#listen. at my old job a woman came in and her nails were so grotesquely long

[beastwars-transformers]

They weren’t lying my nails definitely look healthier and I don’t even have much of a desire to chew them off but. WHY ARE THEY SO LONG ITS FREAKING ME OUT

[ladyemberswrites]

Vested Interest_Chapter I

Title: Vested interest

Pairing: Aluseras( Alucard x Seras)

Fandom: Hellsing/Hellsing Ultimate

Warnings: Blatant Alcoholism 

Chapters: 1/?

Summary:

Seras has feelings for Alucard, and so does he, however, to Seras, she knows her master better than anyone and knows how he can be and what he is capable of and is completely unsure of her former master intentions or the length of his apparent devotion, and accompanied by an ever changing world, old allies dead, as new ones rise, she wonders if she will be able to pull through, as well as be able to maintain a romantic relationship with her former master.

*I’m reposting this fic on my blog again*

Edit:  Nothing major, I just wanted to fix a few things, and spelling errors, and give this first chapter a little bit more meat, such as adding and changing dialogue.  

  A/N: This is a serious canon-divergence and is a part of an Au; I’m creating, so this is kind of the first part.  This takes place 500 hundred years, after Integra’s death, just to let everyone else, I hope I didn’t confuse anyone.

Comments, Reviews, Criticisms are all welcomed!!!!!

Tell me what you guys think!

“Have you changed your mind, yet?”

Seras huffs, before chugging down a significant amount of ice, cold beer and contemplated whether or not to drink until she was too plastered to stand. She couldn’t do this now or more like she didn’t want to deal this now, it was childish of her, she knew, it wasn’t like high school, where she could forge a make up a doctor’s note to skip out on gym- she was adult now, and being adult meant being mature, even when you desperately, desperately don’t want to, but! But! - UGH!

Can’t she just slam her face on the table! This was an entirely different situation, and it wasn’t like she could fake an illness to get out of it either, seeing that she came here out of her own accord.

She just didn’t know what to do. Her heart said one thing, while the more reasonable, sane, logical side of her brain completely argued against her acting on impulsive emotions.

“If you were human you probably would’ve damned your liver right about now.”

She finally removed the glass from her lips, placing it delicately upon the bar table with a click.

She looked at him this time for the first time since they’ve been here.

 Here, being a bar, a bar named Igor’s, promptly named after the owner Igor, who was just as ancient as her former Master, except for the fact that he was of the Lycan variety, and except for the fact he did appear worn down by age, from the hard wrinkles under his eyes, the rigid scar that tore through his left eye sealing it shut and a strip of flesh ripped from the right side of his face, giving a grotesque view of red gums, and his sharp, pearly white canines.

He was quiet, a type of no nonsense man, a very large man who only responded in gruff, grunts and growls, and stood a good two feet above her master. And speaking of her master, Igor wasn’t his biggest fan and wasn’t afraid to show it, since he busted up his bar in some petty fight a couple of years back. Breaking hundreds of bottles of expensive liquor and countless damages in infrastructure. Surprisingly, enough her master paid for the damages with 70% interest drawn from one of  his, probably many treasuries that he has hidden all over eastern Europe. He was a king before; at least she hopes that’s where his money is coming from, either way she really didn’t wanna know.

 And grudgingly and beyond her comprehension, he let her master come back, he still didn’t like him (she doubted that Igor was a very forgiving man) but, Alucard left generous tips, so he left it at that. From what she could tell her master seemed quite fond of the little bar.

It was small, cozy even and surprisingly, sit -spot clean and she also suspects what honestly, caught master attention the most was that it was pretty quiet, never too crowded most of the time and was simplistic in design. For Seras she could almost call it home, she found the place soothing to be in, many times she found herself here on raining days, lounging about and reading one of the many novels she “stole” from her Master endless library. Not to mention Igor served more than booze and had an array of coffee and teas, much to her pleasure.

 But she was getting off track here, trying to avoid the topic at hand.

 From the looks of it he hadn’t moved his gaze from her not once, and it unnerved her to no end, as he peered at her with half-lidded eyes and a passive gaze, which perturbed her more because of the ridiculous beard. He appeared so different……..with that thing on his face, and she desperately hid the urge to want shave it off his smug face.

“Being inhuman certainly has it perks; I don’t have to worry about liver failure.”

