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sunlightwoo · 3 years

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Run With Hell | Ride Along Prequel

☀︎ pairing: bad boy!sunwoo x fem!reader

☀︎ genre: summer fling au, angst, squints of fluff, bad boy au, lovers to exes au warning: suggestive/sexual language and content, mentions of alcohol and partying

☀︎ wc: 4.1k

☀︎ plot: summer hues may bring in the summer blues, but this one person you spend your summer with just so happens to be the one person that you needed in that moment. instead of the place that he needed to end up being in, he lets you take him back to your place and see where it goes from there, thinking that maybe it might just be a summer bet and nothing more than that.

☀︎ a/n: this was originally a scrapped idea back from like 2018 and i never brought it back up to surface until recently these last few months actually from when i started planning ride along and then sunwoo’s verse in hate came out, which sparked more ideas!! so i hope you guys enjoy the prequel to it, in which you learn more about the history between Sunflower and Sunwoo’s relationship, even though this is not one of my best oneshots im sorry :( it can be read as a standalone, but it’d be cool if you read this and then ride along if you haven’t read it yet!!

read ride along here!

track one: moonlight | i never knew, you could hold moonlight in your hands

The soft breeze of the summer winds blew past your hair, your arms wrapped around yourself as your eyes were trained on the scenery in front of you. Comforts of the beach seem to have always made you calmer than you have been, and you think that these last two years of your life had been a fever dream considering the roller coaster of events that you have been through.

You remember waking up in a hospital the night that your brother, Jacob, had an important race to compete in, and because of that, you didn’t want to break his winning streak by being bad luck. The moments prior to that were unable to be recalled for as the only reliable information you can get was from the doctor, explaining that you had consumed something before you had blacked out that had made you almost comatose, if it weren’t for someone that had saved you that night.

There were often times where you thought about what had happened at that exact moment, but it didn’t distract you from where your mind had been leading you the following day when you were discharged already because of Jacob. You weren’t sure where he had gone that moment, but all you could remember was reading a note with his scribbles that mentioned where he had left it.

A final decision that he had to decide on with a gig that he had gotten for his music career was what he had been working on, and you couldn’t be happier for him. That following morning, you found yourself at the cafe that was across from where you were staying temporarily, eyes darting across the beautiful cursive chalk that was written on a board for the menu, and you couldn’t help but feel like there were a pair of eyes that were stuck onto you.

With a quick glance around the shop, even if there wasn’t a line behind you, you noticed a guy that sat by the window with his eyes trained onto yours. An accidental eye contact, you might’ve thought to yourself as the handsome stranger had given you a small smirk across his lips, but you have already turned back around to quickly place an order for a tea that was taken to go.

You had known who he was, considering his name was already spread among the city that you lived despite it being your summer before your first year of college. How it had easily slipped from your own tongue if anybody were to ask you, who is the biggest playboy that is known in your graduating class, and it had to be him. If it weren’t for the fact that he had an overpowering aura that radiated from him, then maybe you would’ve gotten to know him more.

But you didn’t want to, because you knew what guys like him were like.

It was guys like him that made you want to hide away into the comforts of your personal safety net because you knew he was too beautiful and confident to be good. A chaotic driven force that you think was meant to be encountered with was what he had seemed like, ready to clash into your lawful good that the more that you thought about it, you wondered what more of him was like if you were to say hello.

Now it was a little over a year later in the summer before your junior year of college and you think that it’s comical that somehow the same stranger had caught your heart. After a semester and a half of trying to win you over as a friend throughout your first year, he was able to convince you that maybe hanging out one spring night at the beach wouldn’t be too bad, right?

“Sorry I’m late, Sunflower. Got stuck trying to find a way to park the car without dealing with some asshole again.”

Your eyes look up to meet the same warm ones that welcomed you as the red hair he had coated this time around seemed to have blended in with the night sky. He takes a seat next to you and wraps his arms around his knees that were being hugged close to his chest, until he takes a look over to you once more with a soft smile on his face.

“It’s okay, Sunwoo. I haven’t been here that long anyways.” You reply quietly, giving him a smile back as you bit back everything that was on your tongue.

You had already been there for almost two hours waiting for him, collecting your thoughts as you wondered what the two of you were in that exact timing. There were times where you wanted to just kiss him as a way to shut him up whenever he rambled or said something dumb, but there were also the mixed signs that made you wonder if he had ever thought about you the same way that you did in the past two years.

One too many shared secrets and kisses were often exchanged, but the two of you had always remained friends with too many benefits as you found your way back to the other. It was almost as if you were magnets, opposites that attracted to another and now you were trying to find a way for it to make sense under the moonlight that was brightly shining tonight above you.

“Can you sing me a song, bubs?”

His eyes turn to look at you, who had been staring at him after breaking away from your own thoughts, as he nods in response and opens his arms for you to find your place in them. He wraps his arms around you securely, holding you close to his chest as the soft voice that came from his throat produced a sweet song that you easily recognized as one that he had told you about for a while.

It felt like you were being put under a sleeping spell as you looked at him, wondering how even under the moonlight, he was almost the most ethereal being in the world. It was as though he was carrying that luminescence in his hands and placed it above his head at all times, making sure that whenever you needed to just be held, he was there to do so for you; another reason why you were so conflicted with what you both had.

However, maybe it was after a confession or two after that soft lullaby that it ended up being enough for you. Maybe being with him was enough for you, and for that you had also regretted it at the same time, because you knew that you were in for a ride with hell’s spawn.

track two: sometimes | cause we’re collecting moments, tattoos on my mind

“Are you ready for our getaway?” You hear someone say behind you and turn to look at Sunwoo, who had been standing at your front door for a moment now.

It was the hot morning of July first after a long night being with him, and it was a spontaneous decision to head out on a little road trip away from the city. You wanted to go to the seaside, you had told him just hours prior, and he had told you about a little place that he used to stay whenever he was in a mood to go on vacation and escape the realities of the world.

So you packed your bags and were ready to go as you walked up to him with a big smile on your face, one that mirrored his own as he pulled you close. By placing his hand against your lower back, the space between you both becomes almost invisible as he pecked your lips in just a quick second, and you couldn’t help but giggle at the sudden action that came from him.

Even after a month or so of dating, it still felt like you were floating on cloud nine despite the fact that you had been doing this for two years or so already. Being with him felt like you were able to conquer on the world, and you knew that might not stay long despite the shared whispers of the cursed eight letters that were often said when you spent nights together.

You wanted to tattoo every moment that you were with him into your mind, because from then until now it had only felt like you were living in a daydream. He had given you nothing but love and made you happier than you would’ve imagined making yourself, but you were okay with also accepting the fact that it might not last long considering there were often times where you might clash thoughts and argue.

By the time that you both made it to where you were staying, you were amazed with how elegant it looked on the inside, despite the fact that it seemed smaller on the outside. You think that maybe you were in a movie as you looked around, but it wasn’t until you turned around to see Sunwoo being busy on his phone that you wondered if this mini getaway was going to be worth it.

“Everything okay, bubs?” You ask while putting down your stuff, sitting on top of your bag as he gives you a small smile before nodding in response.

To him, he thinks that you are one of the most beautiful things as the sun was practically shining on your face as it seeped through the large glass windows of the house. It’s almost amazing that he found himself falling for you quickly, but he wonders how much of that smile will last on your face before he does something to mess it all up.

He wants to tattoo the moments where he’s able to make those smiles on your face with his sincerity, the him that he wants to be with you rather than the person that he decides to be to everyone else. Yet somehow, there was something about your innocence to him that made him want more than just what you had then and now, but he was scared of what he might become if had actually gotten it all for himself.

“Yeah, everything’s okay. Let’s go sleep for a bit before we spend the night having fun, hmm?”

track three: bad decisions | You've become my favorite sin so let 'em keep on talking

He knows that he isn’t good for you.

His reputation of being the residential bad boy was no match for your heart, and you both knew that. After spending the first two weeks getting to know the ins and outs of the bay, you made some quick friends even though you spent a majority of your time back at where you were staying with Sunwoo. The way that his hands had always felt like fire on your skin was exhilarating as every kiss you shared was more intoxicating than the last.

You could tell that he was getting tired of it already, because you’ve noticed that the fire that was once in his eyes was dying out, and you were scared of it. Even his words of reassurance of loving you and for not leaving your side by then was made, but you couldn’t find it within yourself to trust his words every time that he spoke of them.

“Are you sure that you’re in love with me?” You whisper after the highs and frustrations that were spent into what you had done earlier had been let out.

The two of you had argued about how he never seemed to have paid more attention to what you were doing when the two of you were out at the street markets today, his phone seeming more important than exploring the depths of shops that were opened by small businesses. You confronted him about it, thinking that maybe he was involved with someone else and that you were just wasting your time putting your love into a relationship that was one sided.

However that wasn’t the case, as he told you that one of his friends was updating him on a situation that involved their family.

“Why wouldn’t I love you?”

Those toxic eight letters felt so foreign at the tip of his tongue as he looked at you, who laid your head on top of his chest. He didn’t know what love was, and he felt like the biggest jerk for also leading you on knowing that in the end, he was going to leave. He wasn’t sure when he was going to do it, but he knew that you were slowly catching onto his plan, and he hated himself for making you feel as though you weren’t enough for him to stay.

He wants to give you the pain that he had felt once in the past, and ruin the sweet innocence that you held in your eyes. He’s heard stories about you as well, the same way that you had heard stories about him, and he knew then that there was something about the way you talked and expressed your beliefs that made him want to be indulged into you more.

“We don’t feel the same anymore.” You whisper, eyes meeting him as the moonlight that used to capture his eyes so perfectly seemed as though it was dying out.

Your heart was pounding in your chest as you watched him stay silent for a moment, his eyes still looking into yours but he still held you close to his heart. He doesn’t know what to say at all and he regrets it a little more for dragging you into this game that he started playing with his own heart on his sleeve, but he doesn’t know when he should stop, because to him, it feels like this game that he made was still not done yet.

But he can’t find the heart to tell you to run, before he can do it.

“I promise I’ll love you more than I should be loving you. You’re my sunflower, the same way that I’m your sunshine, and it’ll stay that way.”

track four: leave me lonely | you’re a dangerous love, maybe you’re no good for me

It was a little over a month into your getaway, and it feels emptier than it was when you first started the entire trip.

The nights that you shared together were less filled with meaningful words and actions, but more filled with moments that were there to make the empty void that was present full with whatever you two had wanted to do. You could tell that he was on the verge of just walking out the front door and leaving you because of how the increasing arguments that were made continued to be more present, and you could’ve sworn that if he wasn’t going to be the first to leave, then you would.

It was another occurrence tonight where you had gone out to eat as a date, since you wanted to fix what might’ve been missing these last few weeks of summer that you might’ve not done. However, it didn’t happen to work as you noticed how Sunwoo was already preoccupied on his phone almost the entire time, and you were fed up by the end of the night as he was driving you both back home and he had taken the time to text back whoever it was that seemed more important than you, who had been nothing but patient the entire night.

“Am I seriously not fun anymore, that you’ve spent the entire date texting whoever it is on the other end?” You half jokingly asked while turning to him, watching as he had given you a confused look on his face while the two of you were waiting for the traffic light to turn green to go.

“I haven’t been texting someone the entire time-”

“Then what did we do today, besides eat at the restaurant because we sure as hell didn’t talk the entire time that we were there.” You retort, the joking tone that was previously in your tone no longer there as he looks at you for a split second before putting his phone into the cup holder that was between you both in silence.

The green light finally switches and he drives again as you could tell that he knew you were right, the silence overbearing you both as neither of you spoke afterwards. You wanted him to bite back, but you couldn’t help but be impatient this time around with what he had to say, because he always seemed to brush it off these days about what he has been doing when he wasn’t with you, or when he leaves mid-argument and comes back the next morning making it up.

“You’re just overreacting, don’t worry about it, Y/N.”

He hasn’t called you by your name in a while considering he had only been calling you by Sunflower for a long time now. It was almost like whiplash as you stared at him, who was now driving back to your place with the night sky behind him and you wondered what you had even done wrong when you were just wondering who he would keep texting.

Maybe he was cheating on you and he didn’t want to admit it, you think to yourself as you curled up into a ball in your seat and looked outside your window to hide the pain that was present in your heart. Was there could’ve been something that you might’ve done wrong that could just made him bored throughout the last two years that you’ve known each other, where it was you that might’ve been in the mess up stance?

That night, you couldn’t even remember whether or not you have slept properly considering he didn’t sleep with you, but rather slept on the couch in the living room.

Was this what the start of heartbreak was like?

track five: touch it | Why do you say you want me, then tell me you're not coming in?

“How long have you been lying to me about everything?”

Tears were pricking the corners of your eyes as you stared at the individual in front of you with your heart on your sleeve, wondering what his next move was. Your throat was raspy from how much you were yelling out of anger and frustration earlier, and you wanted to know how long you had been playing his game.

“Two years.” He replies, his facial expression never faltering as his hands were in his pockets and eyes boring into your own.

His phone was placed on the couch beside you as you had found his texts with his best friend about how being with you was all for a bet of money; and he had won. All he had to do was to make you play his game and purposely break your heart, only to win some sort of prize that he would win at the end, but at what cost.

“I didn’t mean anything to you, did I?” You whisper as you cross your arms in front of your chest, waiting to hear whatever else he had to say, but you couldn’t help but wipe away the stray tears that were already falling down the apples of your cheeks.

Yes, you meant everything to me, he wants to say as he looks into your heartbroken eyes, and he was willing to give up everything to walk over to where you were to wipe your tears for you. But there was also the thrill in his blood that made him feel a bit prideful that he succeeded in being the asshole that he made himself out to be to everyone but you.

He had won the game, he acknowledged and it was over for him but he also knew that there was just a little bit of guilt that still lied inside of him. He doesn’t know what to say as he watches you start to crumble in front of him internally, and he knows you’re tired of all the lies that he had been feeding you since the first day.

So he had decided on running away after he said his last words, because like you had predicted, he was hell’s spawn that loved creating a chaotic masterpiece. As much as you hated him in the moment, he knew that you wouldn’t be able to let go for a bit, and maybe this was his chance to leave so that he doesn’t have to think about you anymore.

And he does as he walks away with the wind as he closes the door on you both, leaving with the sounds of his car already leaving and you know that he wasn’t coming back.

You think that it’s your fault anyways for wanting to believe in what you had was genuine, with every time that he had said it was true. But like you thought in the first place, where guys like him wouldn’t last, was true, because now you were in the place that held everything that reminded you of him. You wanted to trash the beautiful pain that was in front of you, but you also felt numb at the same time, not wanting to do anything but to just mourn the stained heart that was on the sleeve of your arm.

It was there for the world to see; tainted with toxic love that only you had for him, and it was now spilling out with his last words echoing in your head.

“I never loved you in the first place, because you were only just a game to win.”

bonus track: lovesick girls

The loud silence of the crackling fire resonates in your ears as you stare at the burning car that was less than 50 feet in front of you. Your knees were tucked into your chest as you stared at it, wondering where it all began to go wrong as the numbness of your heart continued to stay there. He had been gone for weeks, as you had expected him to run away for that long, and you hated yourself for falling for a guy like him in the first place.

He was intoxicating, addicting; the one person that you had given your entity to, only to have it crumble up in the palm of his hands.

You hated him and knew that this would be the last time you’d ever want to see him, since you were going to start going back on track with your goals and dreams. Starting next week you were set to start the fall semester into your junior year of college as it was now almost mid September and ready to run for the life that you wanted to have from the start of the summer before you had met him.

You think to yourself that maybe it was him that had ruined it all, or maybe a piece of you didn’t want to admit that it was also your own for not being cautious enough. The entire summer felt like you were running with the devil himself, and that the air you were breathing in now, the very one that you can finally collect your thoughts in, were your moments of freedom as you blinked back the tears of the memories that had played in your mind of last night that ended it all.

“All you ever did was run away from us in the first place, Sunwoo-”

“And I was wrong for doing it, that day that I walked out and left,” He says and you could see his eyes glimmer with what seemed like sincerity in the form of tears, just as the sun that was setting around you both began to make your skies darker than they were before.

“But that doesn’t mean that I regretted walking out, because I knew that we would’ve only hurt each other more if I had stayed.”

The silence that was overtaking you both was faster than that as your eyes continued to lock onto one another’s. You weren’t sure what you wanted to do in this situation, because you very much so loved him and all his imperfect beauties. However it felt like he was the constant fire that was burning your skin with every touch that he was able to make, and you didn’t want to be a part of that cycle that would continue with him, especially after finding out about his bet with his best friend at the most.

So in retaliation, you did what you should’ve done in the first place, resent and ignore him, as you knew that this should be the last time that you see him again in this life.

“Then I think you should just leave for good then, Sunwoo. Don’t ever try to find me again, and if you do... we will never do us again.”

#ficscafe #destinyverse #deobiwritersnet #tbznetwork #kdiner #kpopscape #the boyz imagines #the boyz scenarios #the boyz angst #the boyz oneshots #tbz imagines #tbz scenarios #tbz angst #tbz oneshots #kim sunwoo #sunwoo imagines #sunwoo scenarios #sunwoo angst #sunwoo oneshots

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exosmutfactory · 3 years

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Six Phases FINALE Pt 1

Originally posted by sefuns

Who knew it nearly took 6 months to win your heart, and 6 phases for Baekhyun to lose his mind.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 P(1) P(2) | Part 4 P(1) P(2) | Part 5 P(1) P(2) | Part 6 P(1) P(2) —– P(3) P(4) —– P(5) P(6) ||| ♬♩♪♩ FINALE P(1)✓ P(2) (also on AFF)

networks — @supermwritersnet @/bbh-net

pairing — Baekhyun x Riley (OC)

word count — 28k+ (Finale part 1 - [19k] & 2 - [9k])

genre — ceo! baekhyun, playboy! baekhyun, strangers to lovers, hurt & comfort (heaven knows they need that comfort), slow burn! kinda

[ contains: angst, fluff, smut ]

A/N: Buckle up, loves. Here comes a long one. ♡ Let’s go! (^-^)

•⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •

⏰🌹Six Phases Tag List: 🌹⏰

@to-all-the-stories-i-love @insta1010 @sorrowinblood @bellamendoza @bbhflrt @weirdoome

I was unable to tag one of you so I’ll DM you from @candyfizzbyun 💗💗💗

•⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •

July is upon us before we know it, bringing forth more of the summer's blazing sunlight and smothering heat. Jenny's birthday is right around the corner, merely 3 days into the hottest month of the year. There's no wonder why she's throwing a party in a venue that has both a beautiful indoors and outdoors setting. The breezy summer-style dress code for the event is a given—and I plan to crash it with my wintry flare.

It's July 3rd, 90 degrees, and I'm strutting down the stone path leading up to the venue in a two piece velvet outfit. The wine color compliments my skin, hugging my body in all the right places. Between the bra-shaped, crop top that ties in the back and my waist-high pants with high slits to reveal my nude colored heels underneath, I feel like the baddest and sexiest woman up in this bitch.

"Riley!" Jenny beams the moment I step through the door, looking stunning in her light blue dress. It's a plain form-fitting dress, but nothing is simple about her wearing it. The light blue material goes well with the ocean hue of her eyes. The sleeveless, spaghetti-strapped fabric that wraps around her beautifully is the shortest dress I've ever seen on her—and Jongdae should feel like the luckiest man alive to see her like this all the time.

Her makeup is done perfectly, highlighting the softness of her round face and sharpening the gaze in her oval eyes. She nearly runs someone over when she comes barreling my way in her black heels with a drink in her hand.

I laugh at her excitement, accepting her hug without hesitation. "Hey, Jen."

"Hey," She smiles, pulling back a little to look at me. "You're early."

A little grin forms on my face; if only she knew. "I didn't want to risk any traffic jams," I explain, smiling more. She's practically buzzing with happiness.

"Ah," She nods, pursing her lips. "Maybe I should have chose a different time-"

"Hey," I place my hand on her shoulder, giving her a look. "Relax. Everything will be fine."

She sighs but nods, her owl-shaped, dangling-earrings sparkling prettily under the warm lights. "I hope no one else gets stuck."

"They won't," I shake my head, adding cheekily, "Especially Chanyeol, he drives like a madman."

"That big oaf," She mutters, a smile back on her face. Her blue eyes meet mine before she takes my hands between hers. "Come, I want to introduce you to someone."

"Oh?" I inquire, raising a brow as she leads me further into the venue. "This isn't one of those matchmaking situations is it?"

"No. Fuck men." She immediately rebukes, fire burning in her eyes. "I'm not dealing with anyone's bullshit. Not on my day."

"Damn straight," I mumble, amused at the disgruntled expression on her face. Jenny and Jongdae are back together—if you can call their last fight a breakup. Witnessing him show up on their doorstep with her favorite chocolate and a new plant to add to their home was a sight to see. He must have done something else for her to react this way though. I can't help but chuckle. Half a year later and he is still tiptoeing around her. That Haneul must be someone significant. My lips downturn at the thought.

"Eunjung! Eunjung!" Jenny's loud voice brings me back to the present. "Ugh, where is that woman?" She grumbles, searching the extravagant room. More partygoers are starting to stream in, filling up the building with every shade of the rainbow and then some. My eyes drift over to the fruit buffet on the long tables in the back when Jenny's eyes widen. "There she is!" She smiles, leading me over to the mini bar on the other side of the room.

I follow her line of sight, my heart dropping in the blink of an eye. It's the same woman I've been seeing around Baekhyun since May. Her once long black hair is now a short brown mohawk, the curly ends perfectly framing her oval shaped face.

"Eunjung, this is Riley." Jenny smiles, gesturing to me. "The wild child I've told you about," She jokes.

"Hello," Eunjung greets in a low voice, smiling warmly. She holds out her hand to me. "I've heard so much about you."

I can only shake her hand and smile back, glaring at Jenny out of the corner of my eye when Eunjung is distracted by the bartender bringing her a drink. "Nice to meet you."

Jenny takes a seat while I survey the room, making sure there aren't any heads of silver hair around. Jongin won't be coming tonight, he's busy preparing dance classes for the elementary students that he'll teach for the upcoming school year, so I keep my head on a swivel. As much as I consider Jenny one of my best friends, her ties with a certain someone cannot be ignored after what happened the last time we went to a party.

"How's Miss Eunae?" Jenny's question catches my attention, pulling me back into their conversation.

"She won second place in a dance competition last month."

"Really?!" Jenny gasps and I stiffen.

"Yeah, I couldn't make it." Eunjung smiles sadly, swirling the melting ice in her drink. "Thankfully her girlfriend could. And Baekhyun too."

"Wait," I interrupt, feeling wary when both their eyes focus on me. "You have a twin?"

"Yes. About my height, long black hair." Eunjung sets down her empty glass on the counter. "You might have seen her around before, that woman can't sit still to save her life."

"She has a girlfriend?"

Eunjung and Jenny share a brief, knowing glance before turning back to me. "Yes." Eunjung smiles.

I clear my throat, avoiding their dancing eyes. "Good for her."

"They've been together since high school." Jenny nudges me, a shit eating grin on her face.

"I'll be surprised if they marry before you and Jongdae though," Eunjung raises her hand to get the bartender's attention again. "Chaeyoung is always working overseas."

My chest vibrates. I pull my phone out of my secret breast pocket, tuning out the rest of their conversation.

Sat, 07/03 - 7:30pm

Heartbreaker 😑💔😄

Y'all ready?

Earth shaker 😝💞😊

Ready as I'll ever be!

Heartbreaker 😑💔😄

Kyungsoo?

Cake master 🤗🍰🙏🏼

You owe me for this shit

♡ ♡ ♡ R ♡ ♡ ♡

I promise to help you bake in his place

…

As long as Dae and Yeol pick up the groceries :')

Cake master 🤗🍰🙏🏼

Chanyeol delivers and Jongdae unpacks

I don't trust his clumsy ass anywhere near my produce

♡ ♡ ♡ R ♡ ♡ ♡

🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

Heartbreaker 😑💔😄

😂

Earth shaker 😝💞😊

Hey!

♡ ♡ ♡ R ♡ ♡ ♡

Ready guys?

Cake master 🤗🍰🙏🏼

Yes

Heartbreaker 😑💔😄

Yeah

Earth shaker 😝💞😊

Mmhm >:(

♡ ♡ ♡ R ♡ ♡ ♡

Let's go 🤫🎂🚚💨✨🥰

I can't help but chuckle, pocketing my phone. When I look up, Jenny is the only one sitting at the counter. "Hey," I frown, noticing the sad look on her face. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," She mumbles.

"Come on," I rest my hand on her arm, trying to catch her eye. "I can't let the birthday girl mope. You can tell me."

A smile quirks at her lips. "I just…" She sighs, turning to me. "I can't believe Jongdae is busy with work today."

"Awe," mimicking her poked out bottom lip, I nudge her softly. "Well, I guess you're just stuck with me—Deal with it."

"Riley!"

I burst out into laughter, back hugging her when she playfully pushes me away. "Hey, don't lose hope, yeah? He might surprise you."

"No he won't," She mumbles, full on pouting now. "He never surprises me."

"Well," Making eye contact with a certain mischievous brunette on the other side of the room, I tap her shoulder. "Maybe that will change today."

Jenny turns her head and gasps, leaping off of her bar stool. "Chanyeol? Kyungsoo? Jongdae?!?!?!?!"

Everyone in the room watches on with smiles on their faces, but Jongdae's is the brightest of all. "Hey, babe," He beams, opening his arms.

Jenny sprints over to him, colliding so hard with his body that she almost sends them both to the floor. But Jongdae takes it all in stride, holding her close while bellowing that signature laugh of his.

Smiling at them, I quickly walk over to help Kyungsoo and Chanyeol roll in the food cart. "Hey guys, everything okay?"

"We made it all in one piece," Kyungsoo mutters, glancing at the tall dome plate cover. "The cake too."

"Three different chocolates?"

"Mmhm."

"Perfectly symmetrical?"

"Yep," Yeol chimes in.

I grin, "She's going to love it."

"She's going to love you, you mean." Chanyeol sets his shining eyes on me. "How did you even know all this?"

I give him a small, secretive smile, "I have my resources." His grin only widens. "Did the gifts come in today?"

Kyungsoo nods, "Right on time."

"The delivery man showed up just as we were packing the cake into the back of the truck," Chanyeol chuckles, nearly tripping over the edge of a carpet. Kyungsoo and I look at him with our respective wide and narrowed eyes.

"Huh," I purse my lips, nodding in approval. "Now that is some high class two-day shipping." They both hum in agreement, Kyungsoo straightening out the table cloth before they begin to set the cake onto the round table.

"You guys good?" I look between them when they succeed in placing it down. Thank god for that; if that cake falls to the floor that's all our necks.

Kyungsoo nods, "Go on." He gives me a look that's hard to identify. "He's coming too."

"Oh," My heart leaps at the thought. Oh. Shit. He's coming. I should have expected as much, but to actually hear it makes it ten times more real... Shit. "I-Imma just…" I point behind me to the backdoor, slowly walking backward. "You know."

They nod, Chanyeol's eyes holding a hint of sadness. "It's okay. We got everything covered."

"Thank you," I breathe, smiling apologetically. Spinning on my heel, I hurry as fast as my high heels allow to the door. With one last glance back to make sure Jenny is okay, I slip out into the summer night.

Music from within the venue spreads out into the backyard, but it's much quieter out here. I survey the area, making sure no one else is around. Not that I am against anyone being outside, I've just had enough social interaction for one evening… and the night has barely begun.

Sighing to myself, I walk further out onto the patio, my lips quirking up at the light blue cushions on the chairs. Jenny planned this event to the Tee, huh? I chuckle, sighing softly.

The deck is a nice light gray shade, contrasting against the black base of the table and lounge chairs. Running my eyes over them, I hum, choosing to lean against the table instead.

Pain buds in my chest when my thoughts wander. I shouldn't care—I really shouldn't but… Even after everything. Even after all this time, it hurts to think of him with anyone else. The thought of him holding someone in his arms, in his home, in his heart… It crushes me to the core. It eats me up on the inside. It keeps me up at night.

I shouldn't care, yet every time I hear his name, every time I see his face... I go back to that January night, and I regret it every single time.

No matter how hard I try, my head is constantly full of 'what ifs.' What if I stayed? What if he was willing to change? What would we be right now if I hadn't walked away?

I love—I loved Baekhyun with all my heart…

Can I really move on from this? Will I ever wake up one day and not imagine his sleeping face next to mine?

He could still have someone already for all I know, but for tonight… I rather tell myself that he is alone.

Leaning my elbows on the patio table, I watch the sunset, admiring the pink and orange hues streaking across the blue sky.

"You're staring."

"I love admiring art."

"So I'm an object now?"

The unmistakable love in his sparkly brown eyes… "You are the source," He pauses, holding my heart in his warm smile, "Of my love and affection."

My heart squeezes in earnest. God… why does this hurt so much? Why do his words linger in my mind and actions take hold of my heart? When will it end? When will it fucking end—

"Miss?" A low, raspy voice startles me.

I spin around, staring at the culprit with narrowed eyes. They widen as I take in the man in front of me.

The first thing I notice is his sharp jawline, leading up to his thin lips that curl up at the ends, reminding me a little of Jongdae. My eyes trail up further, taking in his tall nose with a rounded tip, his prominent cheekbones and narrow eyebrows. His slicked back, brown hair shows his broad forehead, and then—

His eyes…

They are the darkest shade of brown that I've ever seen, their almond shape perfectly suiting the rest of his face. They appear black in the dim light of the setting sun. Looking into them has me feeling many things, wondering what story those dark pools of molten hot coffee hold.

"Are you alright?" He asks, his low voice in a husky tone that I'm slowly getting used to hearing… until I feel the drop that lands on my cheek.

"Oh—yeah!" I inwardly curse, hastily rubbing the tear from my cheek. "I-It's just, you know... allergies."

He nods and I cringe on the inside because I know he can tell that I'm completely bullshitting him right now. "What are you doing out here?" He inquires, tilting his head. His tone of voice isn't judging or hostile, it's more… caring. And sweet. I wish I could read his eyes though...

"Needed a breather," I shrug, repositioning myself in a more attractive manner. I am not about to let some stranger see me hanging out back here like a socially awkward potato on top of everything else—I refuse. "You?"

"Business call," He murmurs distractedly, repocketing his vibrating phone.

"Oh," I inwardly roll my eyes. Right. As if I don't have enough business men in my life.

"The Tech team found a corrupted file," He sighs, checking his expensive gold watch. "They don't know how bad it is yet… The film might have to be delayed."

Film? I perk up at that. "You help film movies?"

He smiles, glancing up at me, a lock of hair falling over his eye. "I'm the director."

A very casual one at that; I note, taking in his outfit. He's decked out in a light blue denim jacket and a white t-shirt, but I know those aren't cheap. Nope, I've seen enough of Baekhyun's cotton shirts to—

"What's the theme?" I blurt out, curling my hand into a fist as I lean further back on the table. "Classified information?" I raise a brow, smirking at his speechless face.

"Aish…" He closes his mouth, smiling a little. "Something like that."

"Eh," I shrug, smiling softly. "I can respect that."

The temperature suddenly starts to drop. A chilly wind blows, ruffling the ends of his hair. The scent of something I haven't encountered before reaches my nose. Bourbon and vanilla; citrus and peach... It's hard to describe, but it creates an aroma that catches my attention.

"What's your name?" I tilt my head, my eyes widening at the sparkle that reflects in his dark eyes from the last rays of the setting sun.

His eyes widen before he points to himself. "Me?"

"Who else, silly?" I laugh, holding back a snort, a smile tugging at my lips at the sheepish look on his face. He's pretty cute, I'll give him that.

He clears his throat, looking away. "Jackson."

I fight back my smile seeing how flustered he is. "I'm Riley." A thought occurs to me for a moment… What is a business man—director doing here? This is an invitation-only event, and I helped Jenny painstakingly arrange the guest list... "How do you know Jenny?"

"Hmm?" Jackson blinks, flickering his eyes back to mine. "Oh!" He laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. "She's an old friend."

"Oh," My eyes narrow in the last rays of sunlight.

"We kept in contact after her and Yugyeom split," He explains, and the apologetic expression on his face has my eyes widening again. Did he just see through me? Uh—Wait.

"Oh my god, Yugyeom?—Kim Yugyeom?"

"Yes…" He trails off, looking me over carefully. "Do you know him?"

Do I know him? My reddening cheeks are enough of an explanation. "Not really," I laugh awkwardly, standing up fully. Alright, I've had enough human interaction for today. Between him, the discovery of Eunjung's twin not seeing Baekhyun, meeting someone who is friends with that tall guy I was drooling over months ago, and having to keep Jenny's birthday surprise a secret all week, I'm drained. Time to go—

A crack of thunder echoes across the sky, and then the bottom drops, rain drenching us in seconds.

Well shit… Did none of us check the weather for today? I rack my brain for answers, trying to remember—oh... Oh. Jenny… likes… thunderstorms…

The rain continues to pour, soaking my velvet outfit and flattening my hair without remorse. It won't melt me, but the venue is a city away from Seoul and if I don't hurry home now...

"Well!" I turn away to hide the bitter smile on my face, pushing off of the slippery table. "Time for me to go. Nice meeting you, Jackson."

"Wait-"

I puff up my cheeks, blowing the air out as my hair sticks messily to my forehead. Fighting the urge to brush it back is difficult, but if there's one thing I know about my hair when it's wet, it's the agony that comes with ruffling it up. I rather not cry while detangling it when it's air dried later—

A yank on my arm makes me yelp, my head slamming into something hard when thunder cracks across the sky again, followed by the horrifying crackle of lightning. My head snaps up, eyes squinting against the onslaught of rain. I can barely make out Jackson's face, his features twisted in concern with his hair mattered to his forehead like a mop. The sheer amount of fear in his wide eyes has me more than confused. I take a look around, my heart stopping right in its tracks.

The doorknob of the back door sizzles, steam floating from it in a cloud of smoke. The crack from a lightning bolt visible as the rain washes the spark away.

My face pales when I look back up at the man in front of me.

Jackson steps back, steading me with his hands on my arms when my knees buckle. "Sorry," He clears his throat. "I tried to warn you but-"

"Thank you," I mumble, moving away when I find my balance again. "That could have been…" My head spins at the thought, "Bad."

He nods with a concerned frown, worry written all over his handsome features.

"...Well!" I clear my throat, giving him a small smile. "Thanks again for saving me, stranger." I joke, my eyes shooting down when I feel something rough shielding my shoulders from the rain. "Oh-" They snap back up to meet his, "You don't have to-"

"Keep it." He shakes his head, placing his denim jacket fully on my shoulders. "You're shivering."

"I…" My face is so hot the rain does nothing to cool me down. "Thank you."

Jackson smiles, shoving his hands into his pockets. "No problem." He starts walking backwards, glancing up at the sky before propping open the back door with his leather boot.

"Wait!" I blurt, blushing all the way up to my ears when he looks back at me, having to raise my voice over the unmerciful wind. "H-How will I return it without your number?"

A shy yet boyish grin forms on his face. "Not here."

"Huh?" I blink.

Jackson smiles even more, holding the door open before giving a little bow and outstretching his hand to me. "Ladies first."

A dozen thoughts race through my head while looking at his waiting hand, the action so familiar my heart tugs painfully in my chest. Smiling my prettiest smile, I place my palm in his.

•••

I forgot how refreshing it is to talk to someone new. Stepping out of my comfort zone to get to know a person outside of my friend group—an attractive person at that.

Texting Jackson is a treat. He's a man of high intellect, giving me great advice with years of director experience under his belt. The most shocking thing is that he is only 24—24! Two years older than me. He breaks my dating rule of pursuing anyone less than 4 years older than me, but his maturity makes up for it. Age doesn't define maturity as I have come to realize after a certain someone.

He's super sweet too. We haven't been able to see each other in person since Jenny's party last month, but a day hasn't gone by where we haven't texted. And boy does he text—the most flustering things that is. Jackson has a way with words that makes my heart squeeze in giddiness and me hide behind my hand while peeking at my screen.

