#p: mxr

[fuzzkaizer]

Pussy Galore - Pussy Fuzz

s.a. the pussy fuzz prototype

"... Steve Albini had 4 of these harmonic percolators made for himself and Jon Spencer, Kurt Wolf and Neil Hagerty as Christmas gifts. ... The pedal pictured was given to Jon Senum (St. Paul Bike Blog) by Jon Spencer at their show at Old Avalon Theater, Minneapolis, US (July 24, 1989)"

“The case was from Radio Shack, the pots were CTS and the board was hand etched using Datek dry transfer resist materials. The case was marked with Kroy lettering machine labels. The knobs were just like Fender amp knobs in size and shape, but were marked 0-9 in smaller sized numbers. The circuit was based on the Harmonic Percolator but was modified to sound more like Steve Albini’s personal pedal, which really sounds like no other. Steve still has one of these versions in his collection.” “Steve Ablini’s personal HP has one germanium and one silicon transistor and all of the clones that were made (maybe a total of 8-10) were made using the same circuit as his, but each one was tweaked to sound as close to his original one as possible. As I noted before, his personal one sounds like no other normal Percolator that I’ve ever heard. A few years ago (after the video interview/review) a couple of P-Fuzz prototypes were created and delivered to Steve. These new versions were made in small rectangular “MXR” style boxes. One had no controls and was preset to full on as this is Steve’s normal setting.” – Mr Bill

Steve Albini talks about harmonic percolators and the Pussy Fuzz here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nahPA-RKEfQ

cred: pop-catastrophe.co.uk/pussy-galore-pedal-fuzz-pedal-us

[postsofbabel]

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[fuzzkaizer]

Pussy Galore – Pussy Fuzz

Harmonic Percolator [Prototype] (PEDAL, US)

"Prototype for the Pussy Fuzz harmonic percolator pedal made by Mr Bill. Steve Albini had 4 of Pussy Fuzz harmonic percolators made for himself and Jon Spencer, Kurt Wolf and Neil Hagerty as Christmas gifts. There was also a clone version of the pedal.

“The case was from Radio Shack, the pots were CTS and the board was hand etched using Datek dry transfer resist materials. The case was marked with Kroy lettering machine labels. The knobs were just like Fender amp knobs in size and shape, but were marked 0-9 in smaller sized numbers. The circuit was based on the Harmonic Percolator but was modified to sound more like Steve Albini’s personal pedal, which really sounds like no other. Steve still has one of these versions in his collection.” “Steve Ablini’s personal HP has one germanium and one silicon transistor and all of the clones that were made (maybe a total of 8-10) were made using the same circuit as his, but each one was tweaked to sound as close to his original one as possible. As I noted before, his personal one sounds like no other normal Percolator that I’ve ever heard. A few years ago (after the video interview/review) a couple of P-Fuzz prototypes were created and delivered to Steve. These new versions were made in small rectangular “MXR” style boxes. One had no controls and was preset to full on as this is Steve’s normal setting.” – Mr Bill

Steve Albini talks about harmonic percolators and the Pussy Fuzz here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nahPA-RKEfQ"

cred: pop-catastrophe.co.uk/pussy-galore-pussy-fuzz-harmonic-percolator-prototype-pedal-us/

[k-vanity]

⟢

CHEMTRAILS | 전원우

⟢ PAIRING: jeon wonwoo x fem!reader ⟢ WORD COUNT: 11K ⟢ GENRE: angst, smut, sprinkles of fluff ⟢ TAGS: heavy themes of grief/death including a mentioned drunk driving incident (do not tread lightly if these topics are difficult for you to read), minor character death (including a child, but it is all offscreen), coworkers au, pet names (baby, doll, etc), light breast play, fingering, protected sex. ⟢ SYNOPSIS: Wonwoo is the last person you expect to find at a grief support group, but he may just be the peace that you need to weather all of your storms. LINK TO FIC PLAYLIST -ˋˏ✄┈┈ AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is an incredibly personal story for me, as I have suffered parental loss and it is one of the hardest things I've gone through, but in a way, writing it out has helped heal a small part of me, so I am happy to share this with you all. Bless to my friends beta-ing this for me—Allie (@lovetaroandtaemin), Raven (@shadowkoo), Lily (@prkhaven), Sulkie (@innocygnet), and Tiya (@gyubakeries), and everyone else who read snippets of this before it became what it is now. The fic's title inspo is from a song by Lizzy Mcalpine!

GRIEF DOESN’T END, BUT IT CHANGES SHAPE OVER TIME.

The white text over the image of a pastel sunrise initially made you gag when you stepped into the room, the church’s banner haphazardly put up to prepare for today’s session. Now, it’s all your brain can focus on as the surrounding attendees share their stories. The initial greetings stopped thirty minutes ago, with many at the waterworks now to your secondhand chagrin. Others nod and provide supportive commentary, but you don’t have it in you, silence the only usable response. A few people you recognize from the first few weeks surround you; others are brand new, red-faced as they meander through the reasons for their attendance. 

The four walls reek of silent regret and raw sadness, the sniffles and coughs of those trying to hide their pain sticking to the air like heat on a summer day. You’d prefer it to be a hotter season, if only to focus on something else but the ridiculous text looming over you. But the winter chill that accompanies the gloomy atmosphere is another unpleasant reminder of the dangers of wishful thinking.

You could say all the stories and puffy expressions don’t hit a nerve somewhere deep inside of you, but then you’d be a liar. As you’ve learned in the past year, though, you’re getting very good at hiding and denying.

 It’s been forty-five minutes of passive listening on your end, but your attention remains on the chalky slopes of text against the yellow sun disappearing into the mountain formation.

“It’s been six months, and I still don’t know what to do. When I think I’ve gotten over one stage, I’m reminded of something that sets me back.” One attendee you’ve known from the start, Suzy, continues on while staring into the coffee cup in her hands. She’s typically meek in tone, solemn while her hands stay in her thick coat as she recalls the details of her twin sister’s battle with leukemia. But today, there’s a new aura about her, something clipped and biting that is unique to see in this place.

Maybe she’s on the stage of anger this week.

“You know I’ve said healing isn’t linear, Suzy,” Seungcheol, the director of the group, says in a supportive tone.

“I get that, but can I get a break from feeling more than one stage at once? For the love of God.” She blanches immediately and mutters out an apology, making you chuckle to yourself.

You used to think that the phenomenon was a myth, a way for people to rationalize their pain by separating all of it into clear, definable chunks. While you’re now well acquainted with each piece of grief, they all remain a mystery in your eyes. You’re unsure who to ask for the right answers, and you’re not opening your mouth now to humor the group with questions.

The plan has always been the same: attend each session like you’re supposed to, get your slip signed off, and go home. That was the routine for the past two weeks, nothing more to add or subtract. When people addressed you, you weren't unfriendly, but you didn't offer any information. These things considered, you’re adamant about keeping with tradition for the remaining six meetings, including this one.

Yet, the second the door of the church opens, and you see Jeon Wonwoo enter, you know it’ll be impossible to continue staying under the radar.

Wonwoo apologizes profusely as Seungcheol pulls up a chair for the newcomer. Wonwoo’s wearing a scarf that covers a substantial amount of his face, but you’d recognize his wire-frame glasses and that black mop of hair anywhere. He may barely be an acquaintance, but he’s not terrible to look at. “My car was giving me trouble this morning, so—”

“No problem, man,” Seungcheol cuts him off. “Nobody’s late here. You’re always arriving somewhere at the moment you’re meant to, I always say.”

You roll your eyes and tuck your arms tighter into your chest. The older guy always has a plethora of slogans for personal growth up his sleeve. You reckon he probably made the fucking sign with the awful font and stereotypically hopeful photography? It’s anyone’s guess, but you have a good one.

Some hair falls into your face just as Wonwoo sits across from you in the large circle. You think that just might save you from being seen, but recognition crosses his face out of the corner of your eye, and you curse under your breath, knowing you’re fucked.

Jeon Wonwoo, from the legal team at the publishing house you both work for, sees you, the quiet girl from the marketing department. He must have some idea why, given his department’s close relationship with your higher-ups, and that makes your intestines twist in a way akin to food poisoning. You think it may be the perfect time for the world to split open under your feet and take you away, but that’s only a dreamer’s level of luck.

“So, Wonwoo, you’re a newcomer, as we can see. What brings you to the group?”

Wonwoo stutters on an explanation, his cheeks turning a shade of pink. “I think the lady before me was in the middle of her story, but maybe I can share after.”

Seungcheol winks in acknowledgement and goes back to Suzy, continuing where they left off in their discussion. “So, for the stages…”

You feel the heat of Wonwoo’s gaze from across the circle. He’s probably trying to decipher just exactly what led you to this place. Not the church, per se, but the situation at hand. Tired of the burn of his irises on you, you turn your stare on him. His eyes look small under the guise of his glasses, but they enlarge considerably when you make it known you’ve caught him ogling. With your mouth in a thin line but your eyebrows quirked up, you send him a silent dare to continue staring. To your pleasure, he pales and turns away, looking in the same direction as everyone else as Suzy continues on with her rant.

Any secondhand inkling you had to share with the group before the end of the program dies with the turn of Wonwoo’s head, and you prefer it that way. His presence gives you an excuse to not break from routine. Not like you were going to, anyway.

“He was there?” Wooyoung ruffles his hair in secondhand embarrassment, the sound of his nervous expel of breath drowned out by the music in the bar. The local hotspot was a mere five blocks away from your work, and it rarely became overcrowded before you guys had the chance to leave, so coming around now and then with your best friend was still doable, even under your circumstances. It was hard to say no to Wooyoung when he gave you such toothy grins and pleading words. “You barely come out anymore, at least try to spend some time with me for a bit? It’ll be good for you.”

He had to be the only person left you could stomach being around, and the last man on the planet who could handle your latest less than sunny disposition.

Wooyoung immediately goes back to making his shot for the solid blue ball close to the top left-hand pocket when you shoot him a glare that even he can’t joke himself out of. “You think he’ll say anything?” he asks as he moves his pool stick back and forth, testing the waters of the angle he’s chosen to hit the cue ball from.

“I hope not.” You groan and knock your head against your pool stick. Replaying yesterday afternoon in your head, you barely could get through the workday filled with pitch proposals and strategy meetings. You couldn’t help but wonder if Wonwoo was lurking around every corner of the building, waiting to discuss how he saw you and tease you for something not meant for teasing. He didn’t seem like the type to do so, but you expect less and less from the male population with every passing day. “He probably already knows about what happened anyway.”

Wooyoung hits the ball, but it veers a little too far for the shot to be completed. He swears, an audible “fuck me” rolling off of his tongue. You make haste going for the striped orange ball, and with no seconds to spare, you hit it into the center right cup. You land another two before your best friend has a chance again, but it doesn't matter. All that’s left for you to shoot in is the eight ball.

“One day I’ll manage to get close to beating you.”

“The night’s still young,” you respond before chugging down what’s left of your bottle of soju. The alcohol goes down your throat smoothly, but it doesn’t soothe the itch that still sits under your skin. With another few drinks, and you teetering on the line between buzzing and full-blown drunk, you think you’ll be able to forget the feeling exists.

That sting only intensifies when you see a handful of guys from the legal team walk in, Vernon and Jihoon trailing behind Wonwoo’s towering form. Their presence causes you to miss the eight ball entirely, the cue ball slowly rolling towards a pocket until it falls in.

“Goddamnit, man,” you curse. You reach for your drink, but you curse again when the empty bottle touches your lips.

Before Wooyoung can ask, he turns his head to see the men going up to the bartender and gnaws at his lip. “Maybe they won’t notice us?”

“That’s as likely as you getting a girlfriend,” you tease. You pull a couple of dollar bills out of your pocket and set your pool stick down when you see the men edging away from the bar-top. It may be a risk when they’re still so close by, but your dry mouth tells you to take the chance. “I’m gonna get us another round.”

You place your hands firmly on the shining wood of the bar, the gloss of it contrasting with the rough calluses and paper cuts across your hands. A few fingers beckon the bartender over with a new set of soju bottles. The green glass that holds the liquid refracts against the overhead lights. It’s so bright, you don’t notice the figure whose shadow mars their outlines.

“Didn’t think you were the drinking type,” Wonwoo finally pipes up. Where his voice yesterday was quick and bashful, and his typical tone at work is clinical to the letter, the cadence of it now is warm, like a smooth pool of honey.

His arm brushes yours as he places a few bucks of his own on the bar for the bartender to take. The contact raises gooseflesh across the space where his skin met yours for the briefest of moments. It sends a new itch up your spine, one that’s barely familiar and on the cusp of foreign. You lie to yourself with careful precision, swearing in hushed tones inside your brain that it doesn’t ignite a long, burnt-out flame somewhere inside of you, and you almost believe it.

Almost.

“I also didn’t used to go to work-mandated support groups, but here we are.” You aim your bottle in his direction with the slightest of tips, a sarcastic salute that doesn’t make your secret any easier to address out loud. You sip gingerly, the pull of your lips from the bottle long and slow, but the alcohol holds no solution for your bitter tongue or sick stomach.

You know this, and you drink anyway. It’s better than the alternative.

Wonwoo’s the one who takes the bottle from your mouth. A few dribbles of soju trickle down your chin, but before you can snatch it back, he says, “I’m not going to say anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I wasn’t worried to begin with.”

He nods with a close-lipped smirk, in no way believing your glib. The bartender brings three gin and tonics for Wonwoo’s troupe, and you can’t hold back the giggle that erupts from deep in your throat. “Typical.”

“What? G and Ts are too good for you, miss marketing expert?” Vernon and Jihoon call their coworker with a loud shout of his name when they see their drinks are ready, but Wonwoo throws them an expression that shuts the younger men up.

“Who said I was an expert? That’s Soobin’s role, anyway.” You tut your head in a random direction. You have nothing to prove to Wonwoo, but you take pride in your job being higher than one of meager content creation. He chuckles, and the sound tickles your ears in a way you push down. “I’m a trend analyst.”

“Oh, really? Is that why you don’t speak during the meetings? You’ve already predicted that sharing is a waste of time?”

You sober immediately at his questions. You grip the neck of the soju bottle tighter as you try composing an answer, anger prickling the base of your neck. What can you say that gives nothing away and keeps with the pre-set banter, all while you remain even-keeled? You land on, “It’s not like that,” and make your move to walk away, bored with the conversation now.

Wooyoung looks over at you like you’re crazy, and you know the thoughts immediately swirling in your best friend’s head. You haven’t flirted with a man in probably half a decade, at least, but if the nerd isn’t getting any, the very least you could do is entertain some sort of romantic attention for the two of you.

Wonwoo grabs your arm softly, his fingers setting the same fire the contact from before did, but it holds an entirely new scope and set of stakes. “Humor me. What’s it like, then?” His voice is featherlight, gentle in its prodding. He holds no judgement, his earlier words only teasing but clearly striking a nerve in you he’s trying to amend with his new tone.

You avoid his gaze, finally landing back on the pool table where Wooyoung awaits. The kernel of an idea pops up alongside your smile. “Play me for it.”

“What?” Wonwoo chuckles, perplexed. You point towards the table with your index finger, and Wooyoung immediately turns his head, attempting to hide his spying to no avail.

“You win, I’ll tell you why I’m in that group.” Your smirk grows, the cheshire cat smile that now adorns your face growing with every word. “I win, you tell me what you were doing there yesterday in the first place.”

You put a hand between your incredibly close bodies, a fact you did not realize until you offered some ante for Wonwoo to chew on, and he takes the bait like you expected him to. “Deal.”

He shakes your hand firmly. It’s another set of touches that warms you to the bone in a way liquor never has before. You shuck that information to the side as you walk to the pool table with Wonwoo hot on your heels. He stops to deliver the drinks to his awaiting team, but he makes it to you with a few quick strides.

“Want me to break, or do you need to prove you can play first?” you ask with the same tantalizing smile you wagered him with.

He takes a hefty sip of his tonic and licks his bottom lip to catch the alcohol that threatens to spill over. “By all means.”

If only he knew how stupid it was to let the lady go first this time.

Wonwoo stares down into the pocket the eight-ball just flew into. While he’s mystified how you managed to just destroy his record and prove him wrong in a matter of ten minutes and three plays, you smirk openly. It always used to bug ex-boyfriends and situationships when you were better at a more masculine task or hobby than they were, but you always flicked their comments back with a middle finger and a nonplussed demeanor. It’s a delightful change of pace for someone as attractive and confident as Wonwoo to be mystified by your capabilities, even at the expense of his pride.

“She beats me all the time, man. Don’t sweat it.” Wooyoung tries to walk up and rustle your newly defeated opponent on the shoulder. He thinks better of it when Wonwoo gives him the same glare you threw at the younger guy a short time ago.

Your best friend offers to grab you another drink as you laugh, but you shake your head. “Gotta head home. Carat can’t feed herself.”

Wonwoo gives you a quizzical expression as Wooyoung leaves, and you respond with, “My fish. Very adamant about her feeding schedule.”

He flashes a high-wattage grin, and the feelings he’s stirred in you tonight try to scratch their way back to the surface, but you repress them once again. It means nothing, anyway. You won’t act on it, and the guy is probably ready to hightail it back to his friends by now.

He offers to walk you out, and all your preconceived notions upend themselves into the air. Wooyoung pulls you by the shoulder when you say goodbye and whispers, “If you miss out on that guy now, you’re even more ridiculous than I thought. And I’ve seen you suck your thumb while you sleep, remember that.”

When you make it to the driver’s side door, you remember it’s time to collect your payment. Now or never. “So, gonna tell me why you were in the group yesterday? Or will you chicken out with the best two out of three rounds?”

“Easy, I’ll tell you,” he says, concealing a grin until his next words come out. “But, it’ll be during dinner tomorrow night. My place?”

You gulp down heavy air, again recognizing the clear proximity of your chest to his. You can see the slow rise and fall of his upper body, his heart steady but clearly put on edge. He’s patient but barely, waiting for you to either accept the invitation or decline with bated breath.

“Why?”

You don’t mean for the word to come out the way it does, one-fourth hopeful and the remaining three-fourths speculative. It’s not like you’re unappealing under normal circumstances, but the girl who would’ve jumped at the opportunity for a date with a cute guy is not who’s standing in front of Wonwoo right now. You want to be her, trade your place for hers to make the smile on his face brighten, but you’re unsure how to get her back, and if there’s any point.

“Because I owe you, don’t I?” You shrug your arms, not saying no but not giving him confirmation either. “And you’re not the type to not collect when you’re owed something.”

“What makes you think that?” Some of your fire returns as you cross your arms, body posture exemplifying your intrigue.

“Because you wouldn’t have bet against me knowing you’d win if you were.”

There’s no witty remark or sarcastic comeback that comes to mind. He so easily saw through you, it scares you into saying yes right there. But, even while ruminating for a moment, you search for reasons to deny him of your company, and you find none. If tonight wasn’t so bad, what’s one more without expectations?

“Sure,” you finally say, and he gives you the grin you were looking for that could go toe to toe with any city streetlight. That mesmerizing, gum-revealing grin that makes a part of your knees weak.

You knew he was nice to look at from faraway in the secrecy of your cubicle, but it’s at a new level now, one that’s unquellable.

On the drive home, as you replay his smile in your mind’s eye, you know without a doubt that the buzz in your veins isn’t just because of the soju still lingering in your bloodstream.

It’s not, under any circumstances, a date. 

You parrot the words as you move around your bedroom, the clock on your dresser practically screaming at you to leave while the day is young. Work ended an hour ago, and you’re still stumbling on what to do about your attire.

No way is this a date. I’ve been on them before, I know it when I see it.

The recesses of your mind try to commit every sentence to memory as you put on lipstick, curl your hair, and throw an old dress under a denim jacket. It’s habitual to look nice for a new person, you remind yourself. It’s not like Wonwoo won’t welcome you into his home if you’re wearing a greasy t-shirt and pair of sweatpants, but you digress. You’re simply collecting on your payment, and if he takes it any other way, that’s his problem to deal with.

The ride to his apartment is tense, to say the least. A million thoughts run through your head while you grip the steering wheel tight during every turn and stop through the city to his downtown complex. You try to make light of the building that greets you, thinking about how much legal counsel must make to afford such swanky living spaces, but it doesn’t help. Your hands tremble, no matter how forcefully you clench your fists to stop the shaking.

He’s Wonwoo, a guy who has an interest in seeing you outside of a professional setting, and you’re you, half emotionally composed on your very best day as of late. You have some basis for being nervous, no matter what one would call the meeting arranged between you two today.

He called it dinner, so you’ll start there.

Greeting you at your door in a black V-neck and gray jeans, he looks too clean for someone who must’ve been lounging around before you arrived. “You look nice. Got a hot date or something?” He bites his lip in satisfaction when you huff out a breath of air, blowing off his harmless dig.

“I’m here for the information I won last night. And the plate of food you promised me.”

He beckons you inside with a smile and an arm pointed inside, and you walk through the threshold with all the knots in your stomach, reminding you of their presence with every step.

Wonwoo’s living space appears to be stereotypical for a guy in his mid-twenties. The apartment’s all dark wood and grey wallpaper, from his industrial bar table to the kitchen marble, but he’s made it his in his own way. Some action figures line a bookshelf near the kitchen, and a guitar sits on its stand in the corner of the entertainment center dominating the living room. But you glean little pieces of information about him from the tchotchkes that surround you. The black cat plushie that sits on the sofa, the NASA magazines he must have a subscription for, and the sounds of jazz playing low on the TV all indicate the quiet eccentricities of his personality.

He’s a secretively unique guy on the page and in person, and you admire it. Some part of it scares you, how easily you’ve grown accustomed to him in a few short meetings, but that’s not anything to mull over right now.

“I was just fixing the pasta when you showed up. You can sit anywhere.” He moves his head in either direction of the couch or the table, but you saunter over to his side instead.

The aroma of the tomato wafts across your nose, the sauce definitely homemade rather than store-bought. You peer over into the pot, the margarita-covered penne mixed in with vegetables and meat. “Who knew you could cook?”

Wonwoo chuckles, hearty and deep, as he stirs the food in the pot. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me yet.”

Yet. He says the word with such relaxation, like it’s inevitable you will discover more information about him. Like he’s certain you’re not going anywhere. It has to be a delusion of the future filling him with such confidence, without a doubt.

Shortly after that, the table’s decorated with towering plates of pasta and a lit candle at the center. The mixed scents of vanilla, jasmine, and tomato sauce blend harmoniously somehow.

You share small talk about Wonwoo’s cooking skills and your pool abilities over dinner, bantering throughout with the dry humor you delivered yesterday. Wonwoo takes it all with a smirk, volleying it back at you with charm that makes you forget your dinner exists altogether. You don’t eat all the food on your plate, but you’ve never been more full.