“That still doesn’t make you any less of an alcoholic, Master. That’s your fifth glass of scotch, and we’ve only been here 30 minutes.” she nodded towards the shot glass in his left hand, while the other supported his chin. He was also, startlingly, dressed casual, a white dress shirt and black slacks, it was a breather, to actually see him in normal clothing, and not any of his tone deaf attire that he is, so fond of wearing, the pimp hat, the 80s trench coat, well at least he didn’t really wear those anymore not since Integra’s passing, anyways, she thought solemnly.

“I don’t get as drunk easily as you, my dear.”

She stuck her tongue at him, mainly because he was right, one beer was usually enough to have her slurring her words and giggling like a lune, but she’d be darned if she admitted that to him.

“And I’m not an alcoholic.”

“Uh-huh.”

There was a moment of stillness, the delay of the inevitable, so to speak.

Seras mind was running amok, she only came here on a whim, when her master, former master, she should say had called her out of the blue, and asked her to meet him here.

 She should’ve said that he was bonkers for calling her out here at three in the morning, and hung up, because after a long, stress inducing day of work, from listening to one person after, another complain to her about whatever, to settling disputes that almost turned violent if she hadn’t intervene between councils members, comforting others, and dealing with screaming children, she had quite enough dealing with other people’s emotional turmoil, and drama. All wanted for her weekend off, was a cup of hot coco, her soft pjs, and array of rom coms to compensate for the lack of a love life, was that too much to ask for.

 But, she didn’t-

   However, the quietness continue with the couple, occasionally sipping on their respective beverages, as they listened to the news which was currently splayed upon the small television that sat at, well more like hung at an angle over the bar, it was cracked and had many wires sticking out of it, but apparently it’s been working for years, seeing that not once did it short circuit, since they’ve been coming here.

Seras, barely paid attention, one thing that about being a vampire these days is that human politics have no effect on her anymore, well somewhat if you count recent events, and second, British politics or anything involving politics  is endless hell, you better off with setting your own self on fire, then trying to reason with other people, and lucky she didn’t have the responsibility concern herself with it, unless Hellsing was involved in any case, but human-vampire relations was something else entirely.

Alucard listened more closely, yet remained apathetic, it was all Greek to him, voting, elections, parliament, electoral colleges, primaries, it was all nonsense, it didn’t make any sense to him, leave it to humans to make everything more complicated than it needs to be. Everything was better when the world adhered to monarchies and systems, everyone had a place and duty, and none one didn’t question things, like the good old day.

 “Y’know in retrospect, it makes our jobs a whole lot harder doesn’t it?” someone had to cut the ice, she supposed, but could herself laughing bit too nervously.

His attention snapped back to reality or to the woman before him. She abruptly went silent, her gaze met his from brief moment, brows raised and her fingers tinkering with her locket that hung from her neck and rested at the valley of amble chest.

“Seras?”  She quickly fixed her attention back on her locket, he threw his head back, and took a long, burning swig from his drink - it was now or never, he didn’t call her down her here at 3 in the morning to discuss politics.

 “Why?” she murmurs, at bit pitifully, her brows scrunched together tightly, her lips pursed, her shoulders raised in apprehension “I mean-” she huffs at her.

 He knew that look, she was thinking, trying to pick and choose her words, so he gave her, her space which was alright with him as it gave him extra time to just - look at her.

She was wearing a short, black dress, which modestly reached her knees, the prude,

And had long sleeves.

Her lips and nails were painted a bright crimson, as he observe them tapping ceaselessly upon her golden locket and her hair was left untouched as it rolled down towards her waist in a heap of curls. After, what, he honestly, couldn’t remember, she stopped cutting her hair and just let it take a course of her own, he didn’t know about her, but to him it was the best decision she ever made. He liked how soft it looked, how it framed her face, how it made her look mature, like the master vampire she’s supposed to be. However, despite this, her expression was sullen; her red lips were twisted in a long frown, as she watched the drips of water slid down her glass.

“Um-Master, how long have we’ve known each other?” she voice started off low.

“ Since the day I put a bullet through you, why?” he was a bit taken back, out of all the ways he predicted this conversation to go, this wasn’t one of them

 Her sapphire gaze snaps in his direction “I’m being serious!”

 “Alright, Alright, a couple of centuries.” he narrowed his eyes “and May I ask why that matters?”

