pull their body up. it reminds them of when they used to climb up to the roof of the house when they were 5 years old. looking down at the streets of the neighbourhood with the house all empty of familial presence and love.

《why does it hurt so much when you can not reach the moon?》

step. step. step.

《and so》 《i decide to take it into my own hand》 《i will reach for the sky》 《climb the tallest structure i could underneath the clear sky》

they turned their body around, looking down at the plunge to assess it. one drop and a quick death for them. to end them all.

《i will reach for the moon》 《from: pearl

“(y/n)!”

the wispy wind blows against your wind when you look at the approaching figure running. you continue to hold on to the steel as the figure approaches, looking up with his face full of bandages as well.

《i want to reach the moon too》 《but moonstruck is enough for me to be able to reach there》 《you can get the taste of celeste here too》 《stay with us》 《stay with me》 《people admire you so much for what you have contributed to the space station》 《stay for them》 《stay for yourself》 《from: bambi

heeseung looks up with furrowed brows. his eyes landed on both of your hands that were holding the steel forming an angle. he sees your body trembling, a quiet sob reaches his ears.

《i will try》 《from: pearl

the boy stands near the leg as he sees your body turning, bringing you to take the step down the same way you went up. but its slippery angle makes you have to look down at the ground as well. you meet heeseung’s eyes as he stands right below you even with your blurry eyes.

“i’ll catch you,” he says with a pout on his face. you nodded your head, stepping down until he could reach for your waist before he lifted you off the steel beam and into his embrace. he looks down as you curl up against his chest, crying your eyes out and wetting his uniform shirt.

slowly he pulls away as he brings his hands to cup your face, your eyes still tilted downwards as he gives you a peck on the lips before it moves to your forehead and temple and he makes you rest your head against him once again. you focus on the sound of nature, how the chirping birds and the excited kids with their kites create a choir as they fly near each other in the sky.

days have gone by since that very incident. you still remembered how you told most of everything that transpired for you, prompting their conversation by pointing out the visible bruises and how they scarred your body. you also describe witnessing other people being bullied by them, how it affects your scores as well, and to also go to heeseung because he had felt the same thing. for the past years or so, you didn’t need to actually report to the school about this. because most of them don’t care, anyway. none of the adults care about people your age.

but when you heard the bullies were suspended for two weeks, you find that as a little victory when you came into the classroom to find their tables, alongside heeseung’s for the past three days because of his association. you let yourself talk to the other victims—most are the girls that were coerced by eunho to get them money as you learn their hardships as well. that with this punishment, at least he and the rest of the boys wake up from their trance. and yet, you still feel undeserving of treatment when there are people who need more. the survivor’s guilt ate you up from the inside until all you sense is the husk of yourself. none of your parents came to the school when coach kim told them to come, and you had to revert to your music once again until you felt that even it didn’t fill you up anymore.

your eyes landed on heeseung’s when you came into the class today. the guilt building up once again when you see him with his bandaged face. his stare pierces into the back of your head as you continue with class, your body cowering so much that you want to hide yourself from the glance of your fellow students and teachers. and during lunch, the first time you were supposed to have lunch with heeseung after three days by yourself, you grabbed your bag and left the school, citing the doctor’s appointment to the guard knowing just how bruised and in pain you were that day he found alongside coach kim and miss kang.

you didn’t realise heeseung had followed you until you met him and your rose-coloured glasses disappeared in an instant. that with you being gone doesn’t actually solve everything, especially with the people that you have connected with and your responsibility to them.

it’s too late for you both to go back to school now as the sun has gone its way down to the western horizon. your eyes focusing on the flying kites as its wonderful colours represent the various inner turmoils inside you. you felt him move to the side, letting you turn your body to sightsee as heeseung stood with his arm wrapped around you. his sigh catches you off guard as you peek towards him. his eyes darting with the recognizable expression of when he is thinking about an idea.

“do you want to go back to your house? i’ll be here with you.” his reassuring hand moves to hold you firm. lifting your head to read his face, your quiet reply with a nod of your head is enough for an answer as he tracks to grab your backpack and tidy it up. you can still feel how your legs are trembling as heeseung emerges from beside you with your backpack strap onto one side of his shoulders, arm behind your back as he leads the walk back to your house.

as you looked around the road you walked by, you could see the glances of the people working or resting. yet their gaze feels different now. none of the hostility you had experienced are there. the townspeople talk of the sexual harassment you endure and when they finally see you in your wounded galore; they finally understand. yet, they don’t want to act, at least make their children notice these things. the hardships their peers have experienced with the turn of the century and how scary it is to grow up at that window of time.

the walk down the road helps in calming the voices in your head. the reassurance that innocence still prevails comes from the elementary school kids who are now out of their schools, walking around and about as they have their snacks together before their parents search for them to come back home. you’ve never experienced it before, but you feel a tug on the corner of your lips as you watch them—to know that their innocence is still intact, unlike what you have experienced.

coming out of the last set of buildings, your house stood tall meters away from them—the sight of the transmission tower in the background reminds you just how close the place you wanted to end things from your abode. the hedges are now too overgrown that if it’s not because the exterior lights are on every night, it will look abandoned like it did months ago. you remembered heechan’s innocent gaze from the last time heeseung brought you back—the only time he brought you back here because you rather go alone back, much more discreet. and the house continues to stand tall, greeting the tenant who lives there—well, the one who consistently is there.

heeseung stops his tracks as he looks at the path down the carpark to where the entrance of the house is, his arm reluctant to let you go when you turn your head and ask, “do you want to go inside?” in your hushed voice.

one glance at the house and then at you; he gives the reins to you as you pull him with you down the empty path. you let out a sigh as he watches how your eyes are trailing around the face of the house. some windows are open as he sees floating ends of the sheer curtain spill out of the shadowy background. your hand reaches for his upper arm as you walk around him, opening up the front pocket of your backpack as you pull out the house key: the main house key.

pushing the key into the hole, you turned it as you heard the few clicks before you pushed down the handle and opened the door, tucking your shoes off by the door as you nudged your head for him to follow. stepping inside the house, his sock-covered feet walk across the wooden boarded floor as he is greeted with the sight of boxes stacking behind the sofa. most of these boxes are the usual brown boxes with labels written on the side. some were open, some were supposed to when he caught the sight of a pocket knife on one of them. but the others are boxes of various luxury brands that he can only imagine his parents only have one or two of their products. the room is dark as only the sunlight goes in from the open window.

it looks more like a storage than a home.

heeseung follows your moving figure as you approach what looks to be the kitchen and dining area. it is clean with only leftovers of unwashed pans available, stacks of recognizable lunch boxes resting on the counter beside the stove before he glances at the dining table where there is only a single plate on it even with the three chairs surrounding the table. the only signs of living and it comes with the semblance of you as you place your lunch box on the counter, waiting for it to be reheated when you are actually hungry. looking up from the box, you had turned your body to look at him.

“come, let me show you my room.” you trail back down the path you have taken, dragging your sock-covered feet against the floor as he walks behind you, the question already at the tip of his tongue as he pushes to ask.

“you’re alone here?” his voice lifted in intonation as you replied with a hum before adding more.

“they haven’t been home for a few days now. probably doing their usual thing.”

his steps stopped as you stood in front of the door which he could read from your action is yours. your hand reaches for the handle, hearing you take a breath, as you push the handle and open the door for him to be met with a surprising view.

across from him is a large familiar poster. it shows a nighttime landscape. a girl stood in front of a clear sky with the white shiny moon behind it. but the writing underneath the moon is the one that struck him.

moonstruck.

stepping forward, he lets out a small gasp.

around the room, he notices familiar images that he had seen both online and offline. some are the ones he had seen when he was thinking of buying merchandise, but he couldn’t. posters of bands that heeseung knows also have celeste aura collected on one side of the room. mazzy star, the cranberries, the velvet underground, all stood next to the calendar of the year 2000 and the map of south korea with a few pins sticking to them. but its space is compact compared to the moon imagery throughout the rest two sides of the room as the other is where the large window is, opening to the backyard with the sky turning purple. shifting his head once again, he finds a familiar site of a computer set sitting in the room's corner. the desk where the desktop screen stands has a stack of cds by moonstruck but also by her old band, nexus, but there alongside them rests a set of accessories of bracelet and necklace made of silver chain and white pearls.

yet, his eyes caught onto the lit-up screen of the desktop, they shifted at the familiar formatting of the screen he had many times visited. the black background and white-coloured text, the little emoticons of stars and moons,and the side of the screen where you can see the username of the owner of the account. and on top of the page is the recognizable banner of the moon and the typography spelling “space station.”

“you’re-“

“yes.” he turns his head as you approach the desk; opening your files folder so he could see the specific titles of the files. you click twice using your mouse, clicking the shuffle symbol as the familiar guitar of erotic plays from the computer’s speaker.

“i’m pearl. and you’re bambi.” you turn around your body and stand your ground, observing his face.

the pearl that was there when he had first entered the space station—the moderator and owner. the pearl that introduces him to more musicians similar to moonstruck. the pearl that was there assuring him everything was going to be okay. the pearl that he had convinced to not end it all.

it’s you.

“how’d you know-“

“i’ve recognised some details you have written about in the space station. but especially when bambi mentioned someone opening up to them and how they need convincing for bambi to also open up, and that day by field is the day after it. it’s too much of a coincidence.” you stepped forward and every step was full of hesitation as you arrived in front of him.

“i have. i’ve never met a moonstruck fan before other than myself and the first thing i do when i go to a new place is to not let people know that i love this artist who doesn’t know me so much. to not seem so fanatic about it and to wallow in it by myself. but when i met and you introduced me to moonstruck.” you gulped your saliva, “i just had to pretend that i didn’t know her when i know her so much, so that you can continue to talk to me about it, and i will not be as lonely as i am all the time.”

heeseung watches how pearly tears fall from the corner of your eyes. your facade breaks right in front of him along with the action that you were doing to hurt yourself before. he understands you so much, hiding a part of yourself that you know will be embarrassing to people and letting only the closest people learn about them. the memory of his moonstruck cd break under youngbin’s touch came into mind—the only thing that mattered to him at that time. your eyes were always gleaming with a sense of excitement when he put on moonstruck songs for you. he thought that it was because you were excited to hear new music, but he now realizes that it is because he makes you listen to his and your favourite artist.

when he read pearl’s message on the forum chat, he can’t help but think about the predicament himself alongside the experiences he had endured. yet, he had the time to speak to pearl just like how pearl speaks to him, a sense of companionship growing, knowing that people are thankful for pearl for moderating and sharing the latest pieces of information about moonstruck, but also for being there for the people no matter how empty the forum sometimes is like you only speak with the void.

he had saved you twice.

heeseung wraps his arms around you and gives you a tight hug, both of your backpacks fall down his shoulders as you feel even calmer than before. an enormous weight just also dropped from your shoulders as he puts the context of the times when he chats with pearl now with the face of you there. moving your head gently, he wiped the corner of the doe-like eyes looking at him as he let out a small pout.

“thank you. for creating space station. for connecting me more with moonstruck. for being there for me and giving me advice.”

“ditto,” you replied with a pout on your lips as well. yet your eyes still have cracks in them. cracks coming from the memories and experiences you have had and shared with him verbally or together, all culminating to today that he will always be thankful to go after you.

you had been his anchor for the semester. you had shown him that the life he is living is problematic in many ways. the friends he hangs out with regard him as the lowest in their group—not treated as a friend should be. but with you, he had felt more feelings he didn’t know existed for all his young life. and when he sensed your lips, he could sense your contemplation: all the turmoil you experiencing.

heeseung stumbled back when he felt the mattress hit behind his knees, making him sit down as you straddled his lap. his hands holding on to yours as you pulled away from the feverish kiss. your brows folded as you stared at his agape lips, the way his bangs framed him perfectly so that you could see his little freckle on his forehead. but he can see how you shook your head slightly. your hands move as you grab his wrist, pulling his hand so that it curves around your neck—reaching for his fingers to close it. his eyes flicker to look at his hand and your face, watching it tense as you put pressure on his fingers against the column.

“i want you... to fuck my pain away, heeseung.” your eyes shifted from his outstretched arm to his face.

“you’re going to get hurt more-“

“i trust you.” you slowly lower your hand and let him control the pressure yourself. “i give you my consent. i just, i don’t want to feel anything other than you.”

you lean in, resting your forehead against his as heeseung looks at your eyes closing. his hand still holding onto the curve of your neck. he can’t help but share the rage you felt. he knew he deserved it—the three-day suspension. but for the rest to only be given two weeks when their action culminated in bringing someone to the brink of death is unjustifiable. teenagers and their lack of consequences, and the adults who also don’t punish them hard enough. he could feel the contempt exuding from you and with the way you seem to let go of control, you truly trust him that you won’t get hurt under his care. no matter how hard he is going to be.

heeseung kisses your lips; they move around yours to create a sloppy mess as he holds your neck so you won’t move, earning a low moan from you as he pushes his tongue in between the gap. the muscles poke against your cheeks before battling with yours, his hand reaches for your uniform shirt as he unbuttons them one by one, exposing your bra to him as he gives one of your breasts pressure with his free hand. you groan against his mouth, making him pull away as you look at him with your hooded eyes and breathless face. he pulls your hands to his chest as they unbutton his shirt while he attacks your exposed collar, marking your skin with his touch and bite as he could feel your body trembling.

he hadn’t worn any t-shirt under the uniform today when you trace your fingertips against his muscles, teasing him like it is intentional as he groaned before he held you and positioned you off of his lap. your body is flailing like a doll as you let him move you into any position he wants: on your hands and knees. he kneels behind your bent-over body, lifting the uniform skirt as he is met with the sight of your underwear—a little wet patch already there.

“you’re that wet for me?” he says with a smirk on his face and you reply with a mumbled “yes” from your face against the pillow. he watches as you turned your head so you could catch what he is going to do. his cock hardens underneath his pants as he wipes his thumb against the wet patch, feeling your folds separating because of it. you take a sharp breath when he pulls your underwear down your thigh and pulls it off your legs and you let out a moan when you felt his wet tongue giving the slit a lick.

“hee-“ you shifted your body so you could watch him as the vibration of his hums added more to the sensation. continuing to moan, you let them out as loud as possible. nobody lives near you and nobody seems to live here other than you.

“ack!” your body moves forward with the force of his slap against your butt cheek, feeling your lower region shaking as your grip against your pillow tightens, making you see your bone knuckles against your skin. drool comes out of your lips and pools on the pillows as you hear a zipper opening when you tilt your head once again.

“more-“

“you want more?” heeseung gives another spank as you reply with a moan but also nods. when you felt the familiar hard blunt tip against your entrance, you had already braced yourself. but you didn’t expect him to push nearly half of his shaft into your wet cavern. your walls deliciously adapt to his cock with such muscle memory.

“i’m giving you more.” his hand reaches for yours and brings them behind. his hip starts to thrust at a steady pace as your muffled moan vibrates in the room alongside the magical sound of moonstruck from the corner of your room. playing the songs in a shuffle that also represents the various emotions that are hard to define as it is ever-changing. heeseung bent forward and traced his lips down your spine covered by the uniform, his own threatening to fall down his shoulder as he continued to push the skirt upwards above your bottom.

when he reaches around for your neck, you let him pull you up as your back arch with your head resting on his shoulder. his face rested beside your ear as you both in sync.

“fuck, angel. you feel so good squeezing me.”

“s-so full- ah!” you continue to move your hips in tandem with his thrust, feeling his tip kissing your cervix as he traces his lips across your exposed collarbone to your bra strap. heeseung trails his hand downwards—pressing against the area above your mound—he could sense the faint movement of him inside you.

“cum for me, angel,” he seductively whispers as you clawed against his skin when he hugs your shaking body. the gush falls down and seeps out from between your connected areas as you whine when you feel him pulled out. that is when he turned your body so that you lay down under him, letting him kiss your lips once again with as hard of a force as when he fucks you.

you moaned against his lips when he slips inside you once again, your hand brushing the shirt away as you trace his stitches scar on the collarbone before he distracts you when he flips the cup of your bra upwards as he leans down to give your nipple a suck. another hand of yours curl up in his hair, curling your legs too with how great it is as you feel like you are floating from the sensation you felt. you glance downwards to watch heeseung marking you across your chest while still moving at a pace that allows him to chase your orgasm once again. but you knew it is his turn to cum.

lifting his head up, you stare him in the eye as you let your trance mind jumble up the words that could entice him more.

“use me. fuck, baby. please.” coherent mumbles come out of you with a price as he lifts your legs and pushes them against your chest. your eyes are rolling backwards as you let him drop his moan against yours, chasing down the high that he wants to experience once again with you. sweat trailing down your skin as you can feel him buckle. eyes pleading with him to give you his all.