Both of you migrate to the couch with your glasses of wine, leaving the plates on the wood’s high-top and getting comfortably lost in more conversation. Suddenly, you remember exactly why you’re there, and you turn the tides of the conversation to address the purpose of your attendance. “So, the support group.”

Wonwoo laughs into his glass, shaking his head in a gesture that tells you he was just waiting for the inevitable. “What do you wanna know?”

“Why were you there?”

Wonwoo’s smile turns small, still bright but a tad dimmer, and a stone sinks down deep into your stomach. “It was my mother’s birthday that day. She died three years ago in April, but her birthday is always the hardest day for me to get through.”

“It was a sudden sickness, one that we didn’t expect her to get.” He runs his thumb along the ring of his drink, his finger leaving an opaque smudge. He looks back up eventually, the ghost of his small smile haunting his features. “I’m just grateful I had the time with her that I did before it was too late, you know?”

Wonwoo’s words reroute all the knots from your core to your throat, making you unable to speak. You click your own nails against your drink in a pattern, counting the beats in sequence to avoid the tears welling in your eye ducts. One, two, three, four taps. 

Four becomes five until Wonwoo brushes a hand along your knee. “Are you alright? I know that was heavy, but a winner deserves her prize, right?”

You appreciate Wonwoo trying to lighten the mood that you’ve darkened with your silence. The slam of the bottom of your wine glass startles Wonwoo a smidge, and while you didn’t mean to scare him, you know you need to leave before you fall apart.

“This was fun, Won, but I-I have to go.” A tear falls from your face as you speak, another escaping before you can make the waterworks disappear. Wonwoo holds your arm the same way he did a day ago when you were so close to leaving before. This time is different, though.

Wonwoo’s worry for you and whatever’s haunting you replaces his previous somberness. You recognize the contortion of his face like the back of your hand. You’ve seen it in family members and their condolences. The friends you kept and even the ones you lost from being distant. Even coworkers you never spoke to and random strangers who could recognize the shadows of loss.

It disgusts you, and you can’t bear to see it from Wonwoo of all people. You attempt to yank your arm away like your life depends on it, but he doesn’t let you slip away so easily. “Will you talk to me, please?” he asks. “You don’t have to hold back whatever you want to say.”

“I’m not, not at all. And it’s presumptuous of you to assume I am.” You shake your head, voice sputtering on some kind of laugh. “You don’t know me.”

“I think I do.” Again, the space between you and him is virtually nonexistent. Your hearts match in rhythm, despite your sadness and apprehension. The unspoken strings between you snap one by one with every movement of his hand, slowly reaching higher until his hand cups your face. His thumb runs over your jaw bone.

You don’t know whether to pull him closer or run now that’s holding you with a looser grip, and the thought is as sobering as his mouth a breath from yours.

“I have to go.” You clutch his wrist with your hand, but you make no move to turn and walk away. You leave indents in his skin from your nails gripping him, but he doesn’t break his hold either.

Then, in a broken trance, he lets you go and steps back, swallowing hard. “I’ll see you at work, then?”

You nod. “Thank you for dinner.”

“Anytime, really.”

You think about the importance of words, what they carry and how deeply they can mean when a person you care about says them. “Yet” and “anytime” have never been of significant value to you before, passing vocabulary that’s left little for your heart to grasp onto. But he says it without facades, each vowel and consonant holding the undercurrents of his desires. You feel your knees buckle a touch as you ponder it on your way out of his apartment and to your car. Your thoughts dwell on what that kiss would’ve felt like, and the panic that follows when you realize how badly you wanted it.

A week flies by, and then two more, until you realize you’re always passing Wonwoo’s cubicle with a cup of coffee, or he’s pestering you with a sticky note or two regarding legal jargon you’ll never read up on.

Neither of you mention what almost occurred in his living room so long ago, but it feels like only a second between that moment and the present when he’s inhabiting your space at work or blowing up your phone.

You don’t know why he started calling and texting right around the time you were prepared to shut your eyes for sleep, but it was a comfort you didn’t mind cherishing before dreamland took you under its wing. His explanations of corporate law terminology to the plotlines of One Piece became your lullabies.

A regular person can’t cement themselves in your life overnight, but Wonwoo is anything but regular.

As you’re filling out your timesheet for the week, your thoughts circle back to Wonwoo as you notice him in the conference room with the rest of the legal team. Vernon talks animatedly with his hands as Minghao and Jun type down notes. It’s a riveting silent film, but the only actor you’re interested in is pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose incrementally, and it makes you melt in your chair.

You have emails to type, spreadsheets to complete, and here you are acting like a high schooler with an unrequited crush.

Pulled sharply from your daze, Wooyoung bats you on the shoulder with his clipboard. San from HR laughs at your best friend’s assault on you, your acquaintance’s chest rippling as you rub your shoulder and give Wooyoung your signature glare. “What the fuck?”

“You should focus on the November report instead of ogling your new piece of man candy.”

"I don't know what you're talking about," you reply, calm and collected, even though someone has now turned the judgement on you for your prying eyes. Wooyoung had his own priorities as a market strategist; he had no business judging you for taking time off of business tasks to ogle.

You return to your initial view of the conference room, watching the gentleman in the confines of the glass office.

You don’t expect Wonwoo to be staring right at you when you turn your attention back to their meeting. Wooyoung and San talk amongst themselves about your comical behavior in the third person, but you don’t mind them and their idiocy. You’re too focused on the man who’s a dozen feet away.

Wonwoo practically gives you the same glare you delivered to him in the support group the first time he was there, but his eyes are all humor and no bite. He holds his binder up a smidge, signaling somehow for you to look down at the one propped against your laptop. You find a blue sticky note sitting on the front of it, and you know Wonwoo must’ve stuck it there when you went to the bathroom a half hour ago.

7 PM showing of Spider-Man Saturday. You in? X

It’s a measly set of perpendicular lines in Wonwoo’s handwriting, nothing extravagant on the sticky note itself. How can the letter and his proposition turn your heart into mush so easily? And why does it make you immediately nod in Wonwoo’s direction?

What was he doing to you?

You’ve watched the 2003 film many times in your life—you could recite the lines by heart, truth be told—yet seeing Toby McGuire swinging around in a latex suit still brings childlike wonder out in you. You smile into your handful of popcorn at the scene before you, the kicks and punches between Spiderman and the Green Goblin in the middle of Manhattan amplified by the theater’s sound system.

You dressed up a bit more this time for the outing with Wonwoo, despite your self-insistence on keeping it casual. Nothing had happened between you up to this point, only the opportunity for a kiss that never came. Who was to say anything romantic would happen now in the darkness of a theater?

The movie cuts to Spiderman swinging Mary Jane to a hotel high-rise away from the chaos of Times Square, and Wonwoo picks that moment to take the hand not holding more popcorn into his own.

It’s a funny feeling, the moment before something unexpected happens. It’s like your body bristles to a point of high alert before you’re struck with the reality something is occurring, for better or worse. He rubs the back of your hand in slow, delicate circles, and it feels like the start of something good while every cell inside of you screams to run.

The flutter inside of your stomach at his touch dies when you give into the spiraling thoughts, a cruel voice reminding you the butterflies won’t last. It carries the face of a person you’d rather forget. A smile that haunts every hour of your existence, and eyes you wish you could look into one more time outside of your nightmares.

You tug your hand free and speed out of the theater, not bothering to look behind you to see if Wonwoo is following you. You know he is, his calls of your name muffled amid the horrendous laughter ringing in your ears. When you’ve stopped running, you realize it’s raining all around you outside. The alleyway behind the theater only provides so much cover, but Wonwoo doesn’t care. All he wants to do is hold you as you’re hyperventilating, so he does.

“Hey, hey, hey. What happened?”

You hiccup, unsure how to go about saying the words when a phantom hangs over your shoulder and whispers words you have no willpower to fight. What makes him any different from everyone else? Nothing, and you know it.

“I’m right here,” he swears like it’s true, and you see red.

“Until you get sick of it, right?” You can’t look him in the eye as you say it, but it doesn’t make it feel less true expressing it out loud. “This isn’t gonna change. You’ll always wonder what’s wrong. I’ll never give you a valid excuse because I barely fucking know myself and shut you out. You’ll get bored really quick, Wonwoo, so what’s the point?”

“What are you talking about?” His mouth hangs at you accusatory questions, and it only makes you laugh harder. 

It’s easy to pretend your tears are only rainwater splashing down your face.

“There’s no point chasing after me anymore. I’m not worth the hassle, and it’s too much baggage for you to unpack, so don’t waste any more of your time.” You move his hands from your face with weak fingers and watch his arms fall limply at his sides as you turn to head towards the sidewalk and back to your car.

Wonwoo’s laugh is so bitter, you can taste it on your tongue. “You may think that what you’re going through is something nobody can understand, but a part of you knows you’re being ridiculous right now.”

You shake your head and continue down your path, barking back at him with a “Go fuck yourself.”

“You’re not the first person to lose someone, and you won’t be the last!” You stop walking down the alleyway, and you hear the sharp intake of breath on Wonwoo’s lips. He takes another second and set of steps to get closer to you before saying, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

You turn sharply, hair whipping across the open air. “You wanna know why I’m in the group, Won?” Your question drips with rhetoric like venom, sarcasm bordering on fury. “Because I got tired of all the noise of everything after…after—Chaewon just wouldn’t leave me the fuck alone about work and what was going on with me. And everyone at that point kept poking with their pity until the shit I said and did that day happened.” You flail your arms at your sides, the rain soaking through your sleeves. 

It was unprofessional, a huge moral deficit, as your boss put it. Especially when all Chaewon asked for was a valid reason for an extension on your trend report. “No coworker, especially not a subordinate, should treat another coworker that way. Your personal matters should not impede on your ability to be a team player.”

Your boss used every administrative play in the book while looking over the materials you ruined for the newest magazine issue, and that was before you screamed in your department head’s face. You didn’t mean to hurt Chaewon the way you did, but admittedly, it felt good to do it.

It was nice to let a part of you run free, even if it was a vulgar and unapologetic piece. But if you had known it would cost you every ounce of your pride and some semblance of your privacy, you would’ve thought twice. 

Your entire body is drenched by the time you finish your tirade, as is Wonwoo’s. “So yeah, that’s why they put me in that pity party of a support group. Because God forbid I snapped one fucking time for a valid fucking reason.”

“They just wanted you to get some help. Everyone needs that sometimes,” Wonwoo murmurs. He tries to step closer, each movement apprehensive, like he’s cornering a rabid cat into a carrier.

His movements make you feel like one, a wounded animal in need of immediate attention without regard for its unwillingness to accept it. It turns your eyesight red, and you think you may just be feral at this point. “I don’t need anyone’s help, Wonwoo! Not that group, not Seungcheol, not the damn lackeys in that fucking office, and especially not—”

Wonwoo gives up the pretenses and yanks you into his arms. He plants a hand across your hair and squeezes you in his hold, still tender despite the vice grip he has you in. The tightness of his hug shakes something loose in you, and you barely recognize you’re crying until Wonwoo cradles you closer and shushes you, even as the rain beats down on you both. “I’m here,” he promises.

“I don’t need to be saved, Wonwoo,” you say through fractured, sob-laced hiccups. Your eyes look past his brown ones, into the depths of his soul as you ask—plead even—“I just want to make the pain stop.”

“Let me help,” Wonwoo offers, rubbing the apples of your cheeks with his thumbs. It may be the most ridiculous, careless thing you can do at the moment, but when the urge to kiss him comes, you don’t stop it.

Call it an emotional break or a sudden rush of your suppressed desire shining through, but the second you press your lips to his in that brick alleyway, you don’t regret it. He tastes like salvation, of unbreakable promises. It could either heal or ruin you, but you don’t mind if it’s a little of both.

The raindrops cling to your clothes like a second skin, latching onto every curve. It’s easy to shed with the help of Wonwoo’s hands. By the time you’re an inch away from the doorframe of his bedroom, he’s wearing his briefs, and you’re left in your underwear. His warmth wraps around every part of your body like a campfire, stoking all the cold out of you and bathing you in the heat he provides. The thunder roars on, and lightning splashes the sky in white streaks, but the only light that sustains you is him.

“Is this okay?” He mumbles as he grazes the underside of your bralette. The material is so drenched that he can see the peaks of your nipples through it, but he’s trying to keep his composure and go at a speed you’re comfortable with.

You don’t hesitate, not wanting the moment to be dampened by your worst thoughts. They’re at bay now, and you want to use that time for what it’s worth. “More than okay.” You unclasp your bralette from your back, letting the wet garment plop to the floor. “Touch me, please.”

His index finger drags so slowly across your nipple, the ripple of electricity that tickles your skin follows the same tempo. While you’re willing to go fast, Wonwoo cherishes you with reverence. Even as he takes your nipple between his lips, moving his fingers down your stomach and into your underwear, he remains patient. “So wet,” he groans against your skin when he guides his fingers along your slick folds. It’s like he’s discovering a precious treasure before him, twirling your wet curls in his hair with his free hand as he runs the pads of his opposite fingers through slick heaven.

You tremble in his hands, all the nerves in your body a hot, frenzied mess in his hold. He thumbs your clit in slow circles, making it hard to stand any longer in the in-between space of his living room and bedroom. “Woo, I want more.”

He takes his fingers from your center and lifts you into his arms. Your legs wrap around him instinctively, and he chuckles into your throat. “Needy little thing, aren’t you?”

You giggle before he reattaches his lips to yours. His kisses taste like rainwater and second chances, physical proof that not everything has to be lost. He never lets you go or takes his mouth away on the slow trek to his bed.

Wonwoo sets you down gently, his eyes giving away all of his vulnerability. “You’re beautiful, you know that right?” You blush, wrapping an arm around your face, but he pulls it away and kisses each finger on your hand. “Every inch of you.”

The words go unsaid, but the bite of his lip and dark hood of his eyes tell you his desire goes beyond lust. I want to explore you forever.

Even the parts of you that you’ve deemed too dark, too painful, too unworthy of anyone’s entry. His expression tells you he may just take the risk and split you open fully to see what’s inside. With his eyes peering deeply into your soul, you think all he sees is hope. Like your heart holds the sun that peers out after the worst downpour in the world.

He rolls his briefs down his hips until his length springs free, knocking into the lower segment of his abdomen from how hard he is. “And you called me beautiful,” you say, breathless. Wonwoo’s cock drips pre-cum at the swollen tip, and you have no qualms sitting up and reaching out to encase him in your palm, running his essence across his skin.

He tips his head back and his mouth goes slack, a curse leaving his tongue. “You may kill me.”

You smile and run your lips along his neck, dragging your canines along the skin of his jugular. “If I do, I promise it wasn’t my intention.”

Before he can get too lost in the pleasure of your fingers wrapped around him, he traps your body between his own and the sheets below you. He doesn’t stop kissing you once he finds your lips again, even as he stumbles finding a condom in his bedside drawer and rolls the latex onto himself.

You don’t need to prepare for the eventual drag of his cock between your walls, already dripping from his previous touches, but he envelops you completely when he fills you to the hilt. He fits so snug inside of you; you think he could sit there forever and never leave. “You’re so tight, holy shit,” Wonwoo moans as he begins moving his hips.

You release a garbled moan, the sound practically swallowed by his tongue in your mouth. He takes and teases, but he always gives it back, rolling his lower half into you with a deliberate pace that helps you inch closer to a release. It paints the back of your eyelids in slow strokes. The act of getting there is as beautiful as the release itself when it’s with someone like Wonwoo giving you such perfect bouts of pleasure.

This feeling, like Wonwoo, is addictive and addicting in the same instance. You think you could get used to this, and it’s not just the lust having its way with your mind. Having all of him like this, his days and nights, rain or shine, may just be possible with the way he pours his devotion into your body. You just have to give him the opportunity.

He kisses you with the strength of a thousand stars exploding at once, and that’s the moment you fall apart underneath him. You let yourself bask in the feeling of your orgasm. You clutch onto his shoulders tightly as your walls spasm around him, sucking him in for every drop of pleasure he has to give.

He spills into the condom soon after, his hips stuttering and his kisses stilling as he feels his body succumb to the same pleasure you felt a few moments ago. The look on his face is pure bliss, the laugh on his lips the softest sound to accompany the pitter patters of rain on the window.

He throws the latex away before nestling back into the bedsheets with you. His arms wrap around you like vines as you rest your head on his chest. It's a comfortable silence between you, no words needing to be said to express your feelings for him.

I know you could love me forever if I give you the chance to.

You feel his response in the slow fall of his heart rate and the small snores he emits in the crown of your hair. The softness of his being is all you need to fall asleep too, and you think it may just be worth it to let him in.

The moment you wake, you feel a wave of nausea creep through you. The thoughts that erupted in that rainy alleyway a handful of hours ago come back with a vengeance. They clutch your throat with a begrudging hand until water streams from your eyes, hitting Wonwoo’s pillows like bullets. You try to subdue the sobs that rack your body, terrified of waking the man sleeping next to you, but it proves to be a fruitless fear. He sleeps like a stone through it all, immovable and solid.

With weak limbs and a fuzzy mind, you unbind yourself from Wonwoo’s hold and collect your things when you get out of the bed. Every piece of your heart breaks, the glued pieces of porcelain cracking once again into a heap on the floor as you walk away and out of his apartment.

It could only last for so long, that peace he provided, and you feel foolish for thinking a few hours of pleasure could change the new reality you’ve come to grips with long ago.

What the fuck did I do? I shouldn’t have gone out with him again. I’m so stupid.

Driving home in the rain, you try to turn on the radio to something that will be loud enough to drown out the spiraling thoughts and the sounds of your sobs reverberating through your tiny car’s interior. With a cruel twist of luck, Billy Joel’s “Everybody Has A Dream,” blares through the speakers. The piano chords and Joel’s whistles are ones you could recognize anywhere, and it stops your brain from falling further down the hole you’re accustomed to.

It’s his song, the song you have barely gotten through a note of without bawling.

You stop your car in the center of the road, despite the light being green in front of you. Cars screech behind you and blare their horns, some even roll down their window in the soaked night to curse at you, but you don’t care. The entire world could burn down, and all you would hear is the keys of the piano signaling your send-off.

The rivers on your cheeks become floods, all-encompassing and combating the leftover parts of the storm raging on outside of your vehicle. It makes the veins in your head pulse like a bass drum, but there’s nothing else to do, even if the song’s faded out by now. The DJ’s voice fills the space, but you can barely hear him.

You hate your father; the realization strikes you like a penknife to the heart as you press your forehead into the steering wheel, knocking your knuckles into its center until your own horn screams back at you. You hate him for leaving you alone to pick up the shards he created by going away too soon, sooner than you were prepared for. How could he part from you with such a gaping hole left in your chest and no roadmap for how to fix it? Was it even possible to mend such a wound when its shape was present everywhere you looked?

You continue to sob, no grounding techniques or motivational words coming to mind as your heart restarts just to bleed out all over again. 

Some time after the funeral, a doctor told you grief often changes the chemistry of a person’s brain. It undergoes neuroplastic changes and leads to alterations in emotional regulation and cognition. It made sense, given the way you exploded on Chaewon two months ago in front of everyone in the office. And all of that, the choice to either take a mandatory leave or seek counseling, led to that ridiculous fucking support group. And all the moments you shared with Wonwoo since then.

Guilt bubbles up behind your anger until it overtakes it, the way you’ve been acting almost shameful. You don’t regret him, but you regret this tugging you’ve done with his emotions alongside your own. But what other options have you had at your disposal? You’ve been stumbling around in the dark for so long, the light is not something someone easily accustoms themselves to again.

And Wonwoo is a person who exudes a radiance unlike anyone else you’ve ever met. You can’t believe there’s a chance he can truly seep into the darkness you live with now and soak it up for you. Not without him taking on some of it himself. 

You decide when the tears come at a slower pace that you won’t let him; he’s worth more than that. And it might break what’s left of the fraction of hope you held onto when you met him, but you’re grateful he gave you something at the very least. It’s better than nothing.

“I still think about what it would be like to kill him, even if I know it wouldn’t solve anything.” Hongjoong grumbles, twiddling his pack of nicotine gum between his fingers. “In my dreams, I do. I do it before he has the chance to make it past my driveway. Before I forgot to watch her playing.” Hongjoong breaks into a fit of angry sobs, and it tugs at your heartstrings bitterly.

The police and cops ruled the death of Hongjoong’s five-year-old daughter vehicular manslaughter. The guy who committed the crime had been remorseful and received less time because of his allocution. According to Hongjoong, he forgave the stranger a long time ago, but you don’t think anyone blames him for the anger and resentment that still lingers.

“Do you think your wife or other children gain anything by continuing to harbor this anger?” Seungcheol asks with no judgement, just objective curiosity.

It strikes a nerve in you, so deep it pulls a response out of your lips before you can stop it. “That’s a fucked up question to ask.”

Suzy gasps, hiding the sound behind her coffee cup. Hongjoong looks surprised himself, but Seungcheol is pleased to hear your voice. He’s only ever tried to make small talk with you while he’s filled out your slips after every session, but you’ve never given him any room to work with. Until now. “Why do you say that?”

“Because…” you ponder the answer, the coherent reasoning jumbled amongst your impulsive thoughts. “It’s a bit unfair. Sure, maybe he’s not the same husband and father he used to be, but what does anyone expect? His oldest kid dies, and he’s supposed to shelve that for the sake of others?”

“Nobody’s asking that of him,” Seungcheol responds. “I asked if it serves anyone for him to hold onto negative emotions.”

“Whether it does or doesn’t, big fucking whoop. Grief doesn’t serve anyone with anything purposeful. It’s all bullshit pain we’re supposed to make better somehow in just the right amount of time or else. Otherwise, everyone has to tread around it like it’s a disease. It’s exhausting.”

You barely registered Wonwoo’s presence in the room, but his messy mop of waves concealed in a beanie adds a second layer of pain to your words. You’ve evaded his texts and calls for the past two days. Avoiding work yesterday didn’t help the way you thought it did, Wooyoung texting you profusely with secondhand messages you didn't want to be reminded of.

It was better this way. You repeated the words to yourself like a mantra when the first batch of Wonwoo’s messages appeared on your lock screen. But seeing him now, you know it was a lie.

Heartbreak, like grief, lacks a purpose beyond the demand to be felt.

Wonwoo clears his throat. He tries to pose the question to the entire group, but he stares so deeply into your eyes when he says it, everyone knows it’s only for your ears to cling to. “Have you ever considered that the reason you think it serves no purpose is because you don’t let anyone in to help you make sense of it?”