“Remember, back when I told you how I felt, about how I was in love with you and you rejected Me.” it was more matter of fact than anything. She wasn’t upset, well maybe not too upset, because she knew the answer beforehand. She knew he would reject her, and it hurt, but not as bad as it would have been if she entertained the fantasy of him actually being in love with her. She had feelings, but she was also no fool. But, now, so many decades later-

“…..Yes.” he winced that wasn’t his most shining hour in his opinion, and there were plenty of them.

“Yet, after all this time, you love me, now. Why?”

She gazed back at him, her sapphire eyes filled with confusion.

He didn’t break contact; he hoped all that liquor he drank would give him the confidence to speak his mind, without hinges, without being vague about his emotions.

 “Let’s just say, the past few years, I’ve had a couple of eye openers.”

“Are you talking about “her”?”

“Sort of off, but not quite.” she had an odd look in her eye, wide, and in some sort of disbelief, until it dawned on him “and no, I’m not chasing after, you because my other relationship went up in flames, so speak, and trust me I’m not crawling back to her, ever, hell would have to freeze over before that happens.”

 “A-are you sure?” she scrutinized him, eyes narrowed, her nose wrinkling, a quirk of hers every time she seemed to be contemplating something.

 “Yes, Seras. She is out my picture book forever, trust me, a pit of vipers would be more welcoming than ever sharing her bed again.”

“B-but?”

 “But?” he waited for her to continue.”

“But, that doesn’t explain, why you-you love me now.”

“Seras, I have long since stopped viewing you as just my loyal servant. You’re -you’re more to me than just that, over the years you been my partner, my companion, someone that I could trust.”

 “It doesn’t seem like that all the time. “She whispers.

 “I know. But, that was because of my own hubris than anything. It was nothing you did, my dear.”

She smiles, softly at that, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, shyly.

 “So, am I more to you now?”

 “You are mistaken on that part.”

“How, so.”  

“I’ve had…. feelings for you four quite some time.”

“Y-you have?” she should be ecstatic, yet caution was the only thing blaring through her thoughts. She knew her master and knew him well, both the good and the bad, well more bad than good. “Even, when you were with-”

“Yes. Look, Seras, I know our relationship hasn’t been-” he was looking for a word that didn’t come as harsh.

“The best.” she adds in, a little too quickly.

 “I was thinking a bit dysfunctional lately, but I guess “not the best” sounds….better put. But anyways, what I - what I’m trying to say is that I’m interested in courting you.”

Courting was such an odd word then again using the word dating, when referring to herself and Alucard was even stranger.   

 “Seras?”

“Huh-yes.”

“Will you?”

“Will I what?

“Will you let me court you?”

“Master, I-”

“Vlad.”

“What?

“That is my birth name. I want you to call me by it from now on.” he raised, a cautious hand, a bare hand, relieved of his gloves, to push a strand of golden hair behind her ear, gently brushing his knuckles against her cheek.

Seras bit her lip, what was she to say? What should she do? She felt the beer she drank desperately, wanting to make an encore.

“Mas-Vlad, I -I don’t know.” she murmurs, peering down at her locket, again, twirling it between her slender fingers.

“Why?” he had to stop himself from saying more, before he starts sounding desperate. He will not be one of those “men”.

“What you said before about people changing.”

“Yes, what about?”

“It’s just that-just -I mean- Vlad, sometimes……sometimes….. People don’t change. Especially, people like you.”

“What’s that supposed to me?”  He should have taken offense to that, but the stinging pain of hurt was the only feeling that was consuming him at the moment.

“I know what you are. I’m not blind. Please, don’t look at me like that, I’m not saying that to hurt you, trust me.

I love you, I really, really do. Sure I can deal with all your bizarre idiosyncrasies, but that was only because our relationship was- well was master and servant, I could live with that then. But, now, now I don’t know if I can. Your impulsive, rude, I can never anticipated your moods sometimes, your fickle when you want to be, not to mention cruel and bloodthirsty. How do I know you’re going to be committed, and not just one day get up and leave without so much as a single word? How do I know this isn’t all a game to you? How do I know that you truly want to love me and be my equal, if you keep shutting me out all the time or pushing me away when you don’t feel like being bothered? “She paused a moment, looking him dead in the eye to make sure she got the point across.

“I-I can’t do this, I can’t be with you, if you’re going to act that way. I can’t.” she didn’t want to cry, she told herself, lectured herself not to cry, but the tears involuntary came forth, warm, as well as unwelcoming, burned a pathway down her face.

He was stunned silent for a while he didn’t know what to say, his mouth felt uncomfortably dry, like his mouth was filled with sad, but it did stop him from wiping her tears away with the side of his thumb.