He laughs at all of my jokes; he sends good morning and goodnight texts without fail. If nothing else, he is a great conversationalist who would make an even better companion, and I can't wait to see him again. I have a denim jacket hanging up in my closet to return, after all.

A knock on my office door brings me back to the present. I blink a few times, carefully reading over the email I've been working on for the past 20 minutes. "Come in," I permit, glancing at the time. The sight that greets me on the other side of the door when it opens stops my typing in its tracks.

Ms. Kim Eun, the newly appointed book editor, steps into the room, setting off my internal warning signals. Her outfit matches the company dress code, that isn't the problem here. No, it's the sheer amount of dread, sorrow, and fear coming off of her shuffling body in waves. "You asked to see me, Ma'am?" She inquires in the most broken of tones. A fragility I know very well.

"Yes." Saving my progress on the computer, I beckon her over with a reassuring smile. "Please, have a seat."

She slowly walks further into the room, sitting down in one of the leather chairs.

"Ms. Kim," I start as tentatively and professionally as possible, lacing my fingers together on top of my desk. "It has come to my attention that you have been behind on editing the book."

"Oh..." She mumbles, fidgeting with the purse in her lap. "I-I'm sorry, I-"

"I understand you might have other obligations and factors outside of work," I continue, reading her steadily panicking face like a book, "But we don't have a lot of time to get this novel done. We're on a tight schedule here."

"C-Can…" Her eyes lift from the purse in her hands, still holding onto it for dear life. "Can you do it for me?" She whispers.

I let out a short laugh. "No." Her eyes shake as my face hardens. "You were appointed as editor 3 weeks ago, correct?"

She nods, fear glimmering in her wide eyes.

"Your job is to edit the book," I remind her, my lips pressed into a thin line. "That's what you get paid for, that's your responsibility."

"But-"

"If I could do it myself, I wouldn't need to hire you." Her bottom lip starts to tremble; she's about to break. "If you can't do the job, I'm going to need you to put in your 2 weeks," I slide the slip of paper across the desk, "In early. Unless you can get half of the book done by Friday."

"T-That's only 3 days," She gasps, her voice wavering. "I can't-"

"You've had nearly a month in advance to work on it as an Intern." My voice lowers, "I'm sure you have plenty of time to catch up in-"

"I can't!" She wails loudly, hiding her face in her hands. "I-I'm not qualified for this position. I'm just a high school graduate with inside connections." She sobs, the dam of her built up emotions spilling over. "I didn't even finish English 12 with an A."

My clenched jaw ticks. I know she isn't faking it; she's been off for the past two weeks. It's her lack of sharing this important information that is getting to me. If she isn't qualified to take over the editing position, why the hell is she—my eyes widen and then narrow. Mrs. Park.

Looking at Eun, I finally understand. Her bowed head, slouched shoulders, and quiet hiccups dawning on me as clear as day.

"My boyfriend c-cheated on me with my best friend." She croaks sorrowfully. "He said that I deserved it, t-that I made him do it from working late all the time." She runs a hand through her hair, laughing brokenly, her tears leaving a trail of inky black mascara in their wake. "My editing isn't good anyway."

Reaching across the desk, I offer her my box of tissues. "I know how you feel," I mutter, keeping my voice even. "You feel lost, broken and tossed aside as if a part of you is gone." She nods, sniffling while smearing the makeup under her eye. "You ask yourself how you will ever move on from it." Leaving the box on the edge of the desk, I meet her eyes again. "But you will move on." The conversation I had with Jongin in the studio that day comes to mind, quirking a small smile on my lips. "You will wake up one day and not think of them. As long as you want to. You shouldn't stay stuck on someone who has hurt you."

Tucking the resignation document into a drawer, I turn my sleeping computer back on. "You are worth more than how they've treated you, but you have to decide that for yourself."

"O-Okay," Eun sniffles, wiping her face. A couple tissues fall out of her hand, but her tears have stopped.

"Good." I lean back into my rollable leather chair with a stretch, smiling softly. "Let's settle this. Make me a list of your strengths and weaknesses."

Her wide eyes snap back up to mine. "I-"

"Now."

"Damn, Kyungsoo, how many of these cakes do you need in a day?" I sigh, my hands cramping up. We've been at it for hours, baking desserts at his restaurant because today is a national holiday. Funny how he let all his workers take the day off and here I am handling enough flour to make me sneeze in Jongdae's place.

Kyungsoo doesn't even look up at me, continuing to knead the dough in his hands. "I'd give an estimate but I don't want to overwhelm you."

I'd dramatically flop down into a chair if I wasn't molding a ball of my own dough, so I just groan instead. "You're killing me over here."

"Who offered to help me bake in Jongdae's place?" He raises a brow, shaping the churro in his hands with precession.

"It was all for the good of Jenny's last minute birthday cake!" I whine, starting to place a hand over my heart until I remember the torment I went through last time I got cake batter on this floral shirt. "Have you no heart?" I pout, giving him puppy eyes.

Kyungsoo slowly raises his head and I quickly get back to shaping the fancy doughnut in my hands without a word.

"So," I clear my throat, smiling sheepishly. "Did Dae and Yeol deliver everything okay?"

"They were late." Kyungsoo neatly arranges his perfectly shaped churros onto a tray, sliding them into the preheated oven. "Any later and the milk would have gone bad."

"Yikes," I wince, reaching to rub the back of my head only to pause mid-way, stopped by the wet flour sticking to my hand. "I should have helped more."

"Chanyeol would have slowed down to not give you motion sickness and then the cheese would have gone bad too." He points out.

"You sound a bit grumpy today," I note softly, glancing over at him again. "Did Chanyeol do something?" Kyungsoo starts another row of churros, staring blankly at me as he almost crushes the long sticks in his hands. "Okay, okay! I'll drop it, no need for the third degree. Spare the churro's life, please..."

"I'm going to ban him from my restaurant, I swear." He grumbles under his breath.

"At least he offered to help," I mumble, setting the last doughnut onto the non-stick pan. "How many more you got for me?" I ask, dusting off my hands.

Kyungsoo comes over to take the tray off of the counter. "None."

I raise a brow. "That's it?"

"No," He slides it in with the baking churros. "I'm sending you home."

I frown, "Why?"

"You're loud, chatty and keep dripping flour all over my floor." He deadpans. "And you're falling asleep."

Gawking at him for a few moments all I can do is huff. "I am not-"

"You're gonna get cake batter in your hair."

I flinch, putting my hand down at once. "Are you really kicking me out right now?" I mumble, blowing annoying strands of hair out of my eyes.

"You're fired." He wipes his clean hands with a towel and walks back over to turn on the sink for me. "Now go home and sleep."

"I don't even work here!"

He gives me a look.

"Alright, alright," I mutter, scrubbing flour from under my nails. "Fine. I'll be out of your hair-"

The chime on the door of the restaurant rings, capturing my attention. I crane my neck around to see who the hell is coming in here when there's obviously a "CLOSED" sign out front and it's freaking 9pm. My face pales at the black baseball cap and leather jacket figure stumbling through the door. I tug on the sleeve of the busy man next to me. Um, Kyungsoo-

They pull their hat off before they reach the middle of the restaurant, revealing a familiar flushed face and unmistakable silver hair.

Oh fuck no.

"I'm sorry I'm late, Kyungsoo," He mumbles, his head down while approaching the counter. "I got held up at the office and the traffic was-" His head snaps up just as I contemplate ducking out of view. "R-Riley…?" He whispers, his face paling. He looks like he's seen a ghost and I can't imagine I'm doing any better.

"You're late." Kyungsoo deadpans, busying himself with washing the used baking trays and utensils in the sink.

"I…" Baekhyun steps closer and I feel like I'm going to throw up. My heart isn't in my throat at this point, it's somewhere lost between my nose and my gag reflex.

"Have you been drinking?" Kyungsoo finally looks up from the spatula in his hands, his eyes narrowing at the lack of response.

Baekhyun's red face glows brighter under the harsh kitchen lights. He purses his lips, "No-"

"Where's your car?" Kyungsoo demands. "I'm not letting you drive."

"Kyungsoo, I'm fine," He rolls back on the heels of his feet, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. "You have an important client coming in tomorrow-"

"I don't care who the hell is coming tomorrow." Kyungsoo cuts him off, full-on glaring at him now. His normally calm voice growing deeper with anger by the second. "I'm not letting you drive-"

"I'll take him home," I mumble, shrinking in on myself when both their eyes snap over to me.

Kyungsoo frowns, "Riley-"

"I'm taking him home, Kyungsoo." I cross my arms, shaking my head at the disapproving expression on his stern face. "You have a huge event tomorrow, you sent your staff home, and your kitchen is covered in cake batter," I list off of my fingers, daring him to say another word. "His apartment is on the whole other side of town. I think we both know what's the best course of action here."

Kyungsoo stands there silently for a long moment, but I don't back down, merely arching a brow. "Are you sure you'll be alright?" He softens, not even acknowledging the other man in the room.

"Yeah." I smile, uncrossing my arms. "I know I'm a disaster with a knife but I know how to drive, Kyungsoo. You got to give me some credit here."

"Alright," He chuckles, smiling a little before shifting his eyes back to the man on the other side of the counter. "Don't cause her any trouble, you hear me?"

Baekhyun's dazed eyes widen, "I-"

"If you mess with a single hair on her head," Kyungsoo continues, lifting the butcher knife in his hands. "Say goodbye to your kids."

"I-I won't fucking!" Baekhyun tangles a hand in his messy hair, sucking in a deep breath. "I'm walking home."

"Oh no you aren't," I rebuke, rounding the counter.

He grits his teeth, spinning around on his heel, "I'm-"

"Yah, Baekhyun." Kyungsoo's deep voice cuts through the air.

Baekhyun freezes up, looking over his shoulder with wide eyes. "Y-Yes?-"

"Take this." Kyungsoo starts, slamming a couple bags full of food to his chest. "Shut the fuck up and let Riley take you home."

"I-" Baekhyun shakes his head, "I can still catch the bus. There's no need-" His face drains of color when he meets Kyungsoo's eyes again. If looks could kill, he'd be 6 feet under.

Kyungsoo turns back to me then, "If he gives you a hard time, call me, okay?"

"Yes, Kyungsoo," I immediately agree, fearful of his sour mood as well. Note to self: angry Kyungsoo is scarier than angry Jongin.

"Good," He grumbles but smiles, patting my arm before walking back to the kitchen. "I'll save some of the churros for you."

"Thank you!" I beam at him, waving until he walks into the backroom. My smile doesn't fade, my cheeks starting to hurt until I feel a certain someone's stare on the back of my head. Oh shit.

Slowly turning around, I drag my eyes up to look into the most beautiful puppy eyes in the world, my heart going into overdrive.

"Hey," Baekhyun whispers.

A sad smile quirks on my lips, "Hi." Sighing a little, I take a look around, hanging up my apron and retrieving my hidden purse from the back of a chair at one of the extravagant dining tables. "Let's go."

Baekhyun nods, following me out of the restaurant. I open the door and hold it for him until he reaches the doorstep. We may not be on good terms, but that doesn't mean I'll just let a door slam in his face.

…

I most definitely should have let that door slam in his face.

Shaking off my aggressive thoughts, I take a deep breath and power walk to my car, shivering in the cold wind. It's the middle of July and a tropical storm has blown in, bringing its cold rains and chilling nights with it. Trust Seoul to have these extreme temperature changes, I should have kept my ass back in the South.

Baekhyun doesn't say a word as we make it to my red Porsche. I unlock the car when we are a few feet away, rolling my keys around my fingers. "Hop in, Byun."

He climbs into the passenger seat and by now the silence is killing me, but I shove it down. I'm here to drive him home and that's it. No more, no less.

Sighing inwardly, I settle into the driver's seat. "Buckle up," I mutter, looking at him out of the corner of my eye. "You may be more likely to survive a car crash in your drunken stupor but I sure as hell am not getting a fine for your ass."

I swear I hear him mutter, "of course," under his breath.

"What was that?" I pointedly widen my eyes, looking directly at him.

"Nothing." He grumbles, keeping his eyes facing forward.

"I thought so," Making sure he's strapped securely and checking my rearview mirror, I stick the key into the ignition and pull out of the parking lot.

Driving to Baekhyun's apartment feels so surreal, for many reasons. Never in our relation—our previous relationship have I driven him anywhere. I never dared to get behind the wheel of his Audi, that car is too expensive. If I had wrecked it and looked at the cost to fix or replace it, combined with the look of pure rage that would be on his face from me crashing his baby, I would die. Bad blood or not, I rather not be on Baekhyun's bad side.

My heartbeat picks up the longer the car ride goes on. Fuck, it's getting harder to breathe. I literally have the biggest problem to ever walk into my life right next to me months after I swore to never speak to him again. Why did I agree to this? What was I thinking?

No. No time for that, I'm going to drop him off at his apartment and continue moving on with my life. That's why I left him in the first place.

"...Riley?" He speaks up a few streets away from his house, his voice the softest I've heard in a while.

Nope. Don't engage. I tighten my grip on the steering wheel.

"Can… Can we talk?" He continues, sounding sadder by the minute. "Please?"

"We're ten minutes away, Baekhyun."

"I…" The bags rustle in his lap as he sighs. "I knew this would happen."

"What?" I glance sharply at him at the next red light.

Baekhyun looks down at his hands with the most pitiful expression on his face, tears building in the corners of his eyes under the bright city lights. "I knew you would hate me."

Oh my fucking—My heart squeezes painfully in my chest. I want to roll my eyes and launch myself out of the car window at the same time. "Stop bringing it up, Byun." I mutter, focusing back on the road. "It's a thing of the past. Let it die there."

"Yeah," He laughs, his voice raw with emotion. "Like my heart the night you left me."

I clench my jaw, taking a deep breath, inwardly cursing the hectic late night traffic. Come on, fuckers, I need this man out of my car asap.

"You don't even want to talk to me about it." He continues, growing more frustrated and louder by the minute. "You don't even want to see me-"

"Of course I don't, Baekhyun!" I snap, whipping my head around to face him. "After all the shit you've done I have every right to not speak to your smug fucking face again."

"Smug?" He laughs weakly. "You think I enjoyed what happened to us?"

"Yep," I chirp, gripping the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turn pale. "There's no other explanation for why you are in my car right now."

"You insisted for me to be here." He fires right back. "You break up with me, hang out with all my friends, then act like a cold hearted bitch every time you see me."

"It takes one to know one, Baekhyun." I jab right back, curling my upper lip in a cruel smile.

"Yeah," He scoffs, crossing his arms and facing the window. "I'm sure you know that very well."

"If you're going to be a whiny little bitch," I start, smiling widely at him, "I will put you out on your ass, Baekhyun."

"Wouldn't you love that," He laughs, anger coming off of him in waves. "You were always obsessed with my ass."

That's it.

Baekhyun yelps when I slam on the breaks, bracing his hands on the dashboard. "Riley, what the hell?!"

"You wanted to talk?" I make sure the curb of the street I pulled onto is clear before facing him with a grin. "Huh? You want to talk now?" Baekhyun shrinks further into the passenger seat when I lean over him. "Fucking say it to my face then, you bastard." I snarl. "Go on. Give your little practiced speech."

Baekhyun parts his lips a few times, making my rage raise even more—"I miss you." He mumbles sadly.

I blink, staring at him. "...What?" I chuckle, growing wary as he keeps giving me those kicked puppy dog eyes. "What the fuck are you on about, Baekhyun-"

"I miss you." He repeats. "I miss your voice, I miss your eyes, I miss waking up to your sleeping face next to mine." He takes a shaky breath, tears filling his eyes. "I miss your strawberry scent on our pillows. I miss your loving words. I miss you complaining about my random ramblings and shutting me up with a kiss… I miss everything about you." He drags his eyes back up to mine then. "I miss you so much I wake up every day and fall apart when I remember that you aren't there."

Sucking in a breath, I look away from him, my anger long forgotten. I… I don't know what to say. "You…" A lump forms in my throat. I have to bite the inside of my cheek to restrain my wobbling chin.

Baekhyun keeps his eyes on me, pleading with me with their sad, brown depths. He doesn't expect the slap I land on his pretty face.

"You fucking bastard," I mutter lowly, shaking in anger, the last of my sanity flying out of the window. "You don't get to come in here and say all this fucking bullshit when you couldn't even tell your fucking mother that you were dating me!" I scream, my vocal chords pulling harder than my heart strings. "You were dating me, living with me, loving me, fucking me-" I laugh, throwing my hand out to show off the car. "For a whole year. Then you come here with your pretty, pitiful little empty words and expect me to forgive you? Really? You really think so little of me?"

"Ri-"

"Did you not get it the first time?" I ask in the sweetest of tones, my Southern accent out on full display. "Huh? You told your dear mother about us then suddenly come running back after me? Did having her approval feel that good little puppy?"

Baekhyun's face burns a dozen different shades of red, but I'm not fucking done yet.

"Here comes the man who was so overcome with jealousy over my best friend that he pretended to fuck another whore at his party," I list off on my fingers, my voice growing louder with every word I fire at him."Here goes the man who accused me of fucking Jongin because I wanted to be left alone at a mother fucking party. Here sits the man—who had the audacity to cheat on me not once, but twice!" My lips curl up into the ugliest sneer, glaring at Baekhyun hard enough to kill. "And here lies the cowardly man who will lie like a pig in mud for the rest of eternity as far as I am concerned."

I'm huffing and puffing by the time I'm done, not even waiting for him to say anything before starting back up again. "You know I never and would never have cheated on you, right?" I ask, lowering the volume of my voice. "If I didn't want to be faithful to you, Baekhyun, I would have been with someone else. I don't pull stunts to be petty and shit. If you didn't know that about me now, you're a fucking idiot, and if you don't believe me, then I don't know what to tell you." I shrug, leaning back tiredly into my seat and keeping my eyes forward on the empty road ahead.

"I get that," He says quietly.

A chuckle bubbles in my aching chest. "Do you?" I raise a brow, trying to calm down. "Do you understand how stupid it is to cheat on someone just because you're feeling petty or uncomfortable in a situation-"

"I never cheated on you."

"Ha!" I bark out a laugh. "And I don't have 4C hair." Rolling my eyes, I throw my hands up. "What? So that model at the photoshoot and the lipstick stain on the collar of your shirt wasn't you cheating? Are you serious?"

"Yes."

"Really? You really are going to deny-"

"Melody tripped over a sewage drain and that model forced herself onto me." He states firmly. "Neither was consensual or intentional."

Both my brows raise. "Huh. You know, it's real funny how you have an explanation for that now." I roll down my window to cool off, leaning my elbow onto the window seal and my chin in my palm before turning to him again. "Where was this energy months ago?"

Baekhyun nods. "You're right. I am a coward," He admits, stopping me dead in my tracks. "Dumb enough to not say anything and dumb enough to think that you'd figure it out because I…" He trails off, biting his lips before those teary brown eyes lock onto mine again. Taking my breath away with the endless storm of emotions swirling within them. "With you, I'm like an open book. You always saw right through me, so I thought… I thought I didn't have to say anything," His head drops, looking down at the neat bags sitting at his feet. "And when I did, it was too late."

My eyes narrow. "How do I know you aren't bullshtting me?"

"I have nothing left to lose," He shrugs, smiling sadly.

Anger flares up in me again. "What is that supposed to mean-"

"I already lost you."

My mouth snaps shut, a feeling I haven't felt in months squeezing my heart in earnest.

"Everything you said was true," He mumbles. "All of it. The secrets, the lies-"

"And what makes you say that?"

His ears burn brighter than the red handprint on his cheek. "I'm seeing a therapist."

"Oh—Shit..." A wave of white hot shame falls over me. "Baekhyun, I-I'm sorry-"

"No." He shakes his head before bending down, the paper bags rustling in his grasp. "Don't. You said nothing but the truth."

"That still doesn't make it okay…" I rub the back of my neck, cursing myself inwardly for my anger. I hadn't meant to go off on him, that wasn't my intention—

"It's only fair," He mutters, shrugging weakly. "I've said worse to you."

"I…" I can't help but sigh, at a loss for words. "...I'm proud of you, seeing a therapist takes a lot of courage and self awareness."

"Thank you."

"I'm glad you're doing okay," I mumble.

Baekhyun stiffens up. Suddenly the atmosphere in the car shifts into something more melancholic.

"B-Baek?"

He lifts up his head, revealing his tear-stained face to me. "You think so?"

My heart clenches in anguish. "Baekhyun-"

"After everything you…" His voice breaks. "You think I'm fine? You think I'm okay?" Tears dampen the long strands of silver hair dangling in his eyes. "I haven't slept. I haven't eaten. I haven't breathed—I haven't lived since the day you left." He croaks, sucking in a breath. "So if you think that I am okay, I am not."

I have nothing else to say after that. What can I even say...?

Feeling tears form in my own eyes, I turn the car back on. My mom always taught me that if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say nothing at all. And after I slapped him and said all of those things…

I pull off of the curb, hiding my tears away from him. There's nothing I can do but take him home and hope that in the distant future… In a brand new life… He can forgive me for everything I've done to him and move on too.

The rest of the ride is spent in silence. No radio. No cars zooming past. The only thing I hear is his quiet sniffles and the cry of my wheezing heart.

"Thanks for taking me home," He mumbles in the softest of tones, mumbling more to his scuffed up sneakers than to me.

"No problem," I say softly, reaching out to place my hand on his shoulder only to pause, gripping the steering wheel again. "Make sure to take some Advil from the third cabinet on the right, okay?"

Baekhyun nods, hiding under the strands of his messy hair. He scares the hell out of me when his head suddenly shoots up again.

"Baek…?" I whisper, not sure what to do as he starts leaning in. He reveals his face to me up close for the first time in months. Heart-wrenching features that I know so well. The droopy shape of his brown eyes, the soft slope of his button nose, the cute little mole on top of his soft pink, thin lips that are pursed in concentration. For what? I have no idea. "Baekhyun-"

He slams his hand down on the dashboard, making me flinch. "Spider," He mutters, opening his hand to reveal its creepy squished body. I shiver at the sight. "I don't want you getting into a wreck. I know how you hate-" He sighs loudly, shaking his head. "Never mind…"

Yeah… I gulp, forcing a smile. Never mind.

"Travel safely, okay?" He takes his bags of food and steps out of the car, moving to close the door only to pause, meeting my eyes from under the bright city lights. "Goodnight, Riley."

It takes everything in me not to break down right there and then. "Good-" My lips wobble. I clear my throat, brushing my hair back before daring to look into his dull brown eyes again. "Goodnight, Baekhyun."

He smiles so small and sadly, making my heart weep when he closes the door and walks off to enter his apartment building.

I sit there for a few moments, staring out at the busy street ahead. It's so funny… This empty feeling in my chest. It's… It's like I never left…

•••

It's unfair… how much your heart hurts when you're stuck on someone. Realizing that no matter how many times they've hurt you, your broken heart still beats for them… and only them.

No matter how hard I try to deny it, the heart doesn't lie…

Baekhyun… is still a part of me. His scent may have faded, his t-shirts and hoodies are cleared out from my room… but the memory of him lives on in my heart. And I can't get rid of him without breaking myself completely and reforming a "perfect mold" to fit myself in.

Ha… funny how that works. 7 months of moving on has led up to this. Nothing. 7 months, 12 months, or 30 years, Baekhyun's scent can wash off of my skin, but the rest of the world won't let me break the two of us apart. If I am my brain, he is my heart. And you can't live without that muscle pumping steadily in your aching chest.

It's so unfair… because I'm trying my hardest to move on with someone else.

It takes me forever to get ready for my date tonight, and when I do… Something tells me to cancel it. But I can't. Jackson will be busy for the next month and a half. This is the only time in his schedule where he can take me out on the "proper date" as he likes to call it. Which he doesn't have to, I'm not that hard to please. I mean for fuck sake, I haven't had an official date until I was 20.

I'm not picky about these things, but I ended up agreeing in the end anyway. The sad puppy look on Jackson's face when I tried to decline going to a restaurant to just stay in and watch movies instead still haunts me. Those almond shaped, dark brown puppy eyes… Damn him.

Sighing softly, I carefully apply my eyeliner in my vanity mirror, checking over my appearance one last time and smiling at the result. My lips are the richest shade of red, dark brown, waist-length hair curled to perfection, and the crystal earrings I haven't worn in ages sparkle every time they catch the light. Perfect for my chosen dress for the night.

It's a little something that I've bought recently. A spaghetti strapped, black velvet piece with a cowl shaped neck that shows off a bit of my cleavage, form-fitting all the way down to the V shaped end of the dress. It ends high on my thigh, but I have no plans to go dancing tonight, (for Jackson's sake). It's just enough to make him a little hot under his expensive collar. Especially with the lace strings crisscrossed in the back that are the only thing holding the dress up.

A low buzz makes me jump, startling me out of my thoughts. I fish for my phone in the vibrating purse in my lap. I haven't taken it out since last night… The weight of Baekhyun's unblocked number in my phone is a heavy load... and I only have myself to blame.

My eyes widen at the caller ID on the screen: Him. And I know exactly who he is.

Biting my nails, I weigh my options: answer now and end up canceling my plans or call him back tomorrow...

…

Would it really be that bad to cancel? No—I can't. Jackson thinks I'm a punctual woman and…

"Always so sweet for me," He murmurs lowly, painting my skin with the shape of his lips.

My breath hitches, mouth going dry as more memories dance in my mind. Skin on skin, hushed whispers, champagne painted breaths...

"Mmm you're so wet," He groans, grazing my clit with his teeth. "Making a mess all over me."

A knock on my door makes me pause, staring down at the buzzing phone in my hand.

7 months without Baekhyun… and it has resorted to this.

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck—Fuck!

I power down the phone, toss it back into my bag, pull it onto my shoulder and launch myself out of my chair to open the door before I lose my nerve. The sight that greets me on the other side of the door makes my heart flutter, but…

"Hey," Jackson smiles softly, his dark brown eyes sparkling under the bright lights.

It doesn't take my breath away.

"Hi," I manage a smile, tucking my hair behind my ear.

"You look beautiful," He compliments, his eyes sparkling even more as he looks over my dress before meeting my eyes again.

My smile grows, warmth spreading over my cheeks. "Thank you," I mutter softly, laughing a little. "You're not too bad yourself."

He smiles again, gesturing to me, the shine of his thin gold bracelet reflecting the hallway lights. "May I?"

"Hmm?—Oh!" I gasp, noticing the red and black corsage in his hands. "Y-Yes," I smile shyly, my heart pounding when he holds out his hand to me.

Jackson gently takes my hand, carefully slipping the corsage around my wrist. The caress of his rough fingertips makes a shiver go down my spine, goosebumps left on my skin when he pulls away.

His outfit catches my attention. Normally I'd feel a little shameless for looking at him from head to toe, but after what happened earlier… I can use a distraction.

He's wearing a black blazer with a matching lace turtleneck shirt underneath that gives me a glimpse of his toned skin, making my breath hitch. A golden necklace with a pendant rests in the middle of his chest, making him look so attractive when it twinkles under the lights. And with the way his shirt is tucked into his stylish black jeans… Fuck me ten times over.

My eyes trail further down his body. He has on that expensive gold watch I saw the first time we met and elegant rings on his veiny hands. I forget to breathe remembering how it felt to be held in his strong arms...

Snapping out of my daze, my wide eyes dart back up to his, finding the sweetest of shy smiles on his lips and a pink hue to his cheeks. He just caught me checking him out and he's blushing. Adorable. Clearing my throat, I smile, feeling my own face heat up under his admiring gaze. "Not bad at all."

His soft chuckle makes me feel less embarrassed. Maybe he can tell that I'm nervous… but not what has me so nervous.

Baekhyun's tear-stained face has been haunting me all day and I barely managed to get any sleep last night. His small voice replays in my head and soft spoken words cover my skin. My face heats up and pales at the same time at the reminder of what I was thinking about not even 10 minutes ago. I had a memory of him going down on me for Christ sake! Looking up at Jackson's handsome face, I feel another wave of hot shame. Can the ground please open up and swallow me whole?

"Shall we?" Jackson asks, bring my attention back to him. He offers his elbow to me, waiting for me to lock my arm with his. Another smile forms on my face; I have to suppress a giggle bubbling in my chest. He's so sweet and gentle compared to all the other men in my life. Ugh, my poor heart is racing like crazy.

I lock the door behind me and wrap my arm around his, appreciating the firmness of his bicep as he leads us down the hallway. The taps of our respective shoes echo around the quiet hall while we wait a few minutes for the elevator to arrive. "I'm not taking too much of your time, am I?" I mumble, watching the floor numbers rise to avoid his gaze.

"Hmm?" Jackson hums, his alluring cologne hitting me when he turns his head to look at me.

"Your schedule," I elaborate, glancing at him from under my eyelashes. "I'm not infringing on your work time, am I?"

"No," He shakes his head, holding the metal doors open for me while I walk into the elevator.

"But you said you are in the middle of the most important part of filming and-" I stop, my eyes widening at the warmth on my cheeks.

"Riley." Jackson looks right into my eyes, his rough palms cradling my face. "You are not 'taking too much' of my time, alright?" He mumbles, brown eyes drifting over my features while his thumb swipes over the top of my cheek, leaving a blaze of gentle heat in its wake. "This night is for us."

My heart practically leaps out of my chest the longer I stare into his warm eyes. I break eye contact. "O-Okay," I whisper, smiling shyly.

Jackson smiles, taking my hand when the elevator doors open onto the ground floor. As we walk past the security guard in the lobby, I wonder how I look next to him… He's the same height as Baekhyun, more toned where the latter has softer edges. They both have sharp jawlines, but Jackson's cheeks are more chiseled than squishy like Baekhyun's sweet face—

"Ladies first," His low voice muses.

Lifting my head from my white high heels, I look into Jackson's eyes, realizing that his dark brown eyes don't hold the same tension Baekhyun's does when I am taller than him like this. My shyness aside, with my almost average height and tall heels, I'm a few centimeters taller than Jackson. But instead of finding that spark of insecurity I'm used to seeing in Baekhyun's eyes, Jackson looks at me as if I am the goddess who put the moon in the sky.

Stepping out into the quiet night, I look up at the stars, having to blink a few times when I see a pair of droopy brown eyes staring down at me. No. I shake my head, sighing in frustration. God, why do I see him everywhere I go?

We make our way to the parking lot on the side of the apartment complex. The silence between us isn't striffling like the one I've come to grow wary of over the past year. That piercing void full of held back frustration and heated glares...

A car unlocks in the distance, drawing my attention to a sleek black vehicle when it lights up. A Jaguar, stunning with it's cat-eye headlights and the way the engine purrs to life. The car is honestly mesmerizing, and it suits Jackson well, but my heart tugs painfully in my chest when he opens the passenger door for me and I don't see any red accessory detailing on the inside...

"You look stunning in that dress." He says when he climbs into the driver's seat, his low voice making me feel something deep in my stomach.

"T-Thank you," I blush scarlet, shifting towards the passenger window to hide my red face. It's been a long time since someone has complimented me so genuinely. I haven't felt like this since—

"Are you really that insecure?"

The memory hits me like a punch to the gut.

"You okay?" Jackson asks, his eyes shining with concern.

"Y-Yeah," I whisper, clutching onto my purse. My face hasn't cooled down since I left my apartment and I doubt it will at this rate. Between Jackson's sweet eyes and Baekhyun's teary ones that haven't left my mind, I'm royally screwed. "How's work?"

Jackson hums. "It's good." He keeps his eyes on the road, pulling out of the parking lot. "The movie is coming along nicely."

Taking a few discrete and deep breaths, I rest my head on my arm, focusing on the low timbre of his raspy voice. "Did the tech team find any more of those files?"

"No." He shakes his head, making a left turn. "Thankfully those were the only ones," He smiles, glancing over at me; the twinkles of excitement and affection in his eyes is hard to ignore. "Now the editing team can take over."

I fight the urge to rest a hand over my heart. "The movie won't be delayed?"

"The movie won't be delayed," He confirms warmly, focusing fully on me at the next red light. His brown hair falls attractively over his forehead, casting a shadow over his dark and expressive eyes. "We'll be ahead of schedule. Everyone worked in advance while waiting for the tech team to sort through the files."

"That's good," I smile, turning my attention to our surroundings streaming past the window.

Jackson navigates us down the long Seoul streets, the city lights reflecting in his dark eyes while he steers the wheel with both hands. He looks handsome under the favor of the moonlight, the headlights of passing cars sparkling across his thin necklace. For a moment I imagine a future—an us. How it would feel to hold his calloused hands and gaze into his adoring eyes. What it would be like to wake up to his face in the mornings. That deep, raspy voice… I shiver at the thought, praying the traffic lights don't show the red hue I feel on my cheeks.

Soft and slow R&B floats from the quiet car radio, caressing my ears with its gentle melodies while Jackson turns his blinkers on. I hum, tapping along to the beat, a smile curling at my lips. It's a perfect song for a summer night like this, adding a calming atmosphere to the intimate space of Jackson's car—

"I love this song."

Baekhyun raises a brow, his eyes focused on the road as he turns up the radio with a smile. "Really?"

"Yeah." He has such a stunning side profile, I could gaze at him for hours. "I listened to a lot of their songs growing up."

"Your parents have great taste."

"Mm." The sunlight reflecting in his brown eyes has nothing on the sparkles of happiness in his shining orbs. "I guess you do too."

I sigh through my nose, shoving down the emotions budding in my chest. No matter how hard I try, memories of him continue to play in my mind. All our romantic mid-day drives and late night talks of a future we thought we had in store… Our shared hopes and dreams that went up in flames before our very eyes.

Next thing I know, Jackson is putting the car into park, the purr of the engine cutting off in exchange for the summer heat seeping in through the pause of the air conditioner.

"You ready?" He looks over at me, the urge to brush his hair out of his eyes hitting me full force.

"Yeah," I smile, curling my hand around the strap of my purse. The giddy smile he gives me in return is so damn sweet I want to cry.

Jackson steps out of the Jaguar and it doesn't take him long to round the car. He opens the passenger door for me before I realize that we've reached the restaurant.

"Thank you," I giggle in embarrassment, placing my hand in the one he offers me with another one of those adorable smiles of his. My heart skips a beat when he presses a kiss to the back of my hand while I step out onto the asphalt. If he keeps this up I'm going to have a heart attack over this softness. What the hell, why aren't there more guys like Jackson in the world? And how the hell has he been single this whole time with him out here sweeping me off my feet like this?

His widened smile and the way his eyes drift over my features has a comforting warmth settling over my beating heart. He leads the way to the restaurant, opening the door for me like the heart-fluttering gentleman he is. He's going all out on winning me over tonight and I'm loving every minute of it.

The smell of freshly baked lasagna and garlic bread has my mouth watering as we make our way up to the counter. I catch a peek at the beautifully arranged, round wooden tables under a romantic lighting in the next room.

"Reservations for Wang." Jackson's voice sounds more firm when he addresses the lady at the counter, a flicker of his director persona flashing across his face. If nothing else, one look at him and you can tell that he's about business—even for a little date like this. A first date too. It's hard fighting my adoring smile.

The receptionist checks on the computer in front of her and looks down at her clipboard, nodding with a polite smile. "Right this way," She gestures to the next room. Her black suit, matching bow tie, and crisp clean, white dress shirt add onto the expensive air of the restaurant. The food is fresh, the atmosphere is dreamy, and every surface shines brightly under the dim candle-lit lights.

The further we walk into the restaurant, the more I have to be sure not to let my jaw drop in awe. Everything about this place is magical, from the happily conversing customers to the beautiful chandeliers in the hallway. The receptionist leads us to a table in a more secluded area, the muffled chatter of the rest of the patrons coming through the velvet walls. "Your water will be out shortly," She sets the menus on the table before taking her leave with a bow.

"Allow me," Jackson murmurs, his words caressing my ear. His cologne washes over me when he walks over to the table, pulling out a chair and waiting for me with the most charming smile on his face. I can't hold my own back even if I tried.

"Thank you," I say warmly, humored and flattered beyond belief. The proximity of his hand to my bare shoulders has a pleasant shiver going down my spine. A flush forms on my face. The man has done nothing but be a gentleman and I'm over here yearning for his touch like a giddy teenager.