“i’m cumming,” he mentioned as he let out beautiful moans alongside the warm liquid bursting and spreading inside you. both of you breathe hard, taking in each other’s pace as you look outside the window to only notice that the light outside is from the exterior lamps you turned on while in the kitchen and the moon shining brightly into your room. moonstruck’s music continues as your computer plays one of her singles.

your arms reach for him as heeseung lies down against your body. your orgasm coming in late, but you still felt yourself clamping down on him. not wanting to let go. your mind has finally felt much clearer from the worries of the world that you could mostly ignore.

the bed covering and duvet continue to flood in both of your sweat as you pull off the rest of his and your uniforms. he helps you straddle him and places his cock to plunge inside you when you push down. round after round were done with no words of command spoken. only a look from each other’s eyes after a five-minute break was enough for him to lay you down and fuck you into oblivion. the songs are never ending as you continue to be enraptured by each other in different positions and location on the bed. and when you looked at the clock, ticking its hands as the time went, you could understand that it had been hours you’d spent in this whole thing when you arrived here.

your head rests on his pectorals, kissing the collarbone stitch on his shoulder, as you both stare at the plain ceiling where the moonlight meets the warm orange light from the bedside lamp. heeseung’s arm wraps around the middle, soothing you with his palm on your back as you both shared chuckles at what happened hours before. how it goes from one end of the spectrum to the other in a plunge and how you both reciprocate it. yet, there are still some nagging questions after he had uncovered many things about you, from the obvious to the minute details.

“so, you’re the one that created space station?” his soft voice calls for you as he hears you hum.

“i see it as a good opportunity to connect with like-minded people; the internet. and so, i learned how to be a webmaster and create this where i can talk about moonstruck. it used to be more of a personal website but because there are many frequent guests, i decided to make it more of a forum for discussion.” your soft sigh caught his attention as he looked to see you already looking at him.

“it helps me cope with my loneliness from moving around. like i have a purpose to do in life, but even that is not enough when everything becomes too overwhelming and i... you know...” you tilted your head, making him think of the catalyst that brought him to your house and realize who you also are.

“the map of korea with the pins and the boxes...” heeseung builds up his sentence, “are you moving again?”

“ah...” you chuckle as your eyes shift to the faint map on the other side of the room. “i don’t know. depends on how much trouble my parents are with their spending, evading, and gaslighting. they don’t put away their stuff out of the box thinking that the people who chase them will come after them again and we have to move. but honestly, i just want a place to stay for even one year. let me finish high school and i can step aside from troubling them with their lifestyle... like a burden.” your eyes blink, their puffy from the tears of pain before and pleasure recently, but he can see the slight shimmer in your eyes coming back once again.

“the map is the places that i want to visit in the country. just stepping aside from seoul and its surrounding areas to visit the southern coast. i mostly want to visit yeosu. it is a small city unlike busan but it's on an island but smaller than jeju island. i also haven’t visited jeju. people said it is so much different compared to seoul.”

heeseung continues to rub your bare back as he takes in your thoughts, yet his mind pins the mention of the place that changed everything for him.

“i have been to jeju. the trip that i mentioned to you with that whole thing that changed eunho.”

your head rose as you held your hands against the mattress and his chest, looking at him as the boy had to close his eyes. remembering the events that transpired at that time.

“the tour guide there said to me a person died three times. first, the body dies, and then the heart, and lastly, the soul.” he brought one hand of his to cup your cheek. “eunho’s body died when we were bullied in middle school when he dared to defy the bullies and gotten punch so hard he had a concussion. his heart died when he discovered his parents were divorcing on that very trip. and his soul died that day, getting ripped away by the riptide on the coast of jeju island.”

heeseung looked aside before flicking his eyes back to you, “well...” he gulped, “he is the one that introduced me to moonstruck. when i was doing his errands. i think it’s also a reason i stick by him other than being his friend way back then.”

a bell rings in your mind with the new information, your cheek leaning closer to him as you now understand why he sticks so long with eunho. he was the anchor of heeseung’s life: revolving his life to accommodate eunho and how without the boy, heeseung would’ve not found out about moonstruck. the words he has spoken tell more of a story of gratitude wrapped in melancholy. a story of friendship tainted by the harshness of life, but instead of cowering in loneliness like you do, he held himself up to hang out with the “wrong crowd” instead.

“i think i’m stepping into that cycle of death myself. my body died when he controlled me to give him money and beat me up if i refused to do so. and... my heart nearly died when i thought i would never see you again.” his thumb brushed underneath your eye and he saw the tears clouding his sight.

“i am so, so sorry for making you go to the back of the school. i-“

“you were coerced, heeseung. it’s an all-or-nothing situation for you. and i just feel like that’s the best option you have in comparison to other options. i’m sorry as well for not stepping away from you when you had mentioned to do so. i, well, knowing just how similar our interests are does not make me want to let you go.”

“and that is very normal, (y/n).” he replies back to you. “i just hated that he and the others, including the girls, are only given two weeks knowing how many victims they have in this very school.” heeseung pushed his head back into the pillow and letting out an exhale.

“he won’t stop. people like him won’t stop. their reasoning for their bullying is too superficial that it changes over time. jealousy mostly. but it will still happen even after school.” you added to his mind palace, letting your head rest against his chest once again.

“let him go so you can move on.”

the words seep into heeseung’s mind as they echo. turning his head, he gives you a short lovely kiss with a small smile growing on his face.

“i have to.”

-

《moonstruck concert!!!》 《this saturday in seoul》 《from: 1004

《hey everyone!》 《i’ll be going to the concert tomorrow》 《if you ever see someone holding a green apple》 《it’s going to be me》 《let’s link up!》 《from: silver

the screeching noise of the rails vibrates along with the shake of the cart. you are wearing an all-white outfit from top to bottom. both of your knees were covered with knee pads as you looked down to examine the cigarette burns fading and blending in with the rest of the skin of your forearms. trailing your sight following the hand lands on fingers wrapping beside yours, heeseung’s head tilting back as he watches the lights of the train car light up with every movement towards the venue of the sports stadium. both of your tickets were in one side of his pockets as he had the other one inside the other where he stores his needed stuff.

both of you blend in the crowd as you walk out of the train and arrive at the station. as you climb the stairs up towards the roads, you both step aside from the bigger crowd to join the smaller crowd that is leading the path towards the venue. on the way there, you observe people in various shapes and sizes with their outfits approaching the enormous stadium that you can see across from where you are. you don’t let go of heeseung’s hand as you turn to the side, booths upon booths of food and beverages stand along with a merchandise booth beside the large jumbotron showing moonstruck’s promotional videos for angels, stopping both him and you on your tracks. but you also follow him to look towards the queue to get into the stadium—both of you holding the tickets for the best spots in the stadium.

“let’s divide and conquer. what merch do you want?” he stands close so he can whisper to you, the hand with both of your tickets still beside yours as you grab them tight.

“a small one that we can share. postcards maybe?”

“hmm... i’ll surprise you, angel.” he kisses your temple before pushing aside, “stand in the line for us.”

you smile back as he moves to cut the line of crowds towards the merchandise booth, seeing him blending in with his unbuttoned black shirt and white t-shirt combo. turning around, you head towards the line to stand by the stadium premises. the sky is approaching the evening as you gaze at half of the sun nearly covered by the large stadium. you take every step forward, looking around at the people that come here. in your imagination, you might have seen only a bunch of young people—teenagers to college age—who come to moonstruck’s concert. but you don’t expect many working-age adults and even those approaching middle age also be here. a smile emerges from your lips; moonstruck’s music transcends age and generations.

from your hearing, you caught a few mentions of your community of space station. how a few of the people hug as they seem to get to know each other from there. the sound of shrieking excitement sounded from a bunch of girls who wear outfits uniformed to the moon colours of the three albums of moonstruck. yet, your eyes are searching for two things: green apple of silver and heeseung.

having been the most active person when you are also online, silver is someone very knowledgeable about moonstruck. your opinions agree with each other and they also follow through with your celeste aura theory—making it spread to the online moonstruck fandom that you can feel your heart flutter from hearing some people mentioning it, especially the older ones. because of that connection, you really want to meet up with them and share your love of moonstruck with them. silver seems to be close to bambi especially when giving him the opinion so that heeseung could open up to you, so you hope those two could close online as well as offline.

your head turns to peer at the start of the queue, searching for heeseung as you stand as close to the edge of the lines as possible so that he can step inside and stand beside you. instead, you heard commotion coming from behind the cue.

“hey, brother. line the fuck up.”

“young boys and their little capacity for awareness.”

shifting back, you find the person who is making this ruckus, but when you look down to meet the green apple in his hand and the face of the owner, you can feel how your heart plummets down into the depths of earth.

“(y/n)!”

“eunho...”

you wanted to puke out the meal you and heeseung had before coming here as your eyes still looked at the green apple, not wanting it to be true until you could read the name “silver” on it written with a black marker. his arm drapes behind you. the sight of the green apple on your shoulder taunts you as you feel him holding you close.

“are you here alone?”

“no, i’m with-“

“ah,” he gasps inauthentically, “oh yeah, with heeseung, where is he anyway? that is so bad of him to leave you alone like that.”

your body reacted to move away from him and go back to heeseung’s embrace. but you looked down to see the hand that was holding your tickets was replaced with the green apple. the person before you had her ticket checked and cut through with a paper puncher and skips happily after she passes, resulting in both of you now standing together. eunho holds three tickets: one of his from the seating section and two of yours from your standing section near the stage. his nimble fingers quickly move to tuck the seating ticket away as the security punches the hole for the rest of the tickets and pushes you forward, stopping you from moving away as you remember the terms and conditions.

tickets with the punched holes aren’t able to enter the premises again.

your eyes watch in horror as you feel your nails pierce into the apple’s skin as you turn your body around, tip-toeing to search for heeseung’s familiar face in the crowd.

“heeseung!” you called out to him as you saw someone raising an arm up.

“(y/n)!” the voice calls you back as you find him in the line you were just in. you want to run to him, but eunho’s hand is too fast as he brings you back and slams you against his front. his arm wrapped around you as he pulls out the last ticket in his grasp, showing heeseung how it looks intact with no holes. his tight push against your chest and upper arms can’t make you raise them as the sound of the paper ripping makes you hiss and your eyes tremble with rageful tears. the ripped paper falls onto your chest as you collect it and push him away with all your might.

“FUCK YOU!” you run towards the security as heeseung is approaching close to the barricade. tears threatening to fall down your face as you approach one of the guards by the place.

“please let me out!” you plead as you find heeseung’s figure, his smile has fallen.

“you know you can’t step back inside-“

“i know. please, it’s an emergency,” you replied with a lie as the guard looked back at you before moving aside to let you walk away from the premises. you run towards heeseung as he looks at you with a panic in his face before his eyebrows furrowed.

“what is happening?” you cut him as you grab his arm and pull him away from the line, as far from the crowd approaching to enter the stadium, before you hug him tight.

“i’m so, so sorry.” he hears your mumbled voice as you cry into his chest. you felt the paper bag of the merchandise behind you as you pulled your head away for you to talk.

“what’s wrong, angel?”

you show him the green apple, nearly mushed from your grip as the writing on it is still readable, “it’s him.”

“silver, you met them?”

“yeah,” you take a deep breath, “it’s eunho.”

heeseung’s furrowed brows deepen, looking into your eyes to determine if you are actually telling the truth or not. but when he sees just how heartbroken you are inside, he knows it is true.

“he, he got our tickets and pushed me inside with them.” you pushed the crushed bits of paper in your other fist as you opened the palm and showed it. “this one is his. he tore it up so that you couldn’t get in.” you finished speaking as another gush of tears comes out of you, looking at his expression as you brace yourself to cower when you see the familiar spark of flame in his eyes lights up again.

instead, you felt him enveloped his hands around you. the sound of the screaming from inside is thrown away as the sky continues to darken. the mix of many emotions enveloped both of you as you felt him whisper in your ears.

“we’re going to be okay. we can sit down here and look at the jumbotron. everything will be fine.”

you hummed, every turmoil inside you move to his assuring words; mending both of your heart that is shattered into smithereens. when you hear the bass vibrating, you shift to the side as you stare at the stadium with the purple sky in the background. both of you stare at the concert venue full of “what should be”s as he brings you to sit aside on the warm pavement.

wiping your tears away, you look down at the paper bag heeseung bought from the merchandise booth as he pulls out the postcard set, but also a pair of small hoop earrings with crescent moons motive for you both to share with your pierced ears. your eyes gleamed as observed them before giving him a hug. you both listen along to the songs played even with the distance, recognisable to your ears as both of you compete to whisper the title as fast as possible. the light of the jumbotron competes with the one from inside the stadium, the city of seoul, and the beautiful nighttime sky. you see many visitors who are also eavesdropping on the concert, some buying the merch as you discussed if you have enough money to buy the remaining t-shirts.

hours pass as you both lay down on the pavement, listening to moonstruck like you always do on the rooftop, by the fields, and in each other’s bedroom as you see the little white dots in the sky. that is when you see the jumbotron changed, showing a new video you have never watched for the amount of cycle that has happened.

pushing your body upright, you walked to the front of the jumbotron screen that is much more massive than you: live footage from inside the venue.

moonstruck, her figure with her identifiable flowing long hair now as short until it reaches her shoulders. a guitar hanging by the strap across her body, strummed by her hands as you also noticed how the video behind her shows the beautiful supernova—hearing the song with the title playing.

your eyes looking between the girl and the picturesque video of the moon, remembering the moment when you wrapped so close to heeseung when you listened to this song for the first time. eyebrows furrowed as you felt the nerves around your eyes reacting. the shine of the screen reflects on you as even with the minimal colour, the prominent neon captures and swallows you into the colour that it reaches you deep. you take many sharp breaths, pushing yourself down as you don’t want to cry again.

the song continues as you look at the moon behind moonstruck. pink colour from the angels cover art captures your attention as you let out a pout, peeking from the corner of your eyes at the figure of the familiar boy who has his head turned to you. the ringing of her voice lingers as instruments disappear one by one. the screen shows the entire moon video, the pink and now purple shining right before you as you look down to see the text.

wanna fly towards the moon?

your fingers curl as you turn your palms to meet his; his own already moving instinctively and locking them with yours, agreeing to do what is written if it is with you.

the crowd from the concerts steps out into crowds of different sizes. there, left astray, walks eunho as he steps out by himself, his eyes glaring around to find a familiar face he has seen before the concert or the familiar face of the boy who had been by his side for the past 5 years. he found the former.

you still hold on to his green apple, feeling the brushes of shoulders walking past you as you continue to look at the dispersing crowd. your free hand is in a fist as you are met with the smile that haunts you and also heeseung. eunho takes his time, whisking around and about like nobody is watching him as he meets his eyes with you.

but then he heard a scream of a boy, a recognizable voice.

“there’s moonstruck.”

one.

“moonstruck is here.”

two.

the people that were walking past you turned around as eunho did and your eyes continued to stick to him. then, the gush of wind came as people behind you walked past forward and back towards the stadium. screams of moonstruck being sighted echo to the night as you felt eunho’s eyes back on you, lifting the hand that was holding his green apple as you take a bite of it before you are being covered by the rushing crowd. all coming near to where eunho stands.

his eyes continue to look towards the back, wanting to find the appearance of the musician who helped him through the trials of life as he felt himself going back into the crowd. hands pushing each other to move forward to return to the stadium. but one push felt so painful that he had to glance down: a trail of blood coming out beneath his t-shirt. his vision is full of rage that slowly dissipates as he looks behind to find the eyes of the person who had been with him: heeseung. eunho expected his friend could help him, but as his vision darkens, the sight of the boy escapes as he pushes past the crowd and goes towards the city.

heeseung emerges from the crowd as you let out a tremendous relief, hearing the loud cheers turn to panic.

“stand up! someone fell.” one of them travels to your ears as you watch heeseung jog back to you, wiping the bloodied pocket knife you let him borrow across his black shirt before flipping it back and putting it in his jean pocket where his tickets were supposed to be.

your footsteps quicken as you both walk away as far from the crowd as possible, hearing the scream of medics calling to the crowd as you both walk away. handing out the bitten apple, he takes a bite of it himself before he reaches for your hand and wraps them in his on the way back to your town.

to go back to a place where everything will be much more than normal as you both close this cycle of madness: beginning your lives again.