“Seras? Seras look at me.” he lowers his voice, to attract her attention. She wiped her nose and face with the back of her hand, sniffling as, she tried to gain the courage to look at him.

“Y-yeah.”

“You speak the truth, people don’t change, especially people such as I, we never do nor ever will, but for your sake I’ll do anything you wish of me, I promise you that at least.

I know I’m more monster than man, and I can never be what you truly deserve, but I can do what I can, if you’d be mine.” he sounded, so sincere, so sincere that she couldn’t bare it anymore, and the impulsive need to wrap her arms tightly around his neck and kiss him senseless was overpowering and that’s why she needed to leave. To leave, so she could think rationally and thoroughly.

“Vlad. Vlad can you give me some time to think about?”

“Of course, I don’t want to pressure you. Take your time.”

 “Vlad.”

 “Hhhmmm.”

 “Thank you.” she couldn’t help herself, but she threw her arms around him, placing her face in the crux of his neck, nuzzling his shoulder. “Thank you.” she whispers.

He pats the top of her head, feeling slightly awkward by the sudden intimacy.

It took a few good moments for her to let go “Um, I have work soon, so I better get some sleep.”

“Ah, right. Do you want me to accompany you home?”

She shakes her head “That’s alright I want to walk by myself tonight, if you don’t mind.”

“Are you sure.”

She nods her head in affirmation, slowly sliding off her seat, to leave, however, another wave - call it a need or maybe want, but whatever it was made her lean over and press her lips to his. It was chaste and he certainly wasn’t expecting it, but he returned it with fervor, pulling her closer and gently biting bottom lip, as she held onto his shirt for dear life. He wanted more, he wanted her, yearned for her taste and her touch, her scent alone, smelling of sweet vanilla, drove him mad, but in the most delightful ways, he wanted to continue, but was suddenly interrupted, by  loud grunt. Seras immediately pulled away from him, her cheeks flushed, and bottom lip swollen and her hair in slight disarray, she looked absolutely tempting - but the dirty look Igor gave him kept him doing anything further.

“Sorry, about that.” Seras smiles apologetically to the old bartender. He only tips his head in acknowledgement, quickly turning back to washing glasses.

She glances back him a shy expression lightens her face “Good night, Vlad.”

“Good night, Seras.”

“ Alright, see you later.” she waves, as she particularly skips out the front door, her heels clacking against the wooden floors, the bell up to the entrance signaling her departure. He sighs as leans back, having zero intention of leaving anytime soon.

He jiggles his empty cup devoid of anything, but halfway melted ice.

“Do you have anything stronger than Vodka?”

“Mmmmmhh.” Igor responded, completely disinterested.

“I’m very sure that you can actually talk.”

Igor grunted, turning from his finished task to stare at the other man, he glances down at the no-life king’s empty glass, back up to him, glaring.

“What!?…. Trust me I haven’t had my fill of alcohol; he didn’t want this man to break up his bar again due to being in a drunken stupor.

Igor shakes his head, arms crossed, clearly exasperated. He hated it when customers’ abuse their drinking privileges, and it pissed off even more, because was one that had to clean it all up, after closing.

“I’ll pay extra; I’ll even buy you a brand new television set.”

Didn’t this man have anything else better to do than, spend his nights indulging in alcoholism? Igor, sighs beside himself, well, whatever, it was his life that his was drinking away, not his, beside brand new television did sound pleasing, he was getting of watching his soap operas on a cracked scene, anyways, and maybe his regulars will stop complaining about how small his t.v set is.

Without another word, he traveled to the back to pick out a bottle of Everclear, which just came in this afternoon, maybe this will shut the lunatic up.

Alucard was curious when the Werewolf reappeared again with a large silver bottle of clear liquid, and handed it to him, practically shoving it in his arms.

The master vampire spinned it around, it was room temperature “ Everclear” he twisted it around once again to read the table of contents on the back with a raised eyebrow “ colorless, flavorless, 95 % concentrated Alcohol”  he whistle at that.

He glance back at the bartender, he just shrugged in response and continued about his work.  

Well, he certainly wasn’t going to leave this bar sober, hopefully.

TBC

Edit: Nothing major, I just wanted to fix a few things, and spelling errors, and give this first chapter a little bit more meat, such as adding and changing dialogue.  