Your bottom lip quivers despite your urge to compress your feelings, the anger that was simmering in your stomach now at a rolling boil. You kick the chair from under your legs as you leave the circle, cursing the entire time. You hear Seungcheol request a ten-minute recess for the session, and you know without a doubt the walking slogan is following you.

You keep your focus on the brick wall of the bakery that shares a back alley with the church when Seungcheol finally makes it outside. “Don’t say—”

“I’m just out for a smoke. Was needing a break anyway.” Seungcheol flicks his lighter to life and has a cigarette between his lips in the next second. A huge plume of smoke leaves his lips, and the acrid smell of smoke hits your nose, but you don’t turn from it. He reaches into his pack and hands you one once he lights it.

You chuckle sadly as you weigh the cigarette between your fingers. “How did you know I used to smoke?”

“You suck in a breath when you get angry, and your hands shake like you’re going through withdrawal. That used to happen to me when I tried quitting the first time.”

You nod. “I haven’t really done it in a while. Haven’t had the energy to go buy anything besides frozen meals and water.”

The silence between you both is deafening. Seungcheol doesn’t pry, although that’s his very job, to help you face your emotions head-on, and you don’t elaborate on your points from earlier in the group session.

“My wife died five years ago,” he finally says. He flicks the cigarette at his feet, digging the ashes into the surrounding dirt with his foot. “Was a drunk driver on the way home coming back from a restaurant. I was driving.”

You try to respond, but no words come. The lining of your throat kills them all before they can leave you, like butterfly wings that never unfurl. He goes on amidst your silence. “It took a long time to realize it wasn’t my fault, just terrible timing.”

You turn to look at him, but he keeps his attention on the shops and sidewalks surrounding the church, cold air leaving his mouth in grey clouds. “I’m sorry,” you say, the two words with no serrated edges this time, the anger from your voice gone.

“‘S nothing for you to apologize for. You didn’t know, and I don’t talk about it all that much.” He gives you a knowing stare with the shrug of his shoulders, no bitterness in his expression as he explains without words that you’re more alike than you would’ve known. You can’t imagine the guy having a bitter bone in his body, even if he has reason to. “But that’s why I started this. Going on about it may not help all the time, but I can let some of it go when I know I’m not alone, even if that feeling only lasts for a minute.”

“Are you saying that I have to explain why I’m like this with everyone to feel better? That’s your nugget of wisdom?”

Seungcheol's eyes turn solemn, disappointed but not surprised at your rhetorical questions. “What I’m saying is that pain isn’t avoidable. You know that better than anyone by now. And locking yourself away clearly isn’t working.”

You fight back the tears passing through your eyelashes and puff again. “I don’t need your backdoor psychology, Choi. Even if you and everyone in that group has more than some idea of what I’m going through, it’s not the same.”

Seungcheol chuckles without humor as he hands you another cigarette, his fingertips lingering over your palm in a familial way. His touch is warm despite the winter weather, the contact a salve over the cracks that have formed in the past few days, and it makes you feel worse somehow. “Whether you push people away or not, your capacity to hurt isn’t going anywhere. Wasting time you’ll never get back by being alone does nobody any good, especially yourself.”

“I don’t do anything for anyone like this,” you respond, words breaking. Your hands shake as you take two more drags, smoke filling your lungs as the shadows continue looming. “I can’t give any parts of me when I don’t know what’s left to give at this point.”

“Speaking from my experiences with you—which I know are limited—I’d say you’re not giving yourself enough credit.” Seungcheol plucks the cigarette from your hands once you make it to the end. “And I bet your little friend would say the same thing, if not more.”

Like the call of a siren song, Wonwoo comes through the back door of the church, a bit embarrassed to intrude, but relieved to find you before you left. It’s all over the sudden sag of his chest and the downturn of his eyes.

Seungcheol smirks to himself while he puts his pack back in his coat pocket. “Speaking of the devil, I’ll leave you to it.” He pats Wonwoo on the shoulder as he makes it to the door of the church. The closing of the back door punctuates the silence between you.

“Are you finally gonna talk to me?” Wonwoo asks, his voice teetering on desperation and indignation. He doesn’t want to be angry, you can tell, but it all comes out in the crinkle of his eyes and the line of his lips.

You don’t blame him, either. You’re the one who left him as soon as you woke up, no verbal or written explanation left behind to keep him from assuming the worst. “What do you expect me to say, Won? I don’t—”

“Don’t say you don’t know what I want from you. I’ve been clear about that since the first day we saw each other in this fucking church.” You’re taken back by him cursing, the act one you’ve not seen from him often, but he keeps going. “I want to help you. Whether that’s as your friend or something more, I can accept that. But what I can’t accept is you keeping up this act you’ve been putting on.”

“It’s not an act,” you say defensively. “It’s too hard to let anyone in. It may be hard for you to accept, but that’s the truth.”

“You need better practice at lying, sweetheart.” When your face crumbles with defeated confusion, Wonwoo goes on. “If it was so hard, you wouldn’t still have Wooyoung in your life. You wouldn’t have kicked my ass at pool, and you definitely would’ve done a better job at avoiding me. You may not want to admit it now, but you’re using your grief as an excuse to run away from feeling anything else.”

“You don’t know me,” you say, the words an echo that reaches through time with an entirely different meaning.

“I think I do.” His chest is barely an inch from yours, and before you know it, your lips join in a bruising kiss. It’s desperation from the days you spent without each other, almost stitching the time between that night you were in his bed and now together like a crochet tapestry. It’s yearning to be better than how you’ve been, to do better for the man who wants to teach you how to find happiness again.

Most importantly, it’s hope, unadulterated and unembroidered with the promises of what would’ve been. It’s only now, and that’s enough. It would always end this way, you think. Wonwoo holds you so close he may squeeze you into his coat to keep you from running away. A muddled cry escapes you before your lips connect again, your tears wetting the space between your mouths.

When you part, you think you may never let him go again, and this is the penance you’ll pay for the rest of your life for thinking you could ever handle being without him. “Where do we go from here?” you ask with glassy eyes, finding a glimmer of peace in the way Wonwoo holds you close to him with all the gentleness and love in the world.

“We heal.”

ONE MONTH LATER

None of the group members believe it when you offer to go first during the second to last session. You had half a mind to not to, promising Wonwoo you would share on the final meeting day so you wouldn’t have to suffer through another gathering with everyone knowing your story. Wonwoo only held you closer, stilling your trembling body with kisses to the crown of your head and his reassuring words whispered into your hair. “You’re stronger than anyone in that room, and it’s time you prove it.” You love him for that, among the plethora of a million other things, but that’s another conversation for another time and for only the two of you to share.

Suzy, Hongjoong, and the rest of the group follow you with understanding eyes, a response you used to dread. But now, you accept it just to get by. Seungcheol stares with immeasurable pride behind his eyes as you clear your throat.

“My dad passed away a year ago now,” you start, hands shaking but firm against the plastic coffee cup. “It was sudden, so sudden when the call came I didn’t believe it. I called the cop that told me about the accident a liar, like it couldn’t be true. It couldn’t happen to me, and not to him. Not yet, anyway.”

“You always think that you have more time to spend with someone, to tell them all the things you didn’t have the courage to say to them when they were still around. And that’s how I felt about him and our relationship, like I’d have a lot more moments to fix what I needed to for the two of us, and for myself. Maybe I never would’ve been ready, anyway, but—I couldn’t accept that all those chances, all those opportunities, were gone when he was, too. Most of the time, I still don’t. It doesn’t feel real, like it’s this thick fog I’m under that’ll eventually clear.

“And that’s why I’m here with you guys. And maybe talking about it now can help me to get through it the right way.”

You don’t look up from the floor as you continue, but Wonwoo’s hand on your thigh and Seungcheol’s leading questions ground you through it all. The tears flow, and the words leave your lips with all of their broken seams. Each thread of your heart unwinds, the experience equal parts freeing and devastating in the release.

Whoever the creator of the slogan from that third week of the support group is—Seungcheol, a random stranger, or a prophetic person who knows all too well the tragedy of grief itself—you’re growing to believe time can bend every sad emotion into something manageable, especially grief. And yes, you have yet to see what your own grief ultimately turns into, but you know you’ll take comfort in the fact you won’t be alone when that day comes.

@gyubakeries @loserlvrss @innocygnet @ghstzzn @xylatox @bambiihee @prkhaven @lunarlaina @jjunberry @frenchkisstheabyss @okiedokrie-main @chanranghaeys @brownbunnyb @lovetaroandtaemin @livelaughloveseventeen @aaa-sia

𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐎𝐑��𝐒 ── .✦ @kstrucknet @k-films @kvanity-main @lapydiaries @moadiarynet @pirateeznet @/sweetvenomnet @onedoornet @deoboyznet @violetanet @whipped-kpop-creators

𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫 𝑴𝒀 𝑶𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹 𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑲𝑺 𝒐𝒓 𝑱𝑶𝑰𝑵 𝑴𝒀 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻𝑺 © 𝖠𝗅𝗅 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝖧𝖤𝖤𝖢𝖧𝖶𝖤; 𝖣𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖻𝗎𝗍𝖾 𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍.

[mesotokyo]

Affinity DesignerでTayda向けのフルカラーUV印刷原稿を作成する

続・エフェクター用のアルミダイキャストケースを発注した話です。今回はフルカラーの印刷を発注してみました。

タイに拠点を持つ電子部品のネット通販サイト「Tayda Electronics」では、ペダル型エフェクターでよく使われているアルミダイキャストケースの塗装や穴あけ加工、UV印刷といったサービスも提供しています。1個単位で発注でき、価格もかなりリーズナブルなので、世界中に利用者がいるようです。

自分も以前P-EQのケースを発注しているのですが（下記がそのときの記事）、そのときは青の��体に白で文字やマークを印刷する、というシンプルなものでした。ただ、単色ではどうしてもシンプルなデザインしか作れないので、今回はフルカラーでのUV印刷を発注してみることにしました。

今回のゴール：Illustoratorを使わずに発注する

TaydaのUV印刷は、印刷するデータをオンラインで（Web上で）アップロードして発注する仕組みになっています。入稿データはPDF形式が指定されているのですが、TaydaではAdobe Illsutorator以外で入稿データを作成することは推奨していないらしく、入稿データ作成用の説明などもすべてIllustratorを前提としています。ただ、Illustratorは利用料金が通常価格で1年あたり約3万4,000円と、個人が趣味で利用するにはハードルが高いお値段です。ということで、今回は同じような印刷用データの作成機能を持つAffinity Designerというソフトウェアを使って入稿データを作成します。

Affinity DesignerはIllustratorを使ったことがあれば比較的すぐに習得できるかと思います。もちろん細かい点で違いはありますが、ドキュメントも充実しているため、不明点などがあったら検索すれば大体の問題はすぐ解決できるかと思います。

ちなみにAffinity DesignerはMac/Windowsで動作し、価格（2025年6月時点）は6,590円ですが、年1、2回の頻度でセールをやっており、そのタイミングだとかなりお安く購入が可能です。もし急ぎで必要でないのであれば、セール時の購入をおすすめします。

なお、先に述べたとおり基本TaydaではIllustratorの利用を推奨しているため、下記で説明している手順は単なる「こうやったらできた」というレポートです。当方では成功を保証できませんのでご了承ください。

テンプレートとサンプルファイルのダウンロード

TaydaのUV印刷サービスページではアルミダイキャストケースのUV印刷用のテンプレートが���開されているので、こちらをベースにデータ作成を始めます。

今回は1590Bサイズ（MXRのエフェクターとほぼ同サイズ）のケースに印刷してもらうので、「1590B type enclosure AI format template CLICK HERE (artboard size 56 x 108.50mm)」をダウンロードします。ちなみにAffinity DesignerはAI形式のファイルをそのままインポート可能です。また、同じページ内の「Here is example UV printing file we made for 125B enclosure size with Adobe Illustrator,」という部分の下、「EXAMPLE FILE AI FORMAT CLICK HERE」というリンクからサンプルファイルをダウンロードできるので、こちらもダウンロードしておきます。

テンプレートファイルを開いて編集する

ダウンロードしたテンプレートファイルをAffinity Designerで開きます。この際、「PDF Options」という画面が表示されますが、デフォルト設定のまま「OK」を選択します。

また、ファイルを開いた直後はカラーモードがRGBになっているので、「Document Setup」の「Color」タブで「Color Format」を「CMYK/8」に変更しておきます。

「COLOR」レイヤーにフルカラー印刷したい文字や図形を配置する

���のテンプレートファイルには「GLOSS-V OR -M」「COLOR」「WHITE」という3つのレイヤーが用意されていますが、まずは「COLOR」レイヤーに印刷したい文字や図形を配置していきます。

このレイヤーに配置した文字や図形（オブジェクト）は、フルカラーで印刷されます。なお、ラスター画像（写真などの画像）は推奨しないとのことで、Affinity Designer上で図形ツールや各種ペン・ブラシツールを使ってデザインを作成していくことになります。

「WHITE」レイヤーに白で印刷したい文字や図形を配置する

「COLOR」レイヤーはフルカラー（CMYK）での印刷が可能ですが、白の印刷はできません。そのため、白い文字や図形は「WHITE」レイヤーに配置する必要があります。さらに、「COLOR」レイヤーの印刷は下地が白であることを想定しているため、（特に意図しない限りは）「COLOR」レイヤーに配置したオブジェクトの下が白く塗りつぶされるよう、「WHITE」レイヤーにも同じオブジェクトを配置することが推奨されています（イメージとしては、UVプリンタメーカーによる解説「透明な印刷対象物に印刷する (下地にホワイトインクを印刷)」や「印刷対象物の色に影響を受けずに印刷する（下地に白印刷）」が分かりやすいです）。

具体的な作業としては、「COLOR」レイヤーにオブジェクトを配置したら、それをそのままコピー＆ペーストして「WHITE」レイヤーに配置して、同じオブジェクトが白でも印刷されるようにしておけばOKです。印刷時には最初に「WHITE」レイヤーが印刷され、続けて「COLOR」レイヤーが印刷されるため、このように設定することで白いインクで印刷された文字や図形の上にカラーで文字や図形が印刷されるようになります。

なお、「WHITE」レイヤーにオブジェクトを配置する際の注意点として、このレイヤー内に配置するオブジェクトの色はすべて「RDG_WHITE」というspot color（特色）を指定する必要があります。spot colorを指定する方法はいくつかあるのですが、サンプルファイルのスタイルをコピペするのが簡単で確実です。

まず、ダウンロードしておいたサンプルファイルをAffinity Designerで開きます。「WHITE」レイヤー内に「Curve」（Yの文字）があるので、これを右クリックしてコピーします（同じ「Y」の文字が「GLOSS-V」レイヤーにもあるのでそちらをコピーしないように注意）。

続いて、「RDG_WHITE」を設定したいオブジェクトを選択し、「Edit」メニュー内の「Paste Style」を実行します。

すると、そのオブジェクトの塗りつぶしカラーが「RDG_WHITE」に設定されます。

また、塗りつぶし色として「RDG_WHITE」が設定されたオブジェクトを選択した状態で「Swatchs」タブの「Colors」横にある「■＋■■」ボタンをクリックするとSwatches内に「RDG_WHITE」が追加され、ここから「RDG_WHITE」を指定できるようになります。

「GLOSS-V OR -M」レイヤーについて

「GLOSS-V OR -M」はTaydaの有料オプションで用意されているグロス（光沢）/マット（艶消し）仕上げサービス用のレイヤーで、ここにオブジェクトを配置するとその位置に光沢/艶消しインクを乗せてくれるとのことですが、自分は使ったことがないので割愛します。なお、このレイヤーに配置するオブジェクトはすべて色としては「RDG_GLOSS」を指定しておく必要があります（参考：「表面を仕上げる（グロス印刷）」）

そのほかのレイヤーについて

Affinity Designerでは、出力用データの作成時（エクスポート時）に選択したレイヤーだけを出力する機能があるので、印刷しないガイド用の図形などは別レイヤーに分けて置きましょう。たとえば自分の場合、穴開けする場所に穴（円）を描いたレイヤーを用意したりしています。

出力するレイヤーの指定

デザインデータの作成が完了したら、PDFへの出力を行います。実はここが一番ハードルが高く面倒くさいところだったりします。

まず、ウィンドウ左上の「Export Persona」をクリックします。この状態では、エクスポートするレイヤーなどの設定を行うことができるので、「Layers」タブで出力したいレイヤー（「GLOSS-V OR -M」、「COLOR」、「WHITE」の3つ）をクリックしてエクスポート対象に指定します（ウィンドウから矢印が飛び出たアイコンがハイライトされた状態にする）。

この設定が終わったら、「Design Persona」をクリックするとデザイン画面に戻れます。

エクスポート設定

続いて「File」-「Export」メニューを選択し、エクスポート画面を開きます。ここではフォーマットとして「PDF」を選択し、続いてオプションを次の画像のように選択します。

（注：「Raster DPI」の部分に「Nothing will be rasterized」と表示されているかも確認してください。Affinity DesignerはPDFで表現できない機能を使ったオブジェクトを自動的にラスター画像化する機能があり、ラスター化された画像が含まれていない場合のみここに「Nothing will be rasterized」が表示されます。）

最後に「Export」ボタンをクリックし、出力するファイル名や保存先を指定します。

Acrobat（無料版）でデータを確認する

最後に、データが正しくエクスポートされているかをAdobe Acrobatで確認します。Acrobatは有料版（Pro）と無料版がありますが、最低限の確認は無料版のみで可能です。

まず、画面左のレイヤーアイコンをタップして、PDF内に含まれるレイヤーを確認します。

「WHITE」「COLOR」が（もし使用していれば「GLOSS-V OR -M」も）含まれていればOKです。また、レイヤーを右クリックして「レイヤーを表示」を選択することでレイヤーの表示/非表示を切り替えることができます。ここで「WHITE」レイヤーに本来「COLOR」レイヤーに含まれるはずのカラーの文字や図形が入っていないかなどをチェックしておきます。

（ちなみに、自分は事故を避けるために「WHITE」「COLOR」レイヤーの中にはレイヤーを作らないようにしているためこの2つのレイヤーしか表示されませんが、レイヤー内にレイヤーを作っている場合はそれもここに表示されるはずです）。

なお、Acrobatの標準設定では背景が白で表示されるのですが、この設定では「WHITE」レイヤーが確認しずらいです。そのため、自分はAcrobatの「メニュー」-「環境設定」で表示できる環境設定画面の「アクセシビリティ」で、「ページ背景色」を別の色に変更しています。この設定だと、「WHITE」レイヤーを非表示にした際にどうなるかが分かりやすくなります。

また、PDFを拡大表示して、輪郭がスムーズになっていない（ギザギザになっている＝ラスター画像化されている）部分がないかもチェックします。

最後に、PDFコンテンツ表示エリアを右クリックして「文書のプロパティ」を選択します。すると「文書のプロパティ」画面が表示されるので、下記をチェックします。

「概要」タブの「PDFのバージョン」。Affinity Designerでエクスポート時に選択したもの（1.7）と一致しているか

「概要」タブの「ページサイズ」が適正かを確認。1590Bサイズなら「56.0×108.5mm」。

「セキュリティ」タブの「文章のセキュリティ」および��文書に関する制限の概要」。「セキュリティなし」、「Acrobatの全バージョン」、「印刷」が許可になっているかを確認。

「フォント」タブでフォントが埋め込まれていないかを確認。何も表示されていなければOK。

これで問題が無ければ、あとはTaydaに注文＆入稿を行えばOKのはずです。

ちなみに、この筐体は最終的にはこんな感じになっています。このデザインでは、筐体がシルバー塗装なのを利用し、カラー印刷したい図形（「COLOR」レイヤーに配置した図形）の下にあえて白インクを重ねないことでメタリック感を残しつつ文字はくっきりさせています。

[postsofbabel]

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[thekingofgear]

Jonny’s Summer 2023 Guitar Pedalboard

Jonny about to stomp on a pedal during the Smile's show at Auditorio Nacional in Mexico City in late-June, 2023 (elamplimx).

With Radiohead, Jonny is known for very slowly adding pedals to his setup. While Ed often has half a dozen new pedals for a new album tour, Jonny often adds only one (such as his Headrush in 2000 or his Freeze in 2012). And when Jonny swaps out a pedal for a similar one (like one tremolo for another tremolo), it’s usually only when his old pedals are too worn out for touring (such as his original Whammy WH1 and vintage RE-201 Space Echos). One might think Jonny keeps the old pedals around because, since Kid A, he’s often playing other instruments. However, at live shows Jonny is still happy to replicate some recorded sounds on guitar, whether it be the filtered samples on Feral (using volume pedal, Whammy, and phaser) or the col lengo strings on Burn The Witch (using Whammy, overdrive, and a cello bow). It’s clear he enjoys getting the most out of those pedals in that specific arrangement.

But with The Smile, Jonny has been swapping in new pedals pretty regularly. In 2022, Jonny was experimenting constantly, sometimes adding new pedals for only a couple of days before swapping in a replacement. He quickly eschewed some of the Radiohead-favorites heard during the earliest Smile streams, such as his Small Stone, Tremulator, and OD3. In their place came flangers, compressors, and expression pedals: types of pedals he’d never used with Radiohead.

However, it seems like Jonny found a setup he was fairly happy with by the end of the fall 2022 tour. His latest live board is quite similar to the one used during March 2023 recording sessions for the band's upcoming second album, but even so there are a couple surprises!

A photo of Jonny's guitar board at Philadelphia's Franklin Music Hall on July 8, 2023 (photo by Gio H.). He used this setup for the band's North American tour spanning 14 shows in June and July.

Guitar ->

Peterson StroboStomp HD tuner

MXR Dyna Comp compressor

EHX Freeze Sound Retainer

EHX Pitchfork pitch shifter

Boss SD-1 Super Overdrive

EQD Hizumitas fuzz

Telenordia/Tortenmann TA-24 Treble Booster

Boss DD-200 delay

Akai Headrush E2 delay/looper

Boss RE-202 Space Echo delay/reverb

EQD Pyramids flanger

Toadworks True Bypass (laptop send/return loop)

Lehle P-Split III signal splitter (A/B) <

(A) Radial JDI Stereo direct box < Radial Ch1 LOW-Z output -> FOH Mixer Radial Ch1 THRU output -> Fender ’65 Reissue Super Reverb

(B) Strymon Iridium -> Radial JDI Stereo direct box (Ch2 LOW-Z output) -> FOH Mixer

The small lamp over the board is a Mighty Bright HammerHead music stand light.

Jonny previously used a Peterson StroboStomp HD with his Sequential Circuits Prophet 5 on the Smile's 2022 tour. But this is the first time he’s been seen with one on his guitar board. It replaces the Boss TU2 he’s used since the earliest Smile shows.