Jackson's scent hits me once again when he moves to take his seat. The minty smell of aftershave and a hint of his own unique manly scent has me damn near drooling and we haven't even had appetizers yet. My stomach is building tension and I doubt it has anything to do with the menu.

"How was your day?" He inquires.

I startle out of my horny musings like a cat doused in cold water. Oh shit. "It was alright," I laugh nervously, trying to keep my voice from wavering into that annoying raspy tone it gets when I'm not careful enough. "I turned in my final assignments and am awaiting my test results for the semester."

A waiter comes to take our order, sparing me a few minutes from having to explain myself. I'm struggling to find words here. What am I supposed to say? "Oh yeah, I spent all day daydreaming about my heartbroken ex and the steamy sex we used to have." I'd die of embarrassment so damn fast. I'm appalled at myself.

"What are you studying?" His dark brown eyes are back on me when the waiter walks away. A flutter stutters in my chest under his attentive gaze.

"Business," I resist the urge to rest my chin on my palm, choosing to swirl my fork around my salad instead. "I'm working on my bachelor's degree. I want to improve my performance at work."

His eyes widen, curiosity painting on his handsome features. "What do you do?"

I smile softly. He's adorable. "I'm the Director at Park's Publishing."

"You work in a publishing house?"

"I manage the 5th floor," I share, a smirk quirking at my lips. The last thing I did this morning before going home around lunch was inform everyone about our busy schedule at the end of the month. "I miss my editing days, not gonna lie." I laugh, poking an olive. "Sorry, work kind of stresses me out."

"No," Jackson shakes his head, smiling softly, "I get it. Taking a group of people under your wing is a big responsibility."

"It's sooo difficult." Sighing, I cross my legs, the back of my heel clicking against the leg of my chair. "Since I'm not directly in charge of editing, I have to guide others and keep reminding myself that I can't do the work for them. They have to learn on their own."

"Same," He nods, swallowing a bite of Italian seasoning drenched tomato and lettuce. "I have to fight the urge to take things over that the marketing and editing teams are supposed to handle." A flicker of annoyance crosses his face, making me smile in understanding. "Good thing I'm not Ceo," He jokes.

I laugh, thinking to myself: Yeah, thank fuck you aren't one.

When the waiter brings our food, the reminder that I haven't eaten all day stirs in my hungry stomach. I take a bite of my chicken alfredo before it can growl, closing my eyes to hide how they roll back when the gooey goodness of cheese and perfectly boiled noodle hits my tongue. Holy fuck. This food right here is the shit. If I had a meal like this more often, I'd never complain again in my life.

I find myself observing Jackson while he enjoys his own meal. He chews with his mouth closed, neatly cutting his chicken with a fork and knife. The room is quiet with only the soft music playing overhead and the sound of our silverware clicking against the pristine plates.

"I want to wake up every morning to your sleeping face curled up by my side," Baekhyun murmurs, smiling shyly.The red hue of his cheeks endearing under the dim lights. "Your hair products cluttering our dresser and your toothbrush next to mine."

"You really like cucumbers, huh?" Jackson muses.

I jolt out of my thoughts, realizing to my horror that I've been leaning over the table, picking the cucumbers from his salad. "Oh! Y-Yeah," I chuckle, my face burning scarlet. From humor or embarrassment, I have no idea. Probably both at this rate. "You could say that..."

Originally posted by sefuns

August fades seamlessly into September, urging the leaves on trees to change into red, orange, and pretty yellow hues. Gone are the dog days of summer smitting everyone from above. Now the best season of all is coming out to play, and I am all for it.

Skipping down the street in my newest yellow skater dress and nude sandals, I check the GPS on my phone to search for the street that I'm on. Today I decided that walking around aimlessly for hours was the best course of action to clear my mind, and now I've found myself in a part of Seoul that I've never been to before.

The architecture of the landscape around me is something to behold. The windows are cut out squares that only allow light to be seen from within the rooms as the sun goes down, and the buildings are curved this way and that in the most intricate of ways. It surely is a view I wouldn't mind venutring over here to see again sometime. The lively chatter of pedestrians on the sidewalk is refreshing too.

Smiling to myself, my eyes catch sight of a particular building in the distance. I quickly cross the street for a closer look. It's a giant library that looks to be 4 stories tall, showcasing a huge bookshelf on the back wall from the view of the front windows. Highly intrigued, and lowkey smitten, I step inside for a closer look.

The smell of books hits me in an instant, the young and old novels arranged neatly in little bookshelves compared to that mountain of literature on the farthest wall. There's a small cafe serving up delicious muffins to my right and a huge sitting area full of the perfect lounge chairs on my left. Crowds of people make their way to and fro between the aisles without hiccup. There's so much to do that I don't even know where to start.

Walking over to the Romance section, I skim my fingertips along the book covers, aimlessly striding down the aisle until a thin, blue book catches my eye. Curious, I move to pull it out only for another hand to beat me to it. A familiar, slender hand.

I yank my hand back at once. "Dude!" Lowering my voice, I glare at the man in front of me. "Why the hell are you always everywhere? Are you following me around or what?"

"W-What?" Baekhyun's wide brown eyes stare back at me.

"I never thought you'd resort to stalking, Baekhyun." I shake my head, brushing past him, the silver buttons of his waist-length jacket cold against my sun-kissed skin.

"I'm not fucking!" He slaps a hand over his face, exhaling deeply. "I'm not following you around."

"Then why are you here, huh?" I keep my eyes forward, marching into the next aisle.

"Because—will you stop walking away from me?!?!?!"

I freeze, the sheer desperation in his voice roots my feet to the floor. "Why are you here, Baekhyun?" I cross my arms, shivering under the air conditioner overhead.

"Hannam-dong library extraordinaire," He utters, his shadow moving closer as I tense up. "You put it on the bucket list. The one we made together." Hope pours out from his every word, his painfully slow footsteps seeming to stem from the faint memories crowding his mind. "You listed every place you wanted to go and w-we, we never…" He stops when his voice cracks, clearing his throat. "You made a copy by hand so we'd always have it," He mumbles sadly. "I guess it's meaningless now."

Emotions grip at my throat and tears threaten to fill my eyes. I slowly turn around, snatching the book out of his hands. "Give me that." Flickering my eyes up to his hurt-filled eyes, I gesture to the sitting area with my chin. "Follow me."

Baekhyun follows behind me without a word, shuffling his boots noisily on the carpeted floor. I have half the mind to tell him about it until I remember where we are—in a library and in life. Biting my tongue, I plop down into the longest couch available, staring at his nervous figure when he doesn't join me. "Come on!" I snap, throwing a pillow at him that he's quick to catch. "Sit your ass down, I don't got all day." I grumble, opening the blue book. "I came here to read and I plan to do so."

A few moments go by, nothing but the quiet chatter of visitors and the coffee pot whistling on the other side of the room fills the air. Just when my heart drops at the thought of him being gone, a weight sinks down into the couch next to me. I look to see Baekhyun in a grey sweater, his jacket left on the back of the chair. His eyes are closed and neck is bare while resting his head on the back of the couch. Silver locks of hair messily dangle on his forehead, long eyelashes caressing the tops of his cheeks. I frown at the lack of fluff I find there, his mother's words a distant whisper in my ear.

Baekhyun makes me jump when he peeks an eye open, opening the other before blinking slowly at me. "I'm listening," He murmurs softly, keeping those expressive brown eyes on me.

My heart skips a beat. Smiling to myself, I focus back on the book in my hands, flipping to the first page and beginning to read aloud.

•••

Weeks fly by once mid September hits, endless clusters of colored leaves blowing away in its wind. The sun rises later in the day and sets at a different angle at night, casting warm shadows over my bedroom window that never fail to bring a smile to my face. Everything about this time of year puts me in high spirits. The weather is perfect for my velvety outfits and the annoying ass bugs are finally starting to go away. It's a calm, homey fairytale land full of sweet breezes and mid autumn adventures.

I lean over my vanity while painstakingly applying my red lipstick in the mirror, smoothing it out with care. My makeup for tonight goes well with my newest party dress, a burgundy velvet, off the shoulder piece with a deep v neck. It has long puffed sleeves with fitted cuffs that wrap comfortably around my wrists and a matching belt to emphasize the hourglass shape of my waist. The thick material is perfect for early October, the nights beginning to get just the littlest bit colder.

Humming to myself, I carefully put on my gold dangling earrings, smiling at the reflection of my wavy hair. Just letting it air dry with curling irons in it for a few minutes ended up with the subtle result. I'm attending one of Jackson's infamous parties tonight as his date, not his seducer. Although, I don't need to get all dolled up to impress him anyway. Batting my eyelashes and looking intensely into his deep, dark brown eyes is enough.

This time around, I'm prepared for the knock on my door. Two months of various dates has sunk a certain time into my core. 10pm on the dot. Punctual as always. My red painted lips quirk up at the thought. With one last glance into my vanity mirror, I spin around on my one-inch, open-toed black heels, strutting over to open the door and whistling at the sight.

Jackson smiles, looking hot as hell in his black blazer and thin gold chain with no shirt underneath. His muscular thighs look amazing in his tight jeans, and with his brown hair brushed back with a few strands of hair attractively left on his forehead…

"You look gorgeous," He murmurs, planting a kiss on my forehead while I'm distracted by his two sets of gold earrings.

I smile coyly, tucking my finger in his necklace and tugging on it lightly. "You're not so bad yourself."

Conversations between us flow more easily over the past few months. I show him my sass and he throws it right back, making me laugh every time. His attractive mind comes up with the most astounding ideas and points of view. There are many different sides to him as well. His confident, professional way of handling business to how he likes to roll over on my couch to rest his head in my lap and look up at me with those dark brown puppy eyes.

Things are easy—that's just how it is with Jackson. It's a nice change from the complicated men in my life. He's adorable and sexy all in one.

The clicks of my heels echo across the sidewalk as we walk up to the frat house, my hand wrapped around his bicep. The party is just starting to pick up it seems; a fair amount of party goers are streaming in the front double doors.

"I want to introduce you to someone," Jackson perks up the moment we reach the entrance.

"Really?" I bat my eyes at him, stepping closer when someone brushes past us in a hurry. "Well, I'm down for that."

He smiles, holding the door open for me. I softly squeeze his bicep before letting him go, walking into his alumni house for the first time in almost a year. Last December I was crossing this same threshold with Jenny by my side, can you believe that? A lot can happen in 10 months, and I can't wait for what's in store for me.

"Jackson!" A deep voice reaches us over the loud music and growing crowd. I can barely make out a figure under all the neon lights, beckoning us over. Jackson's cologne washes over me before I feel his arm brush against my back.

"Let's go," He takes my hand in his, a smile audible in his raspy voice. I follow his lead, swiveling my head around to take in the view of the house. Just as I thought, everything is impeccably arranged. From the mini bar in the back corner to the DJ booth, it screams Jackson. Charming. Intelligent. And expensive. Even with the clumsy party attendees stumbling around.

He turns the corner on the right side of the hallway, following the medium-build figure walking down to a slightly ajar door at the end of the hall. The chatter from within the small room comes to a halt when the stranger pushes open the door.

"Took you long enough, Tuan!" A high-pitched, bubbly voice laughs, their plump lips smiling in amusement.

The man we've been following turns around, smiling while 5 other pairs of eyes land on us. "Hey, man."

"Mark," Jackson steps forward for a bro hug, clapping a hand over the raven's back. He goes around to do the same and fist bumps the other men in the room before standing next to me again. "There's someone I'd like you to meet."

All of them smile, curiosity and friendliness coming off of them in waves—except for one.

Yugyeom sits with his legs crossed in the far corner of the room, smirking while leaning his head in his hand. I make a point to ignore him, shaking everyone's hand with my most polite smile. Their compliments of my dress has me blushing all the way up to my ears. Thankfully the dim lights hide it from view.

Jackson and I take a spot on the only available couch in the cozy room, sitting between Mark and another man with sharp cat-like eyes and a barbell piercing.

"Is this your first party?" The latter asks, swirling the brown alcohol in his glass.

"No," I smile, way too aware of Yugyeom's stare burning into the side of my head. I carefully open a can of beer that Jackson hands to me, taking a long sip.

"Huh," He takes a swing of his drink while I lean my head onto Jackson's shoulder. "Why haven't I seen you around before?"

"I have," Yugyeom joins in, smirking and wiggling his eyebrows at me from over the rim of his glass. My eye twitches. Yeah, I see why this little shit and Jenny broke up.

I quietly observe everyone while the night carries on, the faint bass from the music down the hallway vibrating through the floor. Jackson catches up with his "brothers," in the meantime, updating them on the progress of his film. My eyes lazily sweep over the well-furnished room, the edges of my vision turning blurry. I make sure that the next two cans of beer that I drink aren't open when they are handed to me.

Sometime around midnight, I loosen up, the buzz of alcohol rushing through my veins prompting me to lose my filter. Between BamBam with the plush lips playful banter and the juicy tales of Jaebum's romantic conquests, I'm positively beaming, chatting without a care with my legs draped over Jackson's lap.

Mark cracks a joke that sends me reeling, nearly falling off of the couch if it wasn't for the man next to me, wrapping a strong arm around my waist. I hide my face in the crook of his neck, taking in his vanilla scent. The hint of citrus on his honey-toned skin has warmth spreading over my chest, the image of his sweet, brown puppy eyes printed behind my eyelids.

I laugh until I realize how dead silent the room has gotten. Lifting my head, I look around before tugging lightly on Jackson's sleeve. "Hey..." I murmur with difficulty, growing unnerved under their piercing stares. "What's-"

"Let's call it a night," He mutters, not meeting my eye.

Snapping my mouth shut, I nod, wondering what I did wrong while he bids everyone goodnight. I stand up with the help of his hand on my arm, guiding me over to the doorway that seems to be tilting to the side.

"Hey…" I try again, focusing hard on putting one foot in front of the other. What happened…? Did I laugh too hard? React too dramatically? Is there a piece of fruit stuck between my teeth? I knew I shouldn't have had that parfait before—

Jackson pulls aside me to an empty corner shielded by large plants in the hallway. His lips part a few times before he presses them into a thin line. "You just called me Baekhyun," He mutters, clenching his jaw.

Oh. I sober up in a heartbeat. "S-Shit, I-" The color drains from my face the longer I gaze into his disappointed dark brown eyes. I can feel tears filling my own. "I'm so sorry-"

"It's fine." His stiff posture says otherwise and I've never seen such a hard expression on his features before. "I'll drive you home."

"Wait…" Resting my hand on his arm, I brace myself with a racing heart for the backlash I'll get for what I'm about to ask. "C-Can you drop me off somewhere instead?"

•••

The car ride into the heart of Seoul is stifling. I can't recall us ever being like this… let alone having Jackson angry with me. His grip on the steering wheel has his knuckles turning white, the clench of his jaw concerning me as well. I can only blame myself, swearing inwardly for coming out tonight.

This wasn't supposed to happen… None of this was. The Baekhyun; the shy smiles; the longing. The Yugyeom; the drinking; the nerves... If I could go back in time, I never would have gone to that frat party last year. I would have stayed at Jenny's apartment, bonding over skincare routines and shitty tv shows. But no... I had to go out that December night, and now I am facing the consequences.

It's taking everything in me just to hold back my tears.

"We're here." Jackson speaks up after an hour of silence, nothing but the zooming cars and lively nightlife filling up the empty space from beyond the tinted windows. It does little to ease the tension in the car—it only seems to build when he pulls up to the curb, leaving the engine running.

A lump forms in my throat, making it hard to breathe. I can't even face him right now. By the cold look in his eyes, I know there is no use trying to talk to him. I can't even defend myself. There's only one explanation for what happened earlier, and it's the most shitty one of all...

Baekhyun.

On my mind; in my thoughts; in my heart. The way his long eyelashes brush the top of his glowy cheeks and the world swirling in his sparkly brown eyes when he looks at me. Everywhere I go, I see him, feel him, and wish he was there… From the darkest crevices of my anxious mind to the deepest depths of my beating heart.

No matter where I turn. No matter how much I try. There is only one man in the world for me in this lifetime. There is only one name my soul cries out for… and it isn't the one next to me.

I swallow hard, my heart aching for Jackson. The telling shine of tears reflected in his brown eyes can't be hidden when a truck drives past, revealing the vulnerability in his dark eyes. I hate that things are ending this way. The pounding of my head and sour taste on the back of my tongue are only reminders of how much I've messed up tonight.

Working up my nerve, I step out of his Jaguar, ducking my head back inside with a tight grip on the door.

"Thank you," I whisper over the loud crickets and crying tree frogs, "For everything." Sighing shakily, I crack one last smile as a tear rolls down my cheek. "Thank you for showing me how wonderful life can be."

Jackson turns his head, regarding me with teary, fire-filled eyes. His throat bobs and he manages a small smile in return, nodding slowly. "The pleasure is all mine, Riley."

With a pounding heart, I close the car door with care, walking onto the curb. I look back over my shoulder one more time when I reach the doors of the apartment complex, watching him drive off with a sad smile. The quiet night wraps around me, bringing me little comfort against the bitter cold that I feel inside of my heart. What if I'm making a mistake? I just walked away from the only man who treated me the way I deserve… A stable, well off man for a broken, world shattering one.

A million thoughts race through my mind while climbing the stairs to his apartment, my hand clutching onto the railing for dear life. What if he's not home? What if I'm too late? What if he's finally moved on and I'm the only one still stuck in the past? Still stuck on us?

Tears spring to my eyes, making it hard to see the wobbly steps with my blurred vision, but I carry on, one step at a time. Something tugs deep in my chest—a gut feeling. One that has me pausing from the sheer force behind it.

Baekhyun is my home, and he is waiting for me.

I break out into a run, nearly slipping on the last step before I reach the landing of the fourth floor, swinging the stairway door open so hard it collides with the wall. My heels pound against the marble floor until I trip over something, slamming my head on his door. The resounding thud echoes across the silent walls and the door is yanked open within seconds.

His wide, shock-filled brown eyes stare at me from the doorway, with his messy silver hair and a white wrinkled t-shirt.

I all but throw myself at him.

Baekhyun gasps, catching me before I fall. "Riley, I-"

"No." I shake my head, hugging him tighter, my voice wavering. "You listen to me." Looking up into his brown eyes, I cup his warm cheeks in my cold hands. "I don't care how long it takes, I don't care how much my heart breaks." My chin wobbles, salty tears streaming like a waterfall down my face, but nothing else matters. Nothing can hurt me when I'm in his comforting embrace.

"If it's not with you, I don't want it," I breathe, staring deep into his glimmering eyes. "Do you hear me? You can break my heart a million times, and I can do the same." Swiping a tear from under his eye, I cradle his face in my palm, painting his vulnerable expression into memory. "As long as we mend it back together, we will be okay." I nod, looking between his wide eyes. "We will get through this." I state firmly, melting against him when he tightens his hold on my waist. "We are in this together. Okay?" His silence is worrying me… "B?"

"Are you…" He slowly reaches up, cupping my cold cheek in his warm hand, his frantic brown eyes searching mine for answers. "Are you really here?" He whispers.

"Yes." I watch the light begin to return to his tired eyes. "I'm here, Baekhyun." I pull him closer, squeezing him in my arms, his racing heart beating in sync with mine. "I'm here." My heart drops when he pulls away.

Baekhyun shakes his head, moving his hand from my cheek to take mine into his. "I'm stubborn, insecure, and possessive." He mutters, gazing right into my eyes, determination written all over his face. "I'm… I'm annoying, overbearing, and a workaholic."

I give him my softest, loving smile. "Well, me too." Slowly reaching for him again, I paint my name on his honey-toned skin with my fingertips. "Let's be fucked up together, hmm?"

"I…" He sighs, resting his forehead on mine, staring lovingly and worriedly into my eyes. "I don't want you to regret this."

"I won't," I murmur, tracing three little words across his collarbones. "If I do, we'll fight and then have makeup sex."

Baekhyun chokes. "You're terrible." He coughs, patting his chest, the red hue on his cheeks more endearing than ever before.

I shrug, smiling at him. "When it comes to you?" Sliding my hand up his chest, I tangle my fingers in his messy hair, hovering my lips over his, "I am many things."

•••

It's funny; how easy it is to fall back into him. His loving arms and secure embrace. Every day spent with him slowly mends the cracks in my fragile heart, filling them with the most everlasting remedy of all. Love.

Time is endless when I am with him. Moments become weeks. Seconds turn into hours. Being with Baekhyun makes any taxing and mundane task into a precious activity that I'd love to do again—just because it's him.

Our dynamic has changed, even the air around us is new. We talk about everything. We face problems head on. A few arguments break out sometimes because we are two stubborn individuals, but those aren't a problem now. No big fights. No tearing into each other. I may call him an asshole and he'll rebuke with that I'm being a bitch, (which I am more often than not,) but at the end of the day. When the tension is gone and our sad eyes lock from across the room. We work things out and fall more in love with each other, no matter the struggle we've been through.

—Like right now.

"Perfect," I laugh bitterly, taking out my earrings while storming into the living room. "Fucking perfect."

"Riley," Baekhyun sighs, closing the door.

"No. Fuck this." I spit heatedly, throwing my hands up. "You always do this bullshit. Every time I go out you have something to say. What is it, huh? Why you always got to be up in my shit-"

Turning to him, I'm met by tired brown eyes, his hands falling limply to his sides. "Can we talk this out?" He asks softly, eyes pleading. "I rather hold you than fight."

Still huffing and puffing, I stare into his puppy eyes and sad pout. Without a word, I march over to him, tucking myself under his chin and wrapping my arms around his waist.

"I get it, okay? I have no problems with you going out with your friends." He mumbles into my hair, kissing my head. "I just want to make sure you are safe. Call me, text me, send me a pic to let me know that you're alright." He pulls back a little to cup my face in his hands, staring deep into my eyes. "You're my baby," He whispers, brushing frustrated tears from my cheeks. "If something ever happened to you I wouldn't be able to live with myself. Please understand where I'm coming from."

"Okay." I mumble against his shoulder, hiding more in his vanilla scent. "...I'm sorry for going off on you."

"Shh," Baekhyun hugs me tighter, surrounding me in his warmth and tangling his fingers in my hair. "I trust you, okay?" He nuzzles in my hair, sighing softly. "It's the rest of the world that I don't."

I love him. I love him with every part of me. If I had the chance to go back in time, I'd choose to meet him every time. Even on days where I have to walk out of his apartment to catch a breather. Those cold nights where I stubbornly shiver on his balcony until he comes out to place his jacket on my shoulders. And the times I ask myself why the hell I'm fighting with him over which color we should switch his window curtains into again. Despite all the good and the bad. The happiness and earth shattering agony. I wouldn't change it for the world.

"Are you cold?" Baekhyun mumbles, bringing the back of my hand to his cheek.

"I'm fine, B," I reassure, ignoring the goosebumps that erupt on my skin. From his loving touch or the cold bite of the November air, I have no idea. Most likely both.

"You're shivering." He points out, already struggling off his jacket before I can respond. "I told you it would be cold today."

"I wanted to take the risk, okay?" I sigh, smiling into the cinnamon scented fabric he places on my shoulders.

"It's the middle of November," He murmurs with a shake of his head, tucking our joined hands into the pocket of his jeans.

"Maybe," I mumble in amusement, beaming at him and batting my eyelashes. "But you love this dress on me. Admit it." Today I'm wearing a royal blue summer dress. The weather may be shifting from windy fall to bitter winter, but that won't stop me from rocking this sleeveless, v neck, shirt dress with a tie around my waist.

Baekhyun's eyes shift away from the red crosswalk light ahead to look me over, taking his time with a little cheeky smile on his face. "Well," He murmurs, mischief shining in his sparkly brown eyes. "I can't deny that."

I giggle, ignoring the warmth on my cheeks when he softly squeezes my hand, leading the way as we cross the street. I've missed this feeling: walking hand and hand—our fingers interwtined and young hearts racing as one. Not even the chilly wind can ruin the mood I'm in—I just tuck myself closer to his side.

Baekhyun hums, wrapping his arm around me, pulling me closer when a group of children come running down the sidewalk. The shrill voice of their scolding mother has us sharing a knowing look, smiling shyly. Yeah, nothing quite gets better than this.

"Riley?"

I stiffen, that low, raspy voice shakes me to my very core.

Baekhyun's brown eyes shoot to mine in an instant. "Baby?" He murmurs, a worried frown on his face as he leans to my ear. "Do you know him?"

"Um-" I avoid his eyes, holding onto the hem of his shirt for dear life. "I- Uh-"

A shadow falls over us before a figure walks around to face us, and those dark brown puppy eyes have never looked so solemn. Fuck.

"Jackson Wang?" Baekhyun blinks, sending me into an internal panic. "Hey, man," He smiles, going in for a handshake. "Long time no see. How's the movie?"

Jackson's brown eyes stare into mine before he looks down at Baekhyun's hand. "Good."

Baekhyun frowns, retracting his hand, confusion written all over his face.

"Hey, fancy seeing you here," I manage a small, polite smile, my heart racing nervously when Jackson pulls the towel from around his neck, his dark brown eyes landing back on me. "What you up to?" I tilt my head, resting a hand on Baekhyun's back.

"Out for a jog," Jackson shrugs, the fabric of his black t-shirt sticking to his damp skin. His eyes track how Baekhyun reaches back to take my hand into his. "I was supposed to play basketball with the guys," He continues sourly, "But they blew me off."

"Ah…" I purse my lips, straining another smile. "I hope you all can meet up soon."

He nods, the clench of his jaw and unreadable look in his eyes telling me all that I need to know.

"Well!" Resting my hand on Baekhyun's bicep, I risk a glance at him, unnerved at the equally hard to read expression on his features. "Baekhyun and I will be heading out now. We have reservations to make."

Jackson merely nods, his eyes burning into the back of my head as I lead Baekhyun around him. "See you around, Riley."

Cursing under my breath, I shoot him one last smile over my shoulder, urging Baekyun to walk faster. I hold my breath until we turn the corner onto the next street. "Geez what a mess," I mutter, loosening my death grip on his hand.

Baekhyun continues to securely hold onto my hand and his calm, quiet reaction has me more anxious than all the fights we've had combined. "B-Baekhyun?" I ask tentatively, trying to read his side profile. "Are you okay?" The way his silence stretches out is killing me. "B?"

"Well," He mumbles, nudging a stray rock on the ground. "Jackson is nice. He seems cool."

Uh oh. "Baekhyun-"

"No no, it's fine." He shakes his head. "I see the appeal, you know?" He looks over at me, smiling sadly. "Sharp jawline, muscular, more manly than I'll ever-"

I pull him into the nearest alleyway for privacy before facing him head on, resting my hands on his chest. "You know I only want you, right B?"

"I-I do, I just-" If the kicked puppy expression on his face was for anything else, I'd find it endearing. "He's so well put together and-"

I promptly press my lips to his, pulling back after a few moments with a raised brow. "Better?"

Baekhyun's lips part a few times, the open expression on his face cute as hell. He makes a small noise and hugs me close, sealing my lips in another kiss.

After that day, the ice has broken between us—the last wall I had built up came crumbling down. Hiding from Baekhyun isn't needed anymore. The reassurance that we can actually talk about things instead of letting tension build is all I could ask for, alongside his love and time of course. If only I could be with him tonight.

Mrs. Park wanted me to attend a press conference or whatever with her out of the blue, saying something about it being "a big deal" and "very important" that I be there. So here I am, accessing my options for the night.

Three different outfits cover the entirety of my bed, each bringing forth a slightly different mood from the last. The first one is my trusty go-to, below the knee length dress. A simple black piece of material that's flattering for my figure without exposing my wild side. The second outfit is a basic black blazer, white dress shirt, and black dress pants—the bore of all boring clothing. Nothing wrong with it, but I'm not feeling really "plain and dull" tonight.

Now, the third option is one to behold.

A dress that is a combination between the two: a long sleeved, low cut, black dress with pretty lace for the left sleeve and solid material on the right that wraps over more lace underneath. The perfect mix of femininity and authority. I think I know which outfit is the one for me.

Slipping into the warm material with ease, I grab my car keys and head out to meet Mrs. Park at the venue. The thought of sending Baekhyun a text crosses my mind while taking the elevator. Now that I think about it, I haven't heard from him all day. Where he at?? Is he still working late or did my comment about him never cooking a meal in his life hurt his feelings last night? If I wasn't piled up to my ears with paperwork all day I would have stopped by his office to have lunch…

Frowning to myself, I keep both my hands on the steering wheel, leaving my phone untouched in my purse on the passenger floor. Worried or not, I'm not even going to pull out my phone at the next red light. In a big city like Seoul, it's best not to take any chances, if any for that matter.

I navigate down the bright streets with ease, thankful that my GPS is cooperating with me today. Within an hour of traffic jams and watching out for jaywalkers on the street, I'm pulling into the parking lot of the venue. And with Mrs. Park leaning against the hood of her car, she isn't hard to find.

Making a three point turn, I back up into the parking space next to hers, not up for the hassle of dealing with gold digger assholes who will want me to hit them with my car later. Seoul or the South, the bullshitty ways of the road aren't that different.

"Hey," Mrs. Park smiles when I step out of my Porshe, dressed to the nines in her black pantsuit. She tilts her head towards the venue, the twinkle of her diamond earrings catching in the bright streetlights. "You ready to go?"

I walk around to her side to retrieve my purse from my car, tucking my hair behind my ear. "Yes, ma'am."

She smirks, a knowing look in her eye before locking her car. "Let's go."

Eyeing her warily, I follow her to the grand building, the clicks of our heels echoing across the pavement. For a moment the silence around us has me worrying if we are late until I see a red carpet surrounded by paparazzi in the far distance. What the hell?

"What exactly are we attending?" I ask carefully.

"A press conference," She doesn't miss a beat, glancing over at me. "Don't look so scared."

"I-"

"Smile," She continues, smiling reassuringly, "Just be yourself."

Sighing softly, I nod, preparing myself for anything. I trust Mrs. Park a lot, but if her cheeky son is anything to go by, I might be walking into something right now. And I have no idea what is awaiting me.

The clicks of the flashing cameras become more audible as we approach, a dozen cameramen throwing questions at us at once. I just smile, making sure all my sides are my best side while walking down the red carpet. Mrs. Park dodges their questions with ease, falling into step with me. We enter the open double doors of the venue without a hitch and the sight on the inside takes my breath away.

Floor to ceiling windows occupy the spacious hall with rows upon rows of velvet covered seats and a chandelier sparkling overhead. The stage at the far back has the first set of burgundy curtains drawn, showing a microphone stand. What kind of press conference is this? The amount of seating astounds me, let alone when Mrs. Park walks us right up to the front row.

I have so many questions to ask, but I just sit down in the seat at the end of the row, on the left side closest to the stairs leading up to the stage.

"Are we early?" I crane my neck around, watching other sharply dressed businessmen and women slowly fill up the venue.

"No." Mrs Park shakes her head as the lights dim down, smiling knowingly. "We're right on time."

Before I can reply, something shiny catches my attention out of the corner of my eye. I turn my head to face the stage, my eyes widening at the silver haired man walking out onto the stage.

"Good evening, everyone." Baekhyun's honey-smooth voice echoes around the hall. He struts over to the mic stand with a white microphone in hand, his Ceo aura and chosen outfit for the night taking my breath away.

He's wearing a sparkly black blazer with a black button-down shirt underneath, the first few buttons undone. The sleeves of his jacket have a glittery gold embroidery design shaped like a crown and there's a matching necklace resting around his shoulders, twinkling alluringly under the dim lights. His snug black jeans and heeled boots nearly have me on the floor. Pardon my French but—step on me please?

I gulp, sitting back in my seat while Baekhyun commands the stage. He has the whole crowd wrapped around his finger with every charming smile and deep chuckle he sends our way. I graciously accept a glass of wine from a waiter and cross my legs, too busy admiring him to listen to a word he says. It's been a while since I've had the pleasure to see this kind of view.

Baekhyun continues to speak to the crowd, coaxing adoring 'ah's' and the occasional applause. I lose my sense of time the longer he gives his speech, idly swirling my drink around my glass. I've barely drank half of it by the time the event starts coming to an end.

"Everyone." Baekhyun's voice rings over the murmuring crowd, clasping his hands together over the microphone, a soft smile playing at his lips. "If I can have a moment of your time, I'd like to say a few things before we wrap up."

My eyes widen to the size of saucers when he says my name, holding a hand out for me to take. I look around, narrowing my eyes at Mrs. Park's smiling figure. The wink she sends my way tells me everything that I need to know.

Everyone else in the crowd starts looking around, some of them settling their eyes onto me. I take a final sip of my wine and slowly set my glass down in the cup holder next to me. With one last breath and a weary glance, I approach the stage, the clicks of my heels echoing around the room.

The closer I get to Baekhyun's beaming face, the more my heart pounds, butterflies erupting in my stomach. But the moment my cold hand is securely in his, all of it fades away. With Baekhyun, I know I am safe.

He smiles, looking me over with affection shining in his eyes. "Everyone, meet my girlfriend." He announces into the microphone, softly squeezing my hand and facing the crowd again. "She didn't expect to be here tonight..." He trails off, smiling sheepishly. "I'll probably be getting an earful later." He chuckles, joining everyone in their brief laughter while I shoot him a look that screams 'you're damn right.' "But for now," He continues, settling his sparkly brown eyes back onto me, "I have something important to say."

Baekhyun takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. "If it wasn't for her, I wouldn't be standing here today." He squeezes my hand again, flickering his eyes back open to stare into mine. The warmth and undeniable love swirling within them sends my heart into overdrive. "If it wasn't for her patience, care and timeless, endless bounds of love." He sighs softly, smiling so sweetly while wrapping an arm around my waist before turning us both to the second set of curtains. "I wouldn't be here to present the newest clothing line."

The curtains go up and my jaw drops at the sight.

A huge glass container stands in the middle of the stage, showcasing mannequins wearing various articles of clothing. Soft looking blue sweaters, comfy jogging pants, black leggings with white embroidery flowers on the ends, and short jean shorts. There are over a dozen different clothes on display with the letter 'R' scripted on the front in beautiful cursive, but what really captures my attention is the red dress. Front and center.

The backless, sleeveless burgundy mermaid dress covered in sparkly jewels from start to finish, twinkling prettily under the dim lights while spun around on its high-rise platform.

"This goes out to Riley." Baekhyun hugs me close, making me grateful that I'm facing away from the crowd when tears spring to my eyes. He smiles shyly while gazing at me with those warm brown eyes. "The woman of my dreams and love of my life."

I stare right back into those deep brown pools of love, biting the inside of my cheek to keep my chin from wobbling. Not able to take it anymore, I cup his glowy cheeks in my hands, pressing my lips to his.

•⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •

A/N: This was a mouthful, don’t mind me, I’m formatting the other 9k 😭💗

#baekhyun smut #bbh-net #supermwritersnet #baekhyun angst #baekhyun fanfiction #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun romance #Six Phases #let's go heartbreak and smutty town #with a surprise within ;)

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absconditum-imaginaerum · 4 years

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Hyunjae | Vulnerable Words | 18.7K Genre | Fluff, Angst, Mutual Pining Notes | Female!Reader x The Boyz Hyunjae, Post College AU. Mentions of alcohol, threats, unhealthy relationships, cursing. A whole shared brain written piece of work; Rainah and I wrote such eerily similar stories without the other’s knowledge, and here’s my rendition. This is a work of fiction, and any depictions of actions, behaviors, thoughts, and personalities of characters used in this story do not reflect reality. Summary | Hyunjae’s been gone for six years, leaving his family and friends behind to escape some painful feelings. Once returning, he realizes that those six years did nothing to help his feelings, and after running into you again, he’s convinced they’ll never go away, and that you’ve felt the same way all along.

Hyunjae hadn’t spent a summer vacation—or any vacation for that matter—in his hometown since leaving for college. He couldn’t place exactly what drew him back, but his parents were ecstatic when he arrived with a suitcase in hand and a shy expression on his face, hoping he still had somewhere to stay, even unannounced, with them. There was an air about his hometown that felt like a sea breeze on his face, like a breath of fresh air, a familiarity he couldn’t seem to find anywhere else.