Like for the instance, the part where Seras assumes Alucard has treasuries hidden all over Western Europe,I didn’t think much about that line, until now, realizing that Alucard is Romanian, which is in Eastern Europe, so he would have secret stashes hidden all over Eastern Europe, not Western.

   A/N: Is this chapter a bit too sappy, I don’t know maybe. I’m just wanted to write a Aluseras fic, where alucard doesn’t act like a grade A- A-hole with no redeemable qualities and for absolutely no reason, which I see an abundance of in a lot of fan fictions concerning this couple, note that I have nothing against anyone who does write these kind of fics, nothing personal, just not my cup of tea.

Anyways, can you believe it took me a whole day to write this, not to mention on a horribly upset stomach, ugh, it was the only way to keep me distracted from the pain.

Well, that’s it for now, Comments are always welcomed.

 @deyity @kyoandyuya @these-three-peeps

[mywebfoot]

Fairy Tale, Part 2

Suspicious Partner fanfic - Ji Eun Hyuk and Cha Yoo Jung’s story. This is part 2 of 2. If you haven’t, please read Part 1 first. 

*-*-*-*-*

Fairy Tale, Part 2: The Ending

Hello, dear reader. Are you still here?

Then settle down, and I’ll tell you the story of the night that the princess kissed our green-eyed monster.

Prince Eun Hyuk remained true to his word, and left the happy couple to their work at the prosecutor’s office. Only at night, when he could conceal his love with the shadows, would he meet them, his best friend and his love.

At these night-blessed meetings, he could spend time in darkened bars imagining himself at the end of the smiles that Yoo Jung directed at Wook. It was only looking, he reasoned, and as long as there was no touching, he maintained that delicate balance between his conscience and his envy.

Some nights, he would catch himself and be revolted at his own pathetic endeavours to still see Yoo Jung.  Wook was brother to him, in everything but blood, and except for that family bond he would never be where he was today. That he had put his own time and talent into his career was invisible to Eun Hyuk. For those who learn to hate themselves for their bodies often could not see treasure in their own minds, but were ever grateful for those who lifted them up, regardless of their ugly imperfections.

On other nights, he found his actions perfectly justified. Noble, even. These were the nights when the green-eyed monster slipped seductive, stealthy limbs into the depths of Eun Hyuk’s heart. Wook had left them alone, together, hurrying back to his unfinished work and trusting his best friend to bring his girl safely home. The green-eyed monster’s roaring triumph came on the night Wook did not even appear, claiming an urgent deposition and last minute evidence. A young man, building his career, was simply busy making the expected sacrifices.

Suddenly Eun Hyuk’s noble loyalty to Wook and his love for Yoo Jung were on the same side, and nothing, no amount of prior self-loathing or sense of loyalty could overcome that grotesque unity of purpose.

On those bewildering nights he would sit next to tipsy Yoo Jung in the taxi home. She could lean on his shoulder for support as they tottered upstairs.  He was allowed to wrap an arm around her slender waist. He was permitted to comfort her, extend his protection over her, and until they parted at her door, be the man she was going home with.

“Sometimes I feel like you’re my boyfriend, not Wook,” she once observed.

And sometimes: “You seem to know what I am thinking even before I say it.”

This: “I am glad I can tell you these things.”

Then this: “Eun Hyuk, always wear blue, you’re handsome in blue.”

Each statement would tear into his heart. Each statement gave it new life.

*-*-*-*-*

Yoo Jung said these things, as honest when drunk as she was when sober. In fact, she heard them come out of her mouth and that hearing made her listen to herself. And then, as often happens in life, she dimly glimpsed an alternate version of her life’s journey, one charted with Eun Hyuk instead of Wook, and brief as it was, a surge of warmth and belonging came through that vision. She felt that glowing vision brush up against her cool, uncomplicated relationship with Wook, where both were happy working and meeting when their careers did not need them.

But she was a practical person, and knew that time did not come in blocks, with events to be rearranged willy nilly to one’s satisfaction. No, the correct choice of one man two years ago meant that going to Eun Hyuk, as his best friend, would forever be the wrong choice. Even done fairly, unemotionally and sequentially, the act of leaving Wook, giving it time, and then turning to Eun Hyuk would still mean the loss of the threesome. Her team. Her guys.

And so she suffocated the vision and grimly buried it.

*-*-*-*-*

So you see, for these three, ill-fated souls, nothing could change. Until the day that our two princes, Wook and myself, found themselves on the opposing ends of a forgery case, they might have lasted for many more years together, perhaps their whole lives.