-

《the death of the boy at moonstruck’s seoul concert is haunting》 《from asphyxiation by the crowd crush to a stab to his back》 《someone was out for him》 《from: d1sc0rd

《that day changes the whole of space station and the rest of moonstruck’s fandom outside of it》 《was moonstruck actually there?》 《from: toro82

《she is...》 《i don’t know》 《seems like it》 《i was there too》 《also》 《it’s weird that pearl is not here》 《i hope they’re okay with the talk of the dead boy》 《from: 1004

《it’s creepy knowing that someone's last song to hear is moonstruck’s》 《from: walker0

《let’s hope pearl is okay》 《maybe they’re taking a rest because of this incident》 《we all should》 《from: cosmiccomet

-

the appearance of the flower vase on the seat beside you makes you harden as you listen to miss kang’s last remark before summer vacation starts.

your eyes look towards the corner of the room as you also see empty tables that belonged to your bullies, now vacant as the two girls are frazzled with the recorded evidence that landed them on hot waters alongside the boys with their punishments and the death of eunho. turning around, you checked out heeseung who has let the hair by his nape get long. his bangs framing his forehead as he looks at you with a smirk on his face.

drastic changes happen to heeseung after he closes the cycle with you, his words ringing into your head as you remember laying down beside him and watching the moon by the stadium.

“he won’t hurt more people again.”

and when he did the deed and waited at the station that would bring you home, he gave you a very hard kiss that took your breath away before giving the pocket knife back to you.

you walk past the entrance of the school building for the last time this semester as you peer down the road to find heeseung waiting for you by the gate.

“ready to get your bag?” he playfully asks as you nudge him with your shoulder.

“of course i do. the train ticket is right there and we won’t be able to go if i didn’t grab them.”

his giggle fluttering across from the two of you as you walked, remembering the plan of getting your bag from your house before going to heeseung’s to pick up his bag and greet heechan one last time—you know many things will change for the month his older brother will be away.

heeseung’s arm wrapped around your shoulders as you both walk down the road together, bringing you close to him as you feel his kiss linger on your temple before he whispers in your pierced ear, the crescent moon earring mirrored with his own.

“we see how we will settle there at yeosu. create connections and all.” you blinked your eyes as you shifted your head to look at him.

“one more year and we will live there...” his words echo the promise you both make.

“one more year and we will leave this place behind...” you continue the promise as you grab his hand and give the back of it a kiss, continuing to walk to your destination.

one more year and you will be with each other in your next lives.

taglist: @raeyunshm @leilasmom @evidive @boba-beom @kwiwin @heesw1fe @aloverga @endzii23 @fluffyywoo @camipendragon @hiqhkey @wccycc @cha0thicpisces @y4wnjunz @yeehawnana @beansworldsstuff @kimipxl @blurryriki @amazzwon @sunpov @ineedsomezzz @reallysmolrenjun @stealanity @deobitifull @mheretoreadff @gandaengene @amaraeofsunshine @nyxtwixx @heekirei

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[misshoneyimhome]

What's up buttercups ♥️

We’re almost there—the second final chapter of the series. And really, what says true love more than a little cross-checking? Sometimes, a good hit is exactly what it takes to knock sense into our favourite couple 😉

As always, I hope you enjoy the chaos, the emotions, and everything in between. Happy reading, darlings ♥️

Tropes & warnings: inexperienced!reader x Auston Matthews, meet cute, strangers to friends, fake relationship, language

Word count: 7.8k Chapter one ; Chapter two ; Chapter three ; Chapter four ; Chapter five ; Chapter six ; Chapter seven ; Chapter eight ; Chapter nine; Chapter ten; Chapter eleven; Chapter twelve; Chapter thirteen ; Chapter fourteen; Chapter fifteen; Chapter sixteen ; Chapter seventeen

Some who might have interest: @hockeybabe87 @tonyspep @thesecretestblogever @delayed-delusions @kurlyteuvo @emsdevs

➼｡ﾟ

Chapter eighteen: Checkmate

::

“Dearest Toronto,

Did you really think I wouldn’t see it?

That I’d miss the flick of his gaze at the gala? October 20th—mark it, frame it, tattoo it across your chest. The beginning of the greatest performance this city’s seen since 1967.

He touched her waist like they’d rehearsed it. She leaned in like she’d practised the smile. The camera flash caught everything—but so did I. Hidden in the blur of velvet gowns and highball glasses. Just out of sight. Just in reach.

The Queen dressed to impress. The Ice King with his mask of profession. The pose too perfect. The kiss too close. And suddenly, poof—a couple born, headlines drafted, narratives spun tighter than Auston Matthews’ top line.

You didn’t see me then. You never do. But I’ve always been here. Watching. Waiting. Connecting the dots, you tried so hard to keep apart.

Like the physio room kiss—yes, that kiss. Tiled walls. Locker room echo. One jersey sleeve half-off. The air so thick with tension I nearly choked on it through a wall. You think security cameras miss things? I don’t. I see everything.

Or that morning she left his building in a hoodie three sizes too big—for those playing along. You really think that kind of domesticity hides well behind tinted windows?

There’s a pattern here, Toronto. A pulse.

From the first dog walk. Felix leading, Auston trailing, our Queen looking a little too comfortable for someone “new” to his life. No paps, no press. Just one woman—me—with a long lens and an excellent sense of timing. Oh, and my little songbirds of course. They never fail me. Feeding me with just enough content to continue the saga. 

Then the first game night. WAG suite. Pink lipstick. One laugh too loud when the Leafs scored. Auston on the ice, but eyes in the crowd. Don’t believe me? Zoom in on Getty Image #374920. Third row. That look? It’s not part of the playbook.

Next one? She meets the team. Post-game hallway banter. Mitch chirping. Nylander watching too closely. A brushed knuckle here. A muttered “you did good” there. The play was still on. But so was something else.

Moving on – The first kiss. In his car after that dinner in Ossington. Fogged windows. Fingers twisted. A moment too raw to be scripted. And yet—they both kept pretending.

Pretending so well it became real. That’s the cruel twist, isn’t it?

They thought they were playing me. Or you. Or maybe just the media. A neat little PR stunt to distract from October losses and career plateaus. One well-timed gala appearance, and suddenly she’s the face in every crowd shot, every recap.

But it was me who made people look at you. Me who whispered into inboxes, stirred the speculation, sharpened the angles. You’re welcome.

Because without me? She’s just a ghost in corporate heels. He’s just a player riding a streak. Together? They’re a story. My story.

You think the photos leaked themselves? You think the sauna scene—the record—just magically found its way onto gossip threads? No, darling. That was surveillance. And not the government kind.

There was the family dinner—hers. The stiff posture at the table. Her mother dissecting Auston like he was under lab glass. The moment she touched his thigh beneath the tablecloth. You think love looks like roses and violins? No. It looks like fear and fire under flickering chandelier light.

His low games. Her first viral photo with another man—Ryan. Coincidence? Maybe. But Auston’s post-game stats dropped harder than his jaw in that parking garage.

The charity event aftermath. Her hands shaking when she thought no one was looking. His fingers brushing hers like they were still on stage. The kiss they shared behind the curtains when the crowd clapped for someone else.

And now? Now the illusion fractures.

Because someone finally asked: what’s real and what’s marketing? Was it ever love—or was it leverage?

Well, let me ask you this:

If the kiss in the tunnel wasn’t real…

If the breakfast with Ema wasn’t real…

If the sauna, the physio room, the car kiss, the hallway breakdown, the post-game tension, the WAG suite laughter, the ice-pack apology, the bruised-knuckle defence, the borrowed hoodie, the crying-in-the-dark honesty—if all of that wasn’t real…

Then why did he punch a man in front of his teammates to protect her?

Why did she keep coming to the rink like her heart had forgotten what fake meant?

You can’t rehearse that kind of reaction.

You can’t PR-spin a bloodied lip and a whispered thank you’s.

And yet, despite it all—they should be thanking me.

I gave them the audience. The stage. The lights. I curated the myth and fed it just enough truth to keep you salivating. They basked in the glow of the fire I started.

And now they’re crying about the burn. Poor unfortunate souls…

Every queen’s gambit leads to one final play.

And this? This is Checkmate.

Yours always,

The Benchwarmer”

_

Wednesday –

You woke to the sound of chaos—not a fire alarm or sirens, but the insistent, endless thrill of your phone buzzing against the nightstand like it was possessed.

6:41 a.m.

You blinked against the pale morning light; body tangled in sheets you didn’t remember curling into. For a split second, everything was still normal. Quiet. Warm. Then you rolled over, picked up your phone, and saw the screen:

91 unread messages. 84 missed calls. 321 app notifications.

Twitter. Instagram. X. Threads. Slack. Even LinkedIn.

Your heart skipped once. Then twice. Then dropped.

The first text was from Jess.

Jess: Call me. Now.

The second from Maya.

Maya: Um. Holy shit. Are you okay??

The third—

Unknown Number: You’re trending. And not in a good way.

You didn’t have to ask why. Your thumb hovered over Safari, over Instagram. But in the end, it was the Twitter feed—no, X feed now, whatever—that gave you the truth.

#Fakemance

#MatthewsPRGirlfriend

#TheBenchwarmerWasRight

There were screenshots everywhere. Blurry photos. Grainy captures. Comment sections filled with popcorn emojis and armchair analysts combing through your life like it was an unsolved crime.

📸 Gala: You in that outfit. Auston’s hand on your waist. That smile.

📸 WAG Suite: You laughing too hard at something Stephanie said. Auston glancing up at you mid-shift.

📸 Physio Room Rumour: A shot from the side of a hallway. Half a doorframe. Half a jersey. A knowing caption.

“She wasn’t even trying to hide it lmao.”

“He’s definitely in on it. Look at the hand placement.”

“They think we’re blind??”

 And then the ones that weren’t supposed to exist.

One of you slipping out of Auston’s condo. Hoodie-draped. Sleep-flattened hair.

One of the sauna, the corner of your leg—pixelated, cropped, and horrifyingly recognisable.

One of the tunnel, the kiss after Utah. 

Your stomach twisted so violently you sat straight up.

The captions were merciless.

“Staged? Or the worst PR move in hockey history?”

“I love a fake dating trope as much as the next girl, but this ain’t Wattpad.”

“Hope it was worth it. What a loser.”

Instagram comment sections beneath your last work post had turned toxic overnight. Threads dissected your entire timeline, quoting articles, cross-referencing dates. People had matched your outfits to game days, linked you to Auston’s road schedule, theorised about “strategic PDA” and “media manipulation.”

The most viral thread?

A side-by-side of your gala photo and a still of Auston defending you against Chase. The caption read:

“From fake to fists. You can’t write this shit.”

You stood abruptly, nearly knocking over your water glass. The room blurred. Your breathing went shallow.

This wasn’t a rumour anymore. This wasn’t Benchwarmer snark. This was blood in the water—and you were the headline.

So, naturally, you called in sick.

Voice hoarse. Apology half-mumbled. You didn’t even fake a cough. Just said, “Something’s come up,” and hung up before they could ask questions. You barely made it to the bathroom before the nausea hit.

You sat on the cold tile floor, clutching your phone, watching your own life implode in 144-character bursts. Everyone had an opinion. Everyone was certain. And worst of all—someone had seen things they should never have seen.

How did they know about the physio room?

The sauna? The goddamn hallway after the event?

That angle from Auston’s parking garage… how—

Your thoughts spiralled faster than you could control them.

It wasn’t just that the relationship had become complicated. It was that someone had been watching from the start.

Someone who knew where you’d be. When. With whom. Someone who hadn’t just guessed. They’d followed. Your name wasn’t just trending. It was dissected.

Every decision. Every outfit. Every word. Your professionalism was called into question. Your ethics. Your reputation.

Tears burned at the edges of your eyes. You blinked them away. Fast. Fierce. You couldn’t cry. Not yet.

Instead, you crawled back into bed, pulled the covers over your head like they could shield you from the noise, and let yourself whisper the one question you were afraid to ask out loud:

“How long have they been there?”

And the even worse one:

“What do they want next?”

Because this wasn’t a ripple anymore. It was a flood. And you were drowning in it.

_

You almost didn’t show up.

You’d stared at your phone for hours, Jess’s texts unread, the group chat with Aryne, Stephanie, and Estelle hovering like a loaded gun. The last message had been Aryne’s.

Aryne: Some of us are in the lounge before the guys fly out. Thought you might want to say something…

No exclamation mark. No emojis. Just that.

So, you came.

The lounge was quieter than usual—muted televisions droning over SportsCentre highlights, the low hum of conversation trailing off the moment the door clicked shut behind you. You stepped in slowly, every pair of eyes lifting and turning.

Burning.

The room smelled faintly of citrus cleaner and leftover coffee. Light pooled through the skylight above the velvet sofas, casting long shadows on the tile. Sanna sat on the arm of a chair, Stephanie perched upright across from her, Aryne leaning against the counter by the kitchenette. Tessa held her baby tighter than usual, and Estelle didn’t look up at all.

Silence spread like fire.

You opened your mouth, but then closed it again.

But then Stephanie stood with arms crossed, heels clicking against the wooden floor. Her tone was cold. Almost too level. “How long were you going to lie to us?”

Your throat tightened. “I wasn’t lying. I just… didn’t know how to explain. It started out as—”

“A PR stunt,” Tessa cut in, arms folded. “Yeah. We read the blogs.”

Her eyes were sharp, but there was hurt there, too. Not jealousy. Not anger. Just betrayal—sharp-edged and quiet.

“You made us look stupid,” she said flatly. “We defended you. Every time someone said something shitty online. Every time a rumour came up. We backed you.”

Aryne’s jaw was tight. She didn’t speak. Just sipped her water and looked away.

You stepped forward, hands shaking slightly at your sides. “It wasn’t supposed to go this far. I didn’t plan for it to be… whatever it turned into. We both thought it would be short-term. Strategic. Nothing personal.”

“But it did turn personal,” Stephanie said, still standing, still studying you like she was watching something crack open. “Didn’t it?”

You didn’t answer right away. You couldn’t. So, you just nodded.

“It became a mess,” you whispered. “And by then… it was already too late.”

A heavy beat passed before Estelle stood and tucked her phone into her bag. She didn’t say a word as she simply walked out.

Then Aryne. She hesitated just long enough to give you a look—not cruel, not cutting. Just exhausted.

“I liked you,” she murmured. “Still do. But you broke the rule.”

Your brows furrowed. “What rule?”

She gestured around the room. “This. The trust. You don’t fake your way into it. You earn it. And if you don’t… you leave the rest of us exposed.”

Then she followed Estelle out, slow and deliberate.

Tessa leaned back and exhaled through her nose. “You know what hurts the most?”

You waited.

“I wanted you to be different.”

And just like that, one by one, the others drifted off—Sanna with a soft shake of her head, a few awkward murmurs from newer girlfriends you barely knew. Only Stephanie remained.

She studied you for a long moment, expression unreadable, before she said, “The worst part is it’s not even the fake dating. He’s done that tons of times. It’s that you didn’t trust us enough to say something.”

“I didn’t trust myself,” you said quietly. “It all got… so real so fast, and I didn’t want to screw it up.”

Stephanie’s laugh was hollow. “Too late.”

You nodded. “I know.”

She finally turned toward the door but paused just before leaving. “You might win him in the end. That happens in stories like this.”

Then she looked back at you, eyes colder than before.

“But don’t expect all of us to clap when you do.”

And then she was gone.

You were left alone in the lounge, standing in the fading light, the silence settling around you like ash.

It wasn’t the words that broke your heart. It was the absence.

The women you’d once joked with. Sat beside. Shared nail colours and spa drinks and side-line whispers with. You’d been one of them—or at least, it had started to feel that way.

But now? The door had closed.

And for the first time since all this began, you weren’t sure if it would open again.

_

The Panther’s training rink was empty.

Just the echo of pucks ricocheting off iron and the dull thud of Auston’s stick against the ice. He hadn’t counted how many shots he’d taken—just knew that the more he fired, the less it hurt. Until it didn’t work anymore. Until his breath came fast and hot in his throat and his knuckles ached from clenching the stick too tight.

He was the last one off the ice. By design.

Skates still in, shoulders heavy, jersey sticking to his skin, as he shoved open the door into the locker room expecting silence.

But he didn’t get it.

Waiting just inside the locker room were Mitch, John, William, and Morgan.

No gear. No smiles. No banter.

Just four teammates with crossed arms and tired eyes. There were no jokes. No chirps. Just the heaviness of something none of them wanted to say—but all of them needed to.

Auston slowed, skates echoing against the floor. “If this is about practice, I stayed late to prep for the game. That’s all.”

“It’s not about that,” Mitch said, flat and cold, before William added 

“We saw it, man. All of it.”

Morgan gave a low whistle. “You’re trending higher than the team account.”

John didn’t crack a smile. “Is it true?”

Auston’s shoulders twitched. “Which part?”

“That it was fake,” John said, voice even. “That the whole relationship was a stunt.”

Mitch stepped forward. “Because we’ve been out here defending you. To reporters. To the partners. Telling everyone this wasn’t some PR bullshit again. That this time—it was real.”

There was an edge in Mitch’s voice Auston hadn’t heard in a long time. Not since juniors.

“You really let her use you like that?” William said, quieter. But sharper. Like it hurt to ask.

The words stung like a slap, causing Auston to blink. “What?”