The Telenordia Treble Booster is borrowed from Thom. The Telenordia is still marked with Thom’s guitar settings, from when he used it on You Will Never Work In Television Again during December 2021 rehearsals.

Thom stomping on Jonny's current Telenordia Treble Booster during a rehearsal on December 2, 2021 (youtube).

On Radiohead tours since OK Computer, Jonny has always brought a Vox AC30 — an amplifier well-known for its low and mid gain sounds. With an AC30, Jonny can get different flavors of overdrive by balancing between clipping from the pedal (using the pedal’s gain control) and clipping from the amp (using the pedal’s volume/boost control). And of course, he’d use his separate Shredmaster+Eighty-Five chain for heavy distortion on older songs.

But on tour with the Smile, Jonny has been using a Fender ’65 Reissue Super Reverb, an amp with much more headroom than the Vox thanks to a combination of higher wattage and negative feedback. As a result, we hear the overdrive pedal’s sound more clearly — the Boss SD1’s mid-rangy sound is especially noticeable on live versions of Thin Thing. So it makes sense that even Jonny would want to experiment with multiple dirt pedals for different flavors.

Jonny was first seen using an MXR Dyna Comp in a rehearsal photo, most likely taken when preparing for the fall 2022 tour (despite being posted in 2023). Thom and Ed have both previously used the pedal as well. Thom toured with a Dyna Comp only briefly before switching to his current Telenordia Kompressor. So it's interesting that Jonny first toured with a Kompressor (last year), but has gone the other way and switched to a Dyna Comp.

For those curious about the rhythmic delay setting marked on Jonny’s Akai Headrush E2, check out behind-the-scenes photos from The Smile’s Tiny Desk show. However, so far we’ve still only heard the pedal used as a looper.

Placing his Boss RE-202 after his Headrush allows Jonny to add ambient effects to his loops, as he does during the live outro of Skirting On The Surface.

Jonny first used a Strymon Iridium at a performance of Steve Reich's Electric Counterpoint at the Hidden Notes festival on September 25, 2022. For that show, it replaced his amp. But with the Smile, he’s using it as a backup for his Super Reverb.

A photo of Jonny's pedalboard from a November 2022 show in Anthem, DC (Facebook).

UPDATE: we originally listed the Telenordia TA-24 Treble Booster as a Telenordia TA-100 Overdrive. Thank you to Kayky for noticing!

[k-vanity]

werewolf!au || bakery!au || enemies to lover!au || genre: smut || angst || supernatural

-> 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 .ೃ࿐ [part two]

➳ published: 25.04.25 ➳ credit: banner: @aaagustd || beta: @wooahaeproductions @kwanisms @yoongihan ➳ werewolf!au || bakery!au || enemies to lover!au || genre: smut || angst || supernatural || fluff || dark || rating: m ➳ pairing: alpha!bangchan x bakery!reader (fem) ➳ summary: a decision in chris' past leads him down a road that brings him to his mate and even though he says he doesn't want her - it seems destiny, and others, won't take no for an answer. ➳ word count: 28.1k (this part) || total: 56.6k ➳ warnings/kinks: unexpected marking/claiming, violence, toxic behaviour, mentions of cheating (on reader by ex), manipulation, unprotected sex, implications of knotting, masturbation, light pain kink, praise/worship, dirty talk, manhandling, implications of being drugged, kidnapping/held hostage, aggressive behaviour, threats, mentions of death, minor character death(s), panic attack, mentions of a toxic relationship, mildly graphic descriptions of violence/killing/death. ➳ author's note: hello, it's me! it has been 4734873294 years since i started this fic and wow, i hope you love it! the mc is affectionately nicknamed 'sugar' and has minor descriptors just to help flesh her out a little more and she is implied to be curvy and soft (no eye colour, name, etc.). also i wanted to try and change things up a bit when it came to the pov's so 'you' is used when in the reader or a general pov and she/her is used when in another pov. ➳ taglist: @byunparklimchoi @djeniryuu @sanjoongie @honey-andmilktea @skzswife @catlove83 @manuosorioh @wolfs-howling @vserenia @kayleefriedchicken @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @stressymessyana @wildtokay @h0rnyp0t @idiotmaterial @teandtearsxo @ecwipsecoffee @black-sunshine-00 (please let me know if you want to be tagged in future works)

“You owe me twenty.” The wolf smirks, holding out his hand for Minho, who simply chuckles and digs around in his back pocket for the note.

The two wolves watch as Chris pushes through the crowd, causing a slight ruckus as he shoves people aside. Even at this distance, they can see the conflict on his face, the way his emotions are all over the place as he heads for the door. They had seen her and Chris disappear and placed a bet on whether Chris would come out first or if she would – making the older of the wolves the victor.

“It seems like the Alpha is having some regrets.” His thin lips lift in a smile as he watches Chris exit with a couple of betas he had managed to grab along the way. “What do you think it is? Having been weak for a human? Losing his virginity in the bathroom of a house party? I really thought him getting laid would put a smile on that man’s face but he looks even more pissed off than usual.”

Minho shrugs, making a sound that shows he doesn’t know or care as to why Chris is pissed off. When he sees her walking out of the bathroom, adjusting her dress and giving under her eyes a final wipe as if she had been crying, then it seems like he’s paying close attention. “How did you know that they’d fuck? They could have fought.” The wolf raises an eyebrow, never really having understood how Theo knew so much about her especially when the older didn’t run in the same circles as she did. “You’ve been stalking her since you came to town?”

Theo chuckles, shrugging his shoulders innocently, “Maybe. She’s the Alpha’s mate, who wouldn’t want to learn more about her?” His dark eyes watch her looking around, searching for someone, probably Minho. “You should take her home. If Chris really did fuck her and leave like that, she’ll need a shoulder to cry on and who’s shoulder is better than her new friend?”

“And what, kill her in a car accident? I’ve been drinking, idiot.”

Theo growls and rolls his eyes before shoving the twenty he had just gotten back at Minho. “Get an Uber. Fuck.”

Clicking his tongue, Minho shakes his head and wonders why the fuck he puts up with the rogue before the constant ache in his chest, the feeling that a part of himself is missing, reminds him why. This is all for her, he thinks to himself. Turning away from the man, Minho makes his way towards her and pushes through the mass of dancing bodies before finding her standing in a corner by herself, hidden in the dark. He can smell her distress rolling off her in waves, causing the beta to want to hug her but as he gets closer, he can smell Chris’ scent all over her.

Gross. He likes her natural scent better.

“Hey, there you a-ah, what’s happened?” Minho asks, softening his expressions to look like he’s been looking for her the whole time rather than talking to someone about how she's fucking Chris in the bathroom. 

He half-expects her to launch yourself at him, to want to be consoled and held as she cried about how much of an asshole Chris was to her but he has to give her credit, she's holding it well even if her eyes are shining with unshed tears. Reaching for her, he notices the way she pulls away from his touch and shakes her head. 

“I want to go home,” She mutters, trying to keep her voice low so he can’t hear how broken and hurt she is. “Please.”

Even though the friendship started as Minho using her as a means to an end, seeing her hurting like this, trying to look so small so nobody would look over and see her on the verge of tears – it pisses him off. “Come on,” he nods, a hand barely touching the small of her back as he leads her out the back of the house so she doesn't have to walk through the dancing crowd. “Did something happen?”

She remains quiet as they walk, eyes focused on the ground in front of her and only turning when Minho prompts her to. Not a word is spoken between them until they are standing at the end of the driveway and Minho is on his phone, ordering them an Uber. “This was a mistake.” The words are so quiet, so soft that they could have been carried away with the gentle breeze blowing her hair into her face. 

The wolf looks at her, waiting for her to say more but she remains quiet, unmoving and deep in her own mind until the Uber comes and Minho decides that if she isn't going to tell him now – maybe it’s best to let her get home to bed. “Call me tomorrow, yeah?” He says, helping her buckle her seatbelt and pats her head gently, “I’ll come around and we can do something.” A nod is the only answer he receives before he closes the door and watches the tail lights fade into the night.

“This was a mistake?” He repeats, brow furrowing. Did something happen and she regretted coming to the party? “Fuck sakes.” The wolf is too buzzed to try and figure out what she could have meant and if he’s going to have to deal with her crying over Chris tomorrow then he’ll need a good night’s sleep.

This plan better fucking work.

The next few days are quiet. Whether it’s because the universe has seemed to allow you time to process what has happened or because you turned your phone off and refused to leave your bed is irrelevant to the fact that it’s quiet.

Silent.

Perfect to overthink what happened at the party.

You don't want to talk about it, not really, maybe just a little… Okay, you want to talk about it but you don't know how to. What are you meant to say? You’re upset because some guy who’s been nothing but an asshole to you fucked you so good that you could feel it the next day and then said it was a mistake and left you to clean up alone? Yes, it’s a valid reason to be upset but for some reason – you’re more upset about it than you should be and you don't know why.

It’s not like you’ve never had a one night stand before, it’s not like you’ve never snuck out of a bed yourself, it’s not like this is different to anything that’s happened in your past but it definitely hurts a lot.

A mistake. That’s what he said. That’s what upset you. Everything else you could have dealt with, actually, you expected it considering you are meant to - no, you do hate each other. You didn’t expect Chris to hold you, to kiss you and say he enjoyed himself, or to offer you a ride home. You didn’t expect Chris to be kind afterwards but you didn’t expect that.

Never that.

Reaching for your shoulder, the woman pulls your stretched-out faded tee to the side and sighs when you faintly see the bite mark he left behind healing nicely. “Who does that?” You mumble under your breath before covering the mark up and rolling out of bed to finally shower. “I’m not letting him have any power over me, he means nothing, I will not waste my energy on some stupid man.” You repeat the words to yourself that got you through your breakup, hoping that it works better now than it did back then.

You try to put on a tough front, always trying your best to be less sensitive about things that do cause you to feel any type of way. Oddly, physical pain doesn’t hurt you as much, Serena teases you about it saying that maybe you have a pain kink but what does get under your skin and sit with you and bother you are words. Sometimes you are fine, unbothered by harsh words thrown your way like when you would be called a know-it-all in university or when people used to tease you about a crush you had back in high school. Sometimes, they were only ever just words that held no meaning because they were said by people who mattered very little to you but other times – they would sit with you for days. Once, Serena had said that you were annoying; you both were young and not as close as you are now and you had always wanted to be like your big sister, following her around everywhere until Serena told you off. It hurt, it made you keep your distance for a while because you didn’t want to be annoying anymore.

Being called a mistake… It's not a nice feeling even when it’s been said by someone like Chris.

“His words mean nothing, he means nothing. I’m going to get up and shower. Start my day. I will not think about this anymore.” Overthinking has always been your downfall, something that holds you back, so you try your best to get out of that headspace and enjoy your last day off before Serena drags you back downstairs.

No more being sad over meaningless words and men. You can do that. Right?

“You did what now?” Felix drops his coffee cup, the ceramic smashing on the ground, when Chris tells him what happened at the party. The Alpha tried to be rather nonchalant about it, tried to shrug his shoulders, and act like it wasn’t the biggest deal of the century – Felix, however, refuses to let that happen. “You did what?”

Sighing at the theatrics, Chris drops heavily onto the brown leather couch and lays down with an arm behind his head. “You heard what I said.” The words are spoken more towards the ceiling than the beta.

“Yes, yes, I heard but now I need you to repeat it again. You had sex with your mate at the party Minho threw?” There are a lot of things to unpack in one sentence. The beta’s brown eyes are wide in shock, comically round, but there’s also a glimmer of hope shining within them as he thinks that this might mean that his Alpha has finally accepted his mate. “How do you feel?”

That’s a fucking loaded question if Chris has ever heard one.

How does he feel? He feels everything. If he thought that he knew the world that he lived in before, he was so fucking wrong because Chris feels like every sense has been heightened and sharpened overnight. He feels like he’s an addict waiting for the next hit, coiled and ready to see her, smell her, touch her, taste her on his salivating tongue as he recalls her arousal. Fuck, he’s losing his mind thinking about how her soft flesh felt beneath his fingertips, remembering the sounds she made as he took her in the bathroom– Chris clears his throat and rests a hand on his tense abdomen while furrowing his brow and clenching his eyes closed. Chris feels like the stars have finally aligned, that the universe finally makes sense but there’s also this dull ache in his chest.

Something feels wrong, like a pain sitting in his chest. Whether it’s because he can feel the anguish his mate is processing from the bullshit he had said before fleeing the party or because he never claimed her properly, a reaction to the moment, something that wasn’t meant to happen – either like that or at all – something feels wrong.

He needs to fix things with her if he’s going to get rid of that feeling. It’s distracting.

“I’m fine.” He lies easily when he realises that Felix is watching him with scrutinising eyes. Chris can’t let him think that there’s anything wrong because the over-eager beta will drag him to the bakery to make things better.

“Can you feel her? Do you feel that longing people talk about, not seeing them, not being with them? Does your wolf make it hard to think because he wants her around? Is it as bad as you though–”

“Enough.” One word silences the wolf and he whimpers, bowing his head as he backs away slowly, eyes lowered to the ground and Chris groans slightly. It’s not the beta’s fault that he’s touchier than usual, it’s his own. Running a hand over his face, Chris sits up slowly, deciding to put himself and Felix out of their misery by going to see her.

Who knows whether she would actually speak to him because it was not lost on him, what he said as he exited the bathroom that night. He knows that he said something that he never should have said but there were so many things that were wrong about what they did, and the things that have been slowly happening since only proves as much.

Getting up, Chris runs his fingers through his messy hair to try and tame it, his jaw tensing as mixed emotions rush through him. “It’s time to go get the order anyway,” Felix practically jumps and rushes for the door like an excited pup, the mess on the ground forgotten, while Chris drags himself to grab his wallet and keys. He won’t deny that he is feeling an unfamiliar bounce in his step at the prospect of seeing her but there’s also this feeling of dread for what comes after as well. The conversation they need to have, the way he needs to explain what he is and what this means – also needing to claim his mate properly. Her mark should have healed by now, he had barely broken skin with the bite, so it’ll heal and fade but it won’t remove the bond that’s been formed.

It’s not often that a bond won’t snap into place and solidify immediately because usually when a wolf claims their mate – they don’t fuck up. It takes an intimate connection, for both bodies to be in tune with one another, when the bond is formed and sex is usually the easiest way to go about it as both bodies reach a high that is often achieved together. The dominant wolf will mark their mate, their teeth breaking skin and drawing blood as they climax together but that’s where Chris went wrong. He didn’t go deep enough, he barely left a mark so something that’ll connect his soul and hers feels incomplete.

It doesn’t take away the intense need to see her now that he’s had a taste of her, his mind on her every moment of the day, but everything is dull. Drowning in the murky depths with muffled sounds barely registering as he struggles to breathe. He can almost feel her, almost see her, oh, his fingers could almost reach out and close around her pretty throat and taste her on his tongue but almost is not enough.

Almost is barely scratching the itch.

The brooding wolf hasn’t heard a thing that the other has said as they pull up to the curb and Chris is out of the car before he’s turned it off. “Chri–” Felix is left standing on the sidewalk as the older pushes through the door and stops under the jingling bell.

Where is she?

A ghost of her smiles at him, a fading image that disappears into reality when Chris is met with an empty counter. Inhaling deeply, he takes in her scent, the sweet sugary scent mixed with green apples that is unique to her, but it doesn’t settle the wolf inside – it causes the hairs on the back of his neck to rise in alert when he smells another wolf. Not just any wolf. A wolf that seems to be playing a dangerous game considering his antics as of late.

Minho.

Turning on his heel, Chris nearly rips the door off its hinges as he opens it and storms outside to try and clear his head. His wolf is growling, furious that another wolf has been hanging around but there’s also this worry that’s nagging at him. How long has Minho known? There’s no way that this is a coincidence, that the rogue has decided to befriend a woman who just so happens to be his mate – Minho is far too calculated to have that be an accident.

Felix appears in front of him, the blonde looking worried as his wide eyes take in his Alpha. The sun makes his freckles stand out, something that many would find rather pretty about the beta, but they seem dull as the colour drains from his face. Felix’s hands lift to rest on Chris’ shoulders to try to stop the slaughter that’s about to happen, having noticed their presence before the older wolf. It takes a little while before Chris clicks on, confused at the way Felix is behaving but then he hears it, the softest laugh that has his entire being vibrating with the sound as he looks for the source, for her – only to see that she’s walking with, talking with, fucking laughing with, Minho.

“Chris–”

“Move, Felix.”

The other holds fast, pushing with all his might. “Please. Don’t–”

“I said, move.” The command comes out in a deep ferocious growl and causes the younger to move quickly out of his way, also catching the attention of the happy duo walking towards them.

Her expression sours immediately as she sees Chris, stepping closer to Minho, who is looking rather bored when his dark brown eyes meet Chris’ nearly obsidian black ones due to his wolf pushing to take over and tear this traitor from his mate’s side. It’s only when a wave of anxiety and fear washes through him that Chris stops in his tracks and takes deep inhales to try and settle himself – barely being able to do so while looking at them together. “What are you doing?”

“What are you doing?” The comment is rather strange to you, unsure why it’s any of his business as to what it is that you’re doing but before you can even answer, Minho sighs.

When he wraps his arm around your shoulder and pulls you in closer, you swear that you heard a possessive growl rip through Chris’ chest and even though it shouldn’t cause you to react with a clench of the thighs – you couldn’t help it. He’s quite frankly the biggest dickhead you’ve ever met, maybe worse than your ex if that’s even possible, but she cannot deny the way their bodies melded perfectly together that night. “What does it look like I’m doing? I took my friend out for lunch and am now walking her back to work. What are you doing?”

Chris’ eyes slowly move over to look over at you, looking you up and down before flitting back to Minho and the corner of his perfectly soft lips curls upwards in a sneer. Heat rushes through you, anger bubbling in your blood as you think it’s aimed at the fact that you’re the friend. “You should find another friend.”

Scoffing and not wanting to deal with his unnecessarily rude attitude, you push past the man blocking your path, making sure to put your shoulder into it. “Fuck you,” you utter under your breath when your shoulder throbs slightly from the impact since it seems he’s like a solid, immovable force that keeps coming back to make you miserable. You’ve had enough belittling, had enough feeling like you were something to be brushed aside or treated like you’re worthless, you refuse to stand there and let another man act like you are a piece of shit when he’s the one acting like it.

His hand wraps tightly around your wrist and you swing your free hand with all your might. You felt bad the first time, you felt so guilty for having laid a hand on him but this time – you don't have that same sentiment.

Though, this time, Chris is prepared, catching your wrist quickly before you make an impact.

“It’ll be wise not to try that again,” he says in a low tone, the voice almost sounding threatening with a hint of amusement. The hardness in his eyes softens as he looks at you and his hold loosens but not enough for you to be able to break free. “We need to talk, Sugar.”

“Let me go,” you grit out, your other hand joining in to try and pry off his grip.

Pulling you closer, Chris doesn’t listen. Of course he doesn’t, he’s a big, stupid Alpha male who thinks he owns you and can do what he wants. “You need to let me explain.”

Your hand rests on his chest, keeping him from leaning in too close and causing your brain to short circuit. Your body is practically vibrating and while you would like to say it’s anger, rage even, there’s an undercurrent of something else. Anticipation, need, you aren't entirely sure but it’s not the reaction you want to be having around him, you do know that much. “Explain what?” You struggle a little more, feeling eyes on you and your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. “Chris…” Your eyes look around; Minho keeps his distance, glaring at Chris but not stepping in, Felix watches with a shocked look on his face and then you see a couple walking past slowly, watching this play out, “Please, let me go.” You try to plead with him, hoping that’ll work.

To your surprise, it does.

Creating distance between you, you rub her wrist, hating the longing for his touch that he’s left behind. “I don’t have anything to say to you,” you lie. You have a lot to say, a whole novel to tell him but you don't want to give Chris any satisfaction of knowing that he’s caused you to feel any type of way. “Go away.”

You see the tick in his jaw, the clenching of the muscle being more attractive than it needs to be at this moment as you turn away to keep yourself from admiring him instead of being angry. It’s been happening a lot, even though your mind tells you that you hates him, that you can’t stand him, and how he’s the biggest asshole to ever walk the planet – you’re always finding yourself thinking about the way his hands caressed your curves, the way his lips felt as they pressed against your skin and how his smile causes butterflies to erupt in your stomach.

Storming into the store, you take a moment to breathe, to calm yourself down before turning to look at the two men who are basically having a staring competition outside of the building. Testosterone and idiocy flows between them while poor Felix stands behind Chris, looking over at you and back at Minho, over and over again. You don't know why, you aren't sure what it is that keeps you rooted to the spot but something in the back of your mind tells you to be ready.

What you need to be ready for is a mystery.

Watching them is like watching a silent movie without the luxury of subtitles, a silent, action movie where the two men are about to have a showdown to try and win the girl. Even though the girl can’t stand one of them. You can see Minho talking, the smirk on his lips colder than the smile you’re used to. It’s not born from laughter and filled with amusement but coming from a darker place. The narrowing of Chris’ eyes shows that whatever Minho is saying is getting to him, irking him enough to show the emotion on his face and you wonder if the two are rivals. You begin to make a whole story up in your head, a narrative to match the show before you and you come up with a plot that puts the two as high school rivals who probably dated the same girl. Maybe they were friends, this is usually where they are best mates and then the other betrays their friend by dating the girl they’re in love with, right? Absolutely. Who did what is unclear but from the way Chris is looking almost murderous, his teeth clenched as he responds and Minho’s shoulders shaking with laughter – you assume Chris was more or less the victim here.

Not that you care or anything.

Minho’s eyes meet yours and you gasp, hand flying over your mouth as his smile widens into a more wolfish grin and he says something that you aren't sure you read right. He speaks slowly, with a purpose, as if he knows you’re trying to read his lips and gather what they are talking about. ‘Maybe I should claim her…’, it makes no sense to you and you’re sure that you are wrong but whatever it was has Chris throwing a punch.

“Oh no!” You gasp, rushing outside. Before Minho can regain his footing, Chris grabs him by the front of his shirt and gets in his face as he starts shouting nonsense. 

“Hey! HEY!” You duck under Chris’ arm and somehow, miraculously, manage to squeeze in between the two bodies so you can push them apart. Felix was already trying to pry the man off your friend, saying that this is what Minho wants and to not let him win but you don't really pay attention to that – to anything being said really – as you’re trying to diffuse the situation as best as you can. “S-t-o-p,” you groan, pushing with all your might against the brick wall of a man in front of you, his pecs rippling as your hands are splayed over the muscles. “Chris–”

“Breaking cover, big guy.” Minho laughs and you try to look over your shoulder to glare at him only to nearly suffocate from Chris’ chest in your face.