Isn’t that funny? Ha ha.

*-*-*-*-*

The case pitted a second wife against a man’s fortune. I was defending the young, newly divorced wife against the old man’s accusations of her forging his signature. The evidence against her was thin, and Wook knew it. It was only the seductive glances she sent my way that convinced him that love had not been part of this woman’s marriage. I saw Wook shake his head in resignation as I skewered him in court, hammering a nail into his paltry evidence of forgery.

He told me so, at lunch after. “You’re too damned good, Eun Hyuk.”

I only grinned. Beating Wook was to be savoured.

“You made it sound as if her cheating on that old man could make sense.”

I kept the smile going, though nothing felt funny.

“Ah … Wook, she never slept with anyone else, so nothing ever happened to cement her motive, right? It’s all in the evidence, Wook. Should I send you back to law school for some refreshers?”

“You’re a mean bastard,” Wook said, without heat. “Don’t tell me you didn’t see the way she was looking at you. That woman is a cheater, through and through.”

Something stuck in my throat.

“Ha ha, Super Noh. Able to judge a person in a single glance! You’re getting so good, you can skip the part where you hear out the person’s reasons, examine the evidence, and make a fair judgement.”

Wook only sighed, acknowledging my point. He took off his glasses and rubbed his face tiredly. “Who has time?” he asked rhetorically. “Which reminds me, there are five other cases that need my attention now. This one’s done.”

Wook stood up. “See you tonight. Drinks on me, since you won.”

I only nodded. The lump that lodged in my throat that afternoon refused to budge. Everywhere I turned, I heard the echo of that word, “cheater”.

It shrieked in my ear when Yoo Jung walked into the bar that night. She was dressed in a pin-striped, narrow dark suit and all was well until she shucked her jacket to reveal that the tiny wedge of white exposed at her neckline was a silky, spaghetti-strapped chemise. I looked. I did not stop myself.

We laughed. We toasted. We caught each other up on the day, on our cases. We waited for Wook.

The evening wore on, and Wook did not appear.

At 11.34, Yoo Jung checked her phone’s messages again.

|| I still can’t finish. Don’t wait for me.||

She turned the phone to me.

“Let’s go home.”

I looked at her face. The words were no different from what she’d said so many times before. Only this time, there was a sheen to her eyes. When have I ever seen her cry before?

“I’m not crying,” she said, blinking away the evidence.

“Of course, you’re not,” I said even as a ball of fury filled my chest. I stood up and took her elbow.

In the taxi, there were no words. There were no words when Yoo Jung gripped my hand, tightly, searching for control. I said nothing when a tear slipped off her cheek onto my shoulder.

At the door of her apartment, she entered her code and pushed the door open. Then she turned, and looked down at our still joined hands.

“Today was our anniversary,” she murmured to our hands. “I understood, last year, too. I do understand.”

Still, I had no words. The thoughts that swirled in my head were too righteous, too furious, too serious. I could only offer a hug and a comforting touch.

Yoo Jung accepted and stepped in, slipping naturally and perfectly into my personal space. Her shoulders felt cold, her shudders felt sad. So damn sad.

That was when I broke my barriers. Already, I was guilty. I had looked. For two damning years, I had looked. Wook was right, a cheater is born when he looks. Still I could see no wrong in my actions. It was only a correction of the course of our lives. Yoo Jung was hurting and I could stop that hurt.

I reached down for her lips, and she reached up for my kiss… and that was the night protection and possession became one. With my body I made love to her that night. With my soul I made promises.

When she lay in my arms afterwards, I found the words. I could explain. It would be a difficult time for the three of us, but it would be alright. I thought I could sit Wook down, and explain about how we need to live shamelessly and love shamelessly. He would listen. I would make him understand that what we did in the past didn’t have to decide what would happen next.

I believed that Yoo Jung and me, together, we had a fighting chance. I believed, until Wook walked in on us.

Yoo Jung left the country. Wook froze me out. I stayed to wait for him. I had to. One day I will make it up to Wook. In the years since, I’ve come to realize that our fates had always been sealed, and I was the only fool who thought differently. One had become three and we were ever broken.

We lived brokenly ever after. Ha ha.

The End.

*-*-*-*-* Author’s note: This was a joy to write. Here are some insights I gained while writing this:

1. Writer Kwon Ki Young and her team have done a fantastic job with the character backgrounds and motivations in Suspicious Partner. Writing this, I found that all the plot points so quickly glossed over the in the drama hang together very well when fleshed out. I literally gasped with surprise every time I found the story I was writing naturally hitting the next character detail in SP.