“You think we don’t know how this looks?” Morgan asked. “She got headlines. Press. A nice little career glow-up. And you—what? You just let it happen?”

Auston’s chest ignited, breath flaring sharp through his nose.

“You think she used me?” His voice pitched higher. Rough, almost wounded.

Mitch raised his palms. “Look, it looks bad. Especially after today. People think you got played.”

Auston rolled his eyes. “Are you serious?” He took a step forward. “You really think I didn’t know?”

There was a moment of silence. Then, with a breath like a match-strike:

“It was my fucking idea!”

The words dropped like a puck in overtime. No one moved.

He ran a hand through his damp curls, throat tight. “After the gala—I pitched it. I planned it. I asked her to act. Not the other way around.”

John blinked. “You’re saying—”

“I started it,” Auston said. “I needed to clean up the headlines. She was just trying to help. One week. Maybe two. Then… things changed.”

“Why the fuck didn’t you just tell us, man?” Mitch asked confused. 

“Because I was fucking embarrassed,” Auston snapped. “Another fake relationship? I just couldn’t. Didn’t know how… cause this time, I lost control. And I didn’t know how to fix it without breaking everything.”

“But,” William let out a long breath. “You’ve done this before. We all have.”

Auston shook his head. “Not like this.”

Then John’s voice cut through. “Because she’s different.”

And Auston didn’t argue. Didn’t hesitate. He just swallowed; throat thick. “Yeah. She is.”

The room held still. No one sat. Even the fluorescent lights seemed to wait.

Then Morgan crossed his arms tighter. “Then say it.”

Auston blinked. “Say what?”

“That you’re in love with her,” William said almost with a light chuckle. 

But Auston looked away.

“Hey, we saw it,” John continued. “How you looked at her. At games. In the hallway. Believe me, it stopped being fake for you a long time ago.”

Mitch nodded. “And it sure as hell wasn’t fake when you threw a punch for her.”

Auston’s voice cracked. “I didn’t think. Chase cornered her. He humiliated her. And I just snapped.”

“No,” John said quietly. “You told the truth.”

Auston’s mouth opened, then closed again. He sat, elbows on knees, head bowed.

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” he said, voice hollow. “It was supposed to be easy. Some PR fix. But then she started showing up. Asking questions, I wasn’t used to answering. Talking to my mom. And… then she wasn’t just part of the plan anymore. She was the plan.”

He paused and swallowed hard.

“She made me feel like more than a headline. More than the ‘Ice King.’ And I didn’t know how to go back.”

There was a moment of silence again.

Then Mitch stepped closer. “Hey, we’re not mad you caught feelings, man.”

“We’re mad you didn’t trust us with it,” Morgan added.

“You’re our captain,” John said. “We cover your blind side. On the ice. And off it, too.”

“And when the story blew up, it looked like you left us behind,” Morgan said. “Like we were just side characters in your next little PR drama.”

Auston looked up, eyes rimmed red. “I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.”

“We know,” Mitch said, as they all nodded. Like they’d already forgiven him a long time ago. 

But then William spoke again. “So… what now?”

Auston exhaled shakily. “I don’t know. She’s not answering. Everyone’s pissed. The media’s killing her.”

He stood. Slow and heavy. “I don’t want it to be like that for her.”

Mitch arched a brow, his voice dry but with a flicker of his usual charm. “So… you are in love with her?”

Auston didn’t answer. Just breathed in hard through his nose.

He didn’t nod. Didn’t deny it. Didn’t need to. Because his silence said it all.

“Damn,” Mitch muttered. “That bad, eh?”

“Like, bad-bad,” William said with a deep chuckle.

“Shit,” Morgan breathed, laughing lightly. 

But it was John who held his gaze. Calm and direct. The way former leaders speak to each other when the noise falls away.

“You don’t have to say it,” he said. “We already know.”

Auston blinked, throat closing as he nodded gently.

“But the problem is,” John added, “I’m not sure if she does.”

_

The hotel room was too quiet.

Muted city lights leaked in through the curtains. The hum of the HVAC unit filled the silence, but it did nothing to drown out the noise in Auston’s head. He sat on the edge of the bed, still in his team sweats, muscles aching from practice, film review, and the weight of everything he hadn’t said.

Dinner with the guys had been quick. Awkward. No one brought up the blogs or the kiss or the fight in the hallway—but he could feel it hovering there, just behind the laughter, between bites of steak and stats talk. A presence. Like smoke.

Now he was back in his room, alone, slippers on his feet, laptop balanced on his thighs as the screen glowed against his tired face.

A video call rang once. Twice. Then connected.

“Hola, mijo.”

Ema’s face filled the screen, soft lighting behind her. She was in the kitchen back in Arizona, cardigan sleeves pushed up, a tea towel draped over one shoulder. Brian stood behind her, arms folded, eyes serious. Bree leaned into frame from the edge, chin propped on her hand, phone forgotten beside her.

“You look tired,” Ema said gently.

Auston ran a hand over his jaw. “I am.”

There was a pause before Brian spoke. “We read everything, son. We saw the video of the punch. And… The comments...”

“Yeah.” Auston looked down at his feet. “I figured.”

“You going to explain it to us,” Ema asked, “or do we have to guess like everyone else?”

He exhaled, long and low. “It just started as a lie,” he admitted. “After the gala. I pitched the whole thing to her. PR clean-up. Nothing real. Just a distraction for the media.”

Ema didn’t say anything. Neither did Brian. But Bree raised her eyebrows. “And now?”

“Now it’s a disaster I can’t walk away from,” Auston muttered.

Ema’s tone was softer. “You care about her.”

“Yeah.”

Bree sat up a little straighter. Her voice was quiet, but clear. “Was any of it real?”

The question hit harder than he expected. Auston blinked, his chest tightening.

“All of it,” he said. “I just didn’t realise how real until I’d already messed it up.”

On screen, Ema moved into view a little more, closer to the camera. “You lied to your team. To the press. To us.”

“I know.”

“And to yourself.”

“Well…” His voice was rough. “Yeah…”

Bree leaned forward, resting her elbows on the counter. “So what now?”

“I don’t know if she’ll talk to me again.”

“Then don’t talk,” Ema said simply. “Show her.”

Auston looked up at the screen. “How?”

Ema smiled faintly. “You’ve always known how to make people watch, mijo. But this time—make her feel it too.”

He swallowed hard. Nodded once.

The video feed flickered slightly as Bree sat back again. “The whole internet knows you’re in love with her,” she said. “Except the one person who actually matters.”

“I don’t have a playbook for this,” Auston said quietly.

“Then stop playing,” Brian said. 

Auston stared at them. His family, tired but still showing up, even through a screen.

And for the first time in days, he felt something shift—not clarity, not yet. But a direction. Because maybe it wasn’t about fixing the mess anymore. Maybe it was about proving that even when it started with a lie—what came after didn’t have to be.

_

Thursday –

The office felt colder than usual. Not in temperature—though the AC was humming, as always—but in the way people looked at you when the lift doors opened, and you stepped out.

Or rather, the way they didn’t.

No one made eye contact. No one greeted you. Not even the usual half-hearted nods from reception or the tight-lipped smile from Lisa, who always offered you a second coffee when hers brewed.

Today? She didn’t even glance up from her screen.

The open-plan layout felt like a minefield—eyes flicking up and away just as fast, hushed whispers trailing behind you as you walked the corridor towards your desk. You kept your shoulders square, your chin lifted, even as your skin burned with awareness.

Your badge didn’t beep right away at the glass security door. It stalled. Finally clicked open on the third try.

Figures.

You made it halfway through the bullpen before a voice called your name.

“Conference room. Now.”

You didn’t need to turn to know it was Mr. Mansion. You just followed.

The door shut behind you with a weighty click. Mr. Mansion stood by the window, arms folded, back rigid. His usually flushed face was pale with controlled fury.

He didn’t offer a seat.

“You’ve put shame on this company.”

The words hit like a slap.

“I didn’t intend—” you started.

“Intent doesn’t matter. Outcome does.” He turned then, eyes blazing behind his gold-rimmed glasses. “Your name is trending again. But not for a campaign win. Not for a media scoop. But because of an orchestrated relationship with one of the most high-profile clients we’ve ever represented!”

“It wasn’t supposed to be—”

He cut you off with a raised hand. “It doesn’t matter what it was supposed to be. The optics are disastrous. For you. For him. And most importantly—for us.”

You stood straighter. “I’ve still done my job. I’ve delivered on every brief. Every pitch.”

He laughed, cold and humourless. “Oh, trust me, you’re not being fired. The optics of that would be even worse. No, you’ll keep your title. Keep your badge. But you’re off every major account effective immediately.”

“What?” Your voice cracked.

“You’ll move to a support role. Internal content and copy. Desk-bound.”

“But—”

“And you’ll keep your head down,” he said, voice tightening. “No media. No statements. No further ‘appearances.’ Understood?”

You couldn’t speak. You just nodded.

It had all backfired… big time.

He turned back to the window, dismissing you with a flick of his wrist. “Close the door on your way out.”

You walked back through the bullpen like a ghost, numb and weightless. And when you reached your desk, you found a small stack of folders with your name scrawled in pen. A sticky note read: Internal transfer begins Monday. New seat: 4B.

You were being shuffled. Quietly exiled.

And of course—of course—Chase was waiting. Propped against the partition with that smug, unbothered smirk. One foot crossed over the other. A fresh suit. A phone in his hand, already buzzing.

“Rough morning?” he asked innocently.

You didn’t answer. You were too busy holding back tears.

He grinned wider. “I’m doing a piece with The Star this afternoon. They want my ‘perspective on professional boundaries in PR.’ Isn’t that rich?”

You clenched your fists.

“Don’t worry,” he said, tapping his phone. “I’ll make sure your name isn’t technically mentioned. Just enough breadcrumbs for people to know.”

You stared at him. “Why are you doing this?”

He tilted his head. “Because you got the story. And the guy. And then you thought no one would notice.”

He walked away before you could reply. But he was wrong. They had noticed. All of them.

And the cost was just beginning.

_

The following days you stopped answering texts.

The group chats dulled into silence on your end—threads that once buzzed with hockey and girl gossip, outfit photos, and inside jokes now sat unopened at the top of your screen. Jess messaged you four times a day. Then twice. Then once. Then not at all.

You left her on read every time.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to talk to her. You did. Desperately. But what could you even say?

Sorry I faked a relationship.Sorry it stopped being fake.Sorry it became real and ruined everything.

So instead, you disappeared.

You stopped walking past mirrors. The sight of yourself—drained, dull-eyed, and shadowed by shame—was harder to face than the headlines. You dressed in oversized hoodies and leggings, hair unwashed, makeup untouched. Dishes piled in the sink. Laundry remained in the basket. The curtains stayed drawn.

Your only companions were the muted hum of the fridge and the flicker of late-night sports recaps playing quietly on the television. Because you watched the games.

Of course, you did.

Auston was on the road—two away games, back-to-back in Florida.

And he played like a man possessed.

He didn’t smile when he scored. Didn’t fist bump his linemates. Didn’t even glance toward the bench after a clean assist. Just skated through the motions like they were the only things keeping him standing.

He looked like you felt.

Empty. Cold. Unravelling by inches.

You sat curled up on the sofa, a blanket pulled to your chin, fingers tight around a mug that had long gone cold. The game played on, volume low, Auston’s face flickering across the screen like a ghost.

And in the dark, you whispered the truth you hadn’t said out loud.

“I miss you.”

_

“Hiding in the dark while he bleeds on the road?

I thought you were stronger than that.

Or has the Queen fallen completely—and it’s only the King still standing?

You’re making this game almost too easy.” – The Benchwarmer”

_

Jess showed up on a rainy Tuesday afternoon.

No warning. No text. Just three sharp knocks on the door until you cracked it open in your hoodie and joggers, your face pale, bare, and puffy from sleep—or crying.

She stood in ripped jeans and a leather jacket, rain still clinging to the ends of her curls.

“You look like shit,” she said flatly.

You simply looked at her. “Thanks. It’s a new fashion trend.”

Jess pushed past you into the flat, boots squeaking slightly on the floor. “You hiding doesn’t make this shit better.”

“I’m not hiding.”

“You are. You ghosted every person who gave a damn, work from home, and haven’t left your flat in what—four days?”

You sighed. “Jess—”

“No.” She turned on you, arms folded. “Do you even know what people are saying about you?”

“I don’t care.”

“Bullshit. You care more than anyone I know.”

You moved past her and sat heavily on the edge of the couch. Jess studied you for a moment, then crossed the room and dropped onto the coffee table in front of you.

“I read the new Benchwarmer post,” Jess then said.

Your stomach knotted. “I thought they’d stopped.”

“They had,” she replied. “Until this morning.”

You looked up, throat tightening. “What did it say?”

Jess hesitated. “Nothing new, technically. But… it felt different. Less snarky, more personal. Like the writer knows you.”

A cold weight settled in your chest. “What do you mean—knows me?”

“I mean they know you,” she said softly. “Your background, your work stuff, family stuff. Little things—memories, habits, insecurities. Stuff that feels… intimate. As if you’d told them yourself.”

You sucked in a breath. “But why would someone do that?”

Jess shrugged. “Maybe jealousy. Maybe resentment. Maybe they think you got something they deserved. Or maybe they just thought it was fun.” 

Your thoughts churned, trying to make sense of it. “Still… how would they know about all of it? All the details, like literally everything. Things I’ve only told…well…”

Jess’s gaze drifted around the room, scanning the clutter. But then her eyes paused on your everyday handbag, slouched by the couch. And her expression shifted. Then she stood and crossed the room.

“Wait,” she murmured, reaching into the side zip.

She leaned down, searched the bag for a few minutes before she unzipped the side pouch, and pulled something small and silver from the lining.

“What the fuck is this?”

You blinked. “What?”

Jess held it up. A tiny microphone.

Your blood ran cold.

“I’ve seen this bag everywhere with you,” she said slowly. “Arena. Work. Games. That girls’ night last month.”

“I didn’t… I didn’t put that in there,” you said, throat dry.

“Me neither,” Jess looked at you sharply. “But someone planted it.”

You nodded.

“Fuck,” she said sharply, though her expression remained taut. She set the mic down gently, like it might explode.

You both stared at it.

Jess exhaled. “So, this is bigger than we thought.”

You covered your face with your hands. “Fuck… I need to figure this shit out somehow.”

“Well, you don’t figure it out by spiralling alone,” she said. “You start by remembering who the fuck you are.”

—

Saturday -

You showed up late.

The elevator ride had been silent but suffocating, each floor ding echoing louder than your heartbeat. You could already hear it—muffled roars from the lower bowl, rising in waves that rattled through the concrete foundation of Scotiabank Arena. It wasn’t a game anymore—it was a battlefield.

And you were walking in like an intruder.

The elevator doors slid open with a sterile hiss, revealing the private suite cloaked in blue and white shadows. The hum of anticipation filled the air, thick with tension and unspoken things. You stepped forward, slow and unsure, your breath shallow, nerves scraping raw. The door clicked shut behind you with a soft, unforgiving finality.

And every head turned.

Estelle. Aryne. Stephanie. Sanna. Tessa. Alice. 

All seated in a loose row near the glass, drinks forgotten, backs straight. Like queens in a quiet tribunal. Their eyes weren’t on the ice anymore. They were on you.

Judging. Watching. Yet waiting.

You’d dressed your best tonight. The kind of outfit and make-up that felt good. Made you feel good. Confidence even. 

You took a few slow steps forward, throat tight, the suite lights suddenly too harsh, your coat suddenly too warm. You offered the smallest smile—a pale, worn-out thing. A peace offering. A white flag.

“Sorry I’m late,” you said, voice thin, cracking at the edges.

No one answered at first.

It was Tessa who spoke, bouncing her baby slightly on her lap without looking at you. Her voice was quiet—low and sharp, like a knife slid carefully between ribs. “Better late than never.”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak yet. Not trusting them to listen.

“I know,” you said softly, humbly. “And… again, I’m really sorry. About everything.”

Tessa shifted the baby to one arm and looked up. Really looked at you. Her eyes weren’t cruel, but they were tired. Tired in the way people get when they’ve defended someone, they wish they hadn’t.

“We know,” she said. “We just need you to suffer a bit more.”

Your lips parted, but no words came. You swallowed the apology sitting behind your teeth. You’d already said it enough. Anymore and it would sound rehearsed.

So instead, you stayed silent.

The air between you thickened. A single beat passed. Then another.

Stephanie finally turned slightly; eyes unreadable. Her voice was neutral, almost too smooth. “Come on. The game’s about to begin.”

She gestured to the open seat in the second row near the back, just one step removed from the group. Still close—but not quite with them.

You nodded once and slipped into the chair, legs trembling beneath you. Jess was there right behind you, her coat still on, her hands folded tight in her lap. And as you sat, her arm brushed against yours.

She didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to. She just reached out and gave your hand a soft squeeze.

A quiet thaw.

Then the puck dropped.

The game started hard—no warmup, no easing into it. Washington came out swinging, aggressive from the first shift. Bodies slammed against boards. Blades carved into the ice like knives. Passes were fast and brutal. The kind of hockey that didn’t breathe. It roared.

The Leafs struggled to settle, their rhythm off. Missed passes. Mistimed hits. Tension coiled tighter with every line change.

And by the end of the second period, they were down by two.

Still, no one in the suite spoke. Not really. They watched in silence. Sipped their drinks, arms folded. Eyes flitting from the ice to the jumbotron to their phones and back again. Every time Auston hit the ice, the suite seemed to collectively hold its breath.

You did too.

He was skating hard. Sharp. Like he had something to prove. Like the only way to outrun the headlines was to leave them in his wake.

And then—third period. 7:12 on the clock.

You felt it before you saw it. Some shift in the air. A ripple of unease, like the ice itself knew what was coming.

Auston picked up speed through the neutral zone, cutting left, weaving through defenders like smoke. The puck stuck to his blade like it belonged there.

Then—

Crack.

The hit came from behind.

Blindside. Elbow high. Shoulder first. Full force into the numbers.

You didn’t process it at first. Just a blur of movement—a shape colliding with Auston, and then…

The sound hit a second later—a sickening crack against the boards that vibrated through the glass and up into your chest.

Then he crumpled. And your heart stopped.

The arena erupted. Screams. Gasps. A thousand voices raised in chaos. Two rows down, someone knocked over a full beer, the cup tumbling and rolling like a forgotten afterthought.

The whistle blew, sharp and urgent, and the ref’s arm shot up. Ten-minute major for game misconduct.

But Auston didn’t get up. He didn’t move at all.

The jumbotron cut to a close-up—his helmet slightly askew, mouthguard half-out. His body twisted in a way that nobody should bend. Motionless.

And then… nothing.

No sound. No movement. The air drained from the building, sucked out in one collective breath that never came back.

It was like someone had muted the world. Everything came in slow motion, like a Hollywood movie in motion. 

Even the baby in Tessa’s arms stopped fussing.

You could feel it in your teeth. In your skin. That kind of cold buzz that comes right before grief. 

The seconds stretched as trainers ran onto the ice.

Still, he didn’t move.

You felt your blood boiling. Your heart suddenly pounded fast and hard in your chest. Tears were pressing on as it became harder and harder to breathe. 

It wasn’t just Auston Matthews, the athlete, the captain, the headline, lying there anymore.

It was him. Yours. 

Whether you were ready to admit it or not.

Your fingers dug into the armrest of your seat; knuckles bone white. You couldn’t feel your legs. Couldn’t hear the crowd anymore. Only the blood rushing in your ears, and Jess whispering your name.

“He’s okay,” she said. Barely a whisper. “He’s okay.”

But you couldn’t answer. Couldn’t think.

Your stomach twisted so violently it felt like it might rise in your throat. Panic licked at the edges of your vision. You wanted to scream but you couldn’t.

Then the stretcher came out. They were already strapping him down—neck brace, leg stabilised, arms secured. And then—his glove twitched.

Just once. A breath. A heartbeat. A sign.

But it wasn’t enough.

That was the moment something in you snapped.

You didn’t think, you just moved.

The seat scraped behind you. The door to the suite opened with a hard click, and you stepped through before anyone could stop you.

You didn’t look back. Didn’t see Aryne blink and stare at her drink. Didn’t see Stephanie sit forward, her nails tapping the armrest. Didn’t see the way Tessa leaned into Estelle, murmuring a soft, “Fuck.”

You didn’t see Jess stand a beat later, her eyes locked on the exit.

You just ran. Down the hallway. Past the catering table. Past the press box, the VIP signs, the branded corridors you once walked.

Now, it was just you.

You. And the tunnel. And the sickening fear that you were about to lose someone that mattered most.

_

The world spun—quietly, slowly—on an axis that had nothing to do with gravity and everything to do with the man in front of you.

The room was too bright. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead with a soft, relentless hum. The scent of menthol, sweat, and metal filled the space—sharp and sterile, but beneath it… something else. Something aching. Something like heartbreak, hanging thick in the air.

Auston lied on the medical table, half in his gear, half stripped down. His jersey hung off one shoulder, sweat-soaked and wrinkled, clinging to him in patches. One sock was still bunched around his ankle, and a bruise was already blooming ugly and purple across his torso. A shallow cut sliced across his cheekbone, the skin-tight around it from the swelling.

But the real damage wasn’t in the bruises or the ice packs.

It was in his posture.

Rigid. Guarded. Like one wrong breath would crack the armour he was holding together with sheer force of will.

He noticed you the same moment you saw him. But his gaze didn’t soften. His body didn’t ease. He just blinked once, slow and unreadable.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, voice low and rough, just staring into the ceiling.

You stood in the doorway, still gripping the strap of your bag like it might anchor you to the floor. “You’re hurt.”

He scoffed under his breath, jaw tightening. “So?” His eyes flicked toward the wall. “Just, please go. I look like shit.”

“I don’t care,” you said, the words steadier than you felt. “I needed to see for myself. Make sure you’re okay.”

His lips pressed into a thin line. He didn’t answer for a beat, then said, quieter—but not kinder, “Why do you even care?”

He looked at you now. Sharp and tired. “The deal’s over, right?”

You flinched.

He didn’t apologise.

“Look,” he said again, slightly lifting his hands as if he wanted to express something more. “Just go. This isn’t how I want you to see me. Not like this.” His voice cracked a little. “Beaten up. Pathetic.”

But you stepped forward anyway, shoes soft against the tile. “You think I care about how you look?” You stopped just shy of him. “You’re lying here with a target on your back and a concussion protocol waiting—and you’re worried about how you look?”

“I’m worried about you seeing me like this,” he snapped.

There it was. The edge. The heat beneath everything else.

You stared at him, but then he continued.  

“Why did you come down here?” he asked, quieter this time. “Why come now, after ignoring me all week?”

You couldn’t answer. Not immediately.

So instead, you walked closer. Sat down beside him, slow and careful, like approaching a wounded animal. Like if you moved too fast, he might shatter.

For a moment, he didn’t move. But then, you reached for his hand. And he didn’t pull away.

You laced your fingers with his, felt the tension in his grip—the way his hand trembled slightly against yours.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “For all of it. Ignoring you. Ryan. Chase. The distance. The fucking mess.”

Silence bloomed thick between you. You felt the tears pressing on, allowed one to roll down your cheek, but held back the flood. 

Then he exhaled, the sound sharp and bitter.

“I hate this,” he muttered. “All of it. The lies. The headlines. The way it went so far and out of control.”

You nodded, looking anywhere else but directly at him, as another tear ran down your face . “Me too.”

His jaw clenched. “I’ve been trying not to think about you. Trying to focus. Trying to be the guy everyone still believes I am.”

You looked down at your hands, still threaded together. “And how’s that working out?”

He laughed—just once. A hollow, broken sound. “Terribly.”

His voice dropped. “You’re in everything. The playlist I drive to. The hallway outside the locker room. My apartment. My bed. You’re everywhere.”

He turned his head slightly. “I close my eyes, and I see you. I feel you. I want to kiss you so fucking bad it hurts.”

The words struck something inside you, raw and aching.

“And how do you think I feel?” you asked, barely louder than a breath as your eyes then returned to him. “Watching you get torn apart on every screen, every thread. People thinking, I used you—like it was all just my play.”

He looked at you again. Really looked. And something broke open behind his eyes. Something that had been sealed too tight for too long.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen like this,” he said, voice hoarse.

You nodded. “I know. I never meant for it to—”

You stopped. Let the moment stretch. But then, you knew you could keep it in any more. Couldn’t choke it down. You had to say it. 

“I never meant to fall in love with you.”

The words rang out between you like a bell in an empty cathedral.

Auston didn’t move. Didn’t blink. “But you did?” he asked, voice catching.

You nodded again. “Yeah.”

His face softened. Just slightly. “Good,” he simply murmured.

You blinked again. “Good?”

“Yeah…” he said with a deep breath. “Because I don’t think I can keep pretending anymore. I’ve been trying to play it cool. Trying to act like I’m still in control of this. But I’m not.”

He looked down. Then back up.

“I’m fucking crazy about you. And I don’t want to make that smaller just because it’s inconvenient.”

Your throat closed. Words were stuck as your mind went 100 miles an hour. All you could do was to give in to instincts. To allow your gut and emotions to guide you. So, you leaned forward.

And kissed him.

It wasn’t hungry. It wasn’t scripted. It was soft, slightly desperate, and it was real.

Your hands sliding into his hair, his finding the back of your neck like muscle memory. The salt on his lips. The heat beneath your skin. The ache in both of you—finally, finally let out.

And when you pulled away, the world stayed still.

Your foreheads rested together; breaths caught between your mouths. His hand intertwined with your hair. Yours clutched the hem of his jersey like letting go would make this moment less real.

It was a moment with no words yet filled with everything unspoken. 

You didn’t even hear the footsteps. Didn’t notice the hush that had fallen just outside the doorway.

You just stayed right there—in the warmth of Auston’s touch, in the shaky rhythm of a kiss that had undone everything you were pretending not to feel.

You stayed in the moment. With him.

But they had seen it all. All of them.

Mitch. William. Morgan. John. Stephanie. Aryne. Tessa.

Standing just far enough to be polite, just close enough to witness everything. The way your bodies leaned together like you belonged. The rawness in Auston’s eyes. The way he didn’t flinch when you rested his forehead against his again.

They didn’t need to speak. They didn’t need to guess. Because they saw the truth. And then—of course—Mitch broke the silence with a scoff and a crooked grin.

“Finally.”

A few of them chuckled under their breath. Aryne blinked slowly, like she’d been holding back emotions. William folded his arms, mouth twitching like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to grin or groan. Stephanie didn’t smile—but she didn’t walk away either.

None of them did. They stayed there in the hall. Watching and realising that everything between you and Auston truly was real. 

And for the first time since everything fell apart, you didn’t feel like a fraud.

[b14augrana]

The Death Of You

The pursuit to being the greatest of all time comes above everything, including your health

Barça Femení x reader

masterlist

Warnings: slight overshadowing of injury

A/N: edited this author’s note way too many times buttttttt im not making a pt 2 of this because its just a silly little blurb that’s been rotting in my drafts and thats i wanna say okay thanks enjooooyyyyy

“When you think of passion, you think of someone that does anything for their club, and that’s (Y/N). The blaugrana is everything to her, and it is a part of her. She puts the badge before herself, and all she emits, all they admire of her, everything she represents, is Barça.

(Y/N) is Barça, Barça is (Y/N)” — Mapi León.

For Barça, you would give your life. You have put your body on the line and taken the hits until your skin turns the colours of the jersey you truly believe you’ll die in.

It’s what your mother says will eventually kill you. Going down with the jersey, for the jersey, your love for the greatest club in the world coming before all. It’s proof, almost, that Barcelona is so great, it’s worth dying for.

But, the funny thing is, you hadn’t loved living in Barcelona growing up. In fact, you hated everything about it. It felt like an asylum or some sort of confinement where the only things left to stare at are the four walls you’re enclosed by, except, those four walls were littered with posters of men you constantly watched play at the stadium of your dreams, and the only thing that made staring at those four walls so much of a punishment is the fact you were a girl and there was no such thing as a woman footballer.

You had shitty friends to remind you of that every single time they caught you stopping in the street (though you don’t even stop, your foot just drags along the ground a bit slower than usual) just to take a closer look at a mural of some Barça legend.

You hated living in Barcelona because you had nobody on your side that believed there was a place for you or any other woman behind the huge, towering walls of Camp Nou.

Barcelona went from being an asylum to a garden that was nurtured with every match played and goal scored, a title or medal sprouting from the buds of every stem and bush.

You would die for Barcelona. Hell was worth living through, for Barcelona, just to feel whatever emotion devoured you when you step out to a full stadium in the famous blue and garnet.

You want to be the best. That comes above everything — there is no point in devoting your life to something if you’re not going to be the best at it, and you had given more than what was required for Barça.

What you also want is to create a legacy not only for yourself, but the club as well, one title at a time. A legacy associated with winning, and being the greatest of all time. The last thing you need to implement this reputation? The Champions League.

You take in the stadium, the raindrop-covered grass, the noise. That headache inducing noise, caused by the record attendance in the stadium. The headache inducing noise that, when you focus on it, begins to become coherent and recognisable as the Barcelona anthem. With every step closer to the pitch, you find it harder to pay attention to anything around you, and the anxiety in your stomach is more apparent than ever before.

You kill the period of time between exiting the tunnel and finding your place on the field by warming up (or in other words, doing whatever you can to shake the nerves). You step out onto the pitch and feel the pinch of the cold wind which, for some reason, elicits an epiphany; the only thing separating you and that trophy is these 90 minutes.

Those 90 minutes drag on. Pass after pass, unsuccessful dribble after unsuccessful dribble, you’re not getting any closer to the goal but you can’t feel disheartened or unmotivated because all you have is 90 minutes. Everything can change in 90 minutes.

Everything does change. You don’t know how it happened, or who passed you the ball, or whether you even called for it, but you had it and you were moving quickly with it. Managing to glide past Renard, leaving her behind you to grapple at your jersey hopelessly, you find yourself up against Endler on your own.

Although there are 20 other players on the pitch, discarded behind you, it feels like it’s just you and Endler in an empty stadium. The goal looks bigger than it should be as your foot swings down onto the ball, and the raucous noise of the stadium can only intensify when the ball just misses the tip of Endler’s glove and meets the back of the net.

It is hard to ignore the unfamiliar discomfort in your knee, but you do it anyways. You run off to celebrate and don’t pay it another thought. You don’t mention it to anyone amidst the celebrations because how could you possibly ruin this moment, and it’s basically gone by the time you return to the midfield.

For a moment, there's hope. Your goal sparks new light into the eyes of your teammates. One golden boot shines brighter than a golden glove and there's a connection between your foot and the ball that just makes sense, and it's put away in the back of the net.

But when the ball starts rolling again and it meets the feet of Van de Donk, you realise 1 goal isn't enough.

No, it's like hanging off the edge of a cliff, fingers clawing for whatever jagged edge of a rock they can reach, clinging onto the little thing you have keeping you up. But with every minute, every intercepted pass, missed or deflected shots, the cliffside is crumbling.

Lyon is an exceptional team. That's why they manage to put one past Sandra, and you're back to square one. Your mind, drunk on pride, pushes you to do more, to give more. Your body feels like it can't possibly give anything more, yet you still run up and down the pitch without slowing down once and you throw yourself at the ball every time you find the opportunity.

It’s what your mother says will eventually kill you.

So it does, internally. When the final whistle pierces your ears and the minority of Lyon fans in the crowd burst into cheers, it kills you, because you would die for this club and it hurts to come so close but fall short.

The winning legacy you were so close to completing, was now tainted by your failure to actually win.

Your knee also hurts. A lot.

You lie down on the pitch, its soggy and uneven surface being the only comfort you have in this place where everywhere you look, there are reminders that you’re not good enough. The more you think about all the sacrifices and things you put on the line for this title, you wonder, ‘When’s it gonna be my turn?’

Disappointed fans filing out of the exits, your teammates surrounding you trying to hold in their tears, the dancing and celebrating from Lyon.

The sound of sniffles can be heard from beside you, and you roll over to see Mapi, her eyes bloodshot and her cheeks dusted with patches of red.

As you line up to receive your medal, you don’t even want to wear it. Silver will never be better than gold, there’s nothing good about being second to best, being outperformed is nothing to be proud of. But you still keep the medal on.

You hang your head and look away from the winner’s stage, because your heart is too sore to take in the fact that would’ve, could’ve, should’ve been you.

‘When’s it gonna be my turn?’

[evertidings]

— MARCH 2024.

accomplishments.

erm. hi. it's been a while, i know. i skipped last month's update, so i'll give you a lengthy one for march. truth be told, i haven't been able to touch when twilight strikes for a while. this is not because i don't want to, but mostly because i've been busy with school and/or have been struggling with writer's block. because of this, i made the decision to scrap what i had written for chapter eleven and start (kinda) from scratch. now, before you go and panic, let me explain.

the reason i've been taking so long on this chapter is that, well, i screwed up. i found a (rather large) plot hole that i've been trying to fix, and the solution i came up with was, uh, interesting. definitely not my greatest idea. but because i had already written so much, i kept pushing forward, hoping that things would straighten out and i'd miraculously like the chapter by the time i finished. haha, very funny. as you can tell, that didn't end up happening. i didn't particularly hate what i wrote, i could just tell that it was absolute bullshit. and while sometimes that works, it just was not doing it for me here. so i cut it.

i was able, however, to save a bunch of it for the new draft, so i didn't completely start over, but i am definitely down a lot of words compared to what i had written initially. i'm not super bummed out about it, but i am upset that that means i'm again behind on getting this out to you. i know it's been a while since i've published any updates and hearing that i've pushed things back is probably not very fun, but i promise, now that i've got my plot hole sorted out, things are going much smoother.

i'm currently in the thick of final exams so i haven't been able to write as much as i've wanted to lately, but the good news is that i'm graduating (WOOOOO!) so i won't have any more school work to distract me anymore. once mid-april hits, i'm free everybody.