His mother welcomed him with open arms, always thrilled to see her little boy, especially when she was never quite sure when she would see him again outside their visits to him. A fresh face he was surprised, but happy, to see was his older sister’s. She gave him a warm smile, waiting for her turn to embrace him after finally getting past their mother.

“You’ve been gone so long, you know,” she said to him. An explanation was queued in his throat transitorily just to hum in response, but for a moment just being welcomed by his family was calming.

“I always have classes in the summer and winter, and it’s a long way for a couple of days,” he explained. His father knew his ambitions, always studying extra hard at school, and was always encouraged to join extracurriculars or take more classes if he could—so he did.

“So, then, what made you take this summer off?” she asked.

It was an inevitable question he knew would be asked, but no matter how many times he thought to himself about the reason, he couldn’t come up with one other than he felt like he should, like he wanted to, like something was calling him back. Unable to answer, he shrugged it off before trekking up the stairs of a house he once called his.

Hyunjae got settled into his old room. Most of the things he didn’t take to college or didn’t ask to be kept were gone, and his bed was a full instead of a twin now, which must have meant that they used his room for guests—which he now was. For a brief moment, he sat on his bed, taking in the reality of actually being back in his hometown and seeing his family for the first time outside of FaceTime in a while. All the trinkets and pictures he’d asked his mom to save glimmered and glowered at him—maybe it was time to go through them to see what he wanted to get rid of. He reached over and gently plucked a silver frame from the dresser which encased a picture of himself and a girl he knew from a long time ago: his childhood best friend.

Hyunjae thought about you often, about what you were doing, if school had treated you well and how your family was— you both were that type of friends, the type that was close with the other’s family, the type whose families were basically your own. After moving away, he’d thought about you a lot through college in many lights; the good and the bad.

It was late enough in the evening that fifteen minutes into feeling nostalgic about his old life and friendships made it to dinner time. He was almost startled by the way his mom softly knocked on the frame of his door to alert him that dinner was ready, and although he didn’t feel overly hungry, he wouldn’t refuse mom’s homemade cooking or dare not sit down with them at the very least.

The evening wasn’t eventful, mostly just catching his family up on what life has been like for the time he’d been away, and similarly asked about things going on around there—about how much it had changed and become more accommodating to the younger crowd and how things had shifted around and all of the infrastructure that had been built. It was so much busier than he’d last remembered, with new shopping strips of immaculate and fingerprint-less glass storefronts with fancy chrome polished doors and neon signs that lit up the night; new bars and restaurants popping up in more populated areas he’d only glazed over while in the back of a ride-share on the way to his parent’s home.

His family stayed up much later than they had back before he left for college—he only knew because it was unusual for him to be tired before the rest of them, but when he took a peek at the clock, registering quarter to twelve, he was surprised.

“You’ve had a long day of travels, you don’t have to stay up for us,” Hyunjae’s mother commented, resting a hand against her son’s shoulder to bring him back to life, somewhat, as he was dozing off a bit in the corner of the couch. After moving to get up he gave her a soft smile, bid his family goodnight, and headed back to his room.

The bed and sheets were different, but somehow the way they slid over his body, the cool sheets meeting the warmth of his skin, something about it felt like home. Maybe it was the familiarity of the shape of his room, of the same furniture in the same spots, some trinkets still here and there he had fond memories of, or the comfort of the pillows that he sunk into like a sack of bricks. Maybe he really just was that tired from traveling and the somewhat mental exhaustion of being back and still not understanding what brought him here that any old bed may have felt like this. Despite that, he couldn’t help but glance over to the picture he was hanging on to previously. You both had just graduated high school in the picture, hanging on each other with playful smiles donning your caps and gowns. He wondered what you looked like now because he knew he looked quite a bit different.

Then he began to wonder if you ever thought about him, about how once he left for college the two of you quickly stopped talking... And now that he was thinking about it, he wondered if the number in his phone was even still your number.

Audibly sighing, he rolled onto his side to face away from the dresser from which that photograph was glowering at him, or so it felt. He closed his eyes and pressed his head deep into the pillow, tucking the sheets under his arm so just enough chill of the air conditioning would make it comfortable and somehow, despite his racing thoughts, he fell asleep.

Three days of summer ‘vacation’ went by agonizingly slowly, but he’d gotten the opportunity to look around some new shops that had popped up around the area with his sister before he was looking at your number in his contacts. Was it even worth reaching out to you? Would you even want to see him? Surely if he was having these feelings, there was a chance that maybe you were feeling them, too. So, as he sat across a bistro table from his sister after ordering lunch, his finger hovered over the message button before typing something quickly so he couldn’t change his mind.

An immediate notification came back from his service provider, notifying him that the number he had messaged was no longer in service, but that didn’t seem to ease his tension any as he looked back at the message with a displeased expression—shockingly upset in a way even he couldn’t understand.

“Who are you secretly texting under the table?” Hyunjae’s sister asked, not even remotely distracted with her food enough to not notice.

Hyunjae sighed, there was no reason to lie—it didn’t even really matter at this point, all hopes of him contacting you had been thwarted by the fact that you’d changed your number who even knew how long ago.

“An old friend from a long time ago, but their number is disconnected,” he replied with a sigh and all but tossed his phone against the rustic wood table, finally turning to his flavored tea for the first sip since it had arrived, and already their food was there. “I haven’t seen her since we both left for separated colleges… I figured if I was going to be here, it might be worth seeing her if she was still around.”

She looked at him for a moment; one name clicking in her mind right away and without thinking blurted it out. Hyunjae turned his gaze away from his plate, trying to wrangle his appetite, and up to his sister. Your name almost hurt him to speak out loud, but his look only confirmed his sister’s suspicions.

“Her family still lives around the corner, their old house…” she trailed off, trying not to step on any toes if there were toes to be stepped on, “I’m sure her mom would like to see you, she asks about you a lot.”

“Mom never told me that,” Hyunjae replied, appetite completely out the window that his point even if he picked around at the side of fruit on his plate.

“At the very least, you might be able to ease yourself about it.”

So, after a few more days of hanging around at home, helping his mom with some shopping, and exploring his some-what forgotten town with his sister, he pulled on a light jacket after dinner and announced he was going for a walk. His sister gave him a knowing look, almost promising she wouldn’t say where he was going as he stepped into his shoes and left out the front door. The way to your house was emblazoned in his mind, he knew it like the back of his hand—it was close and he couldn’t even count the number of times he’d been there over the years.

The yard was the same, littered with beautiful flowers as it always had been—your mother had a knack for gardening. All the flora was nicely groomed while the outside lights illuminated the walk-way a pale yellow color that glowed in the twilight air. He approached the door, a tight knot in his stomach; he hadn’t even planned anything to say to you, if you happened to be there, which almost made him turn back if he hadn’t already pressed the bell, listening to it chime loudly through the house before a quiet voice called back.

Hyunjae shoved his hands deep into his pockets as he listened to the locks turn before the door opened to a woman he was so familiar with, a woman who didn’t look a day older than when he’d last seen her at his high school graduation. A soft smile pulled at his lips, and his eyes softened just looking at her. She smiled back, although there was a glint in her eyes that told him that she wasn’t quite sure who he was.

“Can I help you?” she asked politely.

Hyunjae’s smile faded a bit, but not enough to drop from his face.

“I’m here to see my second family, after being gone for six years,” he replied gently, hoping that was enough.

She shook her head as her gaze cast away from him, which inevitably resulted in the smile dropping from Hyunjae’s face.

“Six years pass and your son from another family doesn’t even call you mom anymore,” she teased him as her eyes came back up to meet his disappointed gaze. “You’ve gotten so tall over the years, Hyunjae.”

His smile struggled to come back, and all he knew was the warmth of her embrace as she stepped just outside the door to wrap her arms around him. “I ask about you all the time, your mother always tells me how busy you’ve been and that you don’t even come to visit them.”

Somehow it made him feel guiltier coming from your mom than his own mom—maybe that was because his dad was always chirping in the background about studying hard, about how they’d always be there for him to come back when he was ready. His hands slowly pulled out of his pockets to embrace her back with words caught in his throat, a poor excuse of an explanation about why he hadn’t come back. It didn’t matter, the thought of you loomed in the back of his mind like a bad dream, and, as if her intuition could still reach him…

“She’s out at work tonight. Would you like me to let her know you dropped by?”

Now he was really on the spot. He could feel a shiver shoot down his spine and he thought about just asking for your phone number, but that felt like too much of a hassle. His hands shook a bit, and he was sure your mom could hear the way his heart raged against the cage of his chest just trying to come up with a response to a simple yes or no question.

“Yes, please,” he finally blurted, but it sounded unsure, there was no conviction. She reeled back to get a good look at his face, to see the nerves all over it, to see the frustration knitted in his brow.

“She asks me about you, which is half the reason I ask about you. When your mom said you never come around for holidays—”

“I wish she’d called me,” he interrupted; but did he mean it?

“You both were busy! She didn’t want to bother you—if you weren’t coming home for vacation, she figured you were doing other things. I’ll let her know you stopped by, I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to hear that you’re in visiting for a bit.”

Hyunjae slowly nodded and allowed your mom to return inside and bid him goodnight before he was turning away on autopilot. A million things were running through his mind—the most important seemed to be what would he say to you when he finally did see you again for the first time? He couldn’t even come up with something good to say even on the spot with you potentially answering the door to your childhood home. For certain he knew that he would be standing there, looking like a fool, stuttering for quite some time—he had no doubt you’d just look at him with that same patient look whenever he couldn’t come up with the right words for you.

After returning, he didn’t have too much to say as he headed up to his room, the same thoughts cycling his mind like a cropped film reel, but it wasn’t distracting enough to stop him from grabbing that same silver-framed photo of the two of you and plopped on his bed to look at it, hoping it would inspire some things to say.

At least he’d have three days before seeing you, finally, but it was fairly unexpected. His family was just getting ready to sit down to eat when there was a knock on the door. As the youngest and spryest, Hyunjae stood from the table to allow his family to start eating, but they were just as curious. An awkwardness loomed the moment his eyes met yours after tugging the door open; of course, he didn’t recognize you, really—it had been a good chunk of time since he last saw you.

“Sorry, maybe I’m at the wrong house,” you tried, a plate of baked goods in your hands as you looked back at Hyunjae before taking a step back to look at the address. There was a screech of a chair across the floor as it was being pushed out, followed by another one before the doorway was crowded by his sister and mother who greeted you enthusiastically. It didn’t take long for you to come to the ultimate conclusion.

Your eyes shot back to Hyunjae’s, who was still looking at you despite all of the commotion coming from around him which inevitably pushed him out of the way of the doorway. Somehow the plate was coaxed out of your hand with a million questions being asked about it and you were being tugged into the house with insistence that you join them for dinner. You couldn’t answer, your gaze remained locked with Hyunjae until the both of them realized that he was your primary focus, and quickly the chatter stopped and silence took over again.

“Well, aren’t you going to say something to her?” his sister asked, prompting him to come somewhat back to life and he shook his head, swallowing hard, but still nothing was in there to say—he wasn’t sure what to say, so he settled with your name. There was a burning within your face that you couldn’t contain, and couldn’t help the way your eyes trailed away from his face.

“Hyunjae… it’s been so long, I didn’t even recognize you,” you finally said, but still didn’t feel comfortable just yet looking back up at him.

Hyunjae swallowed the knot in his throat, and after some prompting from his sister in the background, finally found something good to say.

“Would you… would you please stay for dinner with us?” he asked. You could feel the nerves in the shakiness of his voice, and in the half-step he took towards you which you could only see because you were looking at his feet. “There’s plenty, and you’re not a bother, and… to be honest, I tried messaging you the other day, but I don’t have your number anymore and I went to your mom’s and—”

“I’ll stay,” you replied, finally finding the heart to look up at him with a soft genuine smile. You could hear his sister and mom behind you, but still, you were focused on the grown-up boy in front of you, who had grown so tall since you’d last seen him—you weren’t even heighted anymore. Hyunjae pulled out your chair at the table and got you a plate and some utensils. Naturally, he placed you between him and his sister where you usually sat when you stayed with them for dinner when you were younger.

Conversation ensued quickly between you and the rest of Hyunjae’s family since you were still far more familiar with them. You settled in next to Hyunjae again, and although there was a lot to talk about, a lot to catch up on between the two of you, you enjoyed the fact that the rest of the family was breaking the awkwardness and allowing you and Hyunjae to chime in when appropriate.

The conversation was mostly about you, about school, about how life had been since leaving for college since you and Hyunjae had pretty much broken contact by the end of the first semester. Honestly, it broke both your hearts a little bit, and you could feel the stinging of those same pieces even now. Hyunjae told you what your mom said, about you not wanting to call him, and all of the subsequent lack of communication that led to your complete separation. Conversation seemed to flow a bit more freely between the two of you again, deep somewhere there was an understanding about the hurt that the split caused the both of you. Unfortunately, after that, dinner went quickly and although it wasn’t getting too late, you felt like you needed to go.

“Thank you for the lovely dinner, Mr. and Mrs. Lee, inviting me in so unannounced,” you began, and then addressed Hyunjae’s sister and then Hyunjae.

“It’s always a pleasure to have you over, dear,” Mrs. Lee commented with that same full smile she always had. She always made you feel like a part of the family, like her own daughter.

“Let me walk you home,” Hyunjae offered.

“It’s not far,” you reminded him.

“It’s late and I don’t want you to go by yourself,” he insisted.

He could see the fight in your eyes, the same fight from the number of years ago when he’d say the same thing, when he’d walk you home no matter how much you insisted it wasn’t necessary. The way you dug in was noticeable, preparing to stand your ground against him because, who was he to be so concerned as someone who left? And maybe that was the wrong mindset to have about him because you could feel, even in the way he looked at you, that he still cared for you.

Hyunjae gave you that look where his gaze got a little more tender and there was an almost unnoticeable raise of his brows and a head flick towards the door. It had you swallowing hard, barely even noticing the silence before it was interrupted.

“Please, Hyunjae will walk you home! It’s safer that way!” Hyunjae’s sister chimed in and took a hold of your arm to bring you back to earth. You looked at her, blinking a few times before reluctantly nodding. She gave you a tight squeeze, reminding you how good it was to see you and to not be a stranger because she would always be around and Hyunjae was home for the whole summer.

Out of old habit, Hyunjae extended his elbow to you, and, to avoid being overly awkward, you took it, but not without looking up at him questioningly as he was pulling you out of the door. You walked slowly side by side once getting off the initial porch of his parent’s home, and he reached over to cup over your hand to keep it from slipping away.

“If you don’t mind too much…” he trailed off, asking you to keep your hand around his arm as he escorted you to your home. He didn’t look at you, even when you looked up at him. It was okay, though, because you could hear something in his voice that pained you a bit, so you tightened your grip around his bicep as you moseyed along the sidewalk. The street lamps provided dim light, barely enough to see the cracks in the slabs of concrete. Admittedly, you felt better that he was walking you home anyway—ever since all of the development in the area, it somehow felt less safe year after year that you’d come home for the summer or winter.

Hyunjae was silent the entirety of the walk; the only noise he did make was an occasional rough exhale of a somewhat held breath, and in the off chance that you attempted to sneak a peek of him from the corner of your eye you could see his chest contract with that exhale. Then, you were under the familiar light of your home’s porch before you were ready. You knew the walk was only a couple of blocks, but you’d hoped there was more time with the pace at which you were walking. There was so much stuck in your throat that you wanted to say, so much that probably wouldn’t ever come out unless he spoke first; but it looked like there was little to no intention.

You could feel his bicep flex under your hand, his whole body tensing up next to you as he took another rickety breath. With your eyes still cast down at the ground, you turned your head to him before your gaze fluttered up his chest to his throat and eventually his face; he had gotten so much taller since leaving. The numbers of your address next to it seemed to scrutinize him before he swallowed hard. Hyunjae carefully peeled your hand away from his arm and held onto it as he helped you up the step onto your actual porch landing.

“Hyunjae,” you tried as you turned to face him—leaving in complete silence seemed incomprehensible, unimaginable.

“I’m sorry,” he replied quietly, but his gaze was still cast to the side of you. “I guess just actually seeing you, actually sitting down with you at the table with my family like old times just…opened wounds I didn’t know were there…”

The tone in his voice and the look in his distant gaze was like putting salt in the wounds you knew were there, you knew had been there for years. It took a few moments of silence, but his eyes eventually found yours. He looked at you with a tenderness you’d never seen out of him before, and of course, over six years there was a lot of growing and a lot of changes, but this particular look put knots in your stomach, unlike anything you had ever felt before.

“I think if we’re going to do any mending, that’s a talk we need to have,” you answered, finally noticing the way his hand lingered in yours, the way it had been for the last few moments that you hadn’t registered his fingers playing with yours.

The moment his gaze turned away from yours again, you took a step forward and your hand left his to turn his chin back towards you. “That means you can’t run away again,” you reminded him, as if his first departure away to college was him running away in the first place.

He nodded in your soft grip, but you could see the way his brow ached to draw together.

“Go home, sleep on it, get the right words… we’ll talk,” you told him, hands both dropping back to your sides.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, but this time you weren’t sure what for. Just as you were about to turn towards your door to leave him, he took you around the middle and dragged you into him, hulling you up against his firm chest as his arms tightened against you. Initially, you were surprised. The audacity, but also the guts it took to pull you into a hug when he was stumbling over his words like a dancer with two left feet. Your hands ghosted up his arms, slowly feeling his frame—tall and warm against your own—before your arms draped across his shoulders. Your head was turned to the side, pressed against his collar turned inwards towards the center, and, much to your own surprised, you relished the hug like home. This felt akin to the hug he gave you before you both departed to your separate cities, vowing that he would maintain contact which quickly disintegrated. Honestly, it had tears pricking at your eyes like you were saying goodbye all over again, but also releasing the gates on the emotions you’d stowed away for all those years with no thoughts that he’d ever come back.

His breathing was now even more noticeably rickety with your head pressed up against his chest. A few more times he apologized, still for reasons you weren’t aware of, and squeezed you even tighter for just a moment longer before he was finally releasing you.

“I’ll wait until you’re inside,” he said as you stepped back from him, and even still he wouldn’t look right at you.

“Go home safely,” you replied, stepping backward until your back unceremoniously hit your front door. You were pawing at the handle, watching him wait for you until you finally popped the door to let yourself inside. “Goodnight, Hyunjae,” you added.

“Goodnight,” he replied, and your gaze finally met his before you turned to close him away from you.

Hyunjae spent the next couple of days mulling over your brief conversation about a conversation that still was yet to be had. It was up to him to find you when he was ready; obviously, he had a lot to say to you which would undoubtedly be coupled with a bit of stumbling around for the correct words, no matter how many days he had to think about it.

At least, he attempted to think about it. He slowly kicked his way down the river-front walkway to the dock where you used to play around as kids. The river-front was full of all kinds of neat little local mom and pop shops that gave life to the town, especially when the sun was setting in spring or fall when it gleamed off the river just right and an array of purples and oranges and all the colors in between painted the sky so beautifully. It used to be an empty area, abandoned commercially with the docks left to be perfect ground to play pretend as kids.

He remembered the dock fondly as he stepped off the concrete path and onto the surprisingly preserved wooden boards that looked like they had been sanded and re-varnished recently. Maybe the dock was still in use for smaller boats, or maybe those people who owned the river-front stores kept it looking nice for tourism purposes. Either way, he was happy, because that meant he had to worry less about splinters.

The tide was out, so there was plenty of room for Hyunjae to dangle his legs off the side of the dock as he took a seat, looking out to the glittering seawater which was reflecting the aforementioned sunset colors. He recalled all the fond memories he had of this particular dock with you—it was where you spent most of your time together playing pirates and other silly little kids games and remembered one time very vividly when he was roughhousing a little too much and you ended up tumbling off the dock into the water. He was lucky his older sister was there to pull you out—you were maybe six or seven at the time; he remembered how bad he felt, how many times he profusely apologized and the way you smiled about it, laughed about it even and gave him a hard time for being too concerned. Looking back on it, he wouldn’t have changed anything.

Incessantly he gnawed at his bottom lip, doing a little more thinking of the way things used to be and less thinking about what he would say to you when the inevitable conversation came. Maybe he’d benefit from playing through his memories, and he would have continued to think of them if there wasn’t an iced drink being shaken right next to his ear.

He jumped, a bit startled by the sound, and looked over to a stout iced coffee being handed to him and followed the arm up to your face, where you smiled at him jovially with the straw of your own coffee comfortable between your lips.

“Did you know I would be here?” he asked you and tenderly took the coffee from you and scooted over to make a bit of room for you to sit next to him. You plopped down, hanging your legs off the side of the dock the same way his were for a moment, examining your coffee as you stirred it.

“I had a hunch… and then I stopped by your house,” you told him, implying that they had told you that he went for a walk, but how many places could he possibly go in a city that wasn’t his anymore.

“I’m not ready to have the talk,” he replied quickly as to not get your hopes up about it.

“That’s okay,” you said, “we don’t have to talk about that, we can talk about anything. Or we don’t have to talk at all.”

“But you bought me a coffee—”

“I could see you from the shop,” you laughed, referencing the river-front shop maybe fifty yards away.

Hyunjae just nodded, still too nervous to even look at you again since taking the coffee from you in the first place. He hadn’t even tasted it, just continued to spin the ice around the clear plastic cup as condensation built up on its sides before finally mustering the courage to thank you for the coffee.

A few moments of silence passed--if he didn’t have anything to say, that was fine, but you wouldn’t be the one to force conversation as you kicked your feet back and forth and continued to sip on your coffee. You found the nerves fluttering around in your stomach were also making it hard to look at him, which probably benefitted him anyway.

You wouldn’t, and couldn’t, blame him for being closed off, and gave him a pass for a couple of days ago, the affection and openness after the first time seeing you; the well of emotions was hard to ignore especially when the two of you used to be so close. But now that he had a few days to settle in, a few days to think about that… a different tune was expected. The imminent conversation that loomed in the background of both your minds (perhaps at the forefront of his) was only exacerbating the awkwardness you stewed in.

“Do you want me to go?” you asked after a moment; you had, after all, been the one to come second. It was his dock if he wanted it.

“No, I’m sorry. A million things are running through my mind, and I’m just trying to not say something stupid,” he replied, and finally, the blood rushing through him gave him enough adrenaline, faux confidence, to turn his head just enough to peer at you from the corner of his eyes.

“I didn’t mean to make this trip so hard on you—”

“It’s not you, it’s me. It’s one hundred percent me, and that’s the part I’m grappling the hardest with. I just…” He sighed, taking a moment to compose himself as he ran his free hand through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead just to let it flutter back into place. “You must hate me, for treating you the way I did. For never bothering to check in with you, or even come back. For just leaving you behind like you were nothing.”

His words stung, indubitably. Although that was the fact of the matter, you’d always tried to make excuses for him, but when he gave it to you in total plainness, you understood his feelings a bit better.

“I was afraid to go, and part of me felt like I would be better off if I just… forgot about here and everything with it.” He paused for a moment, biting that bottom lip harder than ever before, and stifled a growl deep in his throat when he finally clenched his teeth together. “I’m sorry, for being such a… freaking jerk!” His voice raised volume at the end of his sentence, emphasizing the way he assumed you felt about him because that was how he felt about him. “There’s so much more I want to say to you but I just don’t… I don’t have the right words yet.”

He took a deep swig of his coffee to try to cool himself off after winding himself up, but it was mostly so he’d shut up before saying anything else harmful because he could already feel the shift in your aura that wasn’t so jovial anymore. Admittedly, his words clawed at the metaphorical stitch job over your wounds, pulling hard at the threads that closed them up, and you could taste a bit of that initial pain resurfacing. Emotionally, you didn’t want to have that coming conversation, but logically you knew that if you were going to heal completely about each other that it was entirely necessary.

“Thank you for being vulnerable with me,” you finally said after a few moments of silence. You knew how much it took to get just even that out, the amount of pride he undoubtedly had to push aside to admit fault in the first place. The fact that he openly admitted he was afraid was somehow unlike the Hyunjae you used to know.

He couldn’t even look at you again and took another sip of his coffee to effectively polish off the small cup before he discarded it to the side you sat on. Gingerly, you collected it intending to throw it away when you left, guessing it would be before him. The silence that loomed between you had you able to hear the way his fingernails scratched against the fresh varnish of the dock in frustration.

“Why are you even sitting here with me? I wouldn’t even have the patience to talk to me until it was time to hear me grovel at your feet about what a piece of shit I was and how I don’t even deserve you to still be in my life anyway and that it was foolish of me to even go to your house, to begin with, and—”

“Stop,” you interrupted, maneuvering both cups to one hand somehow just so you could set your now free hand down on top of his to squeeze it.

“But I just—”

“Hyunjae, stop!” you pleaded, and he’d finally turned to look you in the eye, entirely, for the first time since you sat down. “You’re not a piece of shit—”

“Only that could possibly do to you what I did; a spineless and weak little—”

“Enough!” you begged—now he was just making you angry, but only because you were hurt with the way he beat himself up harder than you ever would; that was something you found familiar about him. “You know I don’t think that!”

“Don’t sit here and lie to my face like this,” he almost growled. “I know what I did to you, and I would hate me—”

“Great, but you’re not me,” you fired back with matched ferocity, and so you exchanged your look between his eyes, noting the way they shimmered amber reflecting the sunset light off the water, noting the way they looked at you with such intensity, while trying to stave the tears that were pushing against his waterline. There was a bubbling against your throat, words you knew you didn’t want to say that burned like wildfire. You continued to switch between his eyes, knowing the things queued weren’t going to help the situation in any way and so, to avoid saying something you knew you’d regret, and since you knew he wouldn’t stop pushing you, you pushed up from the dock and took his empty plastic cup with you to leave him with the burn of your hand on top of his and that distinct lack of your gaze into his eyes.

Then, and only then, did the tears that threatened have room to fall. His nails scraped against the dock even harder as he clenched his fist, still able to feel the warmth of your hand on top of his as he stared through the ghost of your presence. His jaw was tight, and his tears were hot—they were angry, frustrated, discontent but not with you. The wounds were deeper than he thought, still more tender than he thought, and all that led him to a harsh conclusion—the final talk would be even worse hell than he initially imagined.

A few days away from each other allowed for a bit of cooling off. Hyunjae drafted a few notes of things he wanted to say to you but often scrapped them, knowing that it would sound ingenuous if he was reading off a cue card. Several crumpled half sheets of paper filled his trashcan, a sight that annoyed him even as he lay on his bed with his eyes closed, knowing he needed to get something to stick. It was already two weeks into summer break and while there was plenty of break left, the sooner you had this talk, the sooner he would stop feeling like complete garbage for being in the same town as you.

That’s really what it was; initially, it felt so good to see you again—although you’d changed a lot in six years, the familiar presence made home feel a lot more comfortable. But the more he settled in, the more he thought about it—thought about what you were feeling, thought about how you made him feel, thought about everything that went down before he said what he imagined was his last goodbye and quite frankly, for as much as he cherished and cared about you, the goodbye was sub-par to shit. And he knew it would come crashing down, that comforting euphoria of having you close to him again when those fateful words exited your mouth: that’s a talk we need to have.

He hated the feeling that was coursing through him now, touching every nerve ending he had, absolute dread. Now, he was feeling like it was a mistake to come back, although he was entitled to the town as much as you were as his family lived there also—the biggest mistake was trying to see you again.

A knock on his door brought him out of his thoughts and his eyes opened to look at it as it began to crack open. His sister had a tray with some cups and a kettle on that she was maneuvering through the door, pushing it back closed with her foot as she set the tray on the large dresser to the left. She looked at Hyunjae before noticing the pile of paper around his small garbage.

“What happened?” she asked, knowing it was something because Hyunjae seldom spent so much time in his room, plus he’d been off for a couple of days since he’d seen you at the dock.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Hyunjae replied, gracefully accepting the freshly poured tea his sister was handing him.

“I don’t think that’s what I asked,” she replied—she usually didn’t let him get away with that, even since they were kids.

Hyunjae sighed and blew on his cup of tea for a moment. “Just marinating in the consequences of my colossal fuck ups,” he replied with a fake smile to the emptiness of his room, although the statement was directed at his sister.

“She doesn’t hate you, if that’s what you think,” she replied and took a seat on his bed. “She’s hurt about you; I’d be hurt about you. There’s a lot to process between the two of you right now, a bit deeper than you might expect to find. It’s awkward and tense and tough to swallow, but you have to do it if you want to salvage it. But I know she doesn’t hate you.”

He swallowed hard; he didn’t even want to look at his sister for the time being as he was having a hard time with the things she was even saying—they were true; he knew they were true. But about you not hating him? Maybe he didn’t believe that. He was slipping into his thoughts again before his phone started vibrating in his pocket. It was unusual, because seldom did anyone call anymore, and who would be calling anyway? He finagled it out of his pocket to look at the caller ID to see someone he recognized: Kevin Moon.

Hesitantly, he swiped to answer, leaving his sister to occupy herself about his room.

“Hello?” he muttered unconfidently.

“Hyunjae! I heard you’re finally back in town!” Kevin’s voice seemed a bit too jovial, jolting Hyunjae a bit.

“Ahh… yeah. It’s been a minute, huh?” he inquired less enthusiastically.

“A minute! More like a lifetime; you’ve been gone for six years! Anyway enough about that; I’ve planned a get-together for a bunch of friends from back in the day! You know, our high school group! When I heard you were back, I had to invite you! You should come by, I’m sure everyone would love to see you!”

It would be rude to ask who was invited, and then decide based on that; but there was certainly a handful of people he would do better not seeing again, perhaps. He had an answer queued in his throat, he wanted to say that he wouldn’t make it—

“You better go, you’re not doing anything and you need to get out,” his sister commented, loud enough for Kevin to hear.

The look on Hyunjae’s face dropped in an instant when Kevin confirmed that he heard and looked at his sister with daggers in his eyes.

“I’ll kill you,” he mouthed to her but she just smiled and sipped her tea. He composed himself with a deep breath before agreeing to be there and briefly negotiated the time and place and after Kevin hung up, he let out an exasperated sigh.

“There are so many people who are going to be there that I don’t want to see,” he grumbled.

“But there’s so many people who you do! Plus, people who would love to see you, and you can’t just mope around here all day, I won’t have it!” she exclaimed and took her seat back next to him. “You need to get out; sitting up here and thinking about what you’re going to say will make you age too fast. The right words will come, I promise.”

“I think you’re too confident,” Hyunjae said.

“I need to be confident for both of us,” she reminded him and filled her cup back up before leaving him with the rest of the pot in his room.

It was already late in the afternoon at that point, and Kevin’s party would be starting in a couple of hours. He sat on his bed with his legs crossed as he finished off the pot of tea, taking up another half an hour before finally deciding he would shower for the party and at least try to look more put together than he felt. What did the extent of the old group mean? Because you were technically part of the old group; asking about you outright would be too suspicious. There would be plenty of people there to keep you both distracted from each other especially since they’d undoubtedly seen you far more, which meant it was likely he’d be engaged the whole time.

He set the tray off to the side on his desk—he’d take it back downstairs later—and grabbed some things for the shower with a sincere hope that some hot water would help clear his mind. And perhaps he spent far too much time in there, because by the time he got out and checked the clock it was already twenty minutes passed when he thought it was. He rushed through toweling his hair somewhat dry enough to comb it a certain way and hoped it would stay, tugged on a black button-up and a light wash pair of jeans before he was heading out the door, mentioning briefly to his parents that he was going to Kevin’s, a name they were familiar with, and that he’d be back later.

When Kevin answered the door, it was nothing short of a party right there. It had been a long time since any of them had seen him, so the commotion was understandable, and then an actual genuine smile broke on Hyunjae’s face as he clapped hands with his buddy who was quickly garnering the attention of the other party-goers who had also missed him.

Hyunjae stepped through the door, a cup immediately put in his hand as he greeted all his old high school buddies amongst the dimly lit room. Kevin always knew how to set the mood of a get-together; this was no different, done up with candles and string lights that slowly faded to different soft colors with some low music in the background. There were a couple of yard games going on outside, corn hole and beer pong with tables of appetizers and coolers full of drinks of all varieties.

“Wow, Kev, you went all out,” Hyunjae commented and reached into his pocket for his wallet to try and supplement some of the cost, but Kevin stopped him immediately.

“You’re the guest of honor; you’re the whole reason I put this thing together,” he replied and encouraged him to put his wallet back. “When I heard you were back I knew the guys would be stoked to see you. It seems like you’ve been gone a lifetime!”

Hyunjae laughed nervously and hoped that he wouldn’t be asked why he never came back to visit. It was a thought he was still grappling with; a thought he knew half the answer to but the other half was something he’d rather not visit. He had mentioned it to you out loud that day on the dock and it left a burning in his throat ever since—he couldn’t decide if it was because it was the truth or because he knew he was only telling you part of it. Regardless, he tried to push it from his mind before taking a swig from the plastic solo cup in his hand: a hurricane tasting concoction that wasn’t quite right and a bit too strong.

As he expected, he was fairly occupied with the swaths of conversations, always being caught by someone new he thought he’d never see again to strike up a conversation about what he was up to and so far, he’d avoided the dreaded question about not visiting. It was safe to assume that he was just caught up in things; Hyunjae was always a hard studier; school was very important. In a fairly short time, considering the duration of Kevin’s parties typically, he’d gotten through most of the high school group who had come up to him in small circles to greet him and catch up a bit.

For a bit, he’d been roped into a couple of games of corn hole. It was fun while it lasted, although he couldn’t say he was any good at it. It was the bonding and laughing that counted, especially when someone’s throw was particularly bad and they all laughed at each other for never playing games like this in their college days—it seemed everyone turned out to be quite studious in their time at school and spent less time at frat parties.

When one of the rounds was finally over and Hyunjae’s drink had run dry, he found a replacement for his team and excused himself back inside the house to make something more his speed. There were a few small circles of people who seemed like they were all catching up—turned out he wasn’t the only one gone for an extended period. Hyunjae dug through a cooler for a can of coke to mix his own drink before he was overhearing some drama he probably shouldn’t have concerned himself with, but it was right around the corner from the kitchen and it sounded unwelcomed.

“Please just leave me alone,” a voice Hyunjae recognized sounded quietly. Suddenly his desires were conflicted when could tell they were trying not to make a scene but then recognized the voice as yours. On the one hand, he figured the two of you needed a little more space, but on the other hand, was he about to just stand by and let whoever was bothering you continue to do so?

No, he couldn’t let it go, and set his cup down on the kitchen counter, and carefully rounded the corner of the wall to find you sandwiched between it and Sangyeon, someone he considered to be close friends with at one point in time. The look on your face when you finally opened your eyes to see him was nothing short of desperate, but Sangyeon had you locked in tight.

Hyunjae wanted to verbalize his protest, but the look on your face caught his words in his throat. Instead, he stepped forward and took Sangyeon’s shoulder to pull him away from you.

“She asked you to leave her alone,” he was finally able to manage just as Sangyeon had stumbled back slightly, ready to give Hyunjae a few choice words before meeting eyes with the familiar younger male. In less than a second flat, you’d scrambled off the wall to take Hyunjae’s arm as he protectively tucked you behind him, expecting a confrontation. Sangyeon knew the history between you and Hyunjae well.

“Dude, it’s cool,” he tried, a friendly smile on his face as he reached for you.

“Dude, it’s not cool. She asked you to leave her alone,” Hyunjae fired back, taking a step back, and subsequently stepping you back.

“Babe, just tell him—”

“I’m not your babe anymore, Sangyeon. I thought that was clear,” you spat from behind Hyunjae. Although there was shock in his subconscious, he couldn’t let that display on his face. He kept his expression as stone-cold as possible as he glared down the older male who was gritting his teeth. It wasn’t hard to piece together the situation; you and Sangyeon used to date, you called it off and Sangyeon didn’t like it.