“Stop! B-both of you!” Your arms hurt, aching with exertion until finally, you manage to separate them. “Just because I don’t want to talk to you, doesn’t mean you can go around throwing punches at my friend! Brute force isn’t always going to get you what you want!”

“He knows no other way, sugar. He’s a beast,” Minho provokes further, only to have you round on him next.

“You’re just as bad! This isn’t a pissing match!” You don't understand his amusement when he snorts at your comment but you’ve had enough. Your nerves are shot, and your emotions are all over the place simply by being too close to Chris. What was meant to be a day where you wouldn’t think about what he said and how it made you feel afterward has ended up turning to shit because now you’re just confused by him! “Whatever issues you two have with each other, leave me out of it!” You throw your hands up in exasperation and resignation before stomping away.

“Sugar,” Chris calls your name, causing your hand to hover over the door handle, “I do need to talk to you about what–”

“Come by tomorrow. You’ll have five minutes and then I never want to speak to you again.” You slam the door behind you, walk immediately into the kitchen, and announce you’re signing off for the day, leaving Serena stunned at the sudden change in her younger sister’s mood.

You lay in bed, tossing and turning as the music plays softly through the speaker, barely drowning out any of the thoughts that are keeping you from resting peacefully. Your body has been on high alert ever since you saw Chris yesterday, your mind distorting the male aggression as some sort of romance novel moment and causing you to feel conflicted about what it is that you want – what it is that you want to do.

Minho has been great company but since seeing him push Chris’ buttons, you don't really want to be around him right now until these feelings, this flurry of emotions that you don't understand, have dissipated and you can think clearly. You’re angry at Chris, angry at Minho, and whenever you think about either of them that anger begins to amplify and you want to scream, or hit something, which is unlike you, and that results in you feeling overwhelmed and unable to trust yourself behind the counter.

How can you serve customers with your usual charm when you can barely bring yourself to appreciate the warmth of the sun?

Rolling over onto your back, you sigh and reach for your phone to turn the volume up before staring at the ceiling. One song blends into another and you close your eyes, welcoming the sudden calm that settles your racing mind as you focus on the music rather than your life. You’re trying not to think about that night, the one that has caused you a lot of anguish over the past week or so but you can’t help certain memories that begin to stir and the way your body heats up as you remember.

The conflict you feel; oh, it rushes to the front of your mind but for the first time since that night, it doesn’t push away the way he made you feel. While the whole Alpha male bullshit isn’t exactly the greenest flag in a man; there’s something about the possessiveness he displayed, the need to own you, to make sure nobody else could touch you that sent a thrill through your mind. The way his touch caused electricity to rush through you and the high it gave you. 

You swear it’s Cloud Nine.

Was it wrong to want more? Was it wrong to want to know what his body felt like hovering above yours, the way his abs would tense or muscles would ripple as he took you? Was it wrong to think about how those sinful lips would feel tracing over your navel before dipping low? Was it wrong to hate him and everything he is but also wanting his fingers to be the ones slipping under your shirt?

A shuddered breath leaves you, fist curling on your stomach before it can travel further down your body. As you reach the waistband of your panties, you groan because what are you doing? “He’s such a fucking asshole,” you try to remind yourself, remembering everything that Chris has done since you met and comparing it to the biggest asshole you could. You swore that you would never go for a man like that again and you were just about to touch yourself at the thought of him?

Are you really that desperate or do you have an underlying degradation kink that you’re pretending doesn’t exist?

Desperate. That’s what it is. Desperation and terrible taste in men.

“Why are the hot ones always so… messy?” you mutter to yourself, closing your eyes and trying to push away any and all thoughts of Chris – only to fail miserably. He’s invading every thought, even if you’re trying to think about anything, everything else, he’s pushing his way into your mind like he owns the space. With every thought comes a wave of lust, hate, and hurt all mixed into one and while those words he said rush through your mind, it seems your body wants the exact person you shouldn’t.

Him.

You shouldn’t want him as badly as you do right now, the tingling sensation between your legs shouldn’t even exist when that man makes himself known in your mind but it seems that what your brain knows – your body disagrees with. You close your eyes, trying to win the war within yourself but as you try to convince yourself that this is wrong, your hand makes its way down your body, tracing over your skin, from hip to hip before teasing under your waistband. The anticipation and war going on is making you rather impatient. “I hate him,” you whisper, licking your lips as you suck in slightly and push down your panties.

A scene begins to play. A twisted scene that only seems to blur reality. You lean against the counter, hips swaying from side to side as Chris walks around behind you and places large hands on your hips. “Stop teasing me,” he growls into your ear, grinding himself against your ass and you only lean forward even more, pushing back against him.

Fingers brush over your pubic area, making their way lower towards your pulsating heat that’s starting to ache the more you give in. “I bet you love a good tease, don’t you?” Your voice is soft, trying to keep anyone from hearing you. As if there’s anyone else in the apartment. Swallowing thickly, you lightly tap on your clit to send a shiver down your spine, as if testing to make sure that this is what you want to be doing. “You probably think all this back and forth is foreplay.”

You know you’ll never get an answer but for right now, as you pull your hand back out of your panties to suck on your fingers so that you can resume your little fantasy, you have the perverted idea of him answering for you. “Isn’t it?” You can hear the smirk on those sinful lips of his as hands travel up your back and down again to spank your ass, “it seems to turn you on.” Oh, you’re so glad that he doesn’t know this or that he can’t read your thoughts because wouldn’t he use this against you?

Probably but he can go and fuck himself.

Just like you’re about to.

Rubbing your clit slowly, you build up to it, wanting to take your time with this to make sure you’re relieving all your stress… until…

“Hey, I’m here to talk to Sugar,” Chris walks into the bakery when he knows it's closing, having thought that he would see her the moment he walks in – only to have Serena glaring at him. He knows that the sister would know all about him, isn’t that the whole point of siblings? To have them hate the people you hate? He can practically smell the resentment rolling off in waves as he stands in front of the counter and looks into the kitchen window, thinking maybe she decided to hide from him. “Is she here?”

“What do you want to talk to her about?” The questioning, slightly disapproving tone doesn’t surprise him considering what he’s done but it doesn’t mean Chris’ eye won’t twitch in response.

Deep breaths, he tells himself, trying to keep calm. “I have some explaining to do-”

“Yeah, you do.”

He tries to let that slide. “I asked her yesterday if we could talk and thought it would be best to wait until she had finished for the day.” Serena hums in agreement, nodding her head and Chris sighs because this is starting to annoy him. Sure, he deserves this but still, can she let up on the fucking protectiveness considering she’s allowing her to hang out with a sociopath like Minho. “So, where is she?”

“Upstairs.” Oh, wow, such a great indicator. Serena then waves her hand in a general direction, “Go through the kitchen and out the back, there’s a set of stairs that go to our apartment. Her bedroom door is the one on the left, she might be napping or screaming into her pillow so make sure you have some manners and knock.” Chris’ jaw ticks and he narrows his dark eyes to meet Serena’s who matches his energy without backing down.

She’d make a good Alpha if she was a wolf.

Knocking twice on the counter as he takes his leave, he follows her directions with a quick nod of his head and a passing ‘thanks’. The wolf doesn’t want to have to talk to her any longer than he has to because if she is pissed off with him already, he doesn’t want to have to give her another reason to throw him out the moment she sees him. It’s fairly straightforward, getting into their place and Chris hates how anyone could walk in here even if they are downstairs. “Don’t they have any form of security?” he mutters to himself as he walks through the apartment and notices the decorations around the room.

Colourful. That’s the only thing he can think of that doesn’t sound like he hates it all. The way the rooms are splashed with colour, there’s happiness oozing out of every photo he looks at as he walks around, clutter from various hobbies litter the walls and any surface that they can sit on including being spread over the coffee table because someone didn’t clean up after themselves. The way that their home is everything that he isn’t, the complete opposite of the way he keeps his space, and it makes him wonder how the world could think that they would be a good match.

Opposites attract, isn’t that what they say? Maybe it was because he needed the spontaneous behaviour of her, the laughter, and light while she needed the security and structure that Chris could provide her with.

Whatever. He can deal with that thought process another time.

“The room on-”

“I bet you love a good tease, don’t you?”

Chris freezes as his hand hovers over the door handle, sucking in a deep breath when he hears her soft voice whispering sinfully over the music on the other side. Does she have a guest? No… he would have smelled someone else the moment he stepped inside. His mind starts to race, trying to figure out what is going on when a wave of arousal rushes through him, hitting him like a truck before he has time to realise what is going on.

It’s not that he hadn’t been thinking about it as he was walking up the stairs, it’s not like he hadn’t been thinking about it the entire drive to the bakery, but Chris is almost always horny – it’s the practised self control that keeps him in check most of the time. He hadn’t even thought about how the arousal could have been coming through his mate, as weak as the link currently is, intense emotions can still make themselves known and whatever she is feeling – or doing – is intense enough to have Chris thinking about something he shouldn’t be right now.

“You probably think all this back and forth is foreplay.” Ah fuck, she’s masturbating. No wonder. Running his fingers through his short, black hair, Chris inhales deeply, trying to get his mind into the right place but it seems that her pleasure has started to increase which means his dick is now painfully tight in his pants.

Fuck, if that door opens now…

Lifting his hand up, closing his eyes, and steadying himself, Chris gives the painted white door a few raps of his knuckles and all he’s met with is “oh, fuck off!” and the sound of shuffling as she gets up to open up the door. Taking a small step back, the wolf takes a deep breath in preparation for the scent that is about to hit him with full force. “What is- What do you want?” The words come out harsher than she wanted them to, he can tell by the shock on her face as she says them, but she holds firm as she glares at him.

Her legs are bare, the old t-shirt that she’s wearing being pulled down to cover up her core but it also draws more attention to her chest, nipples standing out against the grey band tee and begging to be pinched. 

The moment Chris opens his mouth, he knows he’s going to lose his breath and mind but with the look of pure annoyance on her face, it’s not like he can not say anything. “You said to come when you finished. Your sister said that you were up here and let me find my own way in.”

“You couldn’t have waited just five more minutes?” She groans, squeezing her thighs together and shuffling in place.

Oh fuck, he knows he shouldn’t. He knows that he really shouldn’t make a comment but how can he not when it’s right there? “Five minutes? You give in too quickly, Sugar, ever heard of delayed gratification?” Her lips part in surprise at his words and she takes a step back into her room while Chris now steps forward to block the door frame. Strong arms fold over his chest, his black sleeveless tee pulled tight over the muscles, as he leans against it and looks her up and down, breathing in the sweet scent saturating the room. He’s meant to be here to talk about things, to clear the air and make sure that she’s aware of the danger that she’s getting herself into by hanging out with Minho. He’s meant to be strong and tell her to steer clear for her own safety while also telling her everything about what he is.

He’s meant to… but haha, like fuck is he going to be thinking about that right now.

“You were really going to get off when we are meant to be having a talk?” He tilts his head, dark eyes running over her legs and pausing at the hem of her shirt that’s still clutched tightly in her hands. “Were you thinking about me?”

Scoffing, she looks away, cheeks flushing red and heartbeat picking up as she shakes her head. “Why would I think about you?” She narrows her eyes when she looks back at him. “It was a mistake, right?”

Those words are like a slap to the face. Deserved, sure, and the guilt that sits deep within his gut knows that he should back away right now before something happens but this is what they are, right? Gunpowder and a match ready to explode. Chris can’t help it, can’t help himself because he loves the fight, the way she doesn’t back down even when it’s against her nature to be confrontational, he loves the way he gets under her skin while she makes her way into his every waking thought.

The silence only adds to the tension building, the way their eyes are locked on each other, the air around them growing thicker as Chris pushes off from the door frame and walks deeper into the bedroom. The door closes with a soft click that is almost drowned out by the way her heartbeat hammers against her chest, the thumping matched by Chris’ own racing heart. With every step forward Chris takes, she retreats until the back of her legs hits the bed and her hand is placed on his chest to keep him at a distance. His eyes glance down, the muscles in his jaw tensing as she swallows thickly and takes shallow breaths while thinking about what to say.

“You-you’re here to talk.” Her voice quivers as she tries to take control of the situation.

Nodding, Chris answers with a low, “Yes.”

His hand reaches for her, wrapping around her and pulling her closer so that their chests are now pressed together, her hand trapped between them. Fuck, have her lips always looked that decadent, that kissable? He can’t remember but he’s noticing them now. Leaning closer, he focuses on them, the tip of his nose gently brushing against hers. “Th-then, we should talk.” 

“You weren’t a mistake,” Chris whispers against her lips, feeling her gasp.

“What?”

“I said, you weren’t a mistake.” He continues tracing his nose gently over her cheek, inhaling her scent which is tainted with her arousal. How easy would it be to take her right now… if he was an uncivilised beast.

He can feel her resisting, trying not to give in as if he’s in the mood to give her any more answers right now. Chris wants her, he wants her to give into the way their hearts are beating in time with each other, the way electricity is thrumming through their veins and making every nerve in his body come to life with her close to him. Sure, he should do the smart thing and talk to her, tell her what is going on, what has happened, and give her the chance to decide whether she wants to even fall into this world.

However, he doesn’t want to give her the chance to run. Well… not in that sense at least.

“Chris…” she breathes out softly, her breath fanning over his face.

“Ah, fuck,” he mutters, lips parting as he tangles his fingers in her hair, gripping the locks to keep her in place. “Say my name again, just like that.” It is barely a moan, barely a sound of arousal but the way she shivers at the deep, low sound that vibrates through his chest only amplifies why they would not be talking until they were done.

“We should talk… Chris…” That’s his girl. The way she said his name went straight to the growing erection making itself known against her stomach as his lips crashed against hers. Their bodies will do the talking more than anything else, he’ll claim her when she reaches her high, and when they are wrapped up in their own little world, coming down from the clouds, he will tell her everything.

He lowers her to the bed, hovering over her as their tongues caress, while he rolls his hips and grinds his erection against her. There’s a whimper before her hands reach down to pull up the hem of her shirt and Chris pulls away to remove it completely, wanting to see her in her entirety, seeing the healing mark on her neck, faint due to it being incomplete. “You left quite a mark,” She mutters softly as a hand raises to touch it before Chris gently grabs her hand so his lips can trace along the discoloured skin instead.

Kisses are peppered along her shoulder, wet kisses left as his lips move up her neck, along her jawline until he reaches her lips again. His mind is telling him to take it slow, to revel in the feel of her body, in the sight of her beneath him but there’s that voice in his head that tells him that gentle is not his forte – that she would look even better with her legs over his shoulders as he fucks his knot into her. “Ah-” A hiss passes through his teeth as she giggles against his lips, her hand pulling him out of his thoughts… and pants. “Couldn’t wait, huh?”

A simple shrug of the shoulders is the only answer he’ll get as she starts to stroke his cock while his hips move on their own. He closes his eyes, taking deep breaths to try and calm himself as she moves her hips so that as he thrusts into her hand, his cock is so fucking close to sliding through her slick cunt. The tip is hitting her clit and causes sweet shivers of pleasure to rush through her body, causing that heady scent of arousal to almost suffocate him. God, he wants her, he wants her right now and does not want to wait any longer.

He’s barely started and he can’t stand it.

It doesn’t take very long for Chris to practically tear his shirt from his body, his pants dropping to the floor shortly after before he’s back onto you and sliding his hard dick into your very needy core. “Fuck,” you moan, tilting your head back as he starts to lick and nip at your exposed throat, adding to the stimulation that is currently causing your body to feel extremely sensitive.

That electricity that you always feel when you’re with Chris, that same sensation that coursed through your body when you danced at the party comes rushing through you and makes everything heightened. Your bodies are perfectly in tune with each other even though it makes zero sense as to why they are. There’s no explanation as to why you two fit so perfectly, why you feel so content and full with him stretching you out with each thrust, there’s no reason why it should feel so fucking good when everything about the two of you is so wrong!

You hate each other, or that’s what you keep telling yourself because if you really hated him, those words that he said wouldn’t have affected you as much, would they? You’d have agreed and felt that way too.

Thoughts soon leave your mind as Chris’ thrusts start to get faster, deeper; the sound of skin hitting skin echoes through the room, mixed with low grunts and the soft begging for more. “Don’t stop.” Your arms wrap around him, nails scratching down his back and causing Chris to growl as he keeps up the pace, hitting that sweet spot repeatedly. You can feel it building, you can feel it in the way your body moves in time, trying to reach that high that you’ve been desperately needing to help your body relax – to help your mind relax. His head is buried into your neck just as the crashing waves of ecstasy wash over your being, your back arching as a scream leaves you due to the intensity… and the pain. Your eyes are watering as Chris doesn’t stop, fucking you through your orgasm with his teeth penetrating your skin, drawing blood. It should be unbearable but mixed with the immense pleasure you’re currently feeling as he continues to hit that spot, not slowing down in the slightest as he chases his own end – it only heightens your pleasure even more.

“More, please, Chris, more.” 

He pulls back slightly to look down at you, eyes glowing for a brief moment before fading and you put it down to a trick of the light, your imagination, rather than the thought that sounds in the back of your mind. 

“I need more, please.”

He stills for a moment, closing his eyes as he listens to your begging for him as if it’s the best thing he’s ever heard. “Fuck, how can I deny you when you sound so good?~.”

Without warning, Chris pulls out and you whine at the loss of him, walls fluttering around nothing as if being empty is a crime. He moves quickly so that he’s standing and you finally manage to glance at the man in all his glory. You’ve never been superficial with looks, while your partners have always been attractive to your standards; your sister and friends may have thought otherwise, but Chris? Now, he’s a specimen they would approve of – if he wasn’t such an asshole.

Not only does he have the height that makes him perfect to grab the top of the door frame and tower over you but he also has the build of a god. His muscles were noticeable in those t-shirts that you had seen him in but to see them, to be able to trace your fingers along the veins of his arms and over his rippling abdomen, is something else entirely. Standing before you, dark eyes hungry for you, jaw tense as if holding himself back, Chris wraps his large hands around your ankles and pulls your ass to the edge of the bed. You figure you could look past the attitude that he has if it means forgetting your name every night and only calling out his.

That’s simply your horny brain talking, though.

“Turn over, ass up in the air,” Chris instructs as he effortlessly flips you onto your stomach and grips your hips to help lift your ass up to the perfect height to take you. Once in position and with no warning, he pushes in and the thrust alone has your body lurching forward before you can even prepare yourself. “Fuck, you really are perfect.” Those words are muttered under his breath as he starts fucking you at an unbelievably fast pace that has your brain shortcircuiting and fists gripping the sheets. You’re not even sure if you had heard him correctly but you can’t get a word out to ask.

You can tell he’s getting close by the urgency in his thrusts, in the way he’s holding onto your hips so harshly that you’ll definitely have bruises afterward. Sweat lightly coats both of your bodies as exertion sets in and you can feel yourself building up to another orgasm before Chris pulls you up by the shoulder so your back is against his heaving chest. “I’m going to-”

“I know,” Chris grunts into her ear, “so am I.” Wrapping one arm around your chest to hold you into place, his other hand finds her clit and starts rubbing it in circles, slowly building up to a pace that has you flailing in his arms. “Don’t hold back, princess, fuck, let go for me. That’s a good girl.” He whispers the sweetest encouragement into your ear before kissing the sensitive bite mark he left behind. “Lose yourself, Sugar, I’ll keep you right here~.”

It all happens too fast for your brain to register, to even comprehend what happens as your orgasm hits you hard. All you know is that his fingers won’t stop as you’re stretched impossibly full, white bursts behind your eyes as your body goes limp in his arms and Chris’ teeth hold you in place as a low, primal growl sounds deep in his chest. Everything happened too fast, was far too much for your body and mind, that consciousness starts slipping away from you as Chris carefully moves the two of you so that you are both lying on the bed, awkwardly wrapped up in a blanket.

“Ah, I guess I went too hard on you, Sugar.” A soft kiss is pressed against your cheek, “We’ll talk when you wake up, hm?” You try to respond, only for it to sound like incoherent gibberish. “Sshh now, go to sleep.”

When you wake up, your body feels sated and oddly warm considering you’re naked and under a sheet. As you try to move, needing to get some water, you find yourself unable to move due to the arm wrapped around your waist, keeping you close to the softly snoring man next to you. “Oh–,” you gasp.

“Don’t seem so surprised,” Chris whispers, eyes still closed as he pulls you close and buries his face into your neck, taking deep inhales while subtly scenting you. “How are you feeling?”

The gentle way he speaks, thumb caressing the skin of your hip as he holds you in place, is a complete contradiction to the last time the two of you were intimate. Maybe it’s because this time it was different, neither of you were in an intoxicated state and in the bathroom while everyone was partying, maybe it’s because… because what? Nothing has changed, right? Not for you, at least that’s what you tell yourself but even if you say the words in your head, your body settles into him and you close your eyes again. You find yourself unable to think about how this should be wrong because everything feels right, feels like the world finally makes sense even if you’re so confused.

Terribly and utterly confused, but content.

“Don’t go back to sleep, little one.” Chris kisses your shoulder, causing you to wince slightly as his tongue drags over the mark he’s left behind. “We still need to talk.”

Groaning, you pull the blanket up so that you could snuggle back in, ignoring him. “Later.” A deep chuckle vibrates against your back as the arm under your head moves as Chris pulls away. “Can’t you just let me have this?” You roll onto your back as the male sits up, his broad, muscular back on the receiving end of your glare, “I think I deserve as much since last time, you made me cry.” Chris’ head lowers as he sighs and turns slightly so he can look at you, an unreadable expression on his face before the male completely faces you and relents. Moving over, you let Chris lay down beside you so you can cuddle into his side with your head resting on his chest, listening to the steady beating of his heart. “You can talk while I lay like this.”

“So bossy.” There’s an air of amusement in his tone. Chris combs his fingers through your hair, trying to tidy up your bed head as he tries to figure out where to begin. “How do I begin…” He hums in thought before you look up at him with a furrow between your brow.

“You could start with an apology.”

Lifting a hand to smooth out the wrinkles in your brow, Chris licks his plump lips, “I did what I did to protect you.” You roll your eyes as you shove at his side to show that you’re not impressed at all. “Ah, alright, Sugar. I’m sorry for making you cry. I’m sorry for trying to push you away – but I’m not sorry for this.” His fingers trace around the mark before tilting your head up to kiss you. A simple indulgence, something he doesn’t often take for himself but he thought that he better get it out of his system now before those lips distract him any further.

“I told you that you had five minutes,” you say against his lips as you part and Chris chuckles and shakes his head, your bossy attitude is amusing, adorable. “So, you better start talking.”