(on that note, thank you for being so patient and sticking by me. i see new fans joining every day and it warms my heart that so many of you continue to enjoy this story. i appreciate you so much more than you know).

[batbirdies]

What are your top fanfic recs for 2024?

aha!! I am late answering this as usual but I went through all of my bookmarks made in 2024 to pick out my favs and I saved the links in an email draft and then when I went to make this post it was poofed gone so then I abandoned the idea but am back, recollecting links here and half rereading them as I go lol.

So these are some of my particular fav fics read and bookmarked in 2024, not necessarily that were published in 2024. (Though I think most of them were)

Also I don’t know if most of these authors have Tumblrs or what their handles are if they do, so if you recognize one and know it please tag them! Or let me know and I’ll edit in the tag.

So:

Ground Control to Jason Todd by TheThoughtsThief [22,520 words]

Jason died at fifteen years old. He recalled a light, searing and white against the expance of a black sky and the nothingness of space. He recalled a star, speaking to him with a morose calm. Then, finally, he remembered the universe giving him a second chance at life. A few years down the line, he goes chasing after myths to figure out why.

Or, a Dick and Jason space road trip au featuring Japanese death poems, Shakespearean tragedies, and Abba's greatest hits.

My first bookmark of 2024! This fic is super unique. I’m not usually big on AUs but road trips are my jam so I gave this one a shot and the ~vibes~ are impeccable. It’s soft and flowy and the recurring poetry and the relationship between Dick and Jason and the willowy liminal space experiences… so good.

Hope is the Thing with Feathers by TheSilencer [13,106 words]

"Oh." Nightwing said. "It's your first time."

"My what?" Jason said.

"It's like 'The Time Traveler's Wife.' Except I'm not your wife. Not that I'd be a bad wife, but not for you. That'd be gross - Wait, is that movie even out, yet?" Nightwing rambled, and Jason stood up on wobbly legs. "Shoot. I guess it doesn't matter. Not relevant -"

Or Jason Todd is a time traveler, and Dick Grayson is always his destination. 

A story about brothers doing their best.

Basically what it says in the description. Jason randomly moves through time throughout his life, always landing where Dick Grayson is. sometimes Jason needs Dick, and sometimes Dick needs Jason, and neither of them ever really has the full picture of what’s going on. But they do their best for each other<3 they’re brothers your honor 😭😭

Still hurts underneath my scars by valkyriered [2,928 words]

“Stop.” The man in the purple suit says, and Jason freezes.

“Stay there.” He says. “Don’t move.”

Jason tries to lurch forward, has some half-prepared snark about being told what to do, and he finds that he can’t. He can’t even move his arms. His eyes dart around the empty warehouse. Fuck. “Who are you?” Jason demands. “What is this?”

The man doesn’t even look over at him. “Stop talking.” 

I’ll warn, this fic says “no archive warnings apply” but there is heavy implication of previous sexual assault. No direct references but it’s definitely there.

The use of Killgrave in this is stellar, I still find him one of the most terrifying villains I’ve ever watched or read about in anything I’ve seen. The moment is small and doesn’t even seem that bad on the surface but the writing puts you in Jason’s head and you can feel how frightening it would be, and how scared Jason really, really is. Has made me think about using Killgrave in a fic sometimes cause it truly has some juicy potential.

There is comfort, and Selina is great in this, but it is from Jason’s POV and he is still pretty Not OkayTM when it ends, so just, you know, be careful with yourselves. It’s very well written and Jason is well taken care of by his loved ones in the end but it’s a hurty one.

Displacement by @imbecamiel [21,244 words]

“He’s dead,” Tim said, blankly.

“Look at me.” Jason ducked his head to catch Tim’s eyes. “Hey, look at me. You didn’t kill him. You just shot him. No big deal, right? You’ve injured lots of people. Just part of the job. Doesn’t matter it was with a gun this time. Doesn’t change anything. I’m the one who killed him. You’re fine.”

Loooove this fic. Tim accidentally fatally shoots someone in self defense. Jason is there, sees Tim panicking, and finishes the job himself so he can take the blame.

The relationships in this fic are so good, and the CHARACTERS are just SO GOOD. I started to say a lot more but then I just started summarizing the whole thing and spoiling it. Just know that Jason and Tim’s interactions in this are great, and Bruce and Jason have SUCH a good and satisfying end to their arch in this, which is so important to me and can be hard to find.

A Sad Song With Nothing To Say by WakingNightmares [14,805 words]

It starts with the Make A Wish foundation, and ends with a funeral.

Which, Bruce supposes, is unfortunately how things involving the Make A Wish foundation usually work. But what happens in-between catches him completely off-guard.

Ok, know first that this fic isn’t really my usual fair because it’s heavy on the hurt and light on the comfort. Be prepared if you decide to read this one.

A young gotham boy dying of cancer uses his Make A Wish Foundation wish to meet The Red Hood, more as a joke than anything, not expecting it to actually happen. The boy has no one else, he’s dying alone and in pain, and Jason can’t do anything about the pain but he can keep him from being alone. So he stays with the kid, whenever he can, and soon the other bats start helping, so he’s not by himself. But Jason grows attached, and Bruce knows, they all know that it is not going to end well. That the devastation this is going to wreak on Jason will be no small thing. But no one really has the heart to do anything but help.

Like I said this fic is damn well agonizing but it hit me in such a cathartic way. Because it’s devastating. The story is so painful, but everyone is helping. Everyone is there. There is so much love in this fic and as much comfort as can be offered even if it is not nearly enough. And when it ends—Bruce is there.

Open Line by @lurkinglurkerwholurks [2,140 words]

Dick pinched the phone between his ear and shoulder as he pulled the crate down from the top shelf. The line rang twice before connecting.

“Hey, you busy?” Dick stepped down from the stool and carried the crate to the table, popping the top and flipping it off to the side to reach inside.

“Everything okay?” Bruce asked. His voice sounded close, like he was in a small space.

Dick is dealing with some unexpected grief and Bruce is a good dad. That’s all you need sometimes, you know?

Eat Your Heart Out by Lishalalalala [35,527 words]

What people don’t expect of Bruce Wayne is his ability to love in such a detailed way. What people absolutely expect of Jason Todd is his ability to show up at the worst place, at the worst time, every damn time. But not all late-night calls from the hospital are bad, not all galas are bad, and not all of Bruce's culinary attempts are bad. Featuring food; Jason's self-esteem issues, his complicated relationship with food; and the different ways confidence can be filled. Also featuring one Bruce Wayne trying his best.

(Endeavoring to grow up shouldn’t have been this hard considering it’s the second round for him. )

A story of Bruce and Jason revolving around each other, pinging off in different directions when things don’t go well. Of love shown through food. Of Jason’s skittish and slow acceptance of that love.

Each chapter is its own scene, little time skips between, building on each other to craft a very soft picture. This fic makes me ache in such a way. It’s poetic, it manages to make sweet, nostalgic moments stab you in the heart. Very recently completed, and I still need to leave a comment on the final chapter, whoops.

Also gives a well thought out and reasonable explanation for Bruce’s poor cooking skills lol.

Thats all from 2024, but im gonna cheat and also add one from this month cause I read it yesterday and have been gushing about it since and there’s so little Steph and Bruce fic out in the world, it needs more love.

If they could only remember/which one is you and which one/the source of all fire by @luvo27 [9,086 words]

When she’s not with him on patrol, he knows she’s often patrolling on her own. When she’s not patrolling on her own, he knows she’s wandering around Gotham. She doesn’t spend a lot of time at home, not even after her father died. She seems, Bruce thinks, like she’s lonely. He clears his throat. Stephanie looks up from her phone. Bruce can read the screen upside down, she’s still looking up solar eclipses. An idea starts to form in his mind. He starts to ask, “Do you…would you—the path of totality crosses over Vermont. Or the state of New York.” “Yeah,” Stephanie turns her phone to face him. “I was looking at the maps.” “That’s a little over seven hours away by car,” Bruce says.

Or: Stephanie and Bruce take a road trip to see the solar eclipse, featuring: Stephanie Brown and her Stephanie Brown-ness, Bruce Wayne and his Bruce-ness, and grief.

Bruce’s POV throughout. Stephanie is Robin, Jason is dead, and Bruce can see so much of Jason in Stephanie that he can barely look at her. But even in his grief he can’t stop caring, can’t stop wanting to help her. Can’t stop being terrified that she will meet the same end that Jason did.

Bruce is messy and he’s not doing amazing but he’s trying very hard. Stephanie is also messy and not doing amazing, but she is trying very hard. Has a soft ending but deals pretty heavily with grief, so be aware.

Hope you enjoy these!!

[dilemmaontwolegs]

For the love of god(dess) || CL16 {1}

A/N & Summary: Greek God/dess AU. This was a draft I had wasting away with reincarnation trope. Reader is the goddess of love. I don't even know what I am doing anymore lol Warnings: reader injury, blood WC: 2.2k Part One || Two

“Do you ever stop working?”

You leered across the scrying bowl to the unwelcome guest waltzing into your sanctum. “Unlike some, my work never ends.”

“Come now, I remember a time when you used to love my little soirées,” Dionysus whispered in your ear as he dipped his finger in the bowl, disturbing the still waters. The god of debauchery had never held just a little party, there was a reason hedonism and excess had been celebrated for millennia. “Take one night off. It will be one to remember.”

“Liar,” you said with a smile despite yourself. “I still don’t have any memory of the last one.”

He winked and flicked the droplet of water from his finger at you playfully, “Then I am doing my job right. It’s on earth…”

Damn, the god knew how to pique your interest. Thousands of years watching through the haze of the scrying bowl did little to capture their humanity. Whenever you could, you used to walk among them to see the fruits of your labour. 

“Love, you are eternal - yet you waste away in this…” he drifted off as he looked around the empty stone room, carvings depicting your greatest champions along the walls, “place.”

While the other gods had their golden palaces you were content in the temple that had once been filled with priestesses who served the deity you once were. A shell of who you used to be reflected back in the still water. What was the Goddess of Love with a broken heart? Cold and empty like this temple.

Your thoughts darkened and shadows crept along the walls before you took a deep breath. It had been a few decades since you had some fresh air, maybe it was for the best to get out. “Fine. One night.”

Dio grinned and swept an arm around your waist before leading you to the door. The sunlight hit your face and you cursed Apollo until your eyes adjusted to the brightness. The drunken god took one look at the white robe you wore, a silver sash tied at the waist, and tutted.

“I know beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but this won’t do.”

“Any other insults?” you dared as you cast a hand over yourself, the white cotton bleeding to a deep red leather skin that hugged your body and accentuated your assets. A black corset snapped at the contours of your waist and pressed your breasts up, the armour unnecessary but as familiar as breathing. The others may have forgotten the great war but your heart remembered the loss and you swore you would not leave yourself vulnerable again. 

He let out a low whistle and shook his head. 

“Oh, one more thing.” Your bow and quiver snapped into place across your back and drew a groan from Dio. “What?” Your eyes darted to the chalice that was forever held in his left hand. “You have your attachments, I have mine.”

He held his cupped hand up, wine sloshing over the rim, and pointed a finger at you. “Firstly, this is a curse - not a choice. And secondly, this is useful to drink out of.”

“Maybe you should have been more careful where you stuck your dick.”

“I didn’t know the nymph was one of Zeus’ favourites, obviously,” Dio grumbled before setting off down the path that would lead to the mortal realm.

–

Las Vegas, Mortal Realm, 2023 PIW (Post-Immortal-Wars)

You already knew the party would be a large one, but this was big even by Dionysus’ standards. Thousands of people imbibed in the free flowing alcohol and danced under strobe lights in Sin City, his favourite playground. Dio sent a mischievous wink before he touched the champagne tower and his power imbued with the liquor to increase the effect and ensure everyone was on the same level as him.

“Drink, Love,” he ordered as he tipped the rim of his glass to your lips. Sweet wine warmed your throat as much as his power did and you drank it down knowing that for at least a few minutes your cares would be diminished - but they always came back too soon. “Now dance.”

Your hips swayed and your hands found themselves moving above your head as the lights mesmerised you. Human scents came and went as they moved around you, their pheromones calling to your power as they found lovers, if only for the night. One particular scent caught your attention and you followed it to find Dio talking to the human. He had been god touched and the mark glowed on his brow - not that the mortals could see it.

“Love, this is the man of the hour,” Dio gushed, casting a hand to the party as if it were all for him. “Max here won the race.”

You didn’t know what race he was referring to, nor did you care. “Of course he did,” you stated dryly. Max was Nike’s champion and Nike was the Goddess of Victory in everything except what mattered. “Congratulations.”

You grabbed Dio’s hand and drank your fill from his cursed chalice in the hopes it would douse the fire that ignited in your veins. If Nike had fought alongside you in the war instead of wasting her time with her Olympians and their silly sports then maybe Károlos would have survived. Maybe you would do more than just survive eternity alone.

“Sorry, she doesn’t get out much,” Dio joked, clapping the victor on the arm. “Drink, my friend. The night is young and life is short.”

You slipped away into the sea of bodies, drifting through until a cool breeze called from the balcony and you escaped to the quiet. Your breath exhaled with a heaviness only an immortal could carry and a chuckle startled you.

“Fuck, not another one. Can’t I have one moment of peace?” you groaned as his scent found you before the handsome man stepped out of the shadows of the corner he had been hiding in.

“Sorry,” he apologised. “This was my hiding place first.”

The mark of the Adonis glowed beneath the dark hair that fell over his forehead and you internally scoffed at the god’s vanity. The man standing before you would have been stuck down if he showed his face in Olympus, he was far too good looking it would be considered an offence to the petty gods. And those eyes, green eyes just like...You had to look away before you could finish that thought.

“What do you have to hide from?” you asked, leaning against the rail as you watched fireworks explode among the stars. “You’re a champion.”

“You must have me confused with someone else,” he laughed bitterly.

“I know a champion when I see one.” You felt Dionysus breeze onto the balcony before you heard his drunken laugh behind you, the bitter smell of blackthorn root on his breath from the drug he had smoked.

“Love, eternal Love, I found you,” he slurred as hugged your back, the feathered fletches from the quiver of arrows irritating him. “Must you wear these prickly things?”

Before you could stop him, he ripped an arrow out, the sharpened point catching the side of your neck. A hiss of pain escaped your lips as blood trickled down your throat and the power that kept the weapons hidden from mortal sight broke with the bead of blood on the tip. 

Adonis’ champion gasped as his mind raced to piece together what he was seeing. A woman bleeding and a man holding the weapon. His eyes narrowed and he leapt at Dio, trying to wretch the bloodied arrow from him before he could attack you again. You could have laughed at how futile the attempt was for a mortal to attack a god but said god was higher than Zeus’ perch in his palace and rotten drunk off his wine. 

The fates must have been laughing their asses off as the mortal and god collided, both tumbling to the floor before the mortal screamed in pain.

A hand reached into your chest, at least that was how it felt when the fire exploded inside you. “No, no, no, no,” you cried as Dio fell away from the mortal and you saw the arrow buried in the champion's chest. “What have you done?”

The fire faded as the bond snapped into place and you hated how you suddenly feared for the mortal. That fear had you rushing to his side and falling to your knees as Dio stared at his hands. “I, I didn’t mean to,” he stammered. 

Even the mortals knew the power those arrows held, the stories were told throughout the ages of how just a nick from one could make strangers, enemies even, fall for each other in an instant. The greatest weapon of all was love and it had the power to destroy even the immortals. And Dio had just stabbed the mortal with one, coated in your blood. Blood that bonded.

You gripped the shaft and tugged the arrow out of his chest before slamming your hand over the wound and pouring your energy into it, sealing it closed. He reached for your hand that was slick with his blood and you let him hold it, unable to fight the love that came from your own power. 

“You’ll be okay,” you promised him before narrowing your eyes at Dio. “You, not so much.”

“It was an accident, I swear, it was like I couldn’t control myself. Charles just jumped-”

Your eyes flared silver as you looked back at the unearthly green shade of his eyes. Same eyes, same name, Adonis’ champion. You had foolishly thought Adonis had chosen the mortal for his beauty, but if the mortal was reincarnated then he would also bear the mark on his brow.

“Károlos,” you whispered as a feeling of rightness settled across the universe.