2. Eun Hyuk’s love story is an intriguing and sad mirror to Ji Wook’s romance with Bong Hee. In both, it was the move to decide to live shamelessly that pushed the loveline forward. The common point is Wook, who, until he met Bong Hee, lived cautiously and passively. Bong Hee is the one who made him reach out to change his fate. The fascinating is Bong Hee’s motivation and character is foretold in Eun Hyuk’s story. When he chose to seize the day and planned to tell Wook about how he felt about Yoo Jung, he came very close to success. Like Wook, a fear of consequences, a lack of self-esteem held him back until it was too late. 

So there, this was as much a mental exercise as an emotional one for me, and I hope you enjoyed it. Till next time!

[class301-blog]

NEW SUSPECT.

SONG YERIN is the #10 on the class 301 roll call list. born on april 29th, 1999. links up with the sweethearts ( caramel ). voted most likely to murder park jisoo? let’s run by the evidence.

THE PRECEDENTS.

THE COLLECTED INFORMATION ON THE SUSPECT.

( one ) song yerin’s parents believe everything must have an impact or meaning, which is why the girl suspects now, in her later years, that she was born a year after the couple moved to jinhae for a reason. little does it matter, though, for she was brought up pampered, adored, and filled with outside influences more than she would ever admit.

( two ) childhood was pink dresses, socks embroidered with lace on the hem, and the weight of a book on her head. she stayed with her mother at the park often, but ran around the playground very little. well, it was not as if the kids did not want to play with her – quite the contrary, her house was a popular spot for tea parties and house-playing all throughout those years –, but there was something about how the kids screamed and got dirty and bruised that she ceased to like the closer she got to age eleven. she wanted to be a lady, just like her mother, and she had never seen the woman behave like that.

( three ) early teenage years were awkward stretches of bones, curled hairstyles, and a complete distaste for the very concept of the color pink. she stayed with her father in his office at home after school, and let him tell her everything about the company he had owned in the town even before she was born. she did not exactly like to hear about the numbers, but there was something about the importance her father had in other people’s lives that allured her to listen to his day and job. mom was not like him – she did not impose herself, she was not powerful. yerin wondered how much of ‘ladylikeness’ you can lose to become powerful.

( four ) seventeen years old is suitcases on the door that do not belong to her or her parents, tears, and the inevitability of heartbreak. now, her uncle and her had been close on her childhood, when he still lived in a closeby town and came around every weekend to play. however, since he had married a chinese woman whom he met in a trip to shanghai, yerin had not seen him to the count of eight summers more than a couple of times. the swift change that was the move was cause by the death of his said wife, and the despicable sadness that came with it. at first, she could only see him as this fragile, little creature, whose soul had been ripped away from him. nothing like her father; nothing like his brother. his job was to write puzzles and crosswords for journals, and she thought it nearly as pitiful as him. then she solved a few over coffee with him, feeling incredibly erudite and all-grown-up, only to be broken down by overwhelming sadness that poisoned him and seeped into her veins, too. it was, however, philosophical – and to her came the realization that the smartest of the people perhaps are not the most powerful. she was not sure if it was power was something worth losing.

( five ) it had been blonde hair, heart-shaped lollipops, and sweet, sweet venom for a couple of years now. of course, it had been pretty little skirts before, and maybe her name in sharpie on the bathroom stall, so it would come to no surprise to her if things were to change again, even if she had become comfortable in her situation of mild distrust in the people around her. it was a fun idea to have, that she could predict every next move people would pull – at least, the people who mattered. then a guy just had to fucking drop dead. now, please understand, though she was not the president of the park jisoo fanclub, there was not exactly a war worthy conflict either. the issue is that the death raised more questions than she would like to answer, specially about herself, which brings her own unsure disgust too – she cannot recall a time where things were not about herself.

THE ALIBI.