“Will you always ruin the mood like this?” You growl and if only you knew how that affected him, you’d think he’s primitive. “Since I only have five minutes, I think it’s best to tell you straightforward – I’m a werewolf.” You snort, pulling back to look up at him, raising an eyebrow. “From the moment I laid eyes on you, I could tell that you were my mate, someone picked for me that’ll make me a better wolf, a better man – a better everything really. However, I don’t want– didn’t want,” he corrects himself, “a mate at all. While you’d make me stronger, you’d also be my weakness and considering you’re human and have lived in sweet ignorance of the world around you, I wanted to keep it that way.”

You remain quiet, listening, face devoid of any reaction but it’s clear that you’re not buying a word of what he’s saying.

“I couldn’t stop myself from being around you, I couldn’t keep away because I’m drawn to you so I thought that the best thing to do was have you hate me; if I could push you away and have you think the worst of me then I wouldn’t have to deal with protecting you.” Yeah, he’s not really helping himself. “The way it feels when we are together, how right it feels,” he emphasises his words by trailing his fingers over your skin, “that’s all a part of the bond that forms between mates and no matter how hard I tried – fuck, I couldn’t keep away.” He dips down to capture your lips again and your mind jumbles with all the racing thoughts. You’re annoyed, honestly, you’re kind of pissed but when he pulls away and continues to speak, you’re also melting inside and finding that Chris is really, really pretty when he talks.

Maybe that’s the wrong adjective for him because hot, sexy and fuckable are better but as you zone out a little, his story sounding weird and farfetched, you stare at his lips and think about how they feel against yours.

Blah, blah, blah, proper name, place name, back story stuff…

“Minho is going to try and use you against me. You need to stay away from him.” You finally tune back in as Chris comes to the end of his story. You’re not going to admit that you heard nothing more after he kissed you but anger bubbles up in your chest as seconds tick by and he hasn’t laughed or played this off as a joke.

Is he serious? “Are you serious?”

“You think he’s your friend but he’s using you, Sugar. He’s only going to hurt you.”

Pulling away from him, you grab your pillow and throw it at him while frantically looking around your room for your shirt so that you can cover up. Asshole doesn’t get to see you naked… again! “If anyone is going to hurt me, Chris, it’s you.” You ache a little, body still recovering from earlier, “not only did you bite me, twice, I might add but you called me a mistake. You made me feel like an idiot because of the whole situation with your credit card – which you handled like a fucking child. You have done nothing but make me angry and upset and- and- and you made up this whole stupid werewolf, ‘if I’m with you, it’ll be bad’, toxic male, shitty story to try and justify your awful and nasty attitude. I’ve read books with that exact plot and you’re acting just like they did which is infuriating.” You take a deep breath, shoulders heaving slightly. You don't know if you’re making sense, you don't know what you’re saying as you back away and try not to trip over anything on the floor. Everything starts to feel overwhelming and you can feel the tears welling up in your eyes which only makes you more annoyed. “Then you try to turn me against my friend? If you are that worried about Minho, maybe you should, I don’t know – treat me like I actually matter to you!”

Chris sits up, looking incredibly calm for someone who is being called a liar and an ass. “Sugar,” he says softly and you feel a wave of calm wash over you which has you feeling even more agitated. “I will show you how you should be treated. I’m sorry I fucked up, I was set in my ways and–”

“Get out.” You are as far as physically possible from Chris inside the small room but it doesn’t help anything at all. Looking at him, being in the same room as him, you even smell like him, it all messes with your head and the only way for you to be able to think clearly is if he’s not there. “I– You’ve said what you needed to say and now, you need to go.” Your voice is shaky, filled with the mixture of emotions rushing through you and contradicting each other. The boiling anger mixes with waves of calm, the pain is being soothed by the gentle caress of feeling safe and this need to cry is battling against your want to hide in his chest.

You don't realise it but the bond created between you two has snapped into place and while your mind is screaming, being near your mate brings a sense of ease which really isn’t helping. In fact, it’s making it worse.

Chris doesn’t move, not right away, and you don't ask again as you gather his clothes and toss them onto the bed. The air grows heavy, suffocating you while Chris dresses and reaches for you, his wolf practically screaming in his head to comfort his mate, to hold you and make it right but you dodge him. Wrapping your arms tightly around your body, you make yourself small and step away, shaking your head to indicate that you don't want to be touched – least of all, by him. “I’ll call you.” He waits for an answer, anything to show that you haven't completely written him off.

Except it doesn’t come.

“Please don’t. Please just…” The defeat in your voice and the hurt that he can feel from you breaks him a little inside. “Just forget this ever happened.” It’s almost like karma coming to spit in his face. A lone tear falls down your cheek as you look at him and the words he had said to you that night echo in the quiet room. “This was a mistake.”

A few hours had passed before the numbness that had overwhelmed you when Chris left started to fade, when the confusion and upset started to shift into anger and annoyance. You had decided that you weren’t going to sit around and let Chris fuck with your head even more than he already has and what better way to get over it than by ranting about it?

Isn’t venting about a problem to a trusted friend the best way to work through how you feel and move forward from a situation?

Fingers fly over the screen as you type out a message to Minho, needing the only friend you’ve been able to open up to. “You free? I need to debrief before I go insane!”

His reply comes back almost immediately, the words making you smile a little and let out a small huff of a laugh. “Yeah, you want food? It always seems to help your mood.” Oh, he’s so cheeky sometimes but it’s what you’ve come to appreciate about him. His lack of filter and the fact that he’ll tease you so easily and openly helps you to be yourself around him because you believe that he’s himself around you as well.

Oh, how devastated you’ll be when you learn the truth.

You decide to dress nicely, always finding a cute little outfit and some makeup helps you feel better – you’re sure that you’ve read that somewhere, some kind of psychology to trick yourself into feeling good. With your hair in a pretty updo, your favourite necklace adorning your neck and allowing it to sit just above your cleavage, you head out the door to meet Minho at your favourite bar. You’re aware that maybe going to the bar and drinking when you’re feeling the way that you are may not be the best idea but if it got you through your break up – it’ll help you deal with these confusing feelings about Chris, too.

Your friend leans against the building, focusing on his phone for a moment before you call his name and claim his attention. His eyes glance over you, an unreadable expression on his face before it shifts into an easy smile, “You look nice.” Minho pushes off the wall, running a hand through his messy brown hair before opening the door for you. “After you.” He dramatically bows his head which has you laughing lightly, already feeling better than what you did earlier.

Why couldn’t it be him? You wonder to yourself as you make your way to your usual table and Minho goes to order you both some drinks. Why couldn’t it be Minho who makes you feel like the world doesn’t exist when you’re with him? Why couldn’t it be him that causes your mind to wander and feelings to stir in your heart whenever you are around each other – even when you are apart? You sigh softly and shake your head as a slight pang of pain rushes through you, trying to push away the thoughts of how right it felt with Chris earlier. You don't want to think about how much he makes you feel, how the anger, the hate and disdain is only a step away from being happiness, love and amusement if things would stop pushing you away.

If he didn’t push you away.

No, this time it was you. This time, Chris opened himself up and you were the one who practically pushed him out the door.

“Ugh.” You bury your face into your hands and groan, “why is this so weird and messy?”

The soft thud of a full glass sounds in front of you and Minho looks at you curiously as he takes his seat. “What’s got you all worked up?” He pauses and tilts his head with furrow between his brows. “Or should I say, who?”

Holding up a finger, you take a deep, refreshing scull of your beer before placing the half-empty glass down on the table a little more forcefully than you intended. “Well, you see…” without interruption, you dive into a recollection of what happened with Chris – omitting the fact that you were masturbating before he had come around. That piece of information just seems like it’s irrelevant to the story. As you come to what really annoyed you, you look around suspiciously before showing Minho the bite mark he left behind, the wound still tingling slightly. “It’s almost like he thought that this would feed into the crazy story he decided to tell me afterwards! You know, instead of just saying he’s sorry for being an ass…”

Minho doesn’t seem to take his eyes off the mark on your neck, even after you cover it back up, his eyes linger on the spot until you finish off the rest of your drink in one inhale and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. “Can you believe him? Not only is he trying to say that werewolves exist – he’s talking about you like you’re one of the bad guys!” You pause, waiting for the retort, waiting for Minho to say ‘what an idiot’ or something along those lines but instead, he just stares. Snapping your fingers in front of his face and almost startling Minho out of his thoughts, your annoyance grows even more. “Are you in utter disbelief that it’s left you speechless?”

A soft hum sounds from the back of his throat and he shakes his head. “So, he claimed you as his mate?”

While, at first, you thought Minho meant it in a mocking way, like he’s feeding into the ridiculousness of the story, his serious expression says otherwise. The way his eyes remain on your neck before flickering to yours has you looking a little taken aback. Is he actually asking that like it’s a serious question?

“He bit me like some kind of feral beast.” Minho reaches forward, aiming for the collar of your top but you dodge out of his way, holding onto the table to keep yourself from falling off your chair. “What are you doing?”

“Was it deep? Do you feel anything different?”

“Seriously, Minho. This isn’t funny.”

His eyebrow raises slightly as he looks at you for a moment. It’s as if he’s trying to figure out how to deal with the situation even though, to you, there’s only one way that this should have gone. Whatever he’s decided on seems to shift his demeanour and behaviour drastically because suddenly, the man looks bored. “Have you ever thought about the fact that Chris is telling the truth?”

You let out a short, incredulous laugh. “You’re pulling my leg. Tell me you’re joking.”

“No.” Minho leans back in his chair and folds his arms over his chest as he watches you. Suddenly, you feel like you’re not safe here. Your eyes flit around the room, body suddenly on edge and searching for a way to get out of the bar and away from the dark aura beginning to surround your friend – or who you thought to be your friend. “I didn’t think he would actually go as far as to claim you completely but,” he reaches forward and you flinch, causing Minho to click his tongue in annoyance, “this works just as good.”

“What do you-”

Leaning forward, Minho gives you a cruel smile. You’ve never seen this look in his eyes before, the amusement of knowing that someone is afraid of him, that you’re afraid of him specifically. It’s like a mask has been lifted and the man before you slowly shifts into a stranger, a stranger that you don't know and should get away from. “I can see the wheels turning in your head, Sugar, I’d recommend that you don’t run away,” he chuckles and your flight or fright reflex gets stuck on freeze at the sound, keeping you from escaping, “predators love the chase, after all.”

This isn’t Minho… this isn’t your friend��� or maybe this is who he’s been all this time and you’ve missed the signs. Again.

Chris should be happy, should be able to revel in the fact that he’s claimed his mate, but instead, he’s feeling dejected. He feels like a puppy that has just been kicked. She wants nothing more to do with him and can he really blame her? Can he really say that he doesn’t understand why when all he’s done every since they’ve met is lie and push her away?

That had been his goal and now that it seems he’s gotten what he wanted – he doesn’t want it anymore.

“Give her time,” Felix says, a ball in his hand as he throws it at the wall and catches it when it bounces back. Chris hates it when he does that, breaking the peace with the incessant sound of rubber bouncing off wood, but Felix finds the action and rhythmic sounds helpful when he’s trying to work through a problem – and this is a problem. “For someone who isn’t in the know, or doesn’t believe in the supernatural, having a bomb of information dropped on her like that can be difficult to process.”

“I told her the truth,” Chris groans, running his hand over his face. This shows he’s still fairly young to be an Alpha. As strong and determined as he is, Chris has certain flaws that show his age and his lack of understanding about life. Love and women being two of those things. Sure, he knows about a woman’s body, how to bring pleasure and how to have them falling for him but he hasn’t the faintest idea when it comes to the way their minds work about anything other than sex.

Felix catches the ball, pausing to look at his Alpha for a moment, stunned, before throwing the ball a little harder. “You told her that you’re a werewolf and that you did everything you did because you thought it would be better.” His hard tone causes the Alpha to wince slightly. Being told off by his second-in-command is not exactly something Chris enjoys having to experience, especially when it comes to pointing out his shit. “You then told her that the one person she’s happy around, who doesn’t treat her like shit, and has been her friend, is actually dangerous and will hurt her… when… that’s all you’ve been doing.” The ball is thrown with such force this time that it hurls off target and flies back towards Chris – an accident but it drives his point home.

Managing to catch the ball before it hits him in the face, Chris lets out a low growl of warning, “I get your point.” He passes it back to Felix and stands up, running his fingers through his hair for the umpteenth time, making it messier than usual. “I shouldn’t have gone about it like that, I should have eased her into it.” Looking over at Felix, who is looking at him with his eyebrow raised, has him adding on, “and I should have made things right before going and marking her.”

“You really shouldn’t have marked her at the party.”

“It was a mistake,” he defends himself, tilting his head back and looking at the ceiling before sighing. “Or at least, I think it was.” If he’s honest with himself, he doesn’t know. He really doesn’t know what comes over him when he’s with her. Chris lives for her reactions, her anger, her smile, the heat in her eyes when she looks at him with both lust and annoyance. The Alpha can’t help himself whenever she’s in his sight, in his arms; every time that they are around each other, it’s like a match being struck before the fuse is lit.

Is this how it’s always going to be? He could live with it – as long as she stays by his side.

Chris’ feet are moving before he’s even aware of it, hands snatching his keys from the bowl by the door. “Where are you going?” Felix calls out, scrambling to his feet in case he needs to follow.

“I need to figure out how to make this right.” The door is closed behind him with a soft slam and Felix just stands in the living room, staring at the place where his Alpha just was. Chris knows that he needs to get his emotions under control, he knows he needs to get a handle on things so that he can do better but for so long, he’s denied himself of feeling anything remotely like this out of fear of what it’ll do to him. Now that he’s found her, his mate, he’s navigating the uncharted territory of his heart and there’s no telling what will happen from this point on.

All Chris knows is that he needs to make it up to her, to make sure she doesn’t keep her walls up with him and show her that this – their relationship – can work. Unconventional, sure, but something that’s been predestined before either of them knew what love was.

Everything is loud. Too loud. People are talking but they sound like they are underwater… fuck, why does your head hurt? Where are you? How did you get here?

You groan, lifting a hand to touch your throbbing head which causes those around you to stop talking and look over at you trying to sit up. Oh no, don’t do that. Your head feels like it weighs a tonne, neck made of rubber as you struggle to lift it so giving up, you curl up on the rough bed that you’re laying on. You know you’re on a bed because of the squeaky springs as you struggle to get comfortable.

Why does it feel like you’re coming down from a six-day bender?

A wave of emotions run through you, fear being the most prominent when you hear your name being spoken by the figures standing in the shadows, one of the voices being far too familiar to be something you’re making up. No. No, you must be out of it and making things up, distorting reality to try and make sense of what is going on. The way he says your name again, he sounds so comfortable, caressing each syllable like it was made to be spoken by his tongue but you know that the Devil isn’t as sweet as he sounds.

No matter how good it feels to have his attention – coming down from the high is not worth it. You learned that the hard way.

They still stay hidden, even though you can tell that one of the two is Minho, it has to be considering the last thing you remember is him smirking at you as you stood up and tried to escape. You don’t know how you got into this position, how you became the bait in the trap designed to catch a dangerous creature but all you know is that you don’t want to be here and no matter how lovely, how kind and caring and sweet you are – you’re not going to sit here and be silent about this.

Looking around, you try to see if you can find a window so you can figure out where you are but the windows are boarded up, keeping you from the outside world. There is no outside noise for your ears to pick up; you cannot hear cars or anything that would indicate you’re in town or near a public area, and this sends shivers down your spine. “Are you going to kill me?” your voice quivers slightly as it dawns on you that nobody, absolutely nobody, would be looking for you. Serena thinks you’re out with Minho, who is here as your kidnapper and Chris, well, you told him where to go and never look back so even if his whole story was true – why would he come to your rescue? You’re alone. Again. With nobody to save you.

Minho sighs, stepping into the light and making his way towards you. “Stop,” you shuffle away from him but don't manage to get far before he grabs your feet and pulls you close. “Let me untie you, Sugar.”

“Why am I here, Minho?” You question, hoping maybe there was something about your friendship that was real and would result in him feeling guilty enough to let you in on the reason as to why this is happening.

“Because you make him weak.” While he’s trying to seem indifferent as he loosens the ropes enough for you to remove it yourself, you can tell there’s a hint of emotion lingering under the surface. A faint hint that your friendship hasn’t been a lie this entire time. “Chris. You make him weak.”

It’s hard to believe, not just that Minho would betray you in such a way but that he would play along with what Chris is saying. It’s clear that they don’t like each other so there is no reason for Minho to feed into it – unless there are such things as werewolves and that you’re somehow mated to one. Though, you don’t exactly want to believe it. Even if it becomes the only possible reason, you want to believe that there is something else going on – like maybe this is all a joke. Right? Some kind of sick joke that they are all playing on you. Shaking your head, denying reality, you laugh in disbelief as you rub your aching wrists, trying to relieve the uncomfortable feeling. “That makes no sense. You’re not making any sense,” you mumble, not looking at Minho or his companion still in the shadows, watching.

“I told you that she wouldn’t believe it. She’s always been a little stubborn like that. No matter how she seems on the surface, sweet little Sugar is as fucking stubborn as they come.” The voice has your entire body tensing before you even look in his direction and see his face.

“Theo.” That one word, his name, is said with a mixture of confusion, hurt, anger and a sense of familiarity. Why wouldn’t it? You dated him, this was the man who broke your heart and made you vow that you would never allow another man to have that kind of power over you again. You changed after him, in a way that took away the naivety that you used to cling to. You have always been sweet but Theo was the reason that you became a little jaded when it came to falling in love with someone again.

You kept that a fantasy for your fictional men. Men who cannot disappoint, who cannot hurt, who cannot lie and make you feel like you’ve made a mistake for entrusting your heart to them.

“Hello, Sugar.” Theo grins in that way that would make any woman drop to their knees. He’s always been good at that, using his sex appeal, his looks to get what he wants and it’s one of the reasons you ended up in the situation you did. 

Stalking closer, each step towards you making your heart race faster, until he’s standing in front of you, Theo watches your reactions with amusement. He can see your pulse fluttering against the skin of your neck, smell the anger mix with fear as you look up at him with contempt in your eyes. All of this causes him to chuckle as he leans closer. “Thought you’d take a little longer than this to get over me, sweetheart.”

His words have you lashing out, slapping him before moving away to avoid any form of retaliation. “It didn’t take me long to get over you when I realised that you weren’t worth the pain and the tears. You weren’t worth the sleepless nights, the longing, or holding onto,” you spit out, having gotten off the bed and kept the furniture between them.

The man chuckles, his cheek red from where you had managed to connect, a solid hit, at least. Shaking his head, Theo stands up straight and looks you up and down with his tongue poking against the inside of his cheek, almost like he’s openly checking you out and admiring your fire. “I made you fierce, pretty. Who knew you would be such a turn on with a mouth like that?” Theo smirks darkly, eyes flashing gold before a sharp set of fangs start to grow before your eyes. “Here I thought I’d take you back, come and chase you down for one last hurrah but instead you went and got claimed by the very person I’ve been trying to kill.” His voice is deeper, more guttural than before and you can’t help the strong sense of fear rushing through you, “So, now I’ve got a different use for you. Sorry, Sugar, this will hurt you just as much as it did when I broke your heart.” His face drops and you know his guilt is false, a façade, just like everything else that he is. “Maybe more, if Minho’s recount is anything to go by.”

At the mention of his name, you look over at the other man, whose eyebrows furrow for a brief moment. There’s a flash of pain that rushes across otherwise unperturbed features. It’s like the mere mention of whatever hurt him is enough to bring it to the surface only for him to bury it deep once more. “You going to evil villain monologue or are we going to send word to the Alpha that we have his mate?” Minho’s tone gives a clear indication that Theo and him are not friends.

Suddenly in front of you, Theo reaches forward quickly, catching you by surprise and forces you to look at him. There’s an amused glint in his eyes, enjoying the way you struggle against his hold. “I don’t know. It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other, maybe I should play with her for a little bit before letting him know.” He can hear the way your heart races faster, the smell of fear growing stronger as you begin to think about what he could mean by that. “I’m a beast, not a monster, Sugar. I’m just saying we should catch up before Chris comes and fights for you.”

“Stop talking like that. He’s got no reason to come.” It hurts to talk, the way he’s holding your jaw is tight and makes it hard to move in any way he doesn’t allow. “I told him to leave me alone. If you have issues with him then maybe you should take it up with him instead of kidnapping me.”

A small scoff sounds from Minho as he walks over and pulls at the collar of your shirt, revealing the mark that Chris had left behind earlier. It still aches slightly, not as much as you thought it would have considering the size and how deep his teeth seemed to go, but it mostly tingles more than anything else. “It doesn’t matter what you said to him, Sugar. Werewolves are loyal to their mates, their bond is stronger than anything you could possibly imagine. No matter how much you want to deny it – there will never be anyone who will love you the way Chris will.”

Isn’t that something you always wanted? You wanted to be loved like the books you read. You want someone to be so obsessed with you that they cannot think straight when you’re not around, as toxic as that sounds. You have always wondered what it would be like to have someone who would do everything for you, that would care for you if you couldn’t care for yourself, who would pull you away from life if it was getting too much, someone who would know you so well that you’d never have to ask – they’d just do it because they could see it on your face. Those are standards that only your books can live up to because no man will ever be that perfect – especially when he’s done and said the things Chris has. How could you possibly believe what Minho is saying when Chris called you a mistake… though, he did say that doing so was a mistake… but that’s not the point, is it? It’s the fact that he still said it and if he can say something like that, what else can he say that he’ll end up regretting?

You don’t know if you can even allow yourself to let him close enough to see whether they are telling you the truth or not.

Seemingly bored with you, Theo gives you one more look over, darkness shrouding his face as the sun begins to sink – or you think it does – before turning on his heel and leaving the room. Minho takes a little longer to leave you, giving you a hoodie to put on so that you don't get cold, and without another word, he follows after. They leave you alone once more, in a place you don't know and with two people who you clearly don't know even though you thought you did.

Guess it’s true what they say; you really don’t know the people around you.

Wrapping yourself up, knees pulled up to your chest with your arms holding them close, you tucks your chin into your chest and rests your forehead against your knees, tears starting to silently trickle down your cheeks. You don't know what will happen to you. There’s no guarantee that you’ll get out of here alive… no, you need to keep hoping that you’ll be okay. They don’t want you. They want Chris. Maybe if they get what they want then they’ll let you go… maybe…

“Why did this have to happen to me?”