Charles frowned at the name but understood the tenderness in the tone, such a sweet sound. His chest no longer burned and smooth skin met his palm as he felt for the wound that had healed, but the blood on his shirt was proof he had not imagined it all. 

“Who are you?” he asked as he rose to his feet, tasting his blood on his tongue.

You flinched at the question and looked to the stars. “I go by many names, but you may call me Y/N.”

“You called me Károlos.”

“That was your name the first time you walked the earth,” Adonis said, appearing on the balcony in a flash of light. “Károlos, Karlaz, Carl, Charles - it’s always the same. A hundred lifetimes lived, always searching, always waiting. All for this moment.”

When Károlos had been killed you had stormed to the Underworld ready to bargain with Hades, but he had said Károlos wasn’t in the Elysian Fields. You hadn’t believed him in your anger. All this time, Adonis had kept his soul safe. 

You reached behind to your quiver and drew an arrow, grabbing your bow and notching it. “You had two thousand years to tell me he was alive.”

Adonis held his hands up, shifting closer to Dio ready to sacrifice him as a shield. “You think the fates would let me tell you! I did what I could but you were happy to grovel alone in your temple.”

“Can someone please tell me what’s going on?” Charles asked, wondering why no one had come to see what was going on, except when he looked at the party everyone was frozen like the time had come to a stop.

“I was grieving! And now I will have to mourn him anew, because he’s fucking mortal!”

Adonis grinned and you debated releasing the arrow. “Are you sure about that? Is that not your blood that runs in his veins now? I can smell it on him.”

You paused. Your blood had been on the arrow, immortal blood. You and Charles had gravitated to each other without realising it and you inhaled as you leaned a little closer. There was still a hint of that fresh mortal scent but it was an undercurrent to the aether that grew stronger with each breath. 

“What the fuck is going on?” Charles snapped as you dissected him with your eyes like an experiment. “And why is no one else moving?”

You unnotched the arrow and waved the feathered end at Adonis. “We are going to have words about this later.” The beautiful god nodded before disappearing in a flash of light.

“So I'm forgiven, right?” Dio asked with a shy smile. “Told you it would be one to remember.”

You held a hand up to silence him and looked at Charles. “I don’t know how to answer your questions without making more. It might be easier if I show you.”

He accepted your hand without hesitation and you wondered how much of that was the force of the bond or because on some unconscious level his soul recognised yours. Either way, you smiled at the warmth between your skin before leaving the mortal realm behind.

“Where are we going?” he asked as the stars faded with the lights of Sin City.

“Home.”

–

For Reference: Dionysus - God of Wine and Pleasure Nike - Goddess of Victory Adonis - God of Beauty, Desire and Rebirth Károlos - (Old derivative for Charles) A warrior who was fated to be your soulmate before being killed protecting you in the Immortal Wars. Reincarnated as Charles Leclerc by Adonis. Olympus - Immortal Realm

Click here for part two.

[zodiyack]

Little Loner

Pairing(s): Jace Wayland x fem!reader

Warnings: clary being jealous but then cupid??, I wrote this while sleep deprived, fluff at the end, Clary x Simon if you squint.

Words: 1,743

Author's Note: I finally finished the requests. Now have some drafts while I work on sequels and stuff <3

Masterlist | The Mortal Instruments Masterlist

Taglist: @matth1w, @redspaceace-writes, @fandom-puff, @darling-i-read it,  @simonsbluee,  @thewarriorprincessxo,  @sebastianstanslefteyebrow,  @livlaughquinn,  @bubsonnobx,  @bunnyweasley23

Jace leads Clary to Hodge, but hesitates when he sees an open door. He finds himself pausing to admire the scene, leaning on the door frame with a crooked smile. Clary moves to get a better view and is confused.

A girl sits in a windowsill, her pencil hitting the paper lightly as she sketches out the scenery outside the window. The light appears to angle just right, giving her an almost angelic presence. Black runes cover her skin, some disappearing to hide under her clothes.

Clary leans over to Alec and whispers. "Who is that?"

Alec simply nods a little. "Y/N. Jace has a thing for her, but he's never acted on it." Clary feels her heart break a little. "Shame, really. She likes him too, but they're both too stubborn to be the one to confess."

"Oh..."

"My advice," Alec looks between her and the room, "stay away from Jace."

He moves on before she can ask much else, walking along the halls and calling to Jace quietly. Jace is brought back to reality as he gives one last look into the room before venturing on.

"So, Y/N..." Clary tries.

She doesn't miss when Jace blushes slightly, "another Shadowhunter. She's been here a long time, however she really only talks to me."

"Why's that?"

He chuckles a little but shakes his head. "That's none of my business to tell. She's a great person when you get to know her though." That's all the information he gives before they reach their destination. He opens the door and gestures inside with a nod.

His expression stays neutral, stoic as he explains, "You may find Hodge a little eccentric, but he's one of the greatest Shadowhunters that's ever lived." He looks down at the cloth in her hand and his brows furrow. "Here, give me that."

She walks inside of the giant room, her body and eyes exploring. The two boys walk in after her. They watch her carefully. Despite her distance, Clary can still hear Jace and Alec by the door.

"Don't lead this one on while you pursue your little loner. You'll get her hopes up, and if she decides to stay...the rune to fix a broken heart is the most painful one." She could practically feel Jace roll his eyes.

"I'm not leading her on."

"Oh? Is that so? Because I don't normally go around flirting and being handsy with random people, Jace." Alec warned. "It's obvious, the way Clary looks at you. I'd tone down your 'lack of leading her on' before she gets the wrong idea."

The doors shut suddenly, causing Clary to flinch, and Alec storms off down the hall, leaving Jace to think over his words. The more he thought about it, the more he tried to deny it.

Jace opens the door, "The Silent Brothers are ready for her."

When Clary and Jace set off for their next location, she noticed a new companion had replaced Alec. It was the girl from before. The girl that Jace liked.

"I didn't expect you to be joining us..." She tries to make conversation, but Y/N barely acknowledges her.

"I admire your attempt, but she won't talk. Not unless she's comfortable with you." Jace smiles at the girl in question, who smiles to herself but stays quiet.

"How long would that take?"

"Patience is a virtue, Clary." Jokes Jace. "I suppose I was the first person who ever really tried, so there's not much to go off of. She's coming with us because I asked her too."

The redheaded girl can't help but glance between the two every now and then. She isn't sure whether she feels jealous or wants them to be together, but she can say one thing for sure; The tension was nauseatingly strong.

"Why didn't Hodge come with us?"

"He hasn't left the institute in years." Jace shrugs as he continues walking. "Some say it's a spell."

"He's agoraphobic." Y/N giggles at Clary's bluntness, leading to the ginger giving her a small smile. One she returned. They stop and turn, Jace crossing his arms while he waits.

"Is that him?" Clary asks.

Jace follows her gaze and shakes his head. "No, that's Harold, the groundskeeper." He tilts his head, leaning in a bit, "that's him."

She looks up a little and feels a small shiver of unease crawl up her spine. A comforting hand is felt on her shoulder, and she's met with Y/N's smile when she turns her head. The action leaves her wondering how obvious her discomfort was, but she still is thankful.

"Are you sure you want to go through with this?" Clary looks to the two as though asking for help, but nods regardless. "We will help you to remember."

The trio follow the tall robed man, Clary a little more hesitant. Y/N turns, kind smile still standing, and lifts a finger to the middle of her lips. Clary nods and follows behind.

Along the way she trips, "Ow!"

Jace turns his head instantly, shushing her. "You'll wake the dead."

Clary rolls her eyes. She catches Y/N giving her an apologetic shrug, the girl nodding with her head to continue.

"I can't believe this place is just outside of the city..."

She follows the duo to the window like ledge they looked through. Jace's voice catches her off guard, "Welcome to the City of Bones." His breath is right next to her ear, sending her hairs to stand on their ends.

"This is where the Silent Brothers draw their power, from the bones and ashes of Shadowhunters."

"All of them are buried here?"

"Yes." Jace looks to the wall, "One day," he taps a skull, making Y/N giggle, the sound eliciting a smile to slide upon his pink lips, "that's gonna be me."

Clary stops to look at the skeleton. Sensing her unease, Y/N urges her forward with a light touch. Clary stops a few steps forward, inspecting the room from entryway.

"This is as far as we go." She looks at Jace, and he assures her, "You'll be fine."

"So you've done this before?"

Y/N and Jace exchange a glance. She dawns an apologetic look as shakes her head and Jace replies, "No."

Clary decides to continue to try and talk to Y/N, "Have you ever met Magnus Bane?"

The girl only shakes her head.

"You know... I'm quite jealous of you." Clary admits with a laugh. Y/N tilts her head in confusion, prompting Clary to continue. "I thought Jace was into me, and if I'm being honest, I'm really into him but... I'd be stupid to stand in your guys' way."

Her brows furrow, even more confused than before. Clary's hopes range from high to doubtful, there's a chance Alec was wrong, that she didn't have feelings for him, but she saw the way the two looked at each other. She might've been naïve and clouded in her conflicting feelings, but she wasn't blind.

"Jace likes you too. And honestly...you should go for it." She looks away, ashamed of her own assistance in helping the guy she liked be with someone else. However, she doesn't have time to mope, when a voice she hasn't heard before causes her to snap her eyes back to Y/N's face.

"Is it that obvious?" A shy expression, laced with a little embarrassment, greets her.

"You-"

"I talk, yes." She chuckles. "Jace wasn't lying. I mostly talk to him, but after I realized my feelings for him, I started to confide in Alec. My only problem was that I didn't realize Alec also had feelings for Jace... But, Alec saw how much I love Jace, and told me that he had found interest in someone else. Whether that's true or not, I don't know, but, my feelings for Jace have always been around since then. I'm just...not too sure what to do about it."

Clary nods understandingly, and places her hand atop Y/N's. "Talk to him."

Y/N thinks about it for moment, and then nods. "Thank you."

"Hey. Can we talk?" Jace turns, nodding when he realizes it's Y/N. The blond looks around the infirmary, making sure Simon and Clary are accounted for one more time before he returns to facing her. He follows her to the study, sitting beside her on the piano seat.

"What's wrong?"

Her fingers press into the keys, a slow recollection of a piece by Bach. "It's nothing... I spoke to Clary-'

"You talked to Clary?" Y/N giggles at his dumbfounded expression. "M'sorry, that just caught me a little off-guard, you don't normally talk to anyone else."

"That's fair. Basically, she gave me some advice to a problem I have, not that I asked her for it- she actually noticed it- anyways, after Simon and the vampires and everything- I guess- my point is, Jace..."

"Yes?" His eyes were laced with concern, no longer amused by her sudden socializing.

"I like you. Like, really really like like you." She bit her lip. "Like...I'm in love with you."

Y/N stared at Jace, waiting for his answer. She grew nervous as time started to feel slower. The seconds felt like they were snail's paced, so close yet so far away. Sweat dripped down her forehead and her heartbeat rang in her ears. It was all so overwhelming until-

"I'm in love with you too."

"You what?"

Jace smiled shyly. "I'm in love with you too. I've been for a long time now." His eyes trace over her lips, the distance between them closing gradually. He hovers above her lips when his eyes meet hers again.

It's all in slow motion and superspeed at the same time. She lets go of control and lets her instincts take the reigns. Her lips crash into his and he lets out a surprised groan. Their eyes both close as they kiss one another, their lips partaking in a dance they somehow know. By the time they pull apart, they're out of breath and their eyes are blown.

"How long?"

She blinks. "Pardon?"

"How long have you been waiting to do that?"

"If I'm being honest, a month or so after we met. What about you?" Y/N giggles.

"Since we first met."

Clary leans against the door, heart half broken and half full, yet content with herself. Maybe she should look into what Simon's benefits are.

[demothers-empty-blog]

Howling Wind

CW: fluff.

ehe… so, clearing drafts - decided to finish this when i started it back in checks notes September 👑

The time is exactly 23:50PM, the world’s gone quiet to make place for the howling wind outside. The band hoodie you wore has never felt cozier, every time those windy roars sliced through the silence however, you couldn’t hold back a shiver from running up your spine.

A knock at the door grabs your attention.

He looked cold, felt cold when he pulled you into a hug, but the deep rumble from his chest and the way his body shook from breathless laughs were just too warm to deny. It was of relief, contentment and love. A sense of belonging as König embraced you, too eager to have you close that the soldier didn’t even think to step inside the house yet, choosing instead to plant himself at the doorstep while all that lovely snow blew in.

“My love,” you giggle with a shiver while a hand pats him firmly on the back, pulling him to his good senses. “Step inside the house, please.”

“Sorry,” König nods, blinking a few times as he pulls away, then gave your shoulders a quick squeeze before twirling you around and ushering you in, laughing along. “Sorry, taube. You’re absolutely right, let’s get inside.”

He bellows once he’s in and the door is shut, “Kids, I’m home!” You’re reminded of the time all of the sudden by the… enthusiastic yell your husband just gave. You flick your wrist in front of his stomach to hit him lightly, he groans in response, clenching his stomach with a hand. “Oomf- what was that for? It’s not even that late.”

“It’s midnight.” You retort.

“And?” He scoffs.

Duo footsteps come rushing down the hall, “Papa!!” They cry in unison, König bends down enough to scoop the little terrorkobolts into his arms, “Meine kleinen Sterne!” Those two were probably the second greatest gift you could bestow König, they drive him mad.

The house is quiet again, safe for the raging snowstorm. 00:44PM the clock read when your small family turned in for the night. You ask your husband while tucking yourself underneath his chin how your eldest was doing, as he too was in the military, dutifully following in his father’s footsteps. While neither of you shared blood, your adoptive son mirrored his father’s fighting spirit.

König says, as unbiased as possible that he’s never seen someone as capable as the man you’ve helped raise him to be. He might even be up for a promotion soon, if he just learned to quit mouthing off his superiors, namely his own father.

You talk for another 10 minutes give or take before sleep clouded your senses, but in all honesty, it was König who fell asleep first. Shhhhh, don’t tell him that.

[roosterforme]

Batting Practice Part 33 The Epilogue | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Some things never seem to change for Bradley. But maybe he worked at keeping them the same. Baseball, Everett and you.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing

Length: 3700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun! Batting Practice masterlist.

Seventeen and a half years later...

"Happy birthday, Coach," you whispered, slowly coaxing Bradley awake. He could feel your warm breath on his cheek and the weight of your hand resting on his chest. 

"Mmm, Kitten," he rasped, placing his bigger hand on top of yours as he cracked his eyes open. And there you were, fresh from sleep yourself, and so beautiful with the early morning sunlight catching on the angles of your face. "It's Sunday. Why won't you let me sleep in?"

"Because it's your birthday. And we get to see Ev."

Bradley stretched and rolled over so you were pinned deliciously underneath him. "We won't get to see Ev until later this afternoon. He's going to have a very busy day."

"I'm not so sure about that," you said with a smirk as you dragged your fingers through his hair. Bradley knew he was going gray, but you claimed you liked it, including the few stray strands that found their way into his mustache. 

"You sound like you've got something up your sleeve. Wait, Molly's not coming over to break the stove again, is she?"

You started laughing as you wrapped your legs around his. "Not that I know of. But anything's possible with her."

"Poor Bob," he said, pressing a kiss to your collarbone. "And the kids, too. She's an absolute menace." 

Bradley pulled up your shirt and kissed his way along your breasts. If he was lucky, he'd get round one of birthday sex now and round two tonight after the game.

"Wait," he whined as you tugged your shirt back down. "What are you doing? It's my birthday."

"Yes," you agreed, kissing him once and then slipping right out of bed. "And I've been told I need to keep you on a very strict schedule. So come on. Get up."

"A strict schedule?" he mumbled. "Baby, I'm retired. My schedule revolves around making you breakfast, packing your lunch, coaching tee ball, and watching every single Phillies game."

"Well, I'll be making your breakfast today. And you can eat nachos or a hot dog for lunch even though you should be watching your sodium intake. And we will definitely catch the Phillies game," you said, reaching out to take his hand. 

With one more groan, he let you lead him downstairs where you told him to sit at the kitchen counter. He passed his display case on the way and paused to look at his first Coach of the Year trophy and the baseball covered in little faded hearts that he used to propose to you. He smiled at the collection of other baseballs, including the one from the first time his son pitched a no hitter. 

"Seriously, Bradley. We have a schedule to keep."

A few minutes later he had his World's Greatest Dad mug full of coffee in front of him. You kept checking the time as you pulled eggs and vegetables out of the refrigerator. Once 8:00 hit, you grabbed his phone from where it sat on the counter and entered his passcode as he sipped his coffee.

"Read this," you said, voice full of excitement. 

"What is it?" he asked as you thrust the phone into his hands. It looked like he was going to have absolutely no say over what went on today, so he was just going to go with the flow.

"An article. In the Philadelphia Inquirer. It just got released two minutes ago."