THIS ACCOUNT IS CONSIDERED DUBIOUS.

confusion, denial, restlessness, horror – pools of sorrow drowning her brain into a numb state of being overwhelmingly lost.

first came the thought of her friend, the poor bastard’s girlfriend, and for a moment there was nothing but an excruciatingly tender thought of her peace of mind, which at such a setting was quite likely nonexistent. she thought it unfair, and bones moved on their own under her skin to straighten her up, ready to walk swiftly and find her.

then, in a cruel waltz, a little chaotically egocentric being slipped through the wrinkles of her brain. there, it planted a seed, no bigger than its own palm, of concern; not for the lost soul, or the ones that were fortunate to stay, but for herself. a vile flower bloomed in the pit of her stomach, vicious, piercing thorns up her throat, which she spit on white porcelain, breathless. the petals that remained were the thoughts of her prosecution, which crumbled along past memories.

in an early morning, she recalls, her uncle shared the feelings of illusion and deceit that comes along with death in its first hours. as if it were a crooked dream, a grotesque vision, which still felt better than reality in tainted kind of comfort.

oh such a wandering mind of hers – it somersaults into a pool of black and white, shivering, then twisting into images of herself and a man in a suit whose face cannot be seen. she dreams wide awake, envisioning herself almost whimsically in a carefully crafted noir film of her own. she sits in a cool, metal chair; a handkerchief on her hand, her knee touching the edge metal table.

the faceless man has callous hands, and she can see clearly only up to his shoulders as he stands by the table, a shadow covering his features. “now, ms song, will you tell me where you were in the time of death?” the voice resembles his uncle’s, a disciplined though almost tender tone. yerin sighs, sniffling with half a hiccup, “well, i stayed in school until eight – we’re in a time we have to study a lot, you know – and i’m sure i saw a couple people in the way home. I stopped by the corner store, and bought gum. by nine i was home, sir. i texted my friends for a while, then i sat with my father to talk about his day. he’ll surely confirm it, sir, i didn’t leave my house at all that night except to have dinner with my family.”

there is a pause as the hands twist, veins popping under that pale grey skin. “will you be able to give all the possible names to confirm your route? are you sure of all of this?”

“why, yes, sir” she swallows dry, and bats her eyelashes up at the shadows, “you have to believe me, sir, i sat with my father, then we all had dinner, then watched a few movies on netflix – i didn’t go out with anyone else at all!”

and suddenly the single lamp that lits the table is twisted in her direction; hand tight on her handkerchief, eyes glistening, body bolting back; little deer caught in the headlights. “do you think you can fool me, girl?” her father’s voice is stern in her ears, and a couple tears run down her pale, silver cheeks, little stars rolling through the moon. “we can see through you” she hears, and then cries in vivid technicolor, sobbing ‘i don’t know’s on the palms of her hands.

THE TESTIMONIAL.

THE SUSPECT’S THOUGHTS ON JINHAE HIGH.

( from the sunday journal crossword: )

1. ( seven letters ) noun, people of royal blood or status;

ROYALTY.  

it is important to understand the setting as she does, through her own eyes, therefore one must establish the importance of hierarchy itself within those cool walls: mean gleaming eyes, pristine indecency, and lie tinted lips; those are the signs of nobility. a mistake she could have made herself in the past would be to undermine the influence of each piece of the court, their charms and motifs. once, she was foolish, just as you might be, dear reader, to see them as a comic court – say, the queen of hearts, the white rabbit, tweedledee and tweedledum, and a little lizard following them through, whimsical, it was a mistake to think such things, and she felt the consequences on skin. of course, there is, within each group and setting, their own hierarchy, and they are no different. and where does our little girl fit?

2. ( seven letters ) noun, fem., the highest rank in nobility below the monarch;

DUCHESS.

a common misconception is to believe yerin sharps her nails to reach the crown – the gleam of ambition in her eyes would lead one to believe such a thing, and she does not mind when she hears it whispered in the hallways that she is simply waiting for the queen to fall under the weight of the crown. however, with enough attention and care in the eyes, one might find that she is not quite the cryptic being she trains herself to be, oh no – in fact, as days pass she is somewhat bored with the constant intrigue. this place which she found to be comfortable after a few slips and falls is the place where she belongs, perhaps too comfortable. not the commander, not the monarch; a vital link. she is owed to, see – the current head bitch would have been nothing but a bullseye, shred to pieces at this day and age, if she had not taken the poor girl under her silver wings. in her past resides the previous aspiring monarch, dreams of a kingdom broken with a fight, and the other girl’s name is now spit on the bathroom stalls with swarms of indecent recalls and names. thus, there is no reason to reach up, because queens may fall, but yerin was born with golden teeth, and her mouth is wide if she must taste blood and chew another monarch out, even if her eyes grow tired of the gruesome futility.

3. ( six letters ) adjective, to have an inescapable outcome;

she cannot fill those letters.