“I got it, Hyunjae,” Sangyeon tried again, as if trying to convince him that it was a situation he didn’t need to be a part of, but he could feel your grip tighten a little bit on his arm and he wasn’t about to abandon you—he didn’t care who to.

“How about you take a walk,” Hyunjae suggested, knowing what Sangyeon was implying. The older seemed shocked by his reply, and rightfully so. “She asked you to leave her alone; I don’t think she should have to do so again.”

There was an uncomfortable silence that loomed between the three of you, and you could see the look in Sangyeon’s eyes that you were pretty familiar with and so tugged yourself closer to Hyunjae. The younger raised his brow, prompting for a reply or for the older to move on. It was clear Hyunjae wasn’t going to back off, especially not as he tucked you just a little bit further behind him.

“Take a walk,” Hyunjae reaffirmed, a growl on the tail of his words and he stood firm until Sangyeon growled, attempting to glare past the other male to get to you, but Hyunjae consistently stepped in his view to make sure that would not be successful.

It hurt your pride a little bit, to be rescued from your ex-boyfriend by anyone at that party, but most particularly Hyunjae who you were not expecting to see, although you were expecting him to be there—and you really weren’t anticipating him seeing that. Surely he knew, and surely he gave you a couple of moments to decide what you wanted to do as you stood against him, against his back, waiting for Sangyeon to clear out and even beyond. Hyunjae’s rhythmic breathing was soothing as he made no moves and only looked forward; he could feel the way your hand still furled into his pressed black shirt, the way your forehead lay against his shoulder blade while his hands dangled at his sides.

“Are you okay?” he asked after a few moments. He was met immediately with a tightness of his shirt, as you gripped it a little harder. “Did he hurt you, physically?” he asked, since he could tell you probably weren’t okay, at least for the time being, and he could feel you shake your head against his shoulder.

“Let’s sit somewhere quiet,” he suggested and waited for you for a moment before you were peeling yourself off his back. You expected he wouldn’t look at you, just lead the way through the house that he had been in more times than he could count as he led you towards the back of the house, but not before being caught by a passerby. Feeling a tug on his arm as you responded to the tug on your arm, Hyunjae jolted to a stop.

“Are you okay?” Younghoon asked you. It wasn’t so far out of reach that you be put in a position you didn’t want to be in, but Younghoon couldn’t know that you’d just been rescued from one. Before you could answer, Hyunjae looked over his shoulder at Younghoon.

“O-oh,” Younghoon stuttered. Everyone around knew about you and Hyunjae. “Of course, I’m sorry,” he apologized, soothed only by the warmth of your smile as you pushed the threatening tears further and further so that you could finally get out of there as you were pulled into a back guest room—you could tell it was a guest room because of the décor and the dust on the furnishings. Hyunjae closed the door behind you as he found the light and flicked it on, giving you space to make yourself comfortable first and he would follow after.

You took a seat on the bed, first, letting everything soak in—starting with Hyunjae and your interaction at the dock for a short time before the situation with Sangyeon, how you would manage to make it through the rest of the party without more problems whether that be between you and Sangyeon, or Hyunjae. You watched as Hyunjae’s dark shoes made it into view in front of you as you looked down at the pristine wood flooring covered by an area rug.

The fray of your distressed jeans entertained your hands, picking at it nervously as you took a few deep breaths. There was an almost silent noise that came from him as he stuck his hands in his pockets, rolling his shoulders a bit before letting out a rickety exhale. He wasn’t sure what to say at the moment; between Sangyeon, Hyunjae’s blow up at the dock, the kind of bad terms you were on with each other.

“May I see your face?” he asked. He hadn’t seen it since the begging look in your eyes and he wanted to wash that away from his memory. Slowly, you raised your head to look up at him, but he wasn’t sure it was any better. The tears were cropped up against your waterline, tears you were desperately trying to fight off as your shaky fingers continued to pluck the threads on your jeans.

His jaw fell open, so many words queued at the front of his throat but none of them felt good enough to soothe the look on your face as you looked up at him, but also looked around him. Trying to decide if staying there or if reaching for you was the better option, he stood there with his fingers furled in his pockets. A few emotions swirled inside of him, feelings he couldn’t quell; he desperately wanted to avoid you once arriving, but the look on your face pressed firmly against his heart because he still cared deeply for you.

“I-I’m sorry,” you stuttered, “I didn’t expect it, him, any of it. I told Kevin, he said it would be taken care of and—”

Hyunjae gathered you into the warmth of his chest, wrapping both arms tightly around you to provide you some semblance of safety as he sat to your side on the bed.

“You do not have to apologize to me; I only wish I could have helped you sooner,” he reminded you, rocking with you a little bit before he sat more squarely on the bed and tugged you to hold you more firmly, more steadily, more securely. You hid your face against his neck, and the tightening in his throat at the feel of your warm tears against his skin was incomparable.

“I’ll have a word with Kev—”

“Please don’t,” you begged. “This was supposed to be a party for you and I don’t want it to be ruined because of me, because of Sangyeon; I should have never come, I knew it was a mistake, that there was no way it could be assured,” you explained, somehow finding your way to your feet after pushing away from him.

“Don’t…” he pleaded, reaching out to take your hand as he looked up to you now as you stood before him. “Don’t say that. I’m happy you came.” He was playing with your fingers at this point, not minding that you were looking down at that instead of at him.

“It will be getting dark soon and there will be tons of lights all over the backyard if you’ll accompany me to play some games,” he reminded you. Kevin had hosted many parties in the past with decorations just the same—twinkling multicolored lights hanging everywhere he could get them and then some to really set the mood. Hyunjae had clearly remembered how awed you were by the lights at night from the last parties you’d come to, and that in and off itself set a few butterflies free in your stomach. You looked up to him, meeting his eyes which looked at you so tenderly. It was a tough spot to be in considering, but he wasn’t about to send you back out there knowing uncertainly that Sangyeon was still looming around and would no doubt continue to cause problems if you were on your own.

He waited for your gentle nod before taking your hand fully, cupped flush against his as he guided you out of the bedroom, and shut the light off behind him to take you out to the backyard where everyone was playing games and mingling. Some conversation fell quiet as they watched you pass, others came up to speak with you more openly before he took you to a game you could play standing side by side, and he made a promise to you that he wouldn’t let you out of his sight until he knew Sangyeon was gone.

And thankfully, for both of you, the party passed pretty quickly with a handful of guests bidding farewell to Hyunjae, reiterating that it was good to see him and that he should come back and visit more often because they all missed him—you were not to be forgotten, as they all bid you farewell as well. Some whispers lingered, some sly grins and knowing gazes as they looked at the two of you, seemingly entirely blind to it.

The games had been put away as it got dark out, not even the twinkling fairy lights illuminated the backyard enough to keep the games going, but nobody seemed to mind. The fire pit was lit and a handful of folks sat around it with drinks in hand just letting the conversation flow. You were among those sitting around it, listening to the stories being shared, some about Hyunjae, but others just reminiscing about your high school times and how much some of them missed the simplicity of life back then. Sangyeon, from what you understood, had been long gone, so you felt comfortable sitting by yourself without Hyunjae’s watchful gaze as he fixed you both a drink in the kitchen before emerging with a plastic cup which was put into your line of sight in no time. You took it, looking up at him, but after his hand was emptied it continued to linger. He motioned his head out to the depths of the backyard where more lights were strung about the garden and it would give you some quiet time. Daintily, you placed your hand in his and let him lift you from the lawn chair—there was a missed beat in the conversation for a moment, but continued quickly to try and not look suspicious.

Hyunjae guided you to the exact spot at the foot of a large tree that was upending the wall that housed the backyard and disturbed some other brickwork of the nearby flower garden, but he knew a good spot where the roots dodged just enough for a plush place to sit and placed himself in it first. You looked at him, skeptical for a minute. There was a choice of where to sit, and he looked at you with no expectations that it would be like old times, so he was a tad surprised when you planted your knees in the grass in front of him and handed over your drink for a second to situate yourself, turning and placing yourself in front of him, between the cage of his legs that bent around you, and gently leaned back into the warmth of his body before collecting your drink.

“You didn’t have—”

“I could use some familiar safety right now,” you interrupted quickly, knowing exactly what he was going to say. Besides, he brought you out there for some peace which typically came from safety and you made the choice on your own.

Hyunjae hummed and leaned back against the trunk of the tree to slouch you a little deeper. Your head rested against his shoulder as you enjoyed the coolness of the evening air, the gentle sounds of crickets and other nightlife, the glow of the galaxy beyond, and the twinkling lights in the gardens around. The only unnatural sounds were that of ice melting in your cups, disturbing your drinks when the structure changed, and the way the cups sounded being moved around. It was quiet, and for the most part, you preferred it that way, but you knew another inevitable question was coming.

“You don’t have to tell me because quite frankly it’s none of my business, but what’s your history with Sangyeon?” he finally asked you. Your cup crinkled in your hand, flimsy under your grasp for only a moment while your other hand plucked a handful of blades of grass from the ground with some quiet pops. He didn’t want to make it too obvious that he didn’t like the idea of you and Sangyeon for reasons he could go on about.

“Long story short, we got together for… reasons… albeit not good ones, and he turned out to be entirely as controlling as you witnessed. I broke it off, he didn’t like it, and heard about this party and knew I’d be here… for you…”

“You should have told me,” he whispered, his voice right above your ear and you could feel the way his jaw shifted against the side of your head.

“We weren’t exactly on great terms,” you reminded him, noting the distress of his jeans against the knee, and mindlessly to distract yourself, you fiddled with the loose strands that were fraying, easy to reach with his knees bent to enclose you. “Besides, I heard there was a chance you wouldn’t show anyway. We all kind of determined that you intentionally hadn’t visited. Not that we thought you hated us, just that you wanted to move on.”

There was a tightening around Hyunjae’s heart he hated as you spoke those words. Hearing you say it hurt in a different way than him coming to grips with it himself. His legs couldn’t help but close on you a bit, a frustrated grunt squeaking from his mouth. Not here, he thought, not now. This was not the best place to be having that conversation, but little did you know that was the conversation.

“I owe you all an explanation, truly,” he said.

“You don’t, really. You have your reasons for doing things that are your own. You don’t owe anyone anything,” you said.

“I owe it to myself, then,” he retorted, “and I want to start with you. But that’s part of the big conversation and while I know you have granted me gracious time to collect my thoughts… it’s a conversation I’d rather have without prying ears as it only concerns you and me without the speculation of anyone else.”

“Hyunjae…” you trailed off, turning your head to fight against his, fluttering at the feel of the corner of his mouth and nose against your forehead. His eyes clenched tightly, once again trying to fight off the feelings, the thoughts, trying not to repeat the day on the dock. To steel his nerves, he turned to the side and took a large swig of his drink, feeling your hand wrap against the outside of his knee to tug it against your body. If it was one thing about Hyunjae you were really in tune with, it was his emotions—you tended to feel how he felt, to understand without him having to say much—and it held true even with six years apart.

“I don’t want you to feel rushed and I won’t force the conversation, but I know you want to say a lot of things, so when you’re ready…” you uttered, nuzzling your chin under his jaw. You were pushing, unintentionally, at the seams of his packaged distress. He was doing his absolute best to be there, to be the open and comforting Hyunjae he always was to you, and that was his ultimate demise. The very concept of Sangyeon put a pit in his stomach, and it didn’t even have to be Sangyeon, it just had to be anyone that wasn’t him. But how was he supposed to tell you everything? About why he left, about the things, the feelings, he wanted to leave behind without seeming insulting to you; and then how was he to address that those same issues never went away, that seeing you for the first time even after all that time stoked the same fire, if not more so.

But back then he was just a kid, and it felt stupid, all of it. The distance hurt like hell, but after a bit it became refreshing. Each year got easier to not come back; but he missed his friends, he missed his family, he missed you, but he didn’t miss the way he bit his tongue, the way he stowed his feelings, the way he’d dare not ruin the amazing friendship you had over what he called selfishness. He wanted you to be free without his burden, which ultimately started driving his choice to leave.

He never changed; he could still feel the tip of his tongue clamped between his teeth, still feel the churning in his stomach with the attempt to put his feelings away, the lump in his throat which felt like a swollen version of his heart, a hole in his chest which the alcohol wasn’t helping in the slightest.

“I think it’s about time we head home,” Hyunjae commented after a few moments of tense silence. You were trying to understand the emotions you were feeling via Hyunjae, the way he was feeling, the sudden tenseness of his body, the closed-off disposition. “I’ll walk you,” he added, a lulled whisper in your ear.

You both made your way to your feet, discarding your cups in the kitchen after bidding everyone goodnight and thanking Kevin for the hospitality. You all lived close, the same homes from the district which put you in close walking distance. Hyunjae offered his elbow to you the way he always did, and the both of you meandered rather slowly to your home where he could drop you off. You wrapped both hands around his bicep, a million thoughts running through both of your heads, putting you in seemingly different worlds than each other while walking right next to one another.

Needless to say, the two of you arrived at your front porch far sooner than either of you were ready. Hyunjae took your hand to help you up the step onto your landing, but the lingering way he gazed at you let you know that he was feeling the same way; that for some reason you weren’t quite ready to leave now that you were really alone. But it was already late, had to have been past midnight, and lingering on your landing could look suspicious.

Still, you turned to look at him, not so much at his face, but at his throat, at the undone button of his black shirt, at the way his throat shifted as he swallowed hard. His thumbs were hooked in his pockets as he stood as attentive as he could muster, waiting for you like he always did. You, on the other hand, fiddled with the hem of your shirt as you thought of what to say, what to do, if it would be best to just say goodnight and be on your way, or if you had something more to say.

Your gaze finally landed on his face, looking over his features. He must have been able to feel your gaze, because slowly his eyes flittered up to meet yours, glimmering in the dim porch light. With you up on the landing, the two of you were closer to the same height—you smiled, remembering how much he’d matured since you last saw him. It seemed like the only thing that could roll off your tongue was his name, so almost silently it did so once more. You watched his gaze shift between your eyes, his feet shuffled forward to bring himself closer to the landing. Slowly, your hands came up; an innate desire to put them against him had you placing them gently on his shoulders. His breath shuttered against your face, jaw tightening as your brow furrowed a bit.

He was so close to you, your arms were entirely folded at the elbow, you could practically feel the warmth radiate off him, his face had to be no further than a couple of inches now that his eyes were peering slightly down at you and still glimmered like the galaxy captive. It took a second for you to realize that his face was sinking closer to yours, that his head tentatively tilted just as his nose brushed against yours. You took a deep breath, fingers anticipatorily furling against his shoulders as his lips fleetingly brushed yours. He waited a moment for you to object, one of his hands freeing itself from his pocket to place tenderly against your hip while your breath was caught in your throat, but when you did not attempt to move away or verbally object, he leaned in further.

It took only a second for you to fall entirely into his grasp, feet shuffling forward just a tad as he slipped his hand around your back to put your body against his; your arms slid around his neck especially as he stepped up onto the landing, and guided you backward to gingerly press you up against your front door with a few readjustments. You couldn’t quite place the mix of flavors you were tasting, but it was clouding your better judgment—many factors were in play between the kiss, the way his fingers pressed into your lower back, the way he had you arching against him, the Sangyeon panic, the alcohol, the distance, which all made the experience surreal. But you couldn’t deny the way your chest was exploding, the way your nerves were all on end, the way it felt so right after so many years.

You almost sighed, the way his tongue flicked against your bottom lip before your subconscious was pinging on the Sangyeon panic, and your arms retreated from his neck to weakly push against his shoulders. He tugged away, the tender sounds of a broken kiss ringing in your ears like a train whistle before those same warm lips were pressing soft kisses against your jaw, and only after a successful few did you find any words to push from your throat.

“Maybe don’t,” you uttered, more as a sigh as your head tilted back to quietly hit your door, “my breakup is still fresh, and we still need to talk.”

Your voice was a whisper of the wind, but still enough for him to ease off, to pull back and press his forehead against yours after noticing your eyes were closed. His hands tugged your hips into his since your hands were still flittering somewhat across the nape of his neck. Your tongue darted out to flick across your lips, remnants of rum and coke lingered before he took a whole step away from you, and that meant the protective grasp of his hands against your hips was gone as well.

“I’m sorry,” you uttered, “I’m sure I’ve been sending you strong signals all night, and when you stepped in and… your safety and your scent and your touch and charm…”

“This is exactly why I didn’t want to come back,” he muttered under his breath, looking up at the cracking paint of your porch covering. He hoped it wasn’t loud enough for you to hear, but unfortunately, it was. You looked at him, queueing a couple of replies in your throat that never seemed to fit the situation and adequately explain how you felt at the same time. You waited only long enough for his gaze to cast back down to you, almost expecting you to say something, but you had twisted the knob to your door and disappeared into the darkness of your home without another word. Could you say it was the best decision? Perhaps not. But in that moment you feared that you would say something that would damage an already delicate situation. If you had just left it at the bit about the breakup and about needing to talk, he would have understood. Everything else just confirmed his fears about you; that you liked the idea of him. He shook his head and turned to head home, ignoring the prying questions of his sister who was surprisingly still awake and, without turning a single light on, closed the door to his room and crawled into bed.

Hyunjae was quiet for subsequent days—too quiet, really, and under the prying and watchful eyes of his sister to look for anything to start a conversation about. Hyunjae was a brick wall. As stoic as anyone could be, almost emotionless, and that, in and of itself, was enough to break the ice about it.

“What’s turned you into a zombie?” she asked, closing the door behind her as she entered Hyunjae’s room. He was reading on the bed, but maybe he couldn’t even call it reading; it was more like his eyes were scanning the same ten sentences a hundred times, never once comprehending what any of it said only to start over from square one again. His brain was scattered, the was no arguing that. But while he thought that his scattered brain would provide him with at least some thought about how to handle the situation, there was no such luck for that either. He had become zombie-like between the lack of emotion and disregarding actions.

His eyes shifted over to her—he looked tired; dark circles around his somewhat reddened eyes, but maybe that was for a reason yet to be clear. He took a deep breath, closed his book, and turned to her.

“The same reason I left in the first place,” he replied, not anticipating that she would have an immediate response—she didn’t. She wasn’t confused, she had a pretty good idea why he left even though she never pressured him to say; he had to do what he had to do for himself and no one would stand in the way of that.

“Should I tell her you’re napping, then?” she finally said.

Those few words dropped on Hyunjae like a bomb. The gears ground in his head for a moment, trying to comprehend how incredibly dire the situation was seemingly suddenly. He blinked a couple of times.

“What?” he asked.

“Did I stutter? Do you want me to ask her to leave? She’s having tea with mom downstairs, I said I would come see if you were available since apparently you haven’t been answering your phone.”

He looked over at the device on his bed, remembering the decision he made right before he closed his eyes for the night to block your number. His heart simply couldn’t bear dealing with anything you had to say, if you did even dare attempt to contact him.

A deep sigh fell between his lips as he stared past his phone and at an undesignated imagined hole in the wall. He all but slapped his book down on his bed and dropped his face into his hands, running his fingers deep in his hair just to tug at it.

“Are you serious,” he growled. Was it not enough, what happened? Was it not clear enough that he wanted to just disappear back into the night like he had never shown back up in the first place?

“Whatever problem you’re having with her, you need to solve it before you leave again, if that’s what you decide to do. If that means closing that book, then do it; but leaving it open is only going to hurt more,” she advised, reaching over to take one of his hands after it fell slack at his side. He looked over at her, but he could tell by the look on her face that she was serious. Not closing the back cover left the wounds wide open and he had already experienced once just how painful that could be.

There was a knock on the door, followed by his mother’s voice, and before he even had time to object the door was being pushed open, and there you stood, looking like you’d slept as much if not less than himself.

Hyunjae let out a disappointed and frustrated sigh as he rolled his eyes away, his sister gave a displeased growl while you looked directly at him. Although Hyunjae’s sister harbored no ill will towards you, she cared immensely for Hyunjae which made the situation that much harder. She couldn’t stand to see him like this, but she also didn’t know the whole story, just that it was about you as so many things had been in the past. She stood and turned to Hyunjae for a moment.

“Do what’s best for you,” she reminded him, glanced at you, and side-stepped you to bring her mother away from the situation.

“Great,” Hyunjae growled sarcastically as he turned to sit on the side of his bed and meet your gaze to the best of his ability. Slowly you stepped in, closing the door behind you. The last thing you wanted was for this to turn into a blowout, but you knew things were rough between the two of you, and you could tell he was suffering just as much as you were about the entire thing.

“Hyunjae,” you greeted, not pleasantly nor firmly. He could see the quiver in your jaw just saying his name, but that didn’t stave off his fiery feelings in the slightest.

He muttered your name back, a greeting somewhat in return.

“I know you don’t want to talk to me—”

“Then why are you here?” he asked, almost barked.

You sighed, slinking against his door. Hyunjae tended to get rough when he was wounded, like a cornered dog who had no choice but to bite back.

“Because I gave you as much time as I could but it obviously can’t wait anymore,” you replied, trying to force confidence into your voice. You needed to stand your ground with him, even if you were never particularly good at doing so.

“You’re right, I don’t want to talk to you. Not only that, but I don’t think there’s anything to talk about anymore. So, sorry you came all the way here for nothing, but I don’t have anything left to offer you,” he snapped, standing from his bed and approached the door, and you, and reached out in an attempt to tug it open.

You pressed against it harder, forcing against his pull to keep the door closed. He scoffed and looked to your face containing the most determined look you could muster since you had arrived. You glared up at him and growled his name.

“You’re pissed at me, and you have every right to be. But we spent many years being the closest of friends, and whenever we had a spat, we always worked it out. And even if things are a bit rocky right now, and it looks like I’m not your friend, I’m at least here as someone who cares so deeply about you—in whatever way you want to interpret that—to try and work through this with you, the way he always have,” you almost pleaded, but with a conviction that made it sound more like a statement for the first time since you’d arrived.

“I know you’re hurting, and I know I’m the cause of that. But to think that I’m here for any other reason than to try and make it right…” you trailed off with the shake of your head, gaze trailing away from his for only a moment, “you know me better than that. And if I know anything about you, you left for a reason, so let’s start there.”

“What is this, freakin’ honesty hour?” he asked, taking a step away from the door, almost attempting to convince you that this was ridiculous, but your reply jarred him.

“Yes, it is, that’s the whole purpose of trying to solve something, being transparent.”

“You want me to be transparent?” he almost roared.

“I want us both to be transparent, Hyunjae,” you fired back, although quite a bit calmer than him.

He paced for a moment, trying to figure out how he was going to approach this—the best way didn’t matter to him, he just wanted to express his feelings at the expense of anyone else’s feelings, because everything to that point had been at the expense of his. You stayed pressed up against his room door, watching him pace, watching him think, watching the frustration build on his face until he finally got some words out.

“The other night,” he started, pausing his pacing to look at you, “when you just let me fall into a bear trap…” He laughed, but it wasn’t because it was funny—his brow was furrowed in disbelief as he looked at you, a hurt on his face you’d never seen before. “I left because I couldn’t take it anymore.”

You swallowed hard, having a good idea what he was talking about already, but you still wanted him to say it out loud—you still wanted to have a conversation.

“Couldn’t take what, Hyunjae?” you asked delicately.

“You,” he replied, jaw clenching for a moment, fists following before he took a deep breath himself. “The way we were. How… connected we were. How open and honest and upfront we were, how deep we were,” he explained, or tried.

“And the other night is related because?”

He bit his tongue, you could see it peek out from behind his teeth before he turned his face away from you, clenching his eyes before his hands found his dresser, holding him up in a sense as he leaned into it. A few deep and rickety breaths followed as he composed himself enough to say something.

“It confirmed the fears I struggled with, suffered with, that you only liked the idea of me. Confirmed the fears that you wanted me in theory, and how strained that made my ability to maintain a friendship with you. I left because it seemed easier to forget about the feelings when you weren’t right in my face. I left because I thought it would be easier to move on. You said the other day you sent me strong signals, and you did. They were strong signals; they were wrong signals—”

“They weren’t wrong,” you interrupted, “I was torn between respecting my relationship space with Sangyeon and being elated that you were back and willing to treat me like we’d never skipped a beat,” you tried to explain in return.

He spun to face you, tears already pushed off his face. His heart hurt unbelievably, fiery but in a negative way, squeezing in his chest as he formulated his reply.

“So you think it’s cool to just lead me on? To not only let me but encourage me to kiss you on your front porch and lean into it like you welcomed it, just to hit me with all that shit about my safety, my scent, my charm and in essentially the same breath tell me that I’ve crossed a line? I’ve come to terms with the fact that you’re just the one I won’t ever get over, but you don’t have to make it so damn hard for me the one time I do decide to come back!”

“Hyunjae—”

“Do not. Do not try to charm me with those pretty little eyes, with the sweet way you say my name—” he growled, unable to finish before you had something to say.

“I’m not!” you retaliated. “I am not trying to get out of what I did! I am not trying to discredit how you feel or play the victim in any way. I know my approach wasn’t great, and I will be the first to admit that. But if we could go back and redo the situation… if you hadn’t kissed me, I probably would have kissed you,” you expressed to him.

“I don’t like the idea of you, Hyunjae. I’ve always liked you. And when you left, it took me a few years to get in the game to try and move on… I got with Sangyeon because it felt, in the beginning, like he understood me. Like he empathized with my loss, which was you, and I had an aching, a pit that needed to be filled that I thought he could fill. But that pit is shaped exactly like you, and I realized that nothing else will ever fit it properly…”

You tried so hard to maintain your resolve, but the way getting all of that off your chest made you feel in combination with the look on Hyunjae’s face, you weren’t sure how long you would last. You couldn’t tell if he thought you were lying or not.

“What a jerk I’ve been to you,” you continued, “This is why I get so mad about you saying stuff like how mean you’ve been to me; like you think I thought you left without a purpose. I didn’t know, exactly, your purpose at the time, but I knew it was one you needed for yourself. So, why would I think you were a jerk for that? When you didn’t reach out, I saw the signs like freeway billboards—”

“I loved you,” he interjected. “And I was so scared that if I had admitted that to you, that I would lose you, but I ended up losing you anyway because I was too weak to swallow the fact that I did love you. That I do love you. That those six years away did nothing to help me move on,” he replied, pouring it all out for you, finally saying what he needed to say for so many years and a weight lifted off his chest, but it didn’t stop the squeezing feeling.

“I got too worried trying to respect the relationship with a man who never respected me; who took advantage of me knowing I was vulnerable without you; and if I had come to that conclusion on the landing that night… Hyunjae, I may have not let you leave. It was like my favorite coffee on a cold day, like the sun on my skin in the late spring, like the spray of the water on the dock—nothing has ever felt more like home.”

Hyunjae let out a deep sigh, blinking back the tears that pushed at the outer corners of his eyes as he slipped to the floor. His gaze looked out but didn’t find anything in particular, clouded anyway. He took a moment to reflect on the way the hardwood panels felt underneath his fingers, the way breath filled his lungs, the way his eyes stung, the sound of you sliding down to the floor yourself against his room door.

There wasn’t much else that needed to be said, so the two of you sat across the floor from each other in relative silence for quite a few lingering moments. The both of you were trying to regulate your breathing, trying to quench the fire that burned deep down.

It took a moment, but he crawled across the floor of his room to sit up in the corner of the wall and the door and asked for your hand only to coax you over to him, between his legs to rest up against him as he settled his chin on your shoulder. From then, it was a matter of time and healing, and he wanted to spend the initial healing time with you in his arms in the quiet of his room as the both of you processed everything that was said.

All that could be heard throughout the room was perhaps gentle breathing, silently the continued refusal of tears that stung both your eyes. Hyunjae dug his face in the crook of your neck, even if you were turned away from him; he didn’t want you to see it. But even if you couldn’t see it, you could feel the way his rickety breath fell across your shoulder, the way he trembled against your back, the warmth of his tears against your skin and even though things were on the mend, that, in and of itself, stung like hell.

Hyunjae’s pain had always been your pain, and vice versa—his happiness, his burdens, his struggles, his successes and triumphs; they had always been shared because of your dynamic, and it was clear things weren’t about to change. It had always been a love the both of you were too afraid to admit because there was a very real chance it would drive you away from each other.

“I love you, Hyunjae…” you muttered. It was the only reassuring thing you hadn’t said.

His arms tightened around you, fingers digging deeper into the fabric of your shirt that furled in his grasp. There was a mumble into your skin—you didn’t hear him, but you had a decent idea what it consisted of.

It was contemptuous to even consider moving for a bit. Relishing each other’s presence seemed cathartic, to a point; it felt as though as you sat there with each other, after laying it all on the table, that the healing was somewhat fortified. As the time passed, your touches against each other were different, softer in a way, more calculated, and genuine. Millions of things were still running through each other’s minds—even though there was nothing left to say, you both were over thinkers to the core, so that occupied most of the silence between you. At least, until there was a knock on Hyunjae’s door. He hadn’t realized the time, or how much time had passed, but he helped you to your feet before tugging the door open to reveal his sister.

“We’re getting ready for dinner, you’re welcome to stay…” she hesitated, noting the look on both your faces. Your eyes were noticeably still red and swollen—you never had a quick recovery after crying, even if it was somewhat tame. Hyunjae was still pushing at his own tears, too.

“Thank you, but I should get going,” you replied, a sad smile on your face as you looked to Hyunjae who understood that not only would it be incredibly awkward, but that you both probably needed some time alone with your thoughts. He nodded encouragingly, agreeing with your conclusion before he began ushering you through his door. After following his sister down the stairs, you quietly greeted both of their parents, thanked them for the offer for dinner, and had Hyunjae show you out.

“I’ll walk you,” he asserted, but you quickly shook your head.

“Your dinner is hot, you should stay; it’s still light, I’ll be okay on my own,” you replied as you turned to face him, to look up into his somewhat swollen eyes, to catch the fleeting tremble of his lip as he looked back at you. Before he could nod in reluctant agreement, you reached out to take his hand and gently squeeze it. You used that hand to pull him closer to you, the half a step distance you needed to stand high on your toes to press a soft kiss against his cheek; it was sticky but you didn’t care. His eyes fell closed as you lingered there for a moment then you drifted back to the flats of your feet, gave his hand another squeeze, stepped off the landing of his house, and turned down the street. A few trickling moments passed before his sister collected him at the door, encouraging him back inside to try and eat something even if he wasn’t hungry. Surely, he would hear from you soon enough.

It was a weird type of limbo to be in, unknowing when it was appropriate to contact the other, and sheepishly waiting around for the other to do the dirty work. This inevitably led to another few days of silence, but that didn’t stop you from calling up Younghoon—your new closest friend since your falling out with Hyunjae—to ask for his advice, since he never seemed to give it unsolicited.

Nervously, you turned your iced coffee between your hands as you sat across the café table from him. Patiently, he continued to wait for you, never forcing a word out of you or a move of any kind. When you had called him up saying that you wanted to talk to him about Hyunjae, especially considering the look he gave you at Kevin’s party after Hyunjae had helped you out of a precarious situation, he was eager to meet with you—not because he had dirt or anything to spill, but because he knew, somewhere in there, you agonized over Hyunjae; sometimes in unhealthy ways. You had always been friends with Younghoon, so he was the natural next best to Hyunjae; expressly since he’d watched your friendship at its peak and watched the way it splintered into nothing—admittedly, he was the only one with your actual best interest in mind, particularly when you concluded that Hyunjae’s absence crushed you in ways you couldn’t explain initially.

“Sorry,” you muttered, a rickety diffident to your voice with another shaky exhale.

“I’m in no rush, you know I’m here for you,” he replied. “Why don’t we start with this; you mumbled hurriedly over the phone about how things had been solved, and then unsolved,” he prompted, giving you somewhere to jump off from since it appeared you were having a hard time finding somewhere to start.

A tough swallow broke down your throat as you thought about the instance in which he reached for your arm and asked if you were okay, your hand laced with Hyunjae’s.

“About that—he caught Sangyeon being… well, Sangyeon,” you answered. Part of you figured Younghoon would be offended you didn’t tell him about the incident with Sangyeon, and you honestly weren’t even positive he’d been seen by Younghoon or Kevin for that matter.

Younghoon’s eyes perked a little bit; the situation was a little different now that he knew you had been in Sangyeon’s clutches only to be rescued by Hyunjae. It seemed right, in all fairness.

“We’d fought a couple of days before—not really a fight, a small disagreement, and weren’t on the best of terms. It was a weird situation that went from bad to good to bad all in one evening…” You had to trail off, thinking about the events as they replayed in your mind. But it was salvaged now, right? You blew off your steam with each other and found a ground with equal footing, but things were still awkward.

“The point is, I’m here because we finally had a talk, and while it wasn’t really talking and more like yelling at each other and then breaking down into mutually pathetic messes, I came to ask you what you think is the best way to approach him now. We haven’t talked in a couple of days, I think we’re both kind of hinging on the other being the first to reach out for contact,” you explained.

Younghoon sat in contemplation for a moment. There was no correct answer to your question, and he couldn’t even say there was one approach that was better than the other. Even something as simple as texting him to ask how he was doing could be enough to open the door, so he didn’t take long to come up with that to say to you.

“I suppose you think it’s weird to just text him to ask how he is.” Apparently, the situation was a little more complicated in your eyes than he initially thought.

“I had six years to do that,” you replied, your plastic cup crinkling under the pressure of your fingers furling against it.

“Of course,” he answered, understanding the situation a little better. “To be completely honest with you, you both have overcome a lot already, if you consider. Between the frontages, the distance, the coming back together, and all the drama that came with all that, you both have managed to sort something positive out, right? I’m sure there’s nothing you could say that would have a negative impact short of telling him you wish he’d leave again, and I doubt you’re going to say that.”

A slight laugh escaped from your throat, but it could have been mistaken as a scoff just as much. It was ridiculous for Younghoon to even suggest that, because he was completely right—only if you became possessed would you consider saying that to him.

“I know it feels like a delicate situation, but I’m positive it’s far less delicate than screaming at him in the middle of his bedroom about how dumb you both were being after re-shattering his still splintered heart.”

“Ouch,” you responded, even if it was true, and it was never like Younghoon to pull punches when you needed to hear something. And he had always known of Hyunjae’s feelings for you, so that didn’t make this conversation any less brutal.

“Also, I’m not saying it will be instantaneous, but I’m also certain that deep in there he’s elated to have you back, too, and in the state he’d battled with himself about for some time. You might be best off asking to meet on neutral turf so there’s no awkward looming—I know how nosey Hyunjae’s sister can be,” Younghoon laughed and took a swig of his coffee, relaxing back into his chair which, inevitable, had you relaxing back into yours, letting his words sink in as you picked up your phone to type a message to Hyunjae about meeting up the next day.

The late evening sun glimmered off the water, stretching left and right as far as you could see. The soft ripples of the water catching the light to produce a river of diamonds while your legs hung off the edge of the dock. Your phone was tucked deep in your pocket, an unread message about Hyunjae being on his way to meet you sat in your notifications bar. There was an unexplainable tightening in your chest, but maybe it was just because it was the first time you were getting to see him after the tipping point. An unreasonable voice called from the back of your mind to back out; that it had already been a rough time with him, maybe it was better to just let it go—a voice you had to really try to push away.

Another rigid breath—how many had come in the last few days, you would have a hard time counting—as you steeled your nerves, clutching the edge of the dock as you tried to wait patiently, at least until a small cup jingled with ice from the side of your face. Hesitantly, you looked over and slowly followed the arm up to a familiar face. He smiled delicately, his lips barely tugging at the corners to produce it, but it was detectable by your trained eyes.

“Hi,” he almost whispered as you faltered a bit in taking the flavored iced tea from him; it was a little late in the evening to be having coffee—not that it had ever stopped you in the past. He took a seat next to you, letting his legs dangle over the edge of the dock next to yours. To say that he was sitting comfortably close was an understatement; his hip was effectively pressed up next to yours, just like old times, but there was a new sense of comfort that washed over you from the fact, even if the nerves were bundling in your throat.

“Hi,” you choked back, eyes never breaking their contact with his being even when he settled. “I’m going to apologize in advance if this is extremely awkward.”