"Okay," he muttered, setting down his coffee and as he started to read.

WILL SEASON FOUR BE AS LUCKY AS ONE, TWO, AND THREE?

by Harrison Boyd

June 27, 2039

From his draft day nearly four years ago to now, Everett Bradshaw has been turning heads. We had collectively wondered as baseball fans from the City of Brotherly Love if we would ever have a truly elite pitcher again after Ronson's career ending injury. But as soon as the franchise acquired Bradshaw, we were allowed to stop wondering. We have reached elite status once again. And Bradshaw shows no signs of stopping. 

When I asked the freshly twenty five year old ace about the secret to his success, the first thing out of his mouth was, "My dad."

Bradley rubbed his eyes with his fingers and took a deep breath against the swell of emotions rising in his chest. "Kitten, what is this?"

You just shrugged as you cut up a green pepper for an omelette. "A feature article on Ev. Keep reading."

Bradley took a deep breath and picked up where he left off.

So I asked him, "Was your dad the one at your games who was cheering the loudest? The one who kept you motivated since you were a kid?"

"Not exactly," Bradshaw replied with a smile. "He was my very first coach. He actually still coaches tee ball in San Diego. He wins Coach of the Year so frequently, I think we've all lost count of how many of those little trophies he has at home. But anyway, I met my dad on the very first day I ever played ball. The very first time I swung a bat with instruction was from him. And he's the one who taught me how to pitch. His slider is still really hard to hit."

"You met your dad through tee ball? Through baseball? That's fascinating."

"Yes. I begged my mom to let me play. I was already obsessed with the Phillies by the time I was six. My mom took me to see them clobber the Padres at Petco Park, and I just thought they were the coolest team. So when she let me play tee ball, and I met my coach and learned he also loved the Phillies, I just wanted to spend as much time with him as I could. Turns out, they also wanted to spend time with each other. They got married a few months later. And then my dad adopted me."

While his birth name wasn't Bradshaw, Everett said he never had a close relationship with his biological father. "Really, he's not even worth mentioning. The only one I've ever considered to be my dad is Bradley. I can barely remember a time before he was taking me to the park to hit balls and teaching me how to keep stats. We did my homework together and collected baseball cards. He helped me apply to colleges. The video of him losing his mind when the Phillies drafted me went viral. My mom and my aunt and uncle are awesome, too. But my dad has always understood me in a way probably nobody else ever will."

During his four years at Vanderbilt, Everett earned a reputation as a fun loving, team oriented pitcher. But his stats were enough to catch the eye of every major league team. He pitched a no hitter against Stanford when he was nineteen, and he hit his first grand slam when he was twenty. And he's only cleaned up his form since then. For anyone not keeping track at home, Bradshaw already owns an incredible record in the MLB: he is the only player to pitch a no hitter as well as hit at least one grand slam for every year they played in the pros. His batting averages are practically unheard of for a pitcher. 

It's no wonder he was heavily scouted. And he assures us that his dad was there with him every step of the way. "I didn't know anything about contracts. I just wanted to pitch. But I spent a lot of time talking things through with my dad before I made any decisions. And now everyone is making a huge fuss about my new 440 million dollar ten year extension with the Phils, but to be honest, I still just want to pitch as many games as I can."

The 'huge fuss' is being made, because Bradshaw is now the highest paid pitcher in league history. The Phillies went all in on him, however Bradshaw did adjust his deal to assure that the team would be able to keep top catcher Sanchez as well. "If Miguel Sanchez isn't catching for me and the other guys in the rotation, then that's a big problem. The team needed to retain him as well. And to be honest, Harrison, nobody needs 440 million dollars."

Bradley set his phone down, rubbed his eyes, and said, "I still can't believe our son is the highest paid pitcher ever."

"I can," you replied, adding cheese to the omelette. "He's incredible. Keep reading."

When I asked him what he plans to do with 44 million dollars per year, he kind of shied away from the answer at first. "Well my girlfriend runs a nonprofit organization back in San Diego. She helps fund underprivileged children and schools. So a lot of my income goes back to kids in the city where I grew up and beyond. But I've also been working on a bit of a project myself."

When I asked him for more details, he folded his hands on the table in front of him and took a few beats to answer. "We talked a lot about my dad and what he means to me personally, and how he has impacted my career. But I also think it's important to remember that I'm just one guy. I'm just one kid who went through tee ball and little league. There are thousands of kids across the country who benefit from those types of athletic programs every year. And some of them, just like me, really need the positive influence that the coaches bring. So my dad doesn't even know about this yet, but I'm starting the Bradley Bradshaw Foundation, which will help fund a handful of youth tee ball programs every year. This is something I've been thinking about for a long time. The coaches bring the love and dedication; they shouldn't have to worry about equipment costs and field rental fees."

Bradley dropped his phone onto the counter and tried to wipe his eyes as he sobbed. "I can't even finish reading it."

You slid his birthday breakfast onto a plate and set it in front of him. Then you wrapped your arms around his neck and let him cry against your shoulder. 

"Why is he doing this?" Bradley asked you. "He knows how fucking emotional I get, Kitten."

You kissed the top of his head and whispered, "Yes, you're always very soft for us. But you're also soft and sweet for all the kids you've coached. Keep reading."

So he pushed his breakfast aside and picked up his phone once again. And once he blinked away most of his tears he read the last part.

When pressed about how he thinks his stats will pan out by the end of his fourth season, Everett 'Grand Slam' Bradshaw laughed and shrugged. "I don't know. I'm just trying for consistency. I'm trying to be a good teammate. I'm trying to make the best of every game I get to start. I'm trying to spend as much time with my family as I can. But if you really have a specific question about my stats, you should call my dad. He probably knows better than I do."

Bradley stood up from the kitchen counter and walked away from you. "I need a minute," he said, raking his hands through his hair. The love Bradley felt for his son was just simply part of him. He never took the time to try to pinpoint it exactly, because it was just built into him at this point. But he supposed it really was quite simple to reach back in his mind and pull out the moments when he started to fall in love with you and Everett. And it really was just because of the Tiny Eagles tee ball team. 

If he hadn't agreed to help Bob coach that first season, his life would be fundamentally incorrect right now. He didn't even like thinking about it. But it was because of his love for Everett, and you, and baseball that he stuck with coaching. He'd spent time with countless six and seven year olds over the last eighteen years. He'd missed some practices and games for deployments here and there, sure. But giving a little bit of his time and attention to a roster of kids each spring ended up changing his life. Because while his family owned his heart, Bradley found he had quite a lot of patience and love to share with more kids. 

"Bradley?" you asked softly, standing next to his untouched breakfast. "We can go see Ev when you're ready."

"I'm ready."

Bradley took a quick shower and put on his favorite jeans and his Phillies jersey with Bradshaw and the number 1 on the back. You were dressed similarly in your own Everett Bradshaw jersey; it had taken until your son was playing for the team for you to have what Bradley considered an adequate amount of Phillies clothing in your drawers. Once Bradley added his backwards hat, he was ready to go.

You took his hand and led him out to the new Bronco, and Bradley handed you the keys. He still felt like he was on the verge of tears again. "I need you to drive."

"Okay, Coach."

When you turned onto the Private Parking Only ramp at Petco Park, Bradley chuckled. "I still can't believe Ev is playing the Padres in San Diego on my birthday."

"You screamed like a small child when the schedule came out," you reminded him as you parked near the players entrance where the three of you had entered on your ballpark tour eighteen years ago. 

"Yeah, I know, but we hardly ever get to see Ev during the season unless we fly to Philly." He was already climbing out before you turned the engine off, and then he took your hand as you laughed. "Shit, Kitten... it's 10:00. The game doesn't start until 1:00. Are the gates even open?"

"We can get in," you assured him, and you pulled a lanyard out of your pocket with VIP printed all over it. 

"How did we get that?" he asked, leaning down to kiss you as you approached the gate together. "Ev usually just sends us box tickets."

But before you had a chance to answer, the security guard looked at the VIP pass and asked, "Which player are you here to see?"

"Everett Bradshaw?" you replied. "He plays for the Phillies."

The guard's face lit up and he said, "He just autographed a ball for my kids about ten minutes ago! Nicest guy."

"He's our son," Bradley said with pride in his voice, and you squeezed his hand a little tighter. 

"Come on in," the guard said with a bright smile, unlocking the gate and sliding it open. "You can wait in the VIP lounge right up this ramp to the right. Scan the pass to unlock the door. I'll call down to the locker rooms and let him know you're here."

"Thanks," Bradley replied, and you led the way up the ramp. "Baby, I'm still a little confused about why we're here so early."

"You'll see in a minute," you replied, scanning the badge. Bradley pulled the door open when it unlocked, and he followed you into the lounge full of plush seats, TV screens, and refreshments. And at the far end, perched on the edge of one of the long tables, was Everett. He was smiling as he tucked his phone in his jeans pocket, and Bradley thought he looked impossibly taller and stronger than he had two months ago when they visited him in Philadelphia.

Bradley's eyes filled with tears as he started closing the distance to his son. "Happy birthday, Dad," Everett said with a laugh in his deep voice, but Bradley was already wrapping him up in a tight hug. He just wanted to hold all six foot two inches and two hundred and twenty pounds of his son, and Everett let him. 

Bradley had to fight the onslaught of tears as the familiar feel of Ev hugging him back filled his senses, and the words from the article he read earlier flooded his mind. When he finally released him, he patted him on the shoulder. "You look good, Kiddo. Did you eat enough for breakfast? Are you still starting today?"

Ev smiled at him and nodded, "Yeah, I'm feeling good, Dad. I could probably use some of your pancakes though."

"Well why didn't you say something? I could have brought some with us. Kitten, why didn't you say something?" he asked you as you walked over to join them.

As Everett gave you an enormous hug as well, he said, "I'm thinking about sleeping over at the house with you guys tonight, since I'm not starting tomorrow. You can make me about a dozen pancakes tomorrow morning. Hi, mom."

You kissed his cheek and adjusted his backward Phillies cap. "I like your hair this way. You look so handsome, Ev.

"Of course he does," Bradley agreed. "He looks like you." And then he was rewarded with the twin smiles that you and Everett bestowed on him at the same time. "Listen, if you're coming back to the house later, I need to stop and get groceries. You ate everything in the refrigerator and drank all my beer last time."

Everett just smiled at him. "Damn, I really do miss your pancakes."

"Ev, that's an adult word," you scolded.

"Mom. I am an adult," he scolded back playfully. But he was grinning when he turned toward Bradley. "Did mom make you read the article this morning? From the Inquirer?" 

"Yeah," he whispered, nodding his head. "You didn't need to do that for me, Kiddo. But thank you."

His throat was tight with unshed tears as Everett gave him another hug. "I didn't do it just for you. I did it for the other coaches and kids, too. You were just my main inspiration. You always are, dad."

"Please, Ev," he said, sucking in a deep breath as he rubbed his son's back before releasing him. "I might never stop crying."

And he was once again met with Everett's smile and yours. "You're a softie, Coach," you told him, cupping his chin in your hand and kissing him.

"Always for the two of you." Bradley kissed your fingers and then laced them with his as he looked around the room. "How much longer can you hang out with us, Ev? You need to warm up soon?"

"Pretty soon," he replied. "I'll walk you up to the box to meet Aunt Molly and Uncle Bob and the cousins, but we need to stop and take care of something first."

"Take care of what?" Bradley asked, but Ev was already heading for the door past the tables and unlocking it with his own badge. Hand in hand, the two of you followed your son down a long hallway that ended near the locker rooms at a door that said PRESS AND PLAYERS ONLY. "Are we even allowed back here?"

"Well," Everett said, stopping in front of the door, "if you remember the tour we took when I was six years old, this is where we met some of the players."

"Of course I remember," Bradley said, leaning down to kiss your cheek. "That was one of the best days of my life. I told your mom I loved her that day."

"He did," you confirmed for Everett.

"You two have always been sickening," Everett replied with a smile. "But yes, we're allowed in here. Actually dad, you're the man of the hour."

"Man of the hour?" he asked. "Kiddo, you're the star pitcher. It's just my fifty-fifth birthday." 

But as soon as Everett pushed the door open and Bradley stepped inside, about twenty reporters and photographers started buzzing with excitement. 

"Ev, I'm still confused," Bradley said as his son rested a hand on his shoulder. He watched you smile and head to an empty seat at the back of the room. "What's going on?"

Ev rubbed his shoulder before giving him another hug and releasing him. "Every interviewer asks me how I became successful. And my answer is always the same. It's because of you, Dad."

"Ev," Bradley choked out, his throat tight with tears once again.

"So you're in high demand, Coach. I told a few media outlets we would give an interview together. Nothing too crazy. As long as you want to."

Bradley glanced around the room, and as soon as he found you with a bright smile on your face, he said, "Okay."

So he sat down where the players sit, and Everett took the seat next to him. They had on matching jerseys and backward caps, and it didn't matter that he adopted Everett, this had always been his son. They were cut from the same cloth. They understood each other. They were a family. 

Everett cleared his throat and announced, "Hey, everyone. This is my dad and my very first coach, retired naval Captain Bradley Bradshaw. He taught me literally everything I know about baseball. Everything I know about anything, really. He showed me how to pitch sliders and curveballs at Myers Park here in San Diego. He made sure I could lose a game with the same attitude as when I won a game. He and I met the first day I ever played tee ball and the very first day he ever coached. And he's been coaching the Tiny Eagles ever since. So I guess if you want to know more about me, then he's the man to talk to."

Bradley was still wiping tears from his eyes when the first interviewer raised her hand, smiled at him, and asked, "Can you tell us how proud you are of Everett?"

He turned to look at his son and smiled. "How much time do I have?"

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

Well, that's it! The tale of Coach Bradley! I can't thank you enough to everyone who has been lovely to me as I worked on and posted this fic. I can't get enough of these three. Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32 (and thanks for the banner, Mak!)

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

Don't forget to check out Bob and Molly in The Curveball!

Still want more? Read Draft Day!

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[starkwlkr]

always an angel | mick schumacher

yes, this is named after a boygenius song 🫶🏼 anyways this is going to be a two part imagine in my senna!reader series also I’m just picking the candian gp because it’s this weekend lol

update: this has been in the drafts that’s why it says canadian gp^^

Michael Schumacher. One of the greatest drivers in motorsports. There’s a reason why he’s a seven time world champion. Not only was he a great driver, but he was an even greater dad to Mick and Gina Schumacher. You could tell that becoming a dad was ten times better than winning a world championship to Michael Schumacher.

The love he had for the sport was passed onto his only son, Mick. Soon, the young Schumacher was competing in f3 then f2, winning the 2020 FIA f2 championship then making his way to where he was meant to be, f1. Along the way, Mick had managed to fall in love with the daughter of another great driver that was taken away too soon. Y/n Senna had respect for every driver who competed, it didn’t matter if they had won or not. She would never step foot in a garage after the death of her father.

It was after she started talking to Mick that she reintroduced herself to the word that her father loved so much. They had gotten in touch a year before the pandemic started and stayed in contact ever since. Then years passed, team changes, retirement and a new life was brought in the world.

Mick was more than excited to show his daughter, Emmeline or Emmy as he loved to call her, the wonderful word of motorsports. Emmy was born into a racing family much like her parents. Mick had already gotten questions if he wanted his daughter to follow in the family footsteps. He knew if she ever did then it would be too much pressure on her seeing as she had Schumacher and Senna blood in her.

He had seen all the articles and tweets about his performance in f1. He remembers how he felt in that moment when he read all the rude comments. Y/n had to take his phone away for some time because he constantly checked twitter.

He didn’t want Emmy to go through that.

It was summer when they decided that bringing Emmy to a race was okay, the race being the Canadian Grand Prix. Mick and Y/n had arrived to the Mercedes hospitality a little earlier since they didn’t want Emmy to be scared by fans and photographers.

“I talked to Gina the other week.” Y/n said as Emmy slammed her hands on the table, getting irritated that her soppy cup kept rolling away from her.

“Yeah?” Mick grabbed the plastic cup and positioned it infront of Emmy.

“Yeah, she says she misses Emmy and she might visit soon.” Y/n finished.

“Emmy misses her Aunt Gina too, right Em?”

Emmy just made noises and kept on hitting her cup on the table. That caught the attention of George, who had just entered the hospitality.

“Hey miss Emmy, what did the table ever do to you?” George teased, walking up to the little family. “How is the royal racing family?”

“You’re hilarious, George.” Y/n rolled her eyes playfully.

“Thank you very much,” George smirked. “But I’m only here to see the best Schumacher slash Senna in the paddock. Hi, baby Emmy!” Emmy giggled when George ruffled her hair. “I know it’s too early, but do you think Emmy will one day say she wants to be a formula one driver?”

Mick hoped she never said those words. The world was a harsh place. He remembers the feeling all too well.