Laying on his bed, shirtless, with one hand resting on his abdomen and the other behind his head as he stares up at the ceiling, Chris feels tension and anxiety rush through his body. He’s been feeling that way for a while now, ever since he left your place, he’s been feeling off and he can’t quite figure out why. He had gone over to try and make things right… again, only to be told that she had gone out with her friend and hasn’t been back since. It makes sense that this piece of information was shared only to have Chris leave the premises because her sister doesn’t like him. It’s obvious Serena doesn’t and he doesn’t blame her. He’s given her no reason to like him but it doesn’t take away the anxiousness that’s got him on edge. 

The Alpha has put it down to the fact that he left her while she was mad, knowing he should have stayed and made her understand that he wouldn’t hurt her again, that she was safe with him. He shouldn’t have left. She didn’t want him there and it wasn’t going to do them any good if he stayed while she was adamant she didn’t want to look at him but he should have done more than just walk out that door feeling good about himself.

God, he’s terrible at this.

Groaning, Chris runs a hand over his face in frustration. He needs to see her, needs to get rid of this anxious feeling so that he can rest before figuring out what to do with Minho and his group of rogues. Not a pack, he refuses to acknowledge them as such, just a group of outcasts who are not wanted by anyone.

Almost anyone. Fuck sakes, why did she have to like him? That’s only complicating an already complicated matter.

Chris doesn’t want to hurt Minho, he doesn’t want to have to go down that route if he doesn’t have to. It’s already hard enough when the rogue used to be a part of his pack, his beta, fuck, more than that, Minho was his best friend; add in the fact that she is attached to him now as well, it makes Chris’ head hurt just thinking about how he’s going to go about this. Minho challenged him, he’s wormed his way into his mate’s life and has been pushing all of Chris’ buttons ever since he stepped back onto the territory – there’s no way that this is going to go down well when there’s only two ways that the challenge can end.

Either he wins or Minho backs out.

Will she understand that? God, this is much more complicated when he has to think about how this is going to affect her. It was easier when he only had to think about what he wanted, what he felt and how things were going to affect him and his pack, now he has to take someone else into consideration – someone who isn’t like him. “Fuck.” Chris feels a headache building right behind his eyes. It’s been creeping up on him for a while now, it’s been lingering there, manageable until he started to think about the whole mess that he’s in.

His phone sounds on the bedside table, the vibration sounding sharper than usual with the impending ache in his skull. Yeah, it’s going to be a doozy. Reaching over and turning his head to see the name on the screen, a sign that he would ignore it if he could, Chris’ brow furrows when he doesn’t recognise the number. He’s saved everyone who needs his number, he even has her number saved on his phone, nobody outside the pack has his number so…

[TEXT] <- Who is this?

He responds to the ominous ‘hi’ and watches as the three dots start and stop multiple times. His jaw clenches, an obvious indicator that he’s annoyed, as he watches the dots disappear once more. “Oh, for fuck sakes.” He grumbles, starting to type a message about where he thinks they can take their bullshit before a picture comes through. A picture that has fingers freezing over the letters. A picture that sends him into a state.

It’s a picture of her, with her back to the camera, curled up in the foetal position on a disgusting and thin mattress, wearing a hoodie that’s bigger than her. There’s no sign about where she is, no indication of who has her until a message comes through that answers the question he was just about to ask.

[TEXT] -> Long time, no see, Chris. I heard you like my scraps. I saw the mark you left on her, man, didn’t think you were the type.

He can almost hear the laughter through the message, a way of mocking him, pushing his buttons.

[TEXT] -> If I had known Sugar was going to be an Alpha’s mate, I wouldn’t have broken her heart back in college.

[TEXT] -> But maybe I’ll have you watch me snap her neck instead.

Chris nearly crushes the phone in his hand, teeth clenching so tightly his jaw is hurting but he doesn’t take away the only chance he has at finding out where she is. Who knows what that sicko could do to her if he doesn’t respond.

[TEXT] <- You lay another hand on her and I’ll show you first hand what I did to your brother.

Uncalled for, maybe, but Chris knows that the only way to deal with this type of rogue is to show no fear and give back just as volatile as they give it. There is only one person who would have a death wish to do all of this and Minho’s participation in this whole bullshit challenge makes more sense considering the former beta never cared for power – nor to come back to a pack. He made that clear when he left so it never made any sense why he would challenge Chris in the first place but now… now it all makes sense.

Clearly his words hit a nerve when another picture comes through, a clawed hand gripping her chin and making her look at the camera. Her glare at who is on the other side of the camera makes him proud, she’s showing him no fear; in fact, he knows that look all too well considering that she’s given him that same look of disdain before but there’s more to it – she hates this person. Truly. Deeply. Chris can see it in her eyes. If Theo is telling him the truth then he’s the reason why she came here in the first place.

Maybe before killing him, Chris should thank Theo for bringing his mate to him.

[TEXT] -> Hurry, Alpha. I don’t know how long it’ll take for me to bury my teeth into that pretty throat of hers.

An address is sent through and Chris drops the phone, quickly grabbing his keys before anyone can question what he’s doing or where he’s going. He shouldn’t leave like this, he should make sure that they are aware that their Alpha is going to war but this is his battle to fight. It shouldn’t be like that, he shouldn’t be thinking about it as if he needs to face this alone because there’s no guarantee on how safe she will be if Chris turns up with some of the pack and that’s all he can think about right now.

He cannot risk Theo actually hurting her. He will not do anything to risk her life.

“He’s on his way,” Theo says once he gets a short reply from Chris, throwing the phone to Minho and then looking at you with a cruel smile. They had left you alone for a short while to discuss their evil plan, probably, before deciding to use you as a way to push buttons. “Looks like you actually mean something to him after all.” It’s like he’s mocking you but there’s an undertone of jealousy. You remember how things were when you first started dating, how Theo was so loving and sweet, how you were happy until something happened in his family that caused your once funny and caring boyfriend to turn cold.

You watch him walk out, leaving you alone with Minho once more, and the other wolf sighs as he looks at you. There’s this expression of him wanting to say something, and for the first time that you have known him, he looks almost sorry but when he opens his mouth, you shake your head. “I don’t want to hear it.” Minho closes his mouth again and nods his head before taking his leave, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the gripping fear that has now decided to kick in.

Whatever they have planned, it’s not good. Whatever they have planned, it’s going to hurt Chris, hurt you… maybe, are they planning on killing you both? You hug your knees to your chest again, chin resting on the top as you stare at the boarded up windows and wonder if you should wait. That’s what they always do in the fairytales, right? The princess waits in her tower for her knight in shining armour to come and save her but this isn’t a fairytale. There is no dragon that can be slain and no happily ever after in sight – it’s just Chris on his way to a battle that he cannot win.

Not alone at least.

Stiffening your bottom lip, you refuse to be kept down like Theo did once before. You won’t let him win this time, especially not when your life could literally depend on Chris actually surviving. “There’s got to be something…” you mutter to yourself, climbing off the bed and making your way around the room.

“Come…on.” You grab one of the boards covering the windows and give it a pull with all of your might, gritting your teeth before falling back on your backside with a low ‘oof’ escaping you due to the impact. You look up at the boards again and huffs before turning over and standing up, eyes searching for something that you can use as a leverage. Something that can fit between the small gaps and be used to help pry at least one off. All you need is to see where you are, to know whether you have a chance for escape.

Upon your investigation of the room, you notice one of the metal bars from the bed is broken, almost rusted off and looks over at the door, waiting for someone to walk through to shut you up, before making your way over and deciding that kicking it may be the best way to loosen it. You’re not built for an action movie, you would say you’re more romance-fitting but what are you going to do? Sit around, wait, die? It’s not exactly a fun sounding plan to you.

CLINK! You wince as the arch of your foot meets the metal frame and look over at the door again, pausing, making sure it’s safe before continuing. CLINK! CLINK! CLUNK– Oh, how they make this look so much easier in the movies than it actually is but after a few more painfully solid kicks, you manage to break through and loudly receive your prize.

It’s either someone isn’t within earshot or they really couldn’t care less about you trying to escape because there really is no way out. Either way, you rush over to the window and try to use your thin, broken metal bar to get one of the boards off – which you do manage to do. Though, not without a lot of huffing, a couple of cuts from the sharp, bent metal, and some swearing about how much you hate men at this point.

While the gap isn’t big enough for you to be able to sneak out of the window, or even get it open, it is enough for you to peer out and see that wherever you are – it’s isolated. Completely. Unless you’re at the back of the house, you cannot see a road or anything else around you… except trees and…

People? No, wolves?

Emerging from the forest, several wolves of different colourings and sizes stalk out from the dark and that’s when you realise that this is an ambush. Unless Chris is bringing a group with him, he’s going to be severely outnumbered and you don't know if you can watch that. No, you know that you can’t watch that.

Panic begins to set in, for yourself, for him, for this entirely shitty situation you both are in, and the room starts to spin as you feel her chest tightening, making it harder to breathe. You know you have to breathe, in and out, nice and slow but you can’t. There are too many thoughts running through your mind, too many things coming and hitting you while in a vulnerable state that makes the severity of the situation feel like it’s trying to swallow you whole. You want to chalk up everything that Theo is doing as some dramatic shit that is becoming borderline insane but with what she saw outside, the way his eyes glowed and every other small detail about Minho and… Chris, it’s like the truth is trying to force you to see what you refuse to see.

Glowing eyes, fangs, the fact that both Chris and Minho’s body heat reminds you of walking heaters, the mark that never fully healed and reminds you of Chris, his possessiveness, the aggression that you put down to male testosterone, comments Minho would make, how he had not wanted to be too close to you when she met up with him after being with Chris, the growling you had thought was sexy and primal, and how you’re drawn to Chris in a way you cannot explain. 

Werewolves are real. Maybe. You still highly doubt their existence, not wanting to believe it just because you can list a few strange things about several people you know. Believing it means accepting that they are real and if they are real then… What else could possibly be out there? Even though the distant growls coming from outside the house should be the biggest indicator for you to believe in the supernatural, the only thing that is clear to you right now as you clutches your chest and your vision turns black – is that Chris is in danger if he comes here.

The car tires screech as Chris takes the corner too quickly. It’s a good thing that Theo has chosen a place that’s out of the township – otherwise he’d be having issues. His jaw hurts from how hard he’s clenching as her panic rushes through him and causes him to almost lose control of the speeding vehicle. He knows it’s your emotions and not his own because all he feels right now is pure rage.

Of course she’d be afraid, it would be stupid to not be in fear for her life when she’s in this dire situation. He tried to warn her about what could happen but she didn’t believe him. He tried to talk to her and work things out but he had lost any and all credibility with her because of the way he’s been treating her so why would she listen? Why would you believe him because all Chris’ done is give her reasons to not want to be around him? He can’t even blame her, as much as he wants to, he can’t blame her for not giving him the time of day.

Fuck, he hates that Felix had a point. Of course he did, there’s a reason why he’s the one Chris can talk to because despite everything – Felix isn’t as fucking stubborn and bull-headed like he can be. A great Alpha, Chris knows this about himself, there is no doubt about that in his mind but as a man? Oh, he has no experience at all, clearly, because he’s really put himself in a mess. “Goddammit.” Chris slams his fist against the wheel as he approaches the location.

A rundown house on the edge of the pack territory, one that has been abandoned due to what had happened to the family that once lived there. Of course Theo chose this place – it’s where Chris killed his brother.

What would his pack do if they found out that their Alpha went and put himself in harm’s way like this? What would they say if they knew that he went charging into this head first without even working out a plan beforehand? How can they continue to  trust their Alpha if he goes against his own rule of thinking with a clear head before acting?

The car skids to a halt on the gravel, Chris having slammed on his brakes and pulled over to the side so that he could pull out his phone. He needs to contact Felix and have the pack by his side if he’s going to save his mate – he can’t do this alone.

“Fuck,” he groans, throwing his head back against the head rest, “I fucking left it at home.”

A cruel grin spreads across Theo’s lips as he hears the car pulling up the driveway, looking out the window to see the unmistakable black sedan that belongs to Chris coming to a stop in front of the house. The wolf rolls his neck, feeling the satisfying cracks as he does so, before turning to Minho, who is now standing to attention at noticing his former Alpha’s arrival. “Go and get her.”

Minho’s upper lip curls upwards as he heads over to the bedroom because who the fuck died and made him king? Sure, he’s the mastermind behind it all but Minho doesn’t answer to him and is only here because it benefits him. The emptiness that sits within his chest, the place in  his heart and mind where his mate’s presence used to reside, it’s the only reason that he even agreed to Theo’s plan in the first place. There’s not a day that goes by where he doesn’t miss his mate. There’s not a moment that doesn’t remind him that he could have been living like every mated wolf should be. When he sees a couple smiling lovingly at each other, when he hears the laughter of children, everytime Minho sees anyone living a life filled with love – he’s reminded about what he no longer has. 

It’s his justification on why he’s helping Theo, even if he mildly regrets the person he’s hurt in his goal to show Chris what it’s like to lose everything you hold dear.

Walking down the hallway, it’s not until he hears the erratic heartbeat coming from the locked room that he’s brought back out of his thoughts and back to the task at hand. “Hey!” he calls out as the door is thrown open and he finds her against the wall, holding her chest as she struggles to breathe. Tears fall freely down her face as she tries to sob, every breath a pathetic gasp for air, and all Minho can think as he rushes to help her is how she shouldn’t be here.

Even after just thinking about his mate and how this will ease his guilt, she shouldn’t be caught up in this. Fuck, why did it have to be her?

Getting her to look at him, Minho tries to speak to her but his words are not registering as she remains locked in place, the panic attack having a tight hold over her and refusing to let go. “You need to breathe, Sugar. Come on, breathe for me.” He shakes her shoulders, getting her to take a deep breath in as she looks at him. “Yeah, yeah, like that. Atta girl, keep going,” Minho breathes with her before pulling her into him to keep her close but the moment he does – she pushes against him.

“...Away…” she barely manages to get the word out as her weak arms try to shove him away. “Don’t– don’t touch me.” She hits his chest with a closed fist in her attempt to get him away, her body instinctively trying to get away from him as if he’s the threat to her and why would she think otherwise? He’s the reason she’s here in the first place. “This is all your fault. You did this.”

The way she’s looking at him triggers a memory, the sound of her broken voice accusing him resonates in his mind and brings forth what happened before his mate was killed. Minho provoked the wolf who had killed his mate; he was being too cocky for his own good and thought he could get away with pissing off the beta simply because of Chris’ reputation as an Alpha. Minho had been warned about picking fights, the words falling on deaf ears because the pack had crossed into Chris’ territory and demanded to see him. They had been behaving like they were at home and were pushing everyone’s buttons so Minho had decided to take it upon himself and sort it out. It was his fault when the wolf lunged at him and his mate, the other not getting away fast enough and falling victim to an anger-fuelled wolf. Her ghost haunted him for months afterwards, asking him why, why didn’t he just leave it alone, why did he need to pick a fight, why didn't he save her?

He blames Chris for something that was his fault to begin with because he’s too ashamed to admit that his arrogance killed his mate. Minho knows that his grudge against the Alpha stems from his own self-loathing but if he hates himself then doesn’t that mean he has to accept what he did?

Doesn’t that mean he has to admit that what happened was purely because of him?

“I know,” he says quietly, letting her escape from his hold and sighing quietly. Maybe the reason why he became attached to her in the first place is because she reminds him so much of his mate. Her smile, her laugh, and the way her nose wrinkles when she’s trying to focus, these are only a few things that brought back fond memories of the mate Minho had lost. Somewhere along the way, Minho had stopped caring about his revenge and enjoyed the idea that maybe, in some twisted way, he could have her back in some kind of way.

The only problem is Chris… or maybe the realisation that she will never truly be his.

“I’m sorry, Sugar.” He looks at her, his heart falling as he sees the disdain in her eyes. “I really fucked up this time.” Maybe he can fix things – he just needs to figure out how.

“Oh, if she thinks that Minho is a monster for the things that he’s done, I wonder what she’ll think if she knew what Alpha Chris did,” Theo speaks, chuckling as he turns his attention to the Alpha who stands in the doorway, eyes black and swimming with murderous intent. “Should we tell her how we know each other?” Both wolves stare at each other, the space filled with the deep, low growl emitting from Chris’ chest as he bares his teeth at the rogue. “I think she’d be interested in knowing who she’s mated to.”

Gritting his teeth, Chris tries to keep himself in check. “Leave her out of this. This is between you and me.”

A short laugh sounds loudly as Theo shakes his head. “No but that’s the thing, she’s the star of the show, Chris. If it wasn’t for her, you wouldn’t be here. She ties everything together nicely because even if you somehow manage to survive this – you’ll lose the one person you will grow to love more than yourself and your pack. One way or another, you will lose.” The look on Theo’s face makes it clear that he knows he has Chris backed into a corner with no way out. He has been planning this for such a long time, watching and waiting to find a weakness that he could exploit only to be basically handed the most wonderful gift in the form of his ex.

If only he had known back then, he would have been able to get this started sooner but oh well, he’ll get what he wants. All that waiting will be worth it once he sees Chris’ defeated body on his knees, waiting for the final blow.

The blow he’ll be the one to deliver.

Minho’s grip on your bicep isn’t rough, he’s barely even touching you, it’s mostly just guiding you towards the room where the other two wolves are standing, the conversation they were having seemingly interrupted by your presence. “Here’s the lady of the hour, our sweet little Sugar.” Theo’s words drip with sarcasm as he holds out his hand, you scoff and fold your arms as you step away from Minho and out of Theo’s reach. “Oof, so cold, baby.”

You don’t speak, don't even look at him as your eyes drift over to see Chris staring at you. His dark eyes are swimming with more emotion than his face displays and it’s betraying him. Not only can you see that he’s concerned, scared even, about what Theo has planned – Theo knows it as well. 

Is it true that when it comes to you, Chris isn’t as strong as he likes to portray himself? You don’t believe it because everything about him is pure asshole but is he really as bad as he’s allowed you to think this whole time? He’s here, isn’t he? He’s here because of you. Chris has risked himself to save you and that thought has the blood draining from your face as the image of the wolves from earlier comes back.

“Chris, they–” Minho claps a hand over your mouth, your warning muffled as you try to pull away. His palm is sweaty, a sign of his own anxiousness about the situation, but you don’t think too much about it as your tongue lathers his skin in saliva. Your eyes scrunch up at the taste and you can tell Minho isn’t exactly a fan of it but he holds you tight, gritting his teeth, trying to keep you still without using too much strength and risking hurting you.

Twisting and writhing in his hold, you manage to open your mouth wide enough to bite down on his slipping hand but you don't hold back like Minho had. “Ah– FUCK!” he shouts as your teeth manage to break skin and in shock, you’re shoved away while Minho shakes his hand to try and soothe the pain. “Fucking hell, Sugar, you bit me!”

Ironic that the human is the one biting the dogs but you don't answer him, instead looking at Chris, making sure he’s listening to every word of your warning. “It’s an ambush! There are wolves everywhere!”

There’s a growl and things happen so quickly that you don’t have a chance to react. Theo grabs you by the back of your head, pulling you back by your hair, out of an approaching Chris’ reach and the next thing you know – a clawed hand is wrapped around your throat and you’re pulled against his firm and familiar body. “C’mon, Sugar, did you really have to go and ruin the surprise like that? You used to love surprises so why can’t you let Chris have the fun this time?”

Swallowing, you can feel the claws pressing a little closer as your Adam’s apple bobs and alarm bells sound in your head that you shouldn’t piss off the… man… who has your life in his hands. Literally. One wrong move and he could rip your throat out which is not a way you had ever thought that you would die – old age was definitely at the top of that list. Death by werewolf was not. “You–,” the sharp claws has your bravery faltering for a moment, “your surprises… they aren’t exactly the fun kind…” 

Theo barks out a laugh, nodding his head before pressing his nose to the side of your head, eyes on Chris as he inhales deeply and lets out a satisfied sigh. “You’re right. My idea of a surprise definitely isn’t the same kind as yours, Sugar. Though, they couldn’t have been that bad – you stayed after all.” He doesn’t allow you to answer, the points of his claws pressing against the soft skin and giving you pause. “Actually, speaking of our relationship.” Nobody is but he uses it as a way to segue. “Do you think it bothers Chris to know that while he was killing my brother, ripping his throat out, we were wrapped up in our own little world?”

Your eyes widen as you focus on the man across from you, his lips curled into a snarl as a deep warning growl sounds through the room. While you had never met Theo’s brother, you remember the day when your ex-boyfriend had received the call and how it changed everything about him; any good quality that you had seen in Theo faded quickly and he became someone you didn’t know. The aggression was something that had surprised you, never once had he yelled at you but then it was like everything, every little thing you said or did started to become a problem.

Too loud, too bright, too happy, too talkative, too much.

Of course, it should have been your reason to leave but you did indeed stay. You stayed because Theo was hurting and you thought maybe, just maybe, if you stayed and supported him through it – he’ll go back to the man you loved. Except, he didn’t. In fact, he got worse, angrier, his temper grew shorter and somewhere along the lines – the women started to come into play. At first, you thought it was one, the one that destroyed your relationship but later you learned that no, it was women, plural.

As Theo’s nose moves down, your skin crawls, feeling his hot breath against your skin as he reaches the dark mark on your neck. Fear rushes through you with a hint of rage as Theo’s lips press against the mark, a cruel smile etched onto his face as Chris steps forward only for Minho to step in between them and prevent Chris from reaching you.

“Get the fuck out of my way,” Chris commands but it falls on deaf ears – or ears that are no longer needing to obey him.

Minho shakes his head and barely manages to keep Chris in place as he needs to steady his footing against the stronger wolf. “He’ll kill her before you even reach them.” 

“You better listen to him, Alpha Chris. If anyone knows the pain of losing their mate, it’s Minho, so he knows what he’s talking about.” Your eyes widened because you didn’t know that Minho had gone through something that apparently destroys a werewolf. “Though, personally, I think it’s rather poetic for you to lose your mate in the same way you killed my brother.” While you knew it already, it’s not like they were hiding it or that you’re stupid, his words simply confirmed that this is all about revenge for them. They didn’t care about you… well, Theo definitely didn’t care about you, they just care about hurting Chris.

Refusing to keep being a pawn in their game, you try to focus on what you can do to get out of this. You need to. Not only do you not want to die because of some stupid grudge that they all have against each other but you don't want to be killed by Theo of all people. God, you wouldn’t forgive yourself if the man who shattered your heart in so many ways was the one who ended your life. With a deep breath in and closing your eyes, you steel yourself for pain as you throw your elbow back and get Theo right in the solar plexus, catching him off-guard enough to let you go.

Not without scratching you though.

“You little bitch,” he growls, rushing to grab you again but you manage to escape his grip this time – barely. “You need to stop fucking doing that.”

Minho doesn’t stop you from getting to Chris, who immediately makes sure that you’re behind him, however, Minho does keep Theo from reaching you. “Are you okay?” Chris asks as you raise a hand to your neck and touch the cut on your throat. 