“Funny, I was just about to say the same thing to you,” he laughed, looking out over the water to notice the same sea of diamonds you’d been entertaining yourself with since you took a place on the dock yourself. “Can’t say I’ve been through this before, so it’s definitely new and rocky terrain.”

“You seem jovial, nonetheless,” you replied.

“One of us has to try to keep a good spirit,” he joked, elbowing you in the side, reminding you that you weren’t exactly the mood-maker of your duo, before he took a swig of his tea. You followed suit, uttering your gratitude, before forcing a bit of confidence into your bones. All of the times you’d sat on the dock with him in the past in this very setting came rushing back to your immediate memory, and with it, all the times you’d begged to loop your arm around his. So, with a bit of hesitancy, you moved your tea to your hand opposite of him and swiftly stuck your hand under the crevice between his arm and torso to wrap your hand around his bicep, additionally leaning your head against his shoulder to avoid the imminent gaze that would no doubt scout your embarrassed features in half a second flat. Hyunjae did, in fact, turn to look, a more noticeable smile tugging at his face as he pulled that arm tighter to his body, acknowledging your courageous display of affection, and gave you the satisfaction of relishing it without some signature sassy remark from him as he leaned his head against yours.

The way you clenched your hand against his bicep was indicative of looking for something to say, scrapping any ideas you had in your head a handful of times. He knew you weren’t the best with words, especially after having a fight—that’s what he’d call it, because it kind of was—but that didn’t stop him from waiting for you to say anything. Instead, you opted to nudge your head up a little bit, wedging it between his head and shoulder a little further before a somewhat exasperated noise slipped from between your lips.

Hyunjae discarded his tea gently against the finished dock, turning his full attention to you. His slender fingers gently prodded against your jaw, prompting you to lift your head from his shoulder. It was always like him to take control of the situation, and to be completely honest, you had banked on that for this entire meeting. You were pleased to look at him per his will, tilting your chin up so that his face could slip by yours and press a lingering kiss against your cheek, the way you had to his at the end of your last meeting. Perhaps the most important meeting.

Again, you wanted to speak with nothing really to say. Your eyes fluttered at the feel of his supple lips against your cheek and remained closed when his delicate fingers flittered away from your jaw and his hand cupped against the back of your neck, craning up only slightly to place another kiss against your forehead, and another against your cheek—you had to chuckle, nervously nipping at your bottom lip as you tried to read his intentions.

“Just let me marinate in the fact that I have dreamed about this for eight years, and I’m finally here,” he mumbled against your skin, knowing that you were laughing at him.

“I’m laughing at you because you keep missing,” you replied, eyes fluttering open to meet his as he pulled back. The gentle smiles fell from both your faces as your gaze teetered between each other’s eyes, noting their glimmer, their depth, the absolutely homey look you gave each other. Your breaths mingled just a few inches from each other between the two of you before you noted the way his tongue flicked out to moisten his lips—in nervousness or preparation, you couldn’t tell. When he noticed the way your eyes fell past his nose, he couldn’t help but speak up.

“Is that so?” he asked nearly inaudibly.

“As a matter of fact…” you trailed off, anticipating the way one of his hands reached across you to help you settle your tea against the dock so you could place that hand wherever you’d like as his mouth descended on yours, delicately eclipsing yours in a softly meshed kiss that felt worlds different from the one on the landing of your home after Kevin’s party. It felt like a plug had been pulled, and all the tension that culminated between the two of you was swirling away into the abyss as you melted into his touch, gingerly cupping your cheek until his lips broke away. A silent protest came in the form of an exasperated exhale, that shy smile returning to your lips noting he hadn’t pulled far enough away to be out of reach, so you took it upon yourself to lean in for another quick peck.

“Somewhere deep in the back of my mind,” he began, waiting for a moment for your eyes to open so he could look into them once more, “I had always hoped I would get to kiss you on this very dock with the sun going down and glimmering against the water, exactly the way it is.”

You placed your hand down over his, which was pinning you somewhat against the dock as he rotated to face you. The look on your face was enough, he didn’t really need a reply; everything that needed to be said had already been said. Even still, you had something for him.

“Me, too,” you replied, leaning up to nuzzle your nose against his for just a moment, “so, I’m glad you came back to figure it out. I needed you more than anything.”

Hyunjae chuckled; the thoughts he had been battling with for so long about why he was returning all suddenly made sense, like a message in the stars, a secret nudge from the universe telling him there would be something special about him coming back, pushing through the dread he had cut with your hometown. He remembered letting it marinade for a week after the idea first crossed his mind. Maybe he was feeling homesick, admittedly he missed his parents and his sister, but he could tell there was something more.

“Something in the vast infinity delivered your call,” he whispered to you.

“I owe whatever mystical message that led you back to me a great debt.”

“Why don’t you just say you missed me?” he teased.

“The way I missed you is beyond anything I could string together with words, Hyunjae,” you replied, pushing him back a little bit to put him physically on the defensive for only a second before he took the opportunity to pull you across his lap so he could have you as close as possible.

“And showing you feels a little more vulnerable; maybe we needed that all along, instead of putting on that tough face for each other,” you told him, your smile saying something different as your hand gingerly stroked through the tresses of hair on the back of his neck, tilting his head to look at you before your foreheads met, eyes fluttered closed once more.

A moment relishing this closeness was much needed and long-awaited.

#deobiwritersnet #hyunjae scenarios #hyunjae fic #hyunjae oneshot #tbz scenarios #tbz fic #tbz oneshot #hyunjae fluff #hyunjae angst #tbz fluff #tbz angst #hyunjae #tbz hyunjae

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stxrrywildflower · 4 years

Text

can’t help falling in love (one)

pairing - george weasley x reader

summary - you ask george to be your date to your sisters wedding

warnings - mentions of family/home issues

word count - 2.6k

series masterlist

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

george always valued family and friendship more than anything.

he grew up with multitudes of siblings and being a twin himself, those bonds were something taught to him at a very young age. even harry, when introduced to the family, slowly turned from just ‘ron’s friend’ to another little brother.

you, on the other hand, you were something different to george.

you had met the weasley’s when you were only ten.

it was the summer before you were set to start at hogwarts. your grandmother had taken you to diagon alley to get your materials for the school year; robes, books, and your wand being some of the most notable items.

you owed your grandmother the credit for your magical abilities. you were muggle-born, having two muggle parents and you inheriting your abilities from your grandmother.

while shopping, your grandmother had bumped into an old friend, none other than molly weasley. while the two had talked on and on, you shyly drifted away from your grandmother.

you found herself lingering around eeylops owl emporium, looking at the different birds and the other products they carried.

“one day we’re going to own a shop here! and you’re the first one to hear it.”

the two ginger boys who were previously hiding behind their mum had drifted just like you. “really? what kind of shop?” you asked.

“one for pranks!” one of them spoke. “yeah and gag products too!” the other one added.

you wanted to continue the conversation, but at the same time you still didn’t know who you were really talking to other than the fact they were molly’s kids.

“i’m fred,” the first one waved after realizing he should probably introduce himself. “and i’m george,” the other one greeted.

you nodded with a small smile. “y/n.”

from that day on, an instant friendship was formed.

just in that day alone, you got both your robes and wands together and even lunch. when the day was over, the twins had left with wide grins, waves, and the promise for you to all sit on the train together.

it took a bit for you to distinguish the twins apart but after being pointed out their subtle differences, a day didn’t go by where you mixed them up.

you did everything together without even realizing the future you had ahead of you. ten year old you didn’t even think about the boys you would be getting your first wands with would turn into your best friends.

the sorting ceremony was what really sealed it.

you were absolutely terrified walking into the great hall. between the stares of the students at their house tables and the teachers, you were a bundle of nerves.

fred and george were sent up before you, fred going first up to the sorting hat followed by george. it was no doubt where they would end up.

when your name was called, you nearly froze. however, fred and george at the gryffindor table had given you a reassuring thumbs-up with a smile. sure it was simple but it had given you a boost of confidence.

“y/n y/l/n?” professor mcgonagall had called.

you headed up to the front, taking a seat on the stool as the sorting hat was placed on your head.

it took a few minutes, with some random chatter from the sorting hat, before your house was given to you.

“gryffindor!” the sorting hat announced.

fred and george met you at the table with a strong hug, the three of you more than overjoyed you were sorted together.

molly and your grandmother were equally as excited. the first opportunity you had, you sent a letter home telling her all about your arrival and finally your house. fred and george did the same, though their sorting wasn’t exactly a surprise.

you went home with the weasley’s during your first christmas break. your grandmother was going to be traveling and your parents and sister, well your parents and your sister were a different story.

the weasley’s welcomed you with opened arms. you, fred, and george were already close. percy was at hogwarts with you as well. you met ron, ginny, bill, and charlie.

your friendship only grew as you went up in the years. just like they had mentioned when you first met, fred and george started working on different prank products the second they had the access to the right materials. you assisted, of course, but honestly, you were the least rebellious of your group.

but like most friend groups, there were always two that were closer than the others. that fell to you and george. you were still close with fred, of course, but there was something about the bond you and george had that went beyond anything.

the twins still knew almost everything about you. but you always tried to block one thing from them; your family issues.

they never questioned when you changed the subject of it when it was brought up and never once complained when you stayed at their home over going to yours.

but with the recent events and arrival of your invitation, it was something both boys couldn’t ignore.

↓

george couldn’t find you until later that afternoon.

since you had rushed out of class after getting a letter, no one had seen you, harry, or hermione.

ron was on the lookout as well. his friends had failed to show in in the great hall for lunch or even just in the hallways.

“fred! george!” ron called to his brothers. “have you seen harry and hermione?”

george shrugged. “i know they’re with y/n but that’s about it. haven’t seen her since she rushed out of transfiguration.”

“you think they’re back in the common room?” fred questioned.

“it’s worth a try.”

the three brothers arrived at the gryffindor corridor after a few moments. judging by the scarce amount of students and few first years scurrying out of the portrait entrance, there was no doubt you were inside.

ron took the initiate to repeat the passcode. even from the outside they would hear what sounded like arguing.

“y/n you have to do what makes you comfortable.”

“yeah but then-” you stopped your response to hermione’s words the second you noticed the others enter the room. “oh hey guys.”

“what’s going on? we haven’t seen you for hours,” george immediately rushed out.

the twins and ron finally took a minute to examine the room, eyes darting around to see where everyone was situated.

harry was leaning against the wall under the window, arms crossed with a concerned look on his face. hermione was more calm, taking a seat on one of the chairs though her expression did mirror harry’s.

you, on the other hand, took a seat from your previous pacing just as the other group entered.

“it’s nothing guys,” you mumbled.

“y/n,” fred started as he sat criss-crossed in front of you. george did the same, though he tapped your knee twice. it was a simple gesture, though it did gain your attention. “you can talk to us, you know that,” george finished.

“i got my sisters wedding invitation today. it’s this saturday,” you spoke. “and i don’t like talking about it but uh, i don’t really get along well with her.”

it took a lot for you to even get that out. you were more than thankful no one pushed the subject further.

“do you not want to go?”

you shook you head. “i mean not really. but i feel like i have to. if not i don’t really know how i would feel as a person.”

“well whatever you decide, just know we’re all here for you, okay?”

you nodded. “thank you guys, it really means a lot.”

the group in the common room slowly started to disperse after that. you declined any invitations to go get food or explore the school but instead took a seat back down in front of fire.

one thing you failed to mention; you needed a date.

↓

you asked george wednesday night.

“george,” you interrupted, already shooting an apologetic look to the others at the table. “can i talk to you for a second?”

you ignored the chorus of ‘oooh’s’ from the others at the table as george stood up. “georgie’s in trouble,” fred spoke in a sing-song tone.

“i’ll see you all later,” george spoke to the table.

he followed you out of the great hall. as you were heading down one of the hallways, george leaned down to interlock your hands, swinging them back and forth in front of you.

you had to admit, it did incite a laugh out of you. george always knew how to cheer you up, even if it meant just little gesture as silly as that.

you finally pulled george down one of the corridors, situating yourself in one of the corners behind the walls. you could actually talk to him without having to worry about prying eyes.

“so you know how i have to go home for my sisters wedding this weekend?” you asked.

george nodded as he crossed his arms. “yes?”

“i need a date to go with me. it says so on the invitation,” you fiddled with the sleeve of your robe, unable to meet george’s eyes. “could you maybe come with me? you totally don’t have to if you don’t want and i know i’m a muggle-born so a lot of my family doesn’t really know magic and that’s a lot different the your-”

george cut off your rambling with a grab of your hands. “hey hey hey, you really think i wouldn’t go because your a muggle-born?” george asked, his tone being one of almost hurt.

you shrugged, hiding your face once more. “you see how some people treat us. besides, it’s a muggle wedding. no offense but i know you don’t know how a lot of things in the muggle world work. i wasn’t sure if you would want to go for that reason.”

“y/n i would love to go,” george smiled.

you let out a sigh of relief. “but if you don’t mind me asking, why me?” george questioned.

“well you’re my best friend. fred is cool and all but i just feel a lot more comfortable going with you.”

george’s confidence grew ten times from your words. was he proud you chose him over fred? absolutely. but honestly, he was really really happy to be invited.

“i know you mentioned it before but i wanted to reassure something to you. i know your family relationship is rocky but i promise, i’ll support you with whatever it is. if you want to go home at any point during the trip, just say the word and we’ll go. okay?”

you bit your lip to hold back the tears already welling in your eyes. “is george weasley going soft on me?”

his cheeks flushed a shade of red at your comment. “maybe,” he mumbled. you reached up to place your hand on his cheek. “i don’t mind, it’s sweet.”

george smiled back down at you, squeezing your hand as you brought it back down.

“mcgonagall wanted to see me and whoever i decided to take tomorrow night to go over some things. thank you can meet me after dinner?” you asked.

“of course, though you may have to remind me,” george grinned.

you matched his expression. “i’ll see you then.”

↓

suprisingly, george did in fact remember your appointment.

he met you outside of the great hall. “ready to go see mcgonagall?” george questioned. you nodded, “yeah let’s go.”

mcgonagall’s office didn’t take long to reach, just down a few hallways and then though a password protected doors. you were guests and given a temporary code to use.

“professor mcgonagall?” you called.

“come in!”

you stepped in first, motioning for george to wait a moment before he followed. “ah hello y/n, i assume you’re here for your trip this weekend.”

“and you’re bringing mr. weasley?” her tone changed to one of more questioning at the end once george made an appearance.

“if that’s okay of course.”

mcgonagall hummed to herself. “we just have to go over a few things and then i’ll let you go. it’s all just standard procedures.”

“of course.”

“first off how are you looking on assignments?”

“i’m finished,” you spoke. mcgonagall turned to george. “and you mr. weasley?”

“i made him get ahead,” you piped in. “we’ve been working a lot to get everything done over the past few days.”

mcgonagall quirked an eyebrow at that, more george being done over you.

“now for travel, you two will take the floo to your home tomorrow afternoon and then be back in time for classes monday,” mcgonagall explained. “and remember, no magic outside of hogwarts!”

you nodded, “of course not.”

“oh dear it’s not you on worried about, it’s him,” she singled george out with a narrow of her eyes before turning to you. “you had to chose him of all people? our most notorious troublemaker?”

you shook your head with a grin. “what can i say, i guess i have good taste.”

george gaped slightly at your words, a bright blush crossing over his cheeks before he could even think to hide his face.

“well if you’re sure, then that’s all. here is your designated amount of floo powder. just one pinch in the gryffindor fireplace with a shout of your address and you should be good to go. that’s all i have, you two are dismissed.”

“thank you professor mcgonagall,” you smiled.

george followed you out of the room, allowing for you to exit first. you had a bit of a way to go to get back to the dorms, a much longer walk from the office to the dorms.

“well tomorrow’s the day,” george spoke in an attempt to start a conversation.

you hummed, wrapping your arms a little tighter around yourself as you walked. “yeah it is.”

“i haven’t taken the floo in forever. i hope i don’t blow up or something.”

you attempted to hide your giggle at his poor attempt of a joke behind your sleeve but it still broke though, bouncing off the empty corridor. george smiled too, clearly glad he was able to make you laugh.

the two of you reaching the gryffindor common room just moments later. it was entirely empty, most people either in their rooms already or still out studying.

george stopped at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the girls dormitories. he couldn’t go up, for obvious reasons, and besides, he was pretty tired too.

“well goodnight y/n.”

you smiled up at him, reaching out to squeeze his hand gently as a silent ‘thank you.’

“goodnight george.”

↓

classes ended early on friday allowing for you and george to actually floo home at a good time.

after lunch, you headed back to the gryffindor common room. your bags were already packed, you just had to grab them from your dorms.

the room was pretty much empty when you and george headed back down the stairs. since everyone had the afternoon off, most students were either going to hogsmeade or occupying somewhere else on the school grounds.

however, harry, ron, hermione, and fred remained behind to see you go and make sure nothing went wrong.

“alright we’re heading out. we’ll be back sunday afternoon around four,” you announced.

“stay safe,” hermione piped up. “and try and have some fun.”

you smiled at her. she was someone you found yourself going to,despite your small age gap, to talk about your issues with.

george hauled up your suitcase onto his shoulder before making his way over to the fireplace. you stepped in right after him.

you took a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself for the short trip you were about to be taking. “ready?” george asked as he nudged you with his elbow. “ready,” you confirmed.

the floo powder felt heavy in your hand. george took some too, shifting it back and forth between his fingers before turning to you. “let’s go.”

you spoke out your home address in your loudest and most clear voice before tossing the powder down.

and in one large crackle of the fire, you and george were gone.

⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢

tagging: @goldenxreid @wilburxpancakes @blakeprentiss @criminaly-supernatural @blakes-dictionxry @mrs-dr-reid @weasleytwinsfav

#harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley x y/n #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley fluff #fred and george #fred and george weasley #gryffindor #the weasley twins

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scapegrace74-blog · 4 years

Text

Ginger Snap, Chapter 2

A/N I am breaking probably the only rule I gave myself when I started writing fanfic, which was Don’t Ever Post a WIP. But lord knows I’m not immune to peer pressure and the narcotic that is reader feedback, so here it is, the second chapter of what is now an open-ended modern AU story about Jamie the Chef and Claire the Kitchen Disaster. Still a first person Claire POV, so I apologize in advance for any stray pronouns.

For the first chapter, I recommend reading it on Ao3, since I’ve made some minor edits since I first posted it on Tumblr. See above re. not planning on posting a WIP.

Oh, and funny story. When I decided to check the location of the real Ginger Snap catering company in Edinburgh, it was squished between “FrazersOnline” and “McKenzie Flooring”. If that’s not kismet, I don’t know what is. The location I describe below, however, is based on a catering venue here in Ottawa called Urban Element, where I’ve attended a few team-building events. I have yet to set anything on fire, though.

I checked my phone for the third time, confirming I wasn’t lost.

Frank and I moved to Edinburgh over the summer, just in time for him to start his position as Associate Professor of History at the University of Edinburgh. Despite our years spent in America, neither of us cared overmuch for driving, so we chose a flat (or rather, Frank chose a flat and I concurred) not far from campus. Therefore, this was the first time I’d ventured as far afield as Leith, a maritime enclave just to the north of the capital that couldn’t seem to decide if it wanted to be grittily working class or artistically hip.

When I finally reached the address, I had to smile. No main street pretensions or non-descript commercial frontage for Ginger Snap Catering. Before me stood a two-story red brick fire station, still emblazoned with the crest of the Scottish Fire and Rescue Services. The two massive truck bays were now enclosed by see-through doors that could be drawn back on a sunny day. Through these a warm yellow light could be seen, spilling onto the grey, damp pavement.

A petite woman with dark hair manned the small reception area, a red-haired toddler clinging to her like a marsupial. She held a phone to one ear while simultaneously pacing the polished concrete floor. I stood as unobtrusively as possible near the door, but in such an open space it was impossible not to overhear her side of the conversation.

“... they willna take ‘im back until ‘is fever goes down... aye, an hour ago when I picked him up but it hasn’t... nay, i dinna think it’s... tis jus’ terrible timing with two weddings t’morrow... Could ye? Och, I owe ye Mrs. Fitz, a million times o’er... Anytime, we’ll be here. Alright, soon.”

The speaker turned to me, the harried look of a working mother sharpening her already honed features.

“I apologize fer keeping ye waiting. What can I do fer ye t’day?”

Before I could respond, the young boy, probably no older than two, began to fuss, rubbing his flushed cheek against his mother’s shoulder.

“Och, mo ghille, Mam kens ye’re poorly. Mrs. Fitz is coming as fast as she may.”

Unable to quell my instinct to diagnose and then cure, I spoke up.

“I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation. Based on his age and the way he’s holding his head, it may be an ear infection.” At the woman’s penetrating look, I hastened to explain: “I’m a doctor. Would you mind if I took a closer look?”

Permission granted, I carefully palpated the boy under the jaw and peered as best I could without an otoscope into the offending ear canal. Confident in my diagnosis, I recommended treatment with a warm compress, an over-the-counter analgesic ear drop, and children’s paracetamol to control his fever. If, after twenty-four hours the symptoms had not improved, they could consider seeing his pediatrician for antibiotics, but these were only truly necessary for a persistent infection.

“Och, ye ‘ave no idea what a relief it is tae hear ye say so, lass. He’s my first bairn, ye ken, an’ I can ne’er tell if I’m over-reacting or being negligent. Can ye say thank ye tae the nice doctor, Wee Jamie?”

My stomach jumped. “Wee Jamie? Is he related by chance to Jamie Fraser?”

“Aye, tis his nephew. I’m Jamie’s sister, Jenny. Ye ken my brother, then?”

The pieces fell into place, and my insides settled.

“We’ve spoken before,” I explained. “I’m Claire Beauchamp. You and your brother helped me with a dinner party emergency last Tuesday. I came to return your market bags, and to thank you again for coming to my aid during my hour of need.”

Jenny and I spoke for another ten minutes, sharing the superficial narratives of two strangers brought together by circumstance. She was warm and thistly by turns, and I felt a longing for the honesty of female friendship that I’d given up when we left Boston. Eventually a matronly woman arrived to collect Wee Jamie. I carefully wrote down the exact names and dosages of my prescribed remedy.

After Mrs. Fitz and Wee Jamie had left, it occurred to me that Jenny needed to get back to work. I’d accomplished what I’d set out to do, even if I hadn’t thanked Jamie himself. As I began to make my goodbyes, however, Jenny interjected. “If ye’re no’ in a rush, why dinna ye join our afternoon cooking class? My brother will be demonstrating how tae make quiche. Tis the least we can do, after ye helped Wee Jamie.”

Which was how I found myself standing behind one of six cooking stations arranged across the fire station’s main area, a bright red apron covering my black slacks and saffron turtleneck. My impetuous curls were slowly breaking ranks from where I’d slicked them into a bun that morning. I worried I looked like a human Pez dispenser.

I glanced at the workstation immediately to my left. A slight woman who I guessed to be roughly my own age was engrossed in her phone, a cheeky smirk playing on her berried lips. Her strawberry blond hair was swept into an effortless chignon that made me twitch with envy. She looked up from her screen and caught me looking her way.

“Geillis Duncan,” she said, offering a well-manicured hand.

“Claire Beauchamp. Pleased to meet you.”

“Is it yer first time taking a class, Claire?” At my nod, she leaned in and whispered conspiratorially: “Ye’re in for a treat.”

Before I could enquire what she meant, a murmur amongst the other students (all women, save one) was accompanied by the heavy tread of work boots on polished concrete and a familiar Scottish burr.

“Good afternoon, everyone. Thank ye fer joining me on this dreich Scottish day. I ken a few of ye are new, so let’s start with a brief overview of yer stations and some basic safety reminders, before we tackle the quiche.”

Today Jamie was wearing a pair of olive pants that tapered down his endless legs and a technical shirt that clung valiantly to his upper body. He looked like he’d just stepped off the nearest rock climbing pitch. I wondered if he owned anything that answered to the name of a professional wardrobe, but I couldn’t deny that he looked impressive, in an athleisure sort of way.

“See what I mean?” Geillis hissed at me as Jamie made his way to the front of the hall, speaking now about optimal burner temperatures. “That man is a dozen kinds of yes.”

I concentrated on each step of the ostensibly simple recipe. Pie crust had been the previous week’s assignment, so I had only to blind bake the prepared dough already at my workstation. Once I had the crust centered exactly in the pie pan, pierced with a fork in orderly rows and placed in the oven, I rushed to catch up with the others. I’d missed Jamie’s instructions regarding pan frying the bacon, so I increased the flame, thinking I could make up a little time. The fatty meat crackled pleasingly as I set it in the lightly greased pan. I was inordinately proud of myself.

Things went very badly, very fast. First, my eyes wouldn’t stop watering as I meticulously peeled then dissected the onion into near-transparent crescents. Tears obscured my vision and I tried to wipe them away without contaminating my hands. To my left I could make out Geillis skillfully cracking eggs into a glass bowl, her pie crust already elegantly filled with crispy morsels of bacon and caramelized onion bits.

A vague sense of having forgotten something important tickled my mind. My pie crust! Grabbing a silicone glove (I wasn’t making that mistake twice) I rushed to the wall oven and extracted the pan. Giddy with relief, I saw the dough was only a little dark around the edges.

Before I could return victorious to my station, Jamie uttered a Scottish noise of alarm from his vantage at the front of the class. We both rushed across the room to where my rashers of bacon now resembled blackened shoe laces obscured by a heavy veil of smoke. With practiced ease, Jamie lifted the entire skillet into the adjacent sink and turned on the cold water. A cloud of steam enveloped his head, highlighting his auburn curls. I bit my lip as he looked my way in amusement.

“I hope ye werena planning on serving quiche to yer faculty guests t’night, Ms. Beauchamp?”

I stood meekly next to Geillis for the remainder of the class, no longer trusted around open flame without adult supervision. She graciously allowed me to extract her quiche when it was done baking. It looked like a magazine cover. Meanwhile, my workstation looked like the scene of an industrial accident.

While we were waiting for her quiche to cook, Geillis and I got to know each other a little better. She was a Highland lass from up near Inverness. Married to a wealthy older man, her life sounded like an endless quest for diversion. Despite this, or because of it, she had a sharp-witted frankness that I appreciated. She was also a hard-core gossip.

“Wee besom,” she remarked with a nod towards a blond girl who was currently monopolizing Jamie’s attention with endless questions punctuated by manufactured giggles and flicks of her pin-straight hair. “Tha’s Laoghaire Mackenzie of the Mackenzie brewing dynasty. They’ve a live-in cook, so there’s only one reason she attends these classes, and it isna for the quiche.”

I watched Jamie laugh over something the girl said, mineral eyes alight and his perfect white teeth on display. I suppose I couldn’t blame her. I wasn’t here for the quiche either.

The interminable ninety minute lesson finally ended. I thanked Geillis profusely and we exchanged numbers before she rushed off for her reiki treatment. Gathering my trench coat and purse, I tried to slink away without calling any further attention to myself.

“Ms. Beauchamp!”

I cursed under my breath, then turned to face him.

“Please, call me Claire. After I nearly burned down your place of business, we should probably be on a first name basis.”

Jamie chuckled. It sounded more natural and lived-in than his earlier response to Laoghaire, but I was likely fooling myself.

“Och, wha’s a cooking demonstration wi’out a wee bit of drama. Will ye be joining us next week? We’ll be making ceviche, sae I willna need tae put the fire brigade on stand-by.”

“Bastard,” I replied to his cheeky smirk. “Alas, I don’t think I’m cut out to be a cook. It appears to be the one science I can’t master.”

“Cooking isna a science, Claire,” he explained with sincere intensity. “Tis an art. Perhaps tha’s the root of yer struggle.”

“Perhaps it is. But in that case, I may as well give up now. I haven’t an artistic bone in my body.”

His languorous perusal of said body lit a different kind of flame in my belly. Geillis was right; he really was a dozen kinds of yes.

“I canna say as I agree. Come back any time if ye’d like tae try again.”

I blushed, thoroughly discomfited by his blatant flirting. He knew about Frank. He’d fled from him onto my fire escape, for Christ’s sake! Maybe when you looked like James Fraser, every interaction with a woman was merely a chance to hone your craft. Or maybe he was truly ignorant of his effect.

“I’ll take that under advisement. Thank you again, Jamie.”

“Until the next time, Arsonist.”

#my writing #outlander #ginger snap

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years

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Fire and Light (ao3) - on tumblr: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

- Chapter 5 -

“Wen Chao is missing again,” Wen Ning said, and reached a hand up so that he could bite his nails.

Nie Mingjue caught his hand and brought it back down again. “Missing again? What do you mean?”

“He’s been going missing,” Wen Ning explained. “Right before classes, or training, or – or dinner. We make excuses or find him before it becomes a problem, but he’s getting better at hiding. And eventually…”

Eventually, one of the teachers would tell Wen Ruohan.

Or worse, Wen Chao would miss a dinner, and it would be one of the dinners Wen Ruohan attended. The consequences of that would be unthinkable.

“Has he explained the reason?” Nie Mingjue asked, frowning when Wen Ning shook his head. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

Wen Ning gave him a look that suggested that the broken bones might have something to do with it. Even though there was only one that actually broke.

“I’ll go talk to him.”

“We don’t even know where he is.”

Nie Mingjue did not let that stop him. He was mostly able to walk by now, anyway, and it didn’t take long for him to track Wen Chao down to one of his favorite places to go hide – one of the unused rooms in the family quarters, so long abandoned that there was dust over every surface. There were women’s things scattered all over the place, and Nie Mingjue suspected that the room had once belonged to Wen Chao’s mother.

“A-Chao?” he called, his voice low.

There was a strangled sob, and Wen Chao appeared from behind the bed, his eyes red. “You shouldn’t be out of bed,” he scolded. “What are you doing here? Go back, go back.”

“A-Chao, why have you been hiding away?” Nie Mingjue asked, sitting down on the bed instead. “You haven’t even come to visit me.”

Wen Chao’s lower lip trembled. He was only a little boy, in the end – only ten years old. “I don’t want you to get hurt anymore.”

“What’s me getting hurt have to do with you?” Nie Mingjue said, puzzled as always. How did these Qishan Wen people think, with loops and layers and circles turning in on themselves? “You didn’t do it.”

“I’m stupid,” Wen Chao said. His voice was small and pained. “If I’d been smart enough to play along, pretend you were talking about someone else, the way Huaisang-xiong and A-Qing did…”

“The only one to blame for me saying stupid things is myself,” NIe Mingjue said firmly. “And the only person to blame for hurting me for saying them is Sect Leader Wen. And I wouldn’t have thought to come up with a cover story, either – are you saying I’m stupid?”

Wen Chao sniffed. “Maybe a little.”

“You’re probably right,” Nie Mingjue acknowledged, and patted the bed next to him. Wen Chao flung himself forward, curling up into Nie Mingjue’s arms as if he’d been missing them – he probably had been, too, the little fool. “But neither of us are going to get less stupid if we keep missing classes. So let’s try not to, okay?”

“Okay,” Wen Chao said, and rubbed his head against Nie Mingjue’s chest. “Nie-ge?”

“Mm?”

“I wish you were my big brother instead of Huaisang-xiong’s.”

Nie Mingjue fought a smile. “I appreciate that,” he said. “Have you considered the possibility of me being a big brother to both of you? It’s not necessarily one or the other.”

Wen Chao’s arms tightened around him. “Maybe I want you to myself.”

“Maybe you need to learn to share.”

Wen Chao snickered. A little wetly, but still.

Wen Xu and Wen Chao had the misfortune of being born relatively close together in the year. That meant that there was always a single party, nominally held in their honor, that invariably turned into a political event, with all the subsidiary sects flocking to the Nightless City to pay their respects to Wen Ruohan. The sect leaders brought their children along, particularly if they had one around Wen Chao’s age, but that was just a cover; their presence was a homage to the dominant power to which they paid allegiance, the party in no way about either of the two heirs, and that was just as Wen Ruohan liked it.

The other Great Sects usually sent gifts but did not attend – Nie Mingjue certainly had never gone – but this year the Lan sect broke custom and sent a delegation, with the stated purpose of presenting Wen Chao with an invitation to go take classes at the Cloud Recesses in view of his exceptional performance at the discussion conference.

“Exceptional performance,” Nie Mingjue mouthed at Wen Chao, who turned bright red.

The invitation was in fact issued, but it was probably more accurate to surmise that what the Lan sect really wanted was to get another look at the two Nie heirs and assure themselves of their continued health. Still, Nie Mingjue thought he had a good enough read on Lan Qiren’s personality to conclude that his old teacher wouldn’t affirmatively invite someone he didn’t think had potential, not even for ulterior motives. His reputation as a teacher of any type of student was famous throughout the cultivation world, and being invited to his lectures – as opposed to sending your children there on the basis of a political arrangement, as many sects did – was considered to be a great honor. Even Nie Mingjue had attended on the strength of his family, not himself.

As a result, the invitation was a compliment, and Wen Ruohan liked compliments. The Lan sect delegates were of course invited to stay at the party, and the visiting child – Lan Wangji, who at a year older than Nie Huaisang was a year younger than Wen Chao and thereby a more reasonable a guest to send than Lan Xichen would have been – was sent to mill around with them.

He looked miserable.

Nie Mingjue couldn’t really blame him, especially given how Lan Xichen had once spoken to him at length about how little Lan Wangji liked parties like this. Unable to watch his suffering, he asked Nie Huaisang in an undertone to go distract him a little, maybe find him a quiet place to stay.

After a while, Nie Huaisang returned to his side, Lan Wangji now in tow, and Nie Mingjue frowned at them. He hadn’t meant for Nie Huaisang to bring Lan Wangji here, since Nie Mingjue was supposed to be keeping his head down and avoiding people – Wen Ruohan hadn’t said anything explicit on the subject, but they all knew better than to risk embarrassing him in front of his guests – but he supposed there was nothing for it now.

“Lan Wangji,” he greeted, forgoing the usual intimacy of addressing him only by his courtesy name – he had done so when he was Lan Xichen’s friend, which he thought he still was, but just because Lan Xichen would overlook his current situation did not mean that others would, and Lan Wangji loved rules more than most. “You look well.”

It was a bit of a lie. Lan Wangji was ashen-faced, his fingers trembling a little even as he hid them in his sleeves. It seemed like a bit of an overreaction to the party, unless he suffered from a more severe form of social anxiety than Nie Mingjue had anticipated based on Lan Xichen’s descriptions.

“And you look terrible, da-ge,” Nie Huaisang said, his voice a little sharp, more poisonous than his normal cheerfulness. “You’re more colorful than a rainbow.”

Nie Mingjue’s bruises were indeed at that unfortunate stage, and there were enough on his face and hands that it was difficult to conceal them for very long, even with powder. There was a reason he’d gone out only briefly to greet people – acting as proof of life – before retiring to the back of the room.

“Yes, well,” he said, shaking his head and giving Nie Huaisang a stern look. He didn’t want to air out their business in front of guests. “How is your brother, Lan Wangji?”

“Well,” Lan Wangji said. His jaw was working, and Nie Mingjue wondered briefly if what he had thought was social anxiety was in fact barely suppressed rage. “Would you come to the Cloud Recesses as well, if we invited you?”

Nie Mingjue blinked at him, surprised out of his gloomy thoughts. “I’ve already attended one round of lectures, Wangji. You remember, surely? It was two summers back – was it three? – when I was thirteen, at any rate.”

“There are always new things to learn,” he said vaguely in return, and it was such a Lan Wangji thing to say – such a Lan thing to say – that Nie Mingjue barely managed to keep himself from cooing and calling him a good little cabbage. “Would you be allowed to come?”

“Probably not,” Nie Mingjue said regretfully. “But if you could take Huaisang when he’s old enough, it would be a good experience for him.”

Possibly not for Lan Qiren, given Nie Huaisang’s issues with memorization, but certainly good for Nie Huaisang.

“He doesn’t have many friends here,” he added. “It’s just A-Chao, A-Qing, and A-Ning…have you met the latter two? Huaisang, if you haven’t, you should introduce them.”

“I will,” Nie Huaisang said. “Da-ge, are you sure you can’t find a way to go?”

Nie Mingjue realized that his brother was trying to get him out of the Nightless City, likely in his own efforts to deal with what had happened to him. He sighed, reaching out to touch Nie Huaisang’s hair lightly. “I’m the heir of Qinghe Nie, Huaisang. He’s not going to let me go until he feels confident in controlling me.”

And that would not be soon, he didn’t say, but anyone looking at the marks on his face or the careful way he held himself could put that together easily enough.

Lan Wangji’s lips were pressed tightly together, but Nie Huaisang sighed, yielding to logic, and took him away again. Nie Mingjue returned to his corner, hoping that the shadows would help conceal his bruises, and sank into meditation, trying to not to fantasize about the world in which he could take that offer of help, well-meant as it was. A world where he could take Nie Huaisang and all the Wens – even Wen Xu, who was a nervous wreck underneath his apparent arrogance – away to the tranquil peace of the Cloud Recesses and never come back.

It wouldn’t help to think of that world. It wasn’t this one.

Wen Ruohan held court from his throne in the main hall and from a simple chair in the dining room, but he was equally terrifying in any location. His questions had only gotten harder as time passed, and everyone kept their heads down and answered to his satisfaction, even Nie Huaisang.

His questions were easier than everyone else’s, and after dinner ended Wen Ruohan touched Nie Huaisang’s hair and told him with a smile that he was a pretty but useless bird, a lovely ornament to their house, and that they couldn’t possibly do without him. The eyes of all the Wens slid straight to Nie Mingjue, each one filled with terror at his reaction, but Nie Mingjue for once held his tongue.

He hadn’t really expected Nie Huaisang to be able to leave, not this year. Perhaps next year this little interaction would be forgotten and they could try again.

(He wanted to break every one of Wen Ruohan’s fingers so that they never touched his brother ever again. He wanted to make it so that Wen Chao didn’t look wistfully envious even as he shivered in terror at the thought of his father’s attention, make it so that Wen Xu didn’t look dull and resigned in anticipation of endless pain, make it so that Wen Qing and Wen Ning didn’t look so close to tears.

He wanted to be home in the Unclean Realm again before he forgot what it was like.)

Wen Ruohan smiled at him, probably reading his thoughts from his face. “Walk with me, Mingjue,” he said. It was not a request. “I would hear about how you are adjusting to life in Qishan.”

Nie Mingjue left frightened faces behind him, and held firm to the thought that it would be politically inconvenient for Wen Ruohan to kill him.

(The fact that he didn’t think he’d done anything to deserve it - this time, anyway - was irrelevant.)

Nie Huaisang found him later that night, sitting on the stone floor next to his bed unmoving, skin cold and clammy with shock, and there was a small and quiet but extremely frantic whirl of activity that resulted in everyone crowding into Wen Xu’s bedroom, it being the biggest, trying to warm him back up.

It was more or less one big swirl of noise and movement, and Nie Mingjue only briefly surfaced to catch a few snatches of conversation –

“– did he do to him? He was only gone a shichen or two –”

“– physically seems fine, but I don’t like what his vitals are doing. Maybe we should call the sect doctors –”

“– if we do that, he’ll find out we did that –”

“– better brother than you ever were!”

That last one sounded like Wen Chao, making trouble again, even though it really wasn’t Wen Xu’s fault that he’d fallen for Wen Ruohan’s divide-and-conquer tricks when he was even younger than Wen Chao was now. It was how he’d been raised, Qishan Wen style, and anyway he’d been doing so much better lately, actually paying attention and joining hands with the rest of them to resist and distract and care about each other.

Nie Mingjue wanted to say something like that, knew that he had to speak, that it was his responsibility, a duty voluntarily assumed in having taken the role of older sibling for all that he wasn’t actually the eldest, but all that came out of his mouth was a low whine, pathetic, and he remembered that right now he really just wanted to die.

“Don’t you dare say that! Don’t you dare –”

“– need to get his body temperature up. His golden core is exacerbating the effects of the shock –”

“– did you hear what he said –”

“– tear that motherfucker’s heart out –”

“– leave my grandmother out of this –”

“– not a real doctor! I’m just an apprentice, and I’m trying –”

“– how could you possibly say that?! Of course I care! Before him, nobody – nobody ever – listen, if I wasn’t nearly five years older than him, I’d be calling him da-ge right alongside the rest of you, okay? Shit, I have half a mind to do it anyway, and fuck anyone who thinks it strange –”

Nie Mingjue closed his eyes and sobbed.

#mdzs #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #wen xu #wen chao #wen ning #wen qing #lan wangji #my fic #my fics #fire and light

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louiseleblancdiggory · 4 years

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It’s Nice to Have a Friend

Ok, so here it is!! I would have post it yesterday but unfortunately I lost 3000 words and had to rewrite. I love the friends to lovers trope and I think that INTHAF is unbelievably underrated, so I wrote this!! There is a smut part that I had to cut out, but I promise that I will post it separately later! (It was getting too long). Anyways, enjoy!!

October 2000

Aelin Galathynius had a terrible temper.

Her mother Evalin, since she was only a baby, used to announce to everyone that he had gotten her father’s temper. Unfortunately, her father Rhoe would add, she has got her mother’s impulsivity. Her uncle would then finalize it by saying it was a terrible combination.

And it was.

She could still remember the first day of grade 3. She was only eight, the youngest of her class filled with nine year olds, and had to promise her dad that she wouldn’t get into an argument or fight with anyone during the school hours. Later that day, when she and another boy arrived all sweaty at home, she would tell her dad that she obeyed.

Technically, she got into a fight after school hours.

Everything was fine during the day, to be honest. Aelin was excited to be a third grader, and her cousin and best friend were in the same room as she was. Aelin had no problem staying calm throughout the day as she stuck to Aedion and Lysandra. They had their classes, lunch, some more classes and Aelin was ready to walk home and tell her dad how well behaved she had been.

Until she saw the new student.

To be honest, Aelin hadn’t found him interesting enough to talk to during the day. The only thing that actually caught her attention about him was the silver hair, but he was so quiet, brooding and aloof that not even his hair made him seem interesting enough to Aelin go talk to him. She would have gladly lived the rest of her life not talking to him, but as she was walking home after the school bell rang and saw some of the kids in the fifth grade picking on him, Aelin felt curious enough to approach just a little to know what was happening.

Only to listen and watch. Stay out of it. You promised dad you would stay out of fights.

She was resolute on that up until the moment she actually managed to hear what the other boys were saying.

“Is it true you don’t talk because your accent is so strong no one would even understand you?” Hamel asked, but there was no childish ignorance in his tone. He knew what he was doing.

“I hear you and your father had to run from your country because he killed your mom.” One of the boys, Archer, was saying. “Are you a freak like your dad?”

The silver boy’s cheeks turned red, and he tried to walk faster through the snow. It was only fall, but snow usually came early to Orynth.

“Are you mad your dad killed your mom?” Archer pressed, and before she could even control herself, Aelin was walking in their direction.

“You guys are idiots.” She announced, getting the attention of the three boys. Archer rolled his eyes, but Sam just stared at her. Aelin ignored both, turning to the new student. “He’s not a freak, and he talks. I heard it before.”

It was a blatant lie, but the boy just nodded, some red leaving his cheeks.

Aelin crossed her arms, staring at Archer. “Maybe he doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“Oh, yeah?” Archer imitated her pose, mimicking her voice.

Aelin felt that very bad temper stirring.

“Yes.” She said, matter-of-factly. “Because you look stupid, sound stupid and act stupid. No one wants to be friend with a stupid… asshole.” She said, putting in the last word and hoping that she was using in the right context. To be honest, she had heard her dad say it a few times but had no idea what it meant.

By the red now on Archer’s face, she had used it correctly.

“You little…” Archer started saying, coming on her. Thinking about it in the years after the event, Aelin would admit she could have handled the situation better, but at that time she had been only eight, almost nine, and a boy three years older was coming on her direction.

And so she let her mother’s impulsivity take over.

And so when Archer was close enough, she kicked him between the legs and ran like hell.

She could hear Archer’s grunt as she turned around, picked the new boy by the elbow and forced him to run with her. She immediately knew it had been a bad idea, and it would only cause Archer to pick on both of them for the rest of their school years, but she could worry about that later.

“You have to run.” Aelin grunted, pulling the silver haired boy with her. He hesitated for a second before gripping her hand and running with her. For the next four minutes, both ran all around the neighborhood, Sam’s steps not too far after them. Aelin hoped Archer was in enough pain to not come after them.

Despite the snow and the cold, Aelin felt sweat going down her back. She should have already been home, and as they ran, they just got further and further away from it. The new boy was breathing just as hard as she was, and they were too young at the time to be able to run much longer.

Suddenly, he pulled Aelin by the hand. The boy forced them out of the Main Street, taking a little path through the woods nearby. He ran a little bit more before arriving at a huge trunk. Breathing hard, he pulled a part of the wood away from the tree, revealing an empty inside. Without being told to do so, Aelin rushed inside, feeling her back pressed against the inside of the truck when the boy got in too.

They tried to remain silent as they heard Sam steps approaching. As in synchrony, they both let out their breaths as they heard Sam’s steps going away. The two kids waited an extra minute before leaving the inside of the trunk.

“Oh, I think I lost one of my gloves while we ran. Mom is gonna kill me.” Aelin turned to be boy, looking him up and down and then the empty tree. “That’s nice. You found it during the summer?”

He nodded.

“Ok…” Aelin said, somewhat uncomfortable. “Do you talk?”

He just nodded again.

Aelin felt her temper rising once more, and she crossed her arms, frowning at him. “Well, can you tell me your name then?”

The boy just stared at her in silence. He took a step forward, taking something out of his pocket and handing it to her. Aelin examined the black glove. It was like hers, even though a little bit larger, but she thought it would be enough to convince her mom that she had just swapped it with someone rather than have lost it.

“Well, thank you.” Aelin said, pocketing the glove. She stared him up and down again, shrugging to herself as she continued. “Wanna hang out? My cousin and best friend can’t go to my house today. Playing video game alone is boring.”

He immediately nodded, taking another step forward. Aelin turned around, starting to walk in her house’s direction. From the corner of her eye, she kept trying to analyze the boy. He didn’t seem like a shy person, so maybe he just didn’t like to talk?

“You know,” Aelin started, unable to withstand the silence. “You don’t have to talk. I can talk enough for both of us. But it would be nice to know your name. And where you’re from. I mean, I guess I would ask you some normal stuff but you don’t talk. I mean, you talk but don’t, right? You chose not to talk? I don’t think I’d be able to stop talking, it sounds boring. How do you ask for things? Oh my gods, what about when you need to go to the bathroom? Do you talk then? Why did you stop talking?”

Aelin stopped for a second when she saw the boy staring at her wide eyed. She blushed a little, realizing that she had babbled. Her dad would always laugh whenever she did that, and while Aelin didn’t mind it with her family, she didn’t know if this stranger minded her talking so much.

“Sorry.” She said. This time, when she started talking, she tried to go slower. “You know, if what Sam said was true and you do have an accent, I wouldn’t mind. I mean, I can learn to understand you. But if you don’t want to ever talk, I wouldn’t mind either. Did you have to learn to understand me? If you did, was it hard? Do you think we speak funny? How old were you when you came here?”

“My name is Rowan.” The boy— Rowan— said. He did have a strong accent, but Aelin found it rather nice how he pulled his Rs.

“You talk!” Aelin said animatedly. “Thank the gods. I mean, I could talk for both of us but talking alone is kinda strange. I think I would get used to it, though. Oh, or we could talk through notes!”

Rowan smiled a little at that, nodding. “I do believe you could talk for both of us. And it was strange to see how you all talked, but it’s normal now. I came when I was eight, but I’m nine now.”

Aelin nodded as if she understood even though she had never really interacted with that many people that spoke differently from her. Until now, at least. “That’s nice. Do you only talk to a few people? How do you communicate with people who you don’t like talking to? I have a cousin in Perranth who is mute, so the whole family knows how to use sign language to interact. If you prefer to use sign language, we can. Do you know sign language?”

“Aye, you talk.” Rowan said, but he didn’t make it sound mean. Actually, the smile on his face had widened. “I do not know sign language. I’m just really quiet around most people. If I ever need something I can ask, but normally I prefer not to.”

“Who do you talk to?”

“My dad. My cousins.” Rowan thought a little. “My friends back at home.”

“And now me.” Aelin said, as smug as an eight year old could be. “I’m the only person you talk here? Does that make me your best friend friend?”

Rowan blushed, looking down as they approached Aelin’s home. “You want to?”

“Of course.” Aelin said, frowning again. “Why else would I have invited you to hang out?”

“I—“

Rowan was interrupted by Aelin’s mom coming outside, scolding at her daughter. She took in the sweaty face, the clothes dirty because of the inside of the three and shook her head. “Not even a day, Aelin?”

“It wasn’t my fault!”

Her mom sighed. “It never is.”

“Ask Rowan!” She said, turning to him and narrowing her eyes. “Was it my fault?”

He shook his head, looking at Aelin’s mom. She raised an eyebrow at him, looking between the two kids.

“This is Rowan. He doesn’t talk to anyone here but me.” Aelin put her hands on her hips, smiling at her mom. “I’m his best friend.”

Evalin took in Rowan’s similar appearance, sighing again. “Gods help me.”

Aelin turned to Rowan, a smile on her face, whispering. “She likes you.”

He chuckled, smiling shyly at Evalin. She looked at him for a few seconds before giving a warm smile back. “I don’t know if that smile of yours means that you’ll keep Aelin out of trouble, if you’ll get into trouble with her or if you’ll be the person taking her out of trouble.”

“It’s Aelin. She’ll corrupt him for the second option.” Her dad said, coming from inside the house. He eyed Aelin and Rowan, a smile on his lips. “Let me guess, not your fault.”

“It wasn’t!”

Rhoe simply raised his eyebrows, shaking his head. “Never is, jellybean. It never is.”

Aelin crossed her arms, stomping into the house. She stopped a few steps inside, turning around to see that Rowan hadn’t moved a step. She sighed, imitating her parents. “Rowan, what are you waiting for?”

He looked at Aelin’s parents for a second before rushing into her house. He stopped near her, whispering so silently that only she could hear. “Can I call my dad?”

“Can he call his dad?” Aelin said, staring up at her parents. They looked at each other, confused, but nodded. Rhoe handed Aelin the phone, but she didn’t do anything with it. Instead, she just kept staring at her parents. “He only talks to me! You can’t be here!”

“Sorry, sorry.” Rhoe said, raising his hands. Her parents left for the living room, and only then Rowan called his dad. It was quick— Rowan let his dad know where he was and, surprisingly, discovered that his dad worked with Aelin’s mom.

“Thank you.” Rowan said, handing back the phone.

“It’s ok.” Aelin took it, running to the living room and giving it back to her father. “We will play video game. Do not go there! I’ll talk to Rowan and you can’t hear him talking.”

“Ok…” Her father said, but it sounded more like a question.

Aelin glared at him for a second more before turning around and going back to Rowan. She grabbed him by the elbow and pulled him to the TV room.

“What just happened?” Rhoe asked baffled.

Evalin, however, was sitting relaxedly on the sofa, a newspaper in her hands and a soft smile on her lips. “Your daughter found a new best friend. He doesn’t talk around strangers. Gods, man, it’s not that hard.”

———————

December 2003

“Ro. Ro. Ro!” Aelin tried whispering. “Rowan!”

Rowan turned to her from his seat, eyes wide as if to say “What?”.

Aelin merely smiled, handing him a note over his shoulder. Although years had passed since they became friends and Rowan was more comfortable around Aelin, he still preferred to not talk too much around other people. He was always polite and quiet, and Aelin honestly didn’t mind his silence in public. They had other ways to communicate. Because Aelin was so close to Aedion, her cousin and Rowan became friends with time. The same happened to Lysandra and, since all three of them had learned sign language since they were little because of Elide, the three of them taught Rowan how to use it too.

Most times, however, they just shared notes. Aelin would always walk with paper in her pocket, and Rowan usually had a pen. They used sign language in more formal occasions, usually when her parents or his dad would tell them that bluntly sharing notes on the table while ignoring everyone else was impolite.

Rowan passed the note back, and Aelin smiled.

I can’t believe The Return of the King is out today. R u ready, Legolas?

Rowan’s terrible handwriting was right below hers. U only talked about this for six months. Ofc I am. And stop calling me Legolas.

Aelin eyed the teacher as she wrote a response, making sure that they weren’t calling any attention. It wouldn’t be the first time they got caught passing notes, and most times teachers weren’t really happy about Rowan and Aelin talking about The Mummy or The Goonies or anything else rather than learning math.

She passed the note to him, getting a response seconds later.

U love that I have nicknames for u. Shows the beauty in our friendship, Legolas. N Gods, u need to work on ur handwriting

U r a pain in the ass

Aelin was trying very hard not to smile, and was about to write another response when the teacher’s voice rang through the room.

“Aelin Galathynius and Rowan Whitethorn!” They both snapped their head up at the same time, and from the corner of her eye she saw Aedion trying to contain his laughter. “Again? I don’t understand how they let the two of you stay in the same classroom.”

Aelin heard Aedion snickering, and Lysandra too if the fake cough was any indication.

“The two of you are the bane of any teacher’s existence!”

“We don’t even talk out loud!”

“Galathynius!”

Aelin saw Rowan raising a fist to his mouth, faking a cough just like Lysandra had to hide his smile.

“The two of you are to stay after school today. If you’re so eager to play with paper during class, you can help me organize some files.”

Both Aelin and Rowan groaned, and Aelin was probably going to argue more had the teacher not turned back to the board. She continued the lesson as if nothing had happened.

It took less than a minute for Aelin to scribble something on the piece of paper, passing it to Rowan. When he saw the note, he shook his head in exasperation, but took it nonetheless. This time, when passing it back and forth, Rowan and Aelin were more careful to not call attention.

Can u believe it??? We r not even interrupting her

U don’t learn, do u?

Stop complaining. U r passing the not back to me. This is a group effort

Whatever u say, G.

Every time u play the bigger person in the friendship I want to shove my fist in ur mouth

“Oh, Gods, I can’t believe it! Seriously?” The teacher shouted again, staring at both of them.

Aelin tried to give an apologetic smile as Rowan closed his eyes and groaned.

—————————

November 2009

“Hey, Mr. and Mrs. Galathynius.” Rowan said, walking into the kitchen and grabbing an apple. “How are you two doing today?”

“I’m ok, sweetie. You?” Evalin asked, a maternal smile on her lips.

“Aelin is not home.” Rhoe said, looking up from his newspaper.

Rowan smirked. “I know.”

“I’m gonna start making you pay rent, boy.”

“Will you believe if I told you my dad said the same about Ace?” Rowan mused, taking a bite from his apple.

“I miss when you didn’t talk to us.” Rhoe said, turning to Evalin. “Don’t you miss when he didn’t talk to us?”

Evalin hit her husband on the shoulder. “You adore Rowan, stop being grumpy.”

“Yeah, you adore me, stop being grumpy.” Rowan’s smirk only widened as Rhoe’s eyes narrowed.

“My daughter’s arrogance is rubbing off on you.”

“If you can deal with Ace, you can deal with me.” Rowan replied. He motioned to the stairs, walking backwards as he still talked to Rhoe. “Now if you’ll excuse me, your daughter asked me to water her plants.”

“And then you leave.” Rhoe grunted.

“And then I will have a movie marathon in here with Ace when she comes back from Lysandra.”

“I mean it about the rent.”

Rowan only grinned, winking at Rhoe. “I’ll be in your daughter’s room.”

As he went up the stairs, Rowan heard Evalin laughing at Rhoe’s curse.

Rowan had been friends with Aelin for months before her parents even heard him saying a word. In the beginning, when there were people around them, they would talk through shared notes. Since the day Aelin asked him to hang out with her, they spent most of their time together. Everyday they would go to his or her house after school, she was always around him at school and now, almost ten years later, both of them remained as united as ever. More, even. They had reached a point in their friendship that there was little to no thing that they didn’t know about each other, that they couldn’t tell each other.

She never made him feel uncomfortable, never pressured him to talk when he didn’t feel like it. Rowan had always been a quiet kid, and Aelin had found that to be more of an extra thing she liked about him rather than an impediment in their friendship. She would say he was the stoic and intelligent silence to her witty and unstoppable words.

Aelin became part of his daily routine, and so did her parents. Rhoe and Evalin had always treated him as if he was family— Evalin as the loving mom and Rhoe as the very witty dad. He had never thought he would feel so comfortable around people that weren’t his family, but the Galathynius had gotten through all his barriers during the years.

Rowan entered Aelin’s room, throwing his bag and shoes at the floor by one of her bookcases.

“You know, if Aelin wasn’t completely insane, she would be watering you.” Rowan mumbled to the plants as he watered them. While she was a messy person overall, Aelin was very methodical with some things. Her books were always organized, she had crazy rituals for random things and a very strict schedule to water her plants.

He finished watering the plants, opening the curtains to allow some sunlight in. Unceremoniously, Rowan laid on Aelin’s bed, taking his phone out of his pocket.

“Your stupid plants have been watered.” Rowan announced when she picked up the phone. He put it on speaker, setting the device down on top of his stomach. “Where are you?”

��Left Lys’s a while ago, I’m at the supermarket. Anything you want?” Aelin said mindlessly. Rowan could picture her with the phone in between her shoulder and ear, attention focused on the products in front of her rather than on him.

“Celery.”

“Ok, I’ll buy popcorn.”

“I said celery.”

“I refuse to have a movie night with you if you’re gonna eat celery. That shit is disgusting.” She complained. “Besides, you’ll make me self conscious if you’re eating celery and I’m eating a bowl of chocolate. Be a good best friend.”

Rowan huffed a laugh, resting an arm above his eyes. “I don’t like chocolate, Ace.”

“If you had told me that years ago, I would have let Archer beat the shit out of you.” Aelin huffed, throwing something in the cart. “I’ll buy your stupid celery.”

“You love me.” Rowan smiled.

“You love me.” Aelin mimicked, her voice sounding stupid. “Shut the fuck up. And take a goddamn shower if you’re gonna stay in my bed.”

Rowan didn’t even take his arm away from his eyes, didn’t even ask how she knew he was sprawled in her bed. “Also, buy vodka.”

“I don’t hate you enough to let you have celery and vodka on a Tuesday night.” Although she tried to sound impatient, Rowan could picture the smile on her face. Imagining it, Rowan smiled too. “And I mean it, buzzard. Go take a shower.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Also go to hell.”

“Your wish is my command.”

Rowan was laughing when she ended the call abruptly. He remained laying down for a few moments before getting up, groaning. He was only half awake as he went to the bathroom, picked the stuff Aelin usually left for him under the counter and took a quick shower. It was a good thing they had grown up together, because Rowan though it was very unlikely he would ever have a friend with as much intimacy as he had with Ace. Things like showering on each other’s house, sharing beds and spending most of their time together seemed strange to Rowan when he thought about it with anyone but Aelin.

They had been through elementary school together. Had made their class selection in middle school together so they would end up in the same classes. Now, in their last year of high school, they still tried to coordinate their schedules. Rowan and Aelin were applying to the same colleges, and although they were focusing on different areas, both we’re going to law. There was no Aelin without Rowan, or Rowan without Aelin. Neither of them minded, and things were so natural that it had never been a problem.

Rowan grabbed some shorts he had left at her house during the summer and one of the shirts Aelin had stolen from him, dropping on the bed again. He promised himself he wouldn’t sleep, that he would wait for her so they could start the movies soon.

However, when Aelin arrived at home forty five minutes later, she had to bite her lip to keep herself from smiling. Rowan was asleep and, despite her absence, he had kept to his side of the bed. Aelin sighed, throwing her shoes and backpack where Rowan had thrown his. She went into the bathroom, changing from her jeans and crop top into one of Rowan’s old t-shirts and a pair of basketball shorts.

Part of her wanted to wake him up. It was almost October and they had to make the Lord of the Rings marathon now, because they wouldn’t have time during the next month due to the 31 days of Halloween movies challenge they always did. And yet, Rowan seemed so tired and calm, that Aelin merely climbed up the bed and immediately fell asleep by his side. When she woke up again hours later, she noticed that it was already sunset, meaning they had slept for at least three hours.

Aelin groaned softly, rubbing her eyes and turning to face Rowan. She nudged him gently with her knee until his eyes fluttered.

“Let me sleep.”

“We’re watching Lord of the Rings. Wake your hulking ass up.” Aelin murmured.

“Sleep.” Was all Rowan replied, eyes still closed.

“Don’t you want to see Legolas?” Aelin asked, a sly smile on her mouth.

At that, Rowan opened his eyes. He glared at her, each second his glare worsening as Aelin’s smile grew.

“The joke is not funny anymore.”

“Yes, it is.” Aelin was smiling so much it hurt her cheeks.

“Is your whole personality based on acting like a bitch?”

“Yes, you should be aware of that by now.” Aelin said, sitting up. “Come on, Ro. Like old times? We make the tent over the bed and watch the movies together. I’ll make Legolas jokes and you’ll sulk pretending I’m not damn funny. We’ll probably fall asleep during the last one and wake up tomorrow to find out the tent fell on top of us during the night. Just like when we were young.”

“You are not funny.” He grunted, but also sat up. He ran his hands through his hair, and Aelin watched every movement in silence. When he finally turned to her, she smiled at him. “And the tent always fell because you’re shit at following instructions and always set it up wrong.”

“I’m hilarious.”

“Nope.”

“You’re boring, I’m funny. It’s the very essence of our friendship.”

“No, I’m a prick and you’re an asshole. That’s the essence of our friendship.” He smirked a little at that, and Aelin narrowed her eyes.

“Remind again me why we are friends.” Aelin said sarcastically, getting up from the bed.

Rowan simply laid back, arms behind his head. “You kicked someones’s balls for me when we were eight. Always had a terrible temper.”

“My temper always helped your sorry ass.” Aelin came back from her closet with the tent sheets. “Little Rowan couldn’t throw a punch.”

“See?” Despite what Aelin was saying, Rowan grinned. “A fucking asshole through and through.”

As much as she tried to contain, Aelin smiled, a breathy laugh coming out. “Yea, sure. I’m an asshole. And yet you’re still here after ten years.”

Rowan’s grin became a soft smile, and he got up to help Aelin with the tent. “Of course I am. Can’t leave you all alone after a decade, can I, Ace? You wouldn’t know how to live without me.”

Aelin only rolled her eyes, huffing. She looked to the other side of the bed where Rowan was standing, holding the opposite side of the tent sheet.

Aelin then smiled when he winked at her.

———

June 2012

Since Rowan and Aelin had become friends, he had to hear that he and Aelin were each other’s half. He was what kept her grounded to Earth, and she was what kept him from having an awfully boring life. They were the perfect combination for best friends— one cautious and the other one reckless. Even Aelin would sometimes joke that Rowan was the prudent part of her.

In short, in their friendship, Rowan should be the smart one when it came to these situations.

And since he obviously wasn’t this time, it only made everything worse.

“I’m so happy to see you two!” Evalin said, hugging Rowan and then Aelin. “I feel like it has been ages.”

“Only a few months, mom.” Aelin said, a huge smile on her face. As much as she loved the freedom of living without her parents, Rowan knew she missed them dearly. “Me and Ro had so much to study, otherwise we would have come earlier.”

“College is a bitch.” Rowan added, earning a smile from Evalin and a wink from Aelin.

He quickly but discreetly averted his eyes from Aelin, looking at the house he had spent most of his time since third grade. His childhood and teenage years in that house had been happy and uncomplicated, only him and his best friend.

Things seemed everything but uncomplicated now, and Rowan wanted to punch himself every time he looked at Aelin and thought that maybe, just maybe, being more than friends wouldn’t be so bad. He couldn’t remember when the feeling started, nor could he understand how it could have grown so fast. He had always loved Aelin, but this was… it was different.

For most time, he tried to keep the feelings in check. He refused to distance himself from Ace, but he wouldn’t make a move either. They had been best friends for twelve years, and he wouldn’t throw all of that away only for the shot at a relationship.

“Me, Rhoe and Viktor will go out tonight, but we can all have lunch tomorrow.” Evalin was saying, looking at Rowan. He nodded, already knowing that from when he called his dad to let him know he was back in town. Evalin looked down at Aelin who was resting her head against her mother’s shoulder. “You two can stay here and order something.”

“Yeah, that was the plan.” Aelin said, leaving her mother’s embrace. She walked up to Rowan, resting her back against his chest. He tried his best to not perceptibly tense. He put his hands on her shoulders, trying to act casual. “Ro was thinking Thai.”

Evalin nodded, pointing to the kitchen with her thumb. “Jellybean, can you help me before you two go up? It’s something with the internet and you know how bad me and your father are with technology.”

Rowan smiled, and Aelin laughed. She walked up to her mom, turning around and walking backwards as she pointed at Rowan. “Don’t break anything.”

He rolled his eyes. “I have never.”

Aelin grinned. “Yes, you have.”

“That was you.” Rowan narrowed his eyes as Aelin entered the kitchen. “You broke it and put all the fault on me.”

She laughed, winking at him before disappearing.

Rowan stared after her, both glad and disappointed she wasn’t with him anymore. They were roommates and had almost every single class together, and so they spent most of their time with one another, meaning that Rowan knew that it was a stupid reaction. He shouldn’t be glad his best friend left, and he also shouldn’t immediately miss her.

Gods, he was pathetic.

Rowan’s head snapped up when he heard a chuckle from the stairs. When his eyes landed on Rhoe staring at him, he smiled.

“What’s up, old man?”

Rhoe’s smile turned into a grin as he went down the stairs. “Any reason why you were oogling my daughter, Whitethorn?”

Rowan’s heart stopped dead inside his chest, and he had to control his urge to cough, clear his throat, fidget or just straight up run. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Rhoe chuckled again, tapping Rowan on the shoulder. “You and Aelin were always terrible at lying when it was about your feelings for each other. Aelin was always great at pretending she hated the world when she was mad, but it was never convincing when she used to say she hated you because she was angry at you. It was all over her face and voice that it was a lie.”

Rowan shifted on his feet, crossing his arms. His restlessness made Rhoe smile even more. “You’re getting mad. Probably the age.”

“Don’t bullshit a bullshiter, boy.” He announced, walking past Rowan to the kitchen. He was almost at the door when he turned back to Rowan, eyes strangely serious. “She wouldn’t say no, you know that, right?”

Rowan didn’t answer, only adverted his gaze. It was obvious someone would notice at some point, and it made sense it was Rhoe. Aelin’s dad had spent so much time with them throughout the years that if someone was gonna pick up on a change, it would be him.

“Wouldn’t say no to what?” Aelin asked, coming out of the kitchen with her mom. She quickly hugged her dad, giving him a kiss on the cheek before walking to Rowan. “And who’s she?”

“No one.” Rowan said, not taking his eyes away from Rhoe. He only smiled, winking at Rowan before hugging his wife.

“We’re leaving.” He announced, pulling Evalin to the doors. He looked directly at Rowan when he said the next words. “Behave.”

Rowan felt his whole face heating, and he wanted to tell Rhoe to fuck off. By the smile on his face, Rowan’s expression had taken care of it.

“Twelve years and you still think you can lie to me.” Aelin crossed her arms, looking up at him.

Rowan looked right back at her, and his heart skipped a beat as always. Rowan had always known Aelin was beautiful— it had never been an opinion, but a fact. With blonde honey hair, flawless creamy skin and a mouth that always seemed to be inching towards a smirk, Aelin could have been a model. Her body was just as attractive as her face, even though Rowan made sure he was always looking somewhere else other than below her neck.

Aelin Galathynius was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. And Rowan though she was also intelligent, and funny and wickedly interesting.

And he also knew that he was both very lucky and very unlucky. Lucky for having her as his best friend, unlucky for being completely in love with her.

Aelin usually wore heels, heeled boots or shoes that made her seem taller. Now, as she had discarded her shoes somewhere, she barely reached his chin. If Rowan ever had a death wish, he would tell her how adorable and non threatening she looked from his point of view.

“I have to keep trying, isn’t that right?” He grinned at her. She groaned, brushing past him. She started going upstairs, not turning around to see if he was following her.

Naturally, he was.

“Want to play twenty questions?”

“No.” Rowan answered, throwing himself at her bed.

Aelin crossed her arms, frowning down at him as she sat on the bed. “Stop being a little bitch.”

“The game is pointless. I know everything about you and you know everything about me.” Rowan noted, putting his arms in the back of his head. “What the fuck would you even ask?”

“What’s your favorite color?” Aelin asked, a grin on her face.

Rowan snorted.

“It’s ok, I know the answer. It’s me.”

“You?” He raised an eyebrow.

Aelin smirked, pushing herself to sit down closer to Rowan. Her hips were touching his waist, and Rowan was trying very hard to concentrate. “I’m your favorite everything, buzzard.”

Rowan merely laughed, not commenting on how right she was.

“Your turn.”

He rolled his eyes, but asked nonetheless. “You’ve been stressed out lately?” He smiled when Aelin groaned. She had spent the whole drive from the university to the house complaining about how stressful classes were and that she was about to drop everything and try to marry rich. “Yeah, me too.”

They were just making questions that they already knew the answer, exactly like Rowan had said.

Aelin raised her eyebrows suggestively, wiggling her shoulders. “Are you a virgin?”

Rowan choked on a laugh. He knew Aelin knew he wasn’t. “Yes, and I actually plan on dying one. College is already fucking me enough for a lifetime.”

Aelin guffawed, throwing her head back. Rowan smiled at her, his eyes trailing the slope of her neck. When she looked back at him, Rowan wasn’t so reluctant to keep playing this game if it meant Aelin would keep laughing. “Do you ever regret dating Cortland?”

Aelin groaned, and Rowan smiled. “Exes are prohibited here.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Stop smiling.”

“He was a bitch. I wanted to punch him whenever he went out with us.”

“Careful, Whitethorn,” Aelin mused with a grin. “Or you’ll start sounding jealous.”

Rowan scoffed. “Just ask your next question.”

“If you could take me anywhere in time, where would we go?”

Rowan stayed in silence for a few seconds before replying. “1999.”

Aelin’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Why?”

“I would have liked for you to meet my mom.”

Aelin felt her whole body constricting and warming at the same time. Through some nerve, she grabbed Rowan’s hand, sweeping her thumb gently on top of his knuckles. “I would have loved to meet her.”

Rowan very rarely talked about his mom, and Aelin knew him enough to know she shouldn’t push the conversation. In the twelve years they had been friends, Rowan only occasionally would talk about his mother. Aelin had so many questions about how she was, what their relationship had been like, but she also loved Rowan more than she was curious, so she never asked if h didn’t provide the information himself.

Rowan smiled up at Aelin, and it was filled with so much love and mourning that Aelin felt her heart skipping a beat. “You would have loved her. She was your type of person.”

Aelin smiled softly at him. Without thinking any further, she laid down in bed, resting her head on Rowan’s chest and their joint hands on top of his stomach. Rowan’s free hand started massaging her scalp, and Aelin closed her eyes as she breathed Rowan’s scent in.

“Do you think she would have liked me?”

“Oh, yes.” Aelin could hear the smile on his voice. “She would have loved you. You are exactly the type of person she wanted me to be close to. She always said I was too cautious, too calm. I needed some recklessness in my life, and since I mostly refused to go out during myself childhood and be reckless by myself, my mom thought that having a friend like that would be perfect. She would have adored your personality, and how important you were in my life.”

“She sounds amazing.”

“She was.” Rowan breathed.

“No wonder you turned out like this.” Aelin said and immediately felt Rowan gripping her tighter.

“Thanks, Fireheart.”

Aelin smiled, opening her eyes and looking up at him. Rowan was staring at her, and Aelin winked at him. “Whenever you need some ego boosting, Ro.”

He chuckled, still massaging her hair. “If you could be anywhere right now, where would you be?”

“I like it here.” Aelin tried shrugging. She felt Rowan tensing, and a part of her wondered if she had said something wrong. She didn’t want to ponder on it, didn’t want to think about what it meant and how it would make her feel if it was true. Instead, she just changed the subject. “My turn. What were you and my dad talking about? And who is she?”

The question only made Rowan tense further, and Aelin raised, holding herself on her elbows as she looked down on him. “Nothing and no one.”

“Bullshit.” She spat, narrowing her eyes. “If you don’t want to tell me, fine. But don’t lie to me, Rowan.”

He sighed, rubbing his eyes with one hand. “It’s nothing you would like to know.”

“Are you seeing someone?”

Rowan looked directly into her eyes, and Aelin resisted the urge to shift under his gaze. “Would that be something you wouldn’t like to know, Aelin?”

Aelin felt her heart beating stronger inside her chest, each beat sounding so loud that it was a wonder Rowan hadn’t heard it too. She refused to think about the question, just like for the last months she had tried ignoring every similar question when it came to Rowan.

No, she wouldn’t like to hear that. At all.

Instead of telling him that, she just shrugged. “Are you?”

“Careful, Galathynius,” Rowan repeated the same words she had said minutes ago. This time, however, there was no humor on his voice. “Or you’ll start sounding jealous.”

Aelin rolled her eyes, forcing a snort out. The conversation had taken a completely different path than she had originally intended. It was enough to get on the bad side of her temper, and before she could even think about what she was saying, she raised her chin and replied. “What if I am?”

Rowan’s eyes widened ever so slightly, and Aelin wanted to punch herself. He stared at her in silence for what seemed to be an eternity. “Are you?”

She had fucked up, she knew that. Rowan had been the closest person to her for more than a decade, and even if she lied and said no, he would know the truth. She knew that she should have kept her mouth shut, should have dropped the subject. She had spent months trying to make sure Rowan wouldn’t even suspect that she was interested in him in a more than friendly way.

And she had fucked that up with a stupid teenager game.

There was no going back anymore, and maybe because of this Aelin felt confident enough to do what she had been aching to do for a while now.

She didn’t stop to think about how things would be after this, didn’t stop to think about what Rowan’s widening eyes meant as she brought her face down and pressed her lips against his.

Rowan was like a stone under her, and Aelin moved her lips softly on top of his. There was a voice in her head screaming at her, telling her to pull back and try to fix the friendship. She was going to do just that when she felt Rowan raising his hands, putting them on her hair as he kissed her back.

Rowan rolled on his side, one of his hands sneaking down to Aelin’s back to pull her against him. Aelin laid on the bed, one of her hand going to the back of Rowan’s head, her fingers playing with his hair.

Aelin bit Rowan’s lower lip, moaning when he opened his mouth, tongue sweeping over hers. She pressed herself against him, one of her legs intertwining with his.

“Ro.” Aelin breathed, arching her neck as Rowan kissed the expanse of her throat and collarbones. One of his hands sneaked inside her shirt, palm cupping her breast as the other one gripped her hair more tightly. Aelin ran her hands through his back, coming back through his front until she was cupping his face.

Aelin raised Rowan’s face back to her, kissing him deeper than she had before. Rowan’s tongue entered her mouth, and Aelin’s mind emptied of any thought that wasn’t about him. About his hand against her breast, fingers in her hair. All her focus was on how he was making her feel, and Aelin felt completely intoxicated by him.

Rowan put one of his legs in between Aelin’s thighs, pressing it against her middle as Aelin grinded her hips softly against him.

“Ace, do you—“ Rowan was breathing against her mouth, but was interrupted when they both heard the main door opening and voices filing in.

“I can’t believe you forgot you wallet, Rhoe!”

Aelin raised her head immediately, eyes widening when she saw the bedroom’s door open and heard her parents coming up the stairs. She rolled over Rowan, almost falling off the bed as she ran to the door and closed it louder than she intended to. She closed her eyes, putting her back against the door as she heard one set of the footsteps going in the direction of her parent’s room. The other one stopped in front of her door, and a hesitant knock sounded.

“Is everything alright, Aelin?” Her mom’s voice seemed more curious than confused.

“Yeah.” She answered, trying not to sound too breathless. “You guys are already back?”

“Dad forgot his wallet. We just came to pick it up but we are already leaving.”

“You sure you’re ok, Ae?” Her dad asked, having come back from his room.

“Yeah, yeah. We’re fine. Rowan just has a terrible habit of not closing the door after his tail enters the room.”

Aelin heard her dad and mom laughing. “Ok the, jellybean. We’re out again, we’ll see you later or in the morning.”

“Love you guys!” Aelin shouted as she heard her parents’ footsteps going down the stairs. She remained with her eyes closed until she heard the front door opening and losing again, and only then she opened them again.

Rowan was sitting on the bed, eyes stuck on her face. His cheeks were pinkish, lips swollen and hair a mess. Aelin supposed she wasn’t too much better.

They stared at each other in complete silence until Aelin cleared her throat, pushing her hair back from her face.

“Well if this isn’t a fucking surprise for both of us.”

——————

October 2016

Aelin though that the rice on the ground looked like snow.

Among the screams all around her, she could hear the church bells ringing, the soft song playing on the background.

She looked to her right, watching her newly husband grin at some of his friends from uni.

They both had wanted a small wedding, but both Rowan and Aelin’s parents insisted that they needed a big ceremony, something big enough to encompass their whole relationship.

Rowan turned to her, grin only widening as he realized she was smiling at him. “What are you looking at?”

Aelin shook her head, eyes closing when she felt Fenrys and Aedion throwing more of that rice thing on them. “Nothing.”

Rowan laughed, hugging her as they walked to their car. “Sixteen years and you still think you can lie to me, Mrs. Whitethorn.”

Aelin held Rowan’s face in her hands, kissing him deeply and lovingly before drawing back, a smile never leaving her face. “I have to keep trying, isn’t that right, babe?”

Tags:

@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @abookishfreak @faerie-queen-fireheart @maastrash @morganofthewildfire @queen-of-glass @annejulianneh111 @heirofthenightcourt @jlinez @courtofjurdan @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @ladywitchling @lexflame @sleeping-and-books @perseusannabeth @linshryver @mu-si-ca-l @camilamartinezdunne @dank-queen7 @minaidss @starborn-faerie-queen @booksofthemoon @loveofbooksandwine @jesstargaryenqueen @bluejaberry @multifandommessblog @yesdreamblog

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kuripon · 3 years

Text

the world offers itself

Prompt: First Day of School Relationships: Geralt & Vesemir, Geralt & Eskel Rating: G Content Warnings: None Summary: It's Geralt's first day at his new school and it's scary. But Papa Vesemir and a new friend are there to make it all better.

Link to AO3

Title is from Wild Geese by Mary Oliver. Beta and title help from @wherethewordsare and @softnerdypeter

Written for @witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo

-----

Geralt got out of the car and stopped at the edge of the crosswalk, seeing his new elementary school for the first time. Vesemir turned the car off and followed, joining Geralt on the other side. He looked down and saw the flashes of anxiety and fear pass over Geralt's face.

"You doing ok, pup?" Vesemir asked, resting a hand atop Geralt's head.

Immediately, Geralt reached a hand up and grabbed Vesemir's wrist, intending to remove it from his head. He was eight years old now, he didn't need coddling. But on his first day at an entirely new school, Geralt decided he could use a bit of comfort right now.

Vesemir smiled, knowing his little boy's thoughts. It hadn't been an easy decision for them to move counties, but in the end, it was in their best interests to move. There were more job opportunities for Vesemir in this area of the country, as well as better school choices for Geralt, and Vesemir wanted nothing more than to give the both of them the best reset possible. Vesemir knelt in front of Geralt, resting his hands on his shoulders.

Geralt's focus moved from the school building looming ahead of them to his father, feeling as if he were just on the verge of tears.

"Papa, what if they don't like me... what if they make fun of me?" Geralt's head hung forward, trying to hide the very real threat of tears behind a curtain of silver white hair.

"You tell me," Vesemir grunted, chucking Geralt under his chin softly. "I'll be over there, tout de suite, and I'll give them the what's what."

Geralt giggled softly, a hand coming up to wipe at the one tear that may or may not have escaped. "Besides," Vesemir said, "Who's to say you won't find your very best friend in the whole wide world in this new school? You have to give others a chance to get to know you, pup."

Geralt nodded with a sniffle.

"We can't let past events tell us how to live our lives in the future." Vesemir pulled Geralt into a hug, smiling as Geralt's arms automatically wrapped around his shoulders. Vesemir's voice softened, like he was sharing a secret with Geralt. "Give yourself some grace and others will follow. I know you'll do well here."

Vesemir pulled back to look Geralt over. His face was a little red, but that would fade soon. His hair was a bit everywhere, sticking up in some places, but that was to be expected of an eight year old boy. He ran his fingers through Geralt's hair, trying to give it some semblance of order, but eventually he gave up, taking the tie from his own hair and using it to tie Geralt's hair back in a half pony. He pushed the hair that escaped from the tie back behind his ears.

"Can you be strong for me, Geralt?" Vesemir asked, straightening Geralt's clothing.

Geralt gave another nod, standing up straighter. "That's my boy. Let's go then." Vesemir stood and offered Geralt his hand. They crossed the street holding hands, though he didn't miss that Geralt's other hand was wrapped tightly around his backpack's strap.

As they approached the school, Geralt could see the other kids running around the play yard, their laughter high and loud. He struggled not to hide himself behind Vesemir, determined to be brave (if only because Vesemir asked it of him).

They reached the steps of the school, ready to go inside and meet with the admin who would help Geralt find his class and meet his new teacher, when a boy dressed in a red hoodie ran into Vesemir's legs. He looked to be the same age as Geralt, his short brown hair as messy as Geralt’s around his face and partially covering what looked to be scars from a painful injury.

Vesemir released Geralt's hand and helped the boy to his feet.

"Thanks, mister!" The boy said cheerfully. His eyes soon found Geralt hiding behind Vesemir's legs, clinging to his pants.

"I've never seen you here before. You new?" The boy's smile was wide, heedless of the scarring through his upper lip.

Geralt wished he was as brave as this boy. He looked up at Vesemir, suddenly unable to speak, but wanting to be known to this courageous boy. Vesemir understood and rested a hand on top of Geralt's head.

"This is Geralt. What's your name?" Vesemir asked.

"I'm Eskel!" The boy offered eagerly, holding out a hand to shake. Vesemir took it with a smile, giving him a firm shake in return.

"It's lovely to meet you, Eskel. Geralt's new, as you've already figured out. Could I ask you to help him out around school when you see him?" "Sure, mister." Eskel skipped over to Geralt's side and took his arm. "We're going to be best friends," he told Geralt, "I'm gonna teach you everything about this school. I bet we'll even be in the same class." He started pulling Geralt up the stairs towards the school.

Vesemir chuckled softly to himself, listening to the rather one-sided conversation as he followed them. It seemed his son was in good hands.

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queen-scribbles · 3 years

Text

The Long-Burning Torch

For the @shepherds-of-haven Shepherds Summer event, the Ryn/Red muses latched onto 20′s Detective AU and would not let go. I’ve gone so deep down this rabbit hole there’s gonna be chapters, but the first piece works as a standalone. (title might change along the way, again bc chapters)

----

There were, in Xaeryn’s experience, two types of people who made use of her services. Both were driven by desperation, both tended to hit her doorstep late in the day. There were the belligerent ones, incensed they had to stoop to hiring her, a Mage, to solve their problem. From them she had to pull the pertinent facts of their case one begrudging sentences at a time. And there were the frantic ones, who had exhausted every other route and she was their last chance. Details poured so freely from them she had to pick through it to find what was actually relevant to the case.

The young man standing before her now, at the start of her day, appeared to fit neither of those groups. He’d knocked and entered without awaiting an invitation, seeming unperturbed by the eyebrow she arched at his arrival.

“May I help you?” Xaeryn asked, leaning forward to rest folded hands on her desk.

He shifted to fold his own hands over the head of a walking stick she’d wager he didn’t actually need and smiled dryly. “If your reputation is anything to go by, Miss Shrike, I certainly expect so.”

She gestured to the chairs in front of the desk. “Let’s find out, Mr...?”

“Riel Syndran,” he said, passing her a business card as he took the offered seat.

The card was hardly necessary, and Xaeryn set it on the desk with only a passing glance. “You run Whitestone Couriers, don’t you?”

There was the faintest twitch on the left side of his jaw. “The company is a guild venture.”

“And I wouldn’t be much of a snooper if I couldn’t figure out who truly ran a company as vital to the city of Haven as Whitestone Couriers, Mr. Syndran.”

He gave her a sharp smile. “Very good. I knew coming to you first was the right call, Miss Shrike.”

“Flattered as I am by your confidence” --and she was; she was typically the last resort, being first was something of a novelty-- “why don’t you tell me what or who you need found, and we can discover if said confidence is warranted.”

“I’m certain it is,” Syndran said, his gaze briefly dropping to the Shrike Investigations placard on the edge of her desk. “But you are correct. To business.”

And business, as he explained it, ran thus: Whitestone Couriers had been contracted to transport a collection of artefacts, originally from all parts of Blest, from their previous temporary home at the Conte-by-the-Sea museum to Haven’s Hall of History and Culture.

”How well-known was your being contracted?” Xaeryn interjected.

“It was something of a secret,” Syndran replied, flicking invisible dust off his sleeve. “Some of the pieces are quite valuable, so it was largely in hopes of avoiding theft.”

Hopes that had proven vain. They’d had an uneventful journey--blessed with good weather, even--made it through city customs upon arriving at Haven (checked everything after making it through and found nothing amiss), and proceeded to the museum. Upon unpacking the artefacts, however, it was discovered one was missing.

(Of course.)

The missing piece--an obsidian and bronze pendent thought to belong to a ruler in the Jalis desert pre-Autarchy--had limited monetary value, especially compared to some of the other items in the collection. (Those, of course, had been more closely watched.) Its worth was largely historical and religious.

“Enchantments?”

“None so far as we know.”

“I’ll look into it for you,” Xaeryn said with a nod. She loved mind-twisters like this. “I’ll need to talk to your people, as well as the museum staff, so it would be helpful if you let them know I’m coming. Otherwise my kind” --a twitch of her fingers set energy dancing above them briefly-- “aren’t usually given the time of day.”

“Of course. I shall do so.” Syndran stood and bowed. “I thank you for taking my case, Miss Shrike, and look forward to your success.”

“Two things, Mr. Syndran,” she spoke up as he turned toward the door. She waited until he paused and looked back to continue. “I will, of course, endeavor to find this relic on my own, but should I require an expert’s... knowledge of its history, say, is outside help acceptable?”

His nose wrinkled briefly. “If you must. But as few others as possible, and only those you trust to keep it in strictest confidence.”

“Understood.”

“And the second thing, Miss Shrike?”

She smiled. “One third estimated payment is due upfront.”

“Oh, obviously.” He returned the smile and pulled out his checkbook.

----

She made some good progress between that afternoon and the next day. Interviews with the caravan guards and those responsible for the artefact collection gave insight to their procedures--which were indeed top-notch; it was impressive someone had managed to find a weakness--and how long the pieces were out of their sight coming through city customs.

“Don’t see why that matters,” the pink-haired courier who’d been in charge of the caravan commented. “We checked them all when we got through; made sure everything was still there. Standard procedure.”

“When you say you checked, is this a thorough examination or just a glance to make sure it’s still there?” Xaeryn asked, glancing at the notepad balanced on her knee.

“There’s no fine-tooth comb involved,” came the somewhat tart and harried reply, “but we do look to confirm it’s there and undamaged so nothing undeserved can later be blamed on us. The company has a sterling reputation for a reason, Miss Shrike, and the guild would very much like to keep it that way.”

“Hence your boss coming to me instead of the police.” Xaeryn tapped her pen against her chin and skimmed over her notes. “I think I have everything I need, Miss Aerin. Thank you for your time.”

Aerin gave a sharp nod. “Of course. Anything to get this cleared up and the artefact found as quickly as possible.” She flicked a worried glance toward the notebook as Xaeryn slipped it in her handbag. “How much did you write down? A lot of our procedures are trade secrets; if someone should see...”

Xaeryn laughed and withdrew the notepad again, flipping it open to show the other woman the symbols that filled the pages. “Never fear, your secrets are safe with me. An added bonus of my own shorthand; no one else can read my notes.”

“Smart.” A brief hesitation. “No one? You’re sure?”

“Well, perhaps the friend who helped develop it initially, but I’ve tweaked it since then.” She flipped the pad closed and stowed it in her bag. “I think it would take a little work even for him. We worked it out to take faster notes in class, but taking faster notes also come in handy in my line of work.”

Aerin relaxed and nodded again. “I’m sure it does. Thank you for the reassurance, Miss Shrike.”

“Of course. Have a good day.”

“You as well.”

With the last of the days’ intended interviews behind her, Xaeryn headed back to her office. Now to review what she’d learned from all the sources together. She was confident she had plenty to give herself at least a couple leads worth pursuing, even if there wasn’t enough for a scry.

---

It took a day and a half of running herself off her feet for Xaeryn to burn through the leads she’d found without much to show for it. She’d been unable to track down the specific guard who checked that portion of the shipment, but his supervisor assured her such an important collection would have been treated with utmost care, seeming miffed at the insinuation otherwise. None of the drivers or other courier employees had noticed anything unusual once they passed through customs, no interruptions or suspicious folks in the streets.

Even scrying had fizzled out without so much as a vague semblance of where it might be.

Nothing, nothing, nothing.

Xaeryn dug her fingers into her short hair and glowered at the photographs of the pendent Mr. Syndran had given her. It was so small. So easily concealed. And so simple it would hardly draw attention unless you knew what it was.

She’d been forced to grudgingly admit her minimal progress to Mr. Syndran when he called for an update and it had her in a foul mood. This sort of baloney was not how she kept the lights on. It was time for a new tack.

If she couldn’t (yet) trace where the pendent vanished from, perhaps it would work better to learn more about it; figure where it might be going and get a solid enough knowledge of it she could successfully scry its location. Who would want it badly enough for the hassle of stealing from Whitestone Couriers to be worth their while? Looking into the pendent’s history and provenance seemed the next logical course. Just because Mr. Syndran had told her it was on loan to the collection from the “proper” owners did not mean said owners had told him everything, or indeed, that they’d told the truth. She needed an expert and knew just where to find one.

It had been long enough since her time at Solhadur Academy Xaeryn actually had to look up the telephone number before calling. As she listened to the line ringing, she wondered absently how much of a gentle scolding Headmaster Tevanti would give her for her first contact in more than a decade being to ask for something rather than merely catching up. She’d always been the type not to bother people unless she had to. That was, after all, what she preferred. And her self-reliance had carried her through quite a bit. But she was aware most people would differ from her on that point; Tevanti especially was fond of jawing, so he would surely have words for her long silence.

She let it go to ten rings before giving up. Revelation came with a glance at the clock; it was late enough there was likely no one around to answer. No matter. She could drive out tomorrow. The Academy was in Capra, that wasn’t terribly far. (Not for business, anyway.) Headmaster Tevanti wouldn’t mind one of his favorite students dropping in for an hour or so to discuss a relic from one of his favorite historical periods. She’d even engage in small talk, if he wanted.

Xaeryn smiled to herself and locked both the photographs and her notepad in one of the desk drawers. If that was her plan for tomorrow, she should turn in early, make sure she was well-rested. Time for a trip down memory lane.

---

The morning was uneventful, aside from the troublesome discovery she’d left her office unlocked all night. She was normally more attentive than that, even being on a higher floor. But nothing was disturbed or missing, so Xaeryn shrugged it off and got on with her day.

If she selected her wardrobe with a more critical eye than usual, well, she wanted to look professional. Headmaster Tevanti had been a wonderful mentor, and she wanted to show how far his encouragements about using her bright mind and sharp eye had carried her.

(She wondered, briefly, as she pulled on the royal blue skirt and its matching blouse, accented in deep golden-yellow, if she would see any other familiar faces. But she shook off the warmth of the thought; they’d all scattered to the winds after graduation. Getting to see Tevanti would be enough.)

Satisfied with her ensemble, and needing to fill some time before she left, Xaeryn sat at her desk with her notepad and transcribed everything she knew about the missing pendent(not much), along with questions to ask. She picked out the best of the photographs from Mr. Syndran, just in case, and sighed as she looked at the clock. She’d still be a tad early for it to be polite, especially just dropping in out of the blue, if she left now.

So I’ll drive at a leisurely pace, she argued to herself. Take my time. Allowing a buffer in case there’s trouble along the way is only wise. God in heaven, she wished she could figure why she had worse jitters about this than some dates she’d gone on. “Oh, this is ridiculous,” she muttered to the empty office.

She locked the remaining photographs back in her desk, slipped the chosen one and her notepad in her handbag. After a moment’s internal debate, she slipped one of her stiletto knives down in her boot as well. Solhadur was far from dangerous, but it was prudent to have some measure of protection when traveling alone. She grabbed a hat on her way out the door--which she made certain to lock this time--and had it securely on her head by the time she reached the car.

----

Despite her efforts to make it a leisurely drive out to Capra, and weather that was perfect for that goal, Xaeryn still found herself standing in the entrance hall of Solhadur Academy at an earlier hour than would usually be considered polite for impromptu business meetings. She debated walking the grounds for a while, revisiting some memories from her time here, but decided simply apologizing for her early arrival was the better course of action.

With a final steadying breath and running one hand down her blouse and skirt to chase away wrinkles, Xaeryn headed for the reception desk. She smiled at the young woman behind it. “Good morning.”

The receptionist blinked, seeming mildly taken aback by how far up she had to look to meet her visitor’s eyes. “Morning, miss. Office hours don’t start until ten-”

“Oh, I’m not a student here,” Xaeryn said with a laugh. “At least, not anymore. And I do apologize for the early appearance, the drive out went much faster than anticipated.”

A brow twitched at that. “And what is it that brings you to Solhadur, miss...?”

“I’m doing research on a selection of artefacts and haven’t been able to turn up much on one.” It was barely a lie; she had read a bit on the other exhibition pieces, even if the pendent was the only one she needed to go deeper. “It’s from a period I know is of particular interest to the headmaster, so I was hoping to speak to him for a while, see if he could help.”

The receptionist pursed her lips. “Former student, you say?”

Xaeryn nodded. “If he’s busy first thing, I don’t mind waiting.”

““No, actually, being early is smart,” the receptionist said with a light laugh. “His hours are more full at the later end of things. This would be the best opportunity if you want some of his time.” She glanced over Xaeryn once more, then nodded. “You can go up. Third door--”

“On the left. I remember,” Xaeryn finished. “Thank you.”

“You might actually beat him there,” the receptionist laughed. “He isn’t always punctual.”

“I remember that, too,” Xaeryn returned with a grin. “Like I said, I don’t mind waiting. It’ll be good to see him again, few more minutes won’t hurt.” She toyed with one of her earrings as she headed up the stairs, steps lingering and heavy with nostalgia.

It was almost exactly as she remembered. A few portraits replaced or rearranged, new photographs from after she left. New name placards outside the doors she passed. The headmaster’s office door was closed, and a light inquiring rap of her knuckles brought no response.

Looks like she was right, Xaeryn thought with a smile, leaning against the chair outside the office to wait. Her gaze drifted to the high ceiling, following the details of familiar carvings to the scenes painted on the ceiling itself. Slightly faded from what she remembered, but that was to be expected after a decade--

“Xaeryn?!” The voice, still familiar even after years apart, sounded like he’d seen a ghost.

Her heart lurched in her chest and she’d spun around before the impulse to do so had even fully registered, his name tumbling from her lips unprompted in return. “Red?!”

He crossed the remaining distance between them in just a few strides(God, he’d gotten taller, how was that even possible?), barely remembered to set the books he carried on the chair before wrapping her in a hug.

Xaeryn didn’t even flinch, and only just managed to keep her grip on her handbag as she hugged him back. He still smelled of old books and ink and sunshine and she smiled at the memories it stirred.

Liefred Antiqua, her seatmate in any classes they shared and best friend regardless of how many they didn’t for the entirely of her time at Solhadur. Friendly, charming, and just as fond of books as he was people. (The nights they’d spent pressed shoulder to shoulder reading in the library were still among her favorite memories.) Between his warm nature and classic good looks, he’d had half the student body swooning after him, and yet despite the sharp contrast to Xaeryn’s more reserved and self-reliant bent, they’d still spent most of their time together. Their friendship was the strongest of the few she’d formed at Solhadur, and Xaeryn valued it immensely.

(Too much to risk on anything like admitting when the sight of his smile sent something that was definitely not friendship fluttering in her chest. It was just a crush, it would go away.)

( And then it didn’t.)

They’d both had plans to travel after graduation, and she couldn’t count on all her fingers combined the number of times she’d almost suggested they do it together. But in this one thing, she never could quite summon the nerve. And before she knew it, her departure date had arrived and they were hugging farewell, and come with me wouldn’t unstick from her throat. After a few months’ silence stretched between them--both traveling and unsure where the other might be, obviously--she’d resigned herself to their paths never crossing again, much as the thought hurt.

And yet here he was.

All the memories flew through her mind in the few seconds their hug lasted, and had a lump starting in her throat by the time they parted.

“Wonderful as it is to see you,” Red began as he stepped back to reclaim his books and run a glance over her, “what are you doing here?”

Xaeryn cleared her throat as she returned the apprising glance with one of her own. He still looked practically the same. A few inches taller, shoulders a bit more broad, and an attempt had been made to tame his bright red hair. It had only achieved partial success, and combined with the warm glint in his green eyes, he still was the same Red she knew. (The same Red she’d been more than a little in love with, even if she’d never dared the risk of admitting it.)

“I’m doing research,” she said, reaching up to tug the back brim of her hat as she glanced at the office door. “Into some artefacts. I wanted to ask Headmaster Tevanti about one in particular that’s being difficult.”

Red grimaced and fumbled his books. “Did you not hear, Xaer?” His voice went soft on the nickname, despite them being alone. Voices did carry in these halls, as they very well knew. “Tevanti died.”

She blinked, shock and sorrow curling in her chest. “Wh- How? When?”

“Not long after you left, actually,” he said, raking his free hand through his hair and tousling it out of respectability. “You know he’d been having problems with his heart. It gave out a few months after you left.” His brow furrowed. “I’m surprised you weren’t told when you set an appointment.”

“I didn’t so much set an appointment as show up looking to talk,” Xaeryn admitted with a soft, wry snort. “And I did simply say the headmaster when speaking to the receptionist.” She cocked her head. “Who would that be, now?”

Red smiled sheepishly, half-bit his lower lip. “Me, actually.” He shifted the books to one arm and opened the office door. Slightly nonplussed by two such major revelations in a row, Xaeryn was silent as she followed him in.

“I thought you wanted to travel,” was the first thought to pop in her head and then out her mouth as she looked around the office. It was spacious, lined with jam-packed bookshelves(He must be in heaven), and in a state of... corralled disarray that was so very Red it made her smile despite the news about Tevanti.

“I did,” Red replied, setting the books on his desk. “And I got to, at least a bit.” He tucked a handful of papers inside an open tome occupying one of the chairs, flipped the book closed, and set it on a side table so he could offer her a seat. “I’d already left when he passed, so Professor Rumi and some others kept things going until I got back.” Rather than sit in the chair behind the desk, he shuffled a small stack of books onto the floor and sat in the one next to Xaeryn’s as he continued. “He’d... wanted me as his successor, Xaeryn.”

“That makes sense.” The words were out before she could weigh them, spurred by the disbelief in his hesitation. “You’re brilliant, charming, and have a history with the school.” Her face warmed in the wake of being so candid, and Xaeryn glanced over at the large painting of Tevanti that hung on the wall between two bookshelves. He knew what he was doing. “You’re a logical choice.”

Red laughed warmly. “High praise from the smartest student in our class.”

“But far from the most charming,” she countered with a wry smile.

The warmth of his gaze didn’t abate. “I’ve always appreciated your-”

“Bluntness?”

“Straight-forwardness,” Red substituted, and was smiling when she looked his way. “An ability to cut to the heart of the subject is an invaluable skill.”

Xaeryn gave a faint shake of her head. “As is your kindness. But speaking of the heart of the matter...”

“Ah, right. You came here for a reason.” He pushed his unbuttoned shirtsleeves up toward his elbows. “I can’t promise to know as much as Tevanti would have, but I’ll certainly do my best to help.”

“Actually...” She snapped open her handbag to pull out the photograph and her notepad. “You’ve done a lot of research on pre-Autarchy history, so you might be able to help more than you think.” She set the photograph on the desk and Red cocked his head to look at it.

“Solimer’s torch...” he murmured, turning the photograph for a better look as his gaze gained that focus of a niche interest being whetted. (Which, for Red, meant she was about to hear everything he knew about the pendent’s history in too much detail to called a summary, and Xaeryn found herself leaning forward slightly in anticipation.) He glanced up at her. “Isn’t this one of the pieces in that exhibit about to open in Haven?”

She nodded. “That’s why I’m researching it.” She bit her lip but barely hesitated on the gamble of her next words. ‘Those you trust’, Mr. Syndran had said, and there was no one she trusted more than Liefred Antiqua. “It was stolen, and I was hired to find.”

His head came up, derailed from the growing ramble on the pendent’s history. “Oh?”

“I’m a detective,” Xaeryn said, playing with one of her earrings. She laughed softly. “Scrying does give a considerable leg up to finding things. Or people. But that only works when--”

“You know enough about them,” Red nodded. “So this visit is for business, rather than personal.”

“Mostly, yes,” she conceded, resting one hand on his knee. I didn’t know you’d be here. “But I was more than willing to chat with Tevanti” --there was a pang in her chest--”which most definitely extends to you as well, Headmaster Antiqua.”

His neck and ears went faintly pink as he laughed. “Surely we don’t need to be quite so formal, Detective Shrike?”

“Just ‘Miss’,” she returned with a laugh of her own, withdrawing her hand to instead fiddle with her notepad. “I work for myself, not the cops.” There might’ve been a little pride in her voice at the words, but it was well-earned.

“I thought you wanted to travel,” Red said, turning her own remark back on her.

“And travel I did,” Xaeryn said lightly. “For quite a while, even. But a girl does need a job eventually, and I’ve always loved a good mystery.”

“Or even a bad one,” he teased. “All kidding aside, Miss Shrike, I’m sure you’re a brilliant investigator.”

She smiled, chuckling at the playful glint in his eye even as her ears warmed at the praise. “Thank you. And on that note, what can you tell me about the pendent?”

“Right, right. You’re here on business.” Amusement lingered in Red’s eyes even as he turned back to the photograph. His sleeves started to slide and he shoved them back up again. Xaeryn very deliberately kept her focus on the photograph, not his arms--or hands--as he tapped one finger at the center of the obsidian pendent. “This was a protection... charm, I suppose you’d call it, worn by the head of the Solimer tribe ages ago. Literal ages. Without refreshing my memory, all I can tell you is they were one of the few tribes whose wanderings regularly took them through the heart of the Jalis desert, and yet they always fared better on those journeys than the other tribes, which was credited to this pendent.”

“So it is magical?” Xaeryn leaned closer to look over the piece again, not that a photograph could do it full justice. This was a familiar position; the two of them bent over a shared project, and she hadn’t realized how much she missed it until that moment.

“Possibly?” Red shifted and his shoulder bumped hers. “ The story goes that on their first attempt to journey through, they saw a light, like a torch, keeping pace with them. It only showed up at night, and seemed far enough away from their caravan the chief felt it was too dangerous to let anyone go after it to see what it was. Their wariness at its presence, however, kept them vigilant enough they were able to see and fend off any wild animals that came after them, and it did nothing except travel their same path, so they let it be.

“A couple weeks into their journey, as their supplies were starting to run low, the chieftain’s wife was out hunting and strayed far enough in search of food that the sun started setting while she was out. As the skies grew dim she could see the Torch, much larger than they usually did from the caravan, though it was floating away. Seized by good old-fashioned curiosity” --he paused to wink at her and Xaeryn bit back a smile-- “she followed the light rather than work her way back to camp. She kept after it long enough night had nearly fallen when it crested a ridge and disappeared. She hastened after it, and when she made it over the ridge, found herself standing by a waterspring the likes of which they’d never seen. When she looked around for the light she’d followed, there was no sign of it, save a black rock that lay at her feet. There were no other rocks anywhere nearby, so she decided this must be what had caused the torch-like light her tribe had seen.

“She carried it with her when she returned to the tribe with news of water, and the Solimer took it as a sign of the gods’ favor. The chieftain had it bound in bronze” --he traced a finger along the lines of the coiled setting-- “to be worn as a way to hold that favor. It was passed from leader to leader and from all accounts they had far better luck surviving the desert than the other tribes for a long time.”

“Was that not likely just them knowing better how to handle themselves? If they traveled those portions of the desert more frequently, of course they were better prepared.”

“Maybe.” Red shrugged. “We have no firsthand written records from any of these tribes, just legends and history relayed orally. And a lot of the second-hand ones were... lost when the Autarchy came to power. From the way the stories run, after generation of favor from the pendent, it was lost when the Solimer were defeated in a skirmish over resources with another tribe. Their next several trips went so poorly it cost over half their number, and they wound up assimilated into other tribes within the next couple decades just to survive.”

“Sad,” Xaeryn murmured, though she wondered if the pendent’s loss had become a self-fulfilling prophecy if they believed in it that strongly. “And what happened to the pendent after that?”

“That’s all I know off the top of my head,” Red said sheepishly as he sat back, running a hand through his hair. “Anything more I’d have to research. To refresh my memory.”

“Oh, that’s all? Tsk, tsk, Liefred, you’re slipping,” she teased, then snorted a wry chuckle. “Of course, it’s more than I had.” She showed him the scant lines on a single page of her small notepad.

Red smiled at the sight of the shorthand and let the playful ribbing slide as he ran a finger over the page. “You tweaked it.”

“A bit, to make it jive better with detective work.” Xaeryn tucked the pad back in her handbag. She’d been so caught up listening to him talk she’d not taken a single note. “I’m certain you could work it out with a little time.”

“Oh, time-” Red’s gaze flew to the clock at the same moment there was a knock and muffled “Headmaster?” at the door. “Damn. Forgot I have a meeting.” He smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. “Tribulations of being in charge. Just a minute!” he called toward the door, then, to Xaeryn, “I can look into this more in my free time, if you’d like.”

What free time? she almost asked, looking at the stacks of books and papers everywhere. But she swallowed that in favor of, “That would be lovely, thank you so much.”

“Any specific information you need?” Red asked as they stood.

“Anything you can find is welcome, but specifically.... What happened to the pendent after the Solimer lost it, who would have claim of ownership, if ownership is contested... anything like that. I want to find it, but part of that may very well lie in figuring out who would have most reason to steal it in the first place.” Xaeryn pulled out a business card and handed it to him. “So I don’t wind up nagging you,” she laughed. “You can call when you find something. The telephone’s in my office, but I live adjacent, so I’ll always hear it.”

Red nodded and slipped the card in his pocket. “I’ll try not to take too long.”

“Much appreciated. Also...” She grimaced slightly. “This is something of a secret; the Couriers don’t want it being common knowledge.”

“Understandable,” he said as they started toward the door. “Oh, don’t you need this?” He reached back for the photograph and held it out to her.

“Yes, thanks.” Xaeryn smiled and tried not to let the flutter in her chest when their fingers brushed as she took it gain purchase. She slipped the photograph back in her handbag as Red opened the door. Given the student waiting in the hall, she was the picture of professionalism--aside from the twinkle in her eye--as she nodded farewell. “Thank you for your time, Headmaster.”

Several things flashed through Red’s eyes, the brief desire to strangle her, a loud burst of laughter, an eyeroll, but he settled on a warm smile, wide enough his dimples just started to show. “Happy to help, Miss Shrike.”

She was still fighting a grin as she turned to descend the stairs, heart practically singing with warmth. Of all the lovely surprises... Regardless of whether she succeeded or failed, this case was already among the most worthwhile she’d ever taken, simply for bringing him back into her life.

#queens fic #shoh #shepherds summer 2021 #xaeryn shrike #red antiqua #ryn/red #i really got find them a ship tag #if you think their canon pining is good HOO BOY JUST WAIT #flamingelmo.gif #tlbt

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