“I’ll be okay,” you whisper, wincing as the pain starts to radiate through your body. It’s not deep, luckily, but it hurts a lot – like a cat scratch. 

To your surprise, her ‘friend’ manages to push Theo backwards with enough force to cause him to stumble slightly. The room is suddenly quiet, tensions so high that it causes your body to feel on edge as you stare at the back of Minho’s head. You can’t see his face but you know him well enough, or think you do, to know the look on his face. Conflict, pain and from the low growl that starts to grow louder, anger would all be prominent in those deep brown eyes as he chooses to betray the other rogue wolf in favour of you. 

A human.

“You got soft on her and decided that avenging your dead mate isn’t worth it anymore?” Theo barks out a laugh in disbelief, shaking his head as his eyes glow faintly with a golden hue that you would have found gorgeous… if it wasn’t Theo. “A fool but you wouldn’t be the first to have fallen to her like that. You have a way of pulling people in, don’t you Sugar? A sweet little thing who can charm everyone around you with just a fucking smile.” You can feel Chris’ hand reaching to rest on your side, making sure you stay behind him. He’s silent, though there’s this hostility rushing through him that has your own body on edge and making you feel like you want to go and fight Theo yourself but Chris is not growling. Not reacting.

He’s completely in control of himself, which is surprising considering the situation but it’s like the shift in Minho’s alliances has allowed him to think clearer.

Theo doesn’t seem like he’s done talking, but then again, he’s always liked talking to anyone who would listen to him. You forgot that this man loves the sound of his own voice. “She’s mated to your former Alpha and you went rogue from his pack, how do you think that will work? She cannot replace your mate, no matter how similar they are.” 

“You do not get to speak about Jisoo.” Something about the way Minho says the woman’s name shows you that he hasn’t said it in a long time, like it physically kills him inside to mention her out loud like that.

Clicking his tongue, Theo rolls his eyes before meeting your gaze. A cruel smirk spreads across his lips as if a brilliant idea has just popped up that could get him everything that he’s ever wanted. “If this is the fate that you’ve chosen then you can’t say I’m not generous enough to provide it.” He whistles loudly and a chorus of howls answer him, reminding you of the literal waiting wolves just outside the abandoned house. “I wanted theatrics. I wanted to make it like you, Sugar, but I guess the phrase is ‘revenge is best served cold’, not sweet.” A manic laugh escapes him at his terrible joke and it sends a shiver down your spine as you understand what he’s getting at. “As long as the job gets done – who cares how it’s done, right?”

It’s almost like it was planned. The window shatters as a wolf leaps through and lunges at you while more burst through the door, not caring about who they attack – as long as they get their teeth into someone. Chris barely manages to get you out of the way of the lunging wolf, his arm out and caught in the open jaws of the beast; the grunt Chris lets out as teeth tear into flesh has your stomach turning before Minho grabs your wrist and pulls your attention away from Chris.

“Sugar, focus,” he says desperately. You don’t know what he’s talking about until pain spreads through your body and you all but collapse to the floor, face contorted in anguish. “Listen, we don’t have time so you need to focus on something else. Don’t think about Chris.” Minho picks you up and shakes you, trying to get your attention off of what is happening. “Think about getting the fuck out of here.” 

You hear Chris shouting your name, managing to dodge another wolf that’s aiming for him before looking over at you and meeting your wide eyes filled with worry and fear. “GO!” he commands and Minho tugs you with him towards the bedroom since there is no open exit in the open living room with the wolves nearly taking up all the space. There’s a bark before a wolf yelps and you try to resist the curiosity that has you looking over your shoulder but you need to make sure that Chris is okay. You gasp at the sight; a wolf lays on the ground, neck at an odd angle and mouth open, lifeless eyes stare at the ceiling as the other wolves rush over it to try and get at Chris.

He’s killing them. Chris is killing the wolves and while you know it logically makes sense for him to not hold back – something inside you breaks knowing that. They will do worse to him, to you, if he doesn’t end their lives first but… doesn’t it hurt to kill his own kind?

“Chris hates taking lives,” Minho answers your unspoken question like he had read your mind and pulls you behind him, just in time to defend against a large grey wolf that has broken away from the others to go after you. “Killing our own kind shatters something inside us, even if it’s necessary.” Managing to grab the attacking wolf by its snout, Minho grits his teeth while you slowly stagger back, entering your former make-shift cell. 

Minho looks over his shoulder and even though their eyes meet for a wordless split second before he turns away, you know that he’s giving you permission to save yourself. Slamming the door shut, you rush towards the bed and hope that the metal frame doesn’t mean you won’t be able to move it. “This can’t be happening,” you say to yourself, grunting as you pull the bed with all your might, the metal feet scraping loudly against the wooden floor almost overpowered by the chaos on the other side of the door. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

Everything happened so quickly but it also felt like everything happened in slow motion. A contradiction because your brain is trying to process everything but your body is reacting quicker than you can understand. One minute you’re in Theo’s clutches, the scratch on your neck faintly throbbing in reminder, and then the next thing you know – you’re locked in a room with absolutely no means to escape or survive. If someone breaks through the door, you’re fucked and you are not delusional enough to think that you can actually take on a werewolf. However, as you listen to the fighting outside, the howling and growling, the cries of pain as Chris and Minho are greatly overpowered, everything comes in slowly.

Chris came for you. Minho protected you. Werewolves are real. You are all going to die.

“This is just a bad dream,” you crouch in a corner, trying to make yourself as small as possible as you stare at the door. “This has to be a bad dream.”

Due to the small space, the wolves are unable to attack all at once without getting in the way of each other and while that does work to Chris’ advantage, it also prevents him from being able to shift.

Blood drips to the floor, his wounds healing slower than usual due to not shifting but it doesn’t slow him down as he throws a small brown wolf at another, knocking them both out. It’s a struggle not trying to kill too many of them, a lot of them were probably being offered something in exchange for trying to take out the Alpha so he doesn’t want to blame them for being suckered into Theo’s game. To Theo, they are disposable, pawns in a game of chess to level the playing field because the spineless coward knows that he could never win a one-on-one fight with Chris.

As he’s trying to keep himself from being cornered, Chris notices Minho entering the room, rushing into the pack of wolves to help him out. “She’s in the room,” the former beta grunts as he pulls a wolf by its tail and Chris allows himself a second to feel relieved that she’s safe before stepping back and finding his back against the wall. 

Even with Minho’s help, Chris cannot keep taking on the onslaught. Every time he removes one from the fight, another steps up to take its place and while none of them are trying to actively kill him, they are trying to wear him down at least. He assumes it’s because Theo wants to have the honours of killing the Alpha and needs him weak to do so.

As Chris thought, a fucking coward.

“You’re holding back, Chris. C’mon, where is that Alpha energy?” Theo laughs, leaning against the wall, watching the fight as if it’s some sport on TV. His eyes are swimming with excitement as he watches them try and fend off attack after attack. Theo must have imagined it to be like this otherwise he wouldn’t look like he’s about to get the gift of a lifetime; he must have anticipated the metallic scent of blood that fills the air, the floor littered with lifeless bodies and the disturbing sounds echoing as they tear a weaker wolf apart. This must be everything he has ever wanted since it’s bringing him closer to his goal.

Theo knows that if they could shift, they’d be deadlier especially with their size and teeth. Lucky for him, they barely have time to shift, or even partially shift because that means their strength is limited. It’s why he made sure that they were ambushed inside the house because even if many of these wolves die – Chris cannot access his full strength. Werewolves in their human form are still unnaturally strong and possess heightened senses but they aren’t at their best – something to do with not being connected with the wolf inside them like this. Chris is still strong due to being an Alpha and Minho used to be one of the pack’s best fighters but without shifting, they won’t be able to take on the numbers for much longer and come out on top.

Grabbing a wolf by its snout and jaw, Chris howls loudly, his eyes glowing a deep gold as he forcefully removes the mandible. Blood splatters across his face as he bares his fangs and raises the dislocated jaw above his head as he looks at Theo, letting out a primal growl. He’s not warning him anymore, Chris is threatening that this will be his fate and by the way Theo’s smirk falters – he’s having a moment of doubt. He had assumed that Chris would have fallen by now, that the Alpha would be on his knees and in the palm of his hands but from the murderous look in his eyes, Theo realises that all he’s done is piss Chris off.

He’s underestimated the Alpha and there’s always a price to pay for that.

“You can’t beat them all!” Theo yells, hesitantly stepping back as Chris tears out another wolf’s throat with his bare hands. The growing brutality of Chris’ actions cause some of the wolves to rethink their actions about attacking him; while a lot of them knew that this would be a suicide mission, they didn’t think Chris would take out as many of them as he has been – or possess the strength that he does. Their expectations about the fight do not match with the current outcome and some begin to wonder if they should continue. “You won’t be able to–” Howling sounds from outside the house and causes Theo to trail off and for the first time since all of this started, fear makes its way onto his features.

Before the rogues know what’s happening, pack wolves make their way into the house to begin chasing them off or retaliating against their attacks on the Alpha. Chris doesn’t know how Felix managed to find him but right now, he’s more determined to make sure this ends once and for all as Theo tries to use the commotion as a cover to escape.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Chris yells, taking after the retreating rogue while those who had held allegiance to Theo are overwhelmed by the cavalry that has arrived. Power rushes through him as he begins to shift, the change happening quickly and by the time he’s made it outside, Chris is a large black wolf hunting down his prey.

He’s faster than Theo, larger and due to his training, he’s more in control than the rogue which helps him catch up to the fleeing wolf and tackle him to the ground. Pinning the brown wolf down, Chris growls, snapping his jaws before aiming for his throat, determined to finish this fight in the only way that will make sure it won’t happen again. If Theo wanted this to be poetic then Chris will make sure he gets what he wants by killing him in the same way and place that he had killed his brother.

He vividly remembers that day, it’s not a day that he allows himself to forget because it was the day that Chris had come back to the pack. After taking the time to grow, to become a wolf who could lead and a man who had some life experience, Chris had come back to find out that a rogue was accepted onto the pack’s territory. Theo may not have known that his brother had left their pack, maybe the wolf never truly left and had used it as a guise but whatever the specifics of it was, his goal of being there was to try and take on Chris.

All because his brother wanted Chris’ status and power.

Maybe it’s because Theo and his older brother were outsiders even in their own pack, neither of them holding any respect and power within the hierarchy and he was sick of being at the bottom. Maybe his brother thought that they deserved to be higher in the ranks but because they were sons of the Alpha who were born to an outsider, they were never going to go anywhere. Chris remembers hearing about them, their existence caused quite a stir amongst the packs since it’s unusual for Alpha’s to have children with those who are not their mates. A tradition that stems from the formation of packs eons ago, a way to make sure that the future packs are stronger and blessed by the Moon Goddess – while not every Alpha has followed it, it’s more unusual than not.

While Chris knew better than to accept the challenge because it stemmed from jealousy and misplaced hatred, he still said yes. Even when they both knew what it could mean, Chris still accepted the challenge because he didn’t want to look weak in front of his pack.

Knowing what he knows now, Chris is aware that they wouldn’t have viewed him any different if he said that the challenge was stupid but that’s what hindsight is for, right?

Killing another wolf, regardless of whether they are a part of one’s pack or not, leaves a mark on the soul that makes one feel like they are tainted. Even if it is done with reason, even if it is because of a war or self-defence, it hurts to kill one of their own kind. Nobody knows why, nobody can pinpoint in history when this started to happen but the elders theorise it’s when humans started to hunt them, culling the packs down to dangerously low numbers that they had to go into hiding. Whatever the reason, watching the wolf’s life fade before his eyes and feeling that searing pain in his core changed Chris from that day on.

It’s why he couldn’t let Minho kill to avenge his mate because he didn’t want his beta to carry that burden – not realising that losing Jisoo was heavier.

Sharp teeth bite into flesh, the sound of tearing echoes in the silent field as Chris pulls back and feels the sense of deja vu rush through him. Theo doesn’t look that different from his late older brother and maybe in a different life, with different choices, they could have lived a long life instead of meeting the same gruesome end. Not that it matters now but Chris still mourns the death of one of his kind. Staring at the lifeless wolf, Chris feels a wave of sorrow rush over him because he didn’t want this to be the way it ended but he wasn’t given any other option when it became clear that Theo would never leave her alone if he were to survive this. Huffing as he shakes his head, Chris turns back towards the house before he stumbles, the weight of his own injuries taking over and causing him to collapse.

The last thought that runs through his mind as his world turns to black is her. Her smile, her laugh, the warmth she provides those around him and the gentle heart that beats inside her.

“Fuck. What have I done?…”

Your eyes are locked on the scene in front of you, your feet glued to the floor as the door is forced open and Minho pulls you into his arms. “Don’t look.” His words come too late as you already witnessed the large black wolf tearing out the throat of the smaller brown wolf like a predator killing his prey.

Your arms hang limp by your side as Minho’s hand rests on the back of your head and he tries to explain why Chris had to do what he did but the words fall on deaf ears. Everything you have been feeling suddenly fades, your body growing numb and your brain shutting down as your body goes into shock from everything that’s happened. You’re now questioning everything around you because the world that you once knew has been resorted to nothing more than a fairy tale from yesterday. It feels like you’ve aged several years in the span of a few hours and lost your innocence because of this.

“We need to get out of here, Sugar.” Minho picks you up with no resistance on your end. “Close your eyes and I’ll carry you out.” If you could hear the guilt in his voice then maybe you would know how much he blames himself for putting you in this position in the first place but right now, you cannot find it in your heart to care.

You cannot seem to care about anything right now. Not when he carries you through the room of fallen wolves, Chris’ pack cleaning up the mess wordlessly. Not when you see a couple of the pack rushing off in the direction where Chris and Theo were, shouting something you couldn’t comprehend to alert the others. Not even when Minho puts you in the car and tells you that he’ll take you home and leave you alone after this. “I’m sorry,” you hear him say but you don’t respond. You don't even know what you would say if you wanted to.

The only thing that seems to gain a reaction from you is when you look past Minho to see Felix and another member helping a naked Chris towards their car. His head bobs up and down slightly as they walk and even though you cannot see the full extent of his injuries, you know that he’s not in a good state. 

“I want to see him.” You finally look up at Minho, his expression conflicted by your request but after a moment of deliberation, he concedes. 

With a heavy sigh, he helps you out of the car and calls out to Felix. “Do you want to go back to the pack house with him?” Minho asks, his voice low so that you’re the only one who can hear him, “I can take you home. It might be bet–”

“No. I want to stay with him.” There are many emotions conflicting inside of you, so many thoughts running around your head and questions sitting on the tip of your tongue but everything can wait until after he’s okay. Right now, that is the most important thing to you; even if you want to curl up in bed, cry yourself to sleep and never leave your room ever again, you need to make sure Chris is okay. He sacrificed himself to save you, despite everything he’s said and done, he turned up knowing that he could die.

He nearly did die trying to save you. 

You pick up the pace, wanting to be near him so that you can take in the damage yourself but Minho’s grip on your elbow stops you right before you can reach him. “Sugar.” You can hear the plea in his voice, the uncertainty about whether you could forgive him for what Minho did to you. Your face gives nothing away as he asks if they can talk later. “Give it some thought. You have my number, yeah?”

You hum, the sound neither a confirmation nor a decline, before making your way towards the opened door so you can slide into the car next to Chris, lifting his heavy head to rest on your lap. You can’t think about Minho right now, there is already too much on your plate for you to want to care about your friendship with him or at least, the lie of it, and whether you could ever get through this. How does one get past your supposed friend kidnapping you and offering you up to your psychotic ex-boyfriend over some weird revenge plan?

“He might not wake up for a while,” Felix’s deep voice pulls you out of your thoughts and you look down at the man resting on your lap, your fingers subconsciously playing through his damp hair. “We can drop you off whenever you want to go.”

Meeting his gaze, you nod slightly before looking back down at Chris. “Thank you,” your voice is as soft as your touch as you brush a lock of hair off his forehead.

As the car begins to move, the silence feels like a weight trying to suffocate you where you sit. You know you’re mad at Chris, you’re mad at Minho, you’re mad and sad and scared alongside nearly every other emotion you can name. You feel it all as you stare quietly out the window but yet, there is one thing that you feel above everything else.

Concern for Chris’ well-being.

It takes Chris several hours to wake up; several agonising hours of watching and waiting to see if he’ll open his eyes and show you that he’s okay. You spent that time pacing around his bedroom, occupying yourself by looking around his room and trying to learn more about him. Chris has several photo frames on display, various colourful stones sitting in a bowl that must have some kind of significant meaning to them, and a canine tooth on a leather necklace hanging from his mirror. Other than that, there is nothing that can give you some kind of deep insight into the mind of the Alpha.

Ironic since you were thinking of him as a stupid Alpha male this entire time. The macho type of man who demands that people listen to him and reverts to aggression when he doesn’t get his way. Who knew you wouldn’t be that far off on that?

Felix came up and gave you company now and again, offering to show you around the house only for you to kindly refuse because you didn’t want to miss out on him waking up. Though, if you had known that Chris was going to take this long, maybe you would have. Luckily, during this time, you had eaten, showered and changed your clothes in the master bedroom’s ensuite, plus you were able to contact Serena to let her know that you were going to be staying out for the night. Of course, there were follow up questions but right now, you didn’t want to deal with the judgement of your older sister especially when you had no clue how to explain where you’re at and why you’re there.

The digital clock on the bedside cabinet displays 02:12AM when you finally lay down on the king bed, facing a sleeping Chris. The bite and claw marks that littered his body earlier have mostly healed but he still hasn’t woken up. From what Felix had explained, he’s in this state because it’s easier to heal while unconscious and allowing their wolf to take over than when awake; it made no sense to you, if you were honest, but he guaranteed that Chris would wake up when he had healed enough and that’s what you held onto.

“I’m still mad at you,” you whisper without a hint of anger behind it, examining his resting face. You were surprised to learn that Chris hadn’t turned 30 yet, especially with the way he held himself and assuming his status, but like this – you can see it. Reaching over, you lightly trace a finger over his jaw line, feeling the prickle of his stubble under your fingertips, before pulling away. “You have a lot of explaining to do, Christopher, but right now… please just wake up…”

If you weren’t watching his face as closely as you were, you would have missed the way his lips twitch upwards, the ghost of a smile forming before gold eyes flutter open to meet yours. You gasp but don't say anything as you watch the gold begin to fade into a deep brown, almost dark enough to reflect your image in his eyes. “You’re here,” his voice is deep, quiet, and filled with emotion.

He’s surprised you came with him, let alone stayed until he woke up.

“I–” You’re about to tell him that you had to be here when he woke up so that you could demand answers about everything but it didn’t feel right to say that. Not right now, at least. “I was worried about you. You could have died, Chris.” As the words leave your lips, you feel their truth deep in your soul because while you want answers, while you deserve answers, you were worried about him. It terrified you to think that the both of you weren’t going to make it out of there; it wasn’t just you that you were thinking about in that moment – you were thinking about Chris too.

His hand reaches up to caress your face and it’s not until his thumb sweeps under your eye that you realise you’re crying. You don't know when you had started but now that you’re aware, you begin to give into the feelings that had been held back by the adrenaline and shock. Soft sobs pass through your lips and Chris wraps you up into his embrace, pulling you in and providing a safe place to cry. “I’m sorry,” Chris whispers into your hair and you squeeze your eyes shut as if that would stop the tears from flowing. “I’m so fucking sorry, Sugar.”

“What would have happened if you died?” you blubber, lifting your head to look up at him and take in his sorrowful expression. His expression conveys his guilt but he’s also hurting because of the pain that you’re feeling and what he’s put you through. “You… you could have.”

“I could have.” Chris nods, his voice soft and his hands gentle as they run over your back, trying to provide comfort. He doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t try to defend his actions or poke fun at you for crying about it because you survived, didn’t you? Chris allows you to feel the emotions without any of the jest or arrogance you have come to know.

Wiping the tears from your eyes and sniffling, you ask a question that you already know the answer to, “Why did you come?”

He lets out a soft chuckle, raising an eyebrow at you before his expression softens. Chris gently rests his forehead against yours, holding your gaze. “Because of you,” he answers simply. The weight of his words mixed with his quiet whisper sends a shiver down your spine.

“Why?” you ask, your voice just as quiet as his.

“You know why. I wasn’t going to let him hurt you.” Theo had done it before, would it have been any different this time?

You search Chris’ gaze and the intensity in his eyes makes you blurt out what is on your mind, “so, you killed him. Why?” It’s obvious why because Theo was a threat. Not only was he a threat to Chris and his pack but to you as well. You know this but that didn’t answer your question: did Chris need to kill him?

A moment passes and you know it’s because Chris is trying to figure out how to word his answer in a way that you’d understand.

“I would destroy the world if it posed a threat to you,” he says, his voice unwavering. “If a choice has to be made that has to do with you, I would always choose you. You are my mate, Sugar. You may not fully comprehend what that is but that means that you are the only reason I live.” Your cheeks heat up as your heart races and you have to break eye contact so you can remain composed – except Chris isn’t finished talking and lifts your chin up so that you’re looking at him again. “Even if it kills me, I will always put you first and you need to understand that.”

She asked Chris every question that she could think of, making sure that he elaborated on everything whenever she got confused about something that he had said. He told her about himself, what it means to be an Alpha and even took the brunt of her prodding when she learned that Chris has always had issues with his anger. Though it wasn’t just Chris that spoke, she shared about herself as well, especially about her relationship with Theo and what caused her to start the business with her sister. They spent hours talking and learning about each other and the worlds that they both came from – which meant also learning about werewolves and the mating process.

“So,” she asks, skin growing warmer to the touch as her skin flushed thinking about it, “when we had sex that day…”

Clearing his throat, Chris nods and looks away like he’s ashamed about admitting this to her. “I knotted you… you–” he clears his throat, “you seemed to enjoy it though.” He distinctly remembers how tight she was around him as she came undone and the thought stirs something up inside them both before she slaps his chest.

“I wasn’t focused on that! I was focused on how stupidly confusing you were and how you had your teeth in my neck.” God, he loves that little fire inside her when she’s trying to defend herself even though he can tell she’s thinking about it. “No.” She stops his thoughts in their tracks. “That is not happening again any time soon.”

“But you’re open to it happening again?” He smirks, his tone hopeful.

Rolling her eyes, she huffs, “maybe. I’ll think about it.” It’s not a ‘no’ so that allows Chris to believe that maybe she’s accepting their fate.

It’s always easier for werewolves to mate within their own kind and sometimes, they do regardless. If they don’t find their mates then they often choose to mate with someone from within the pack or another pack but it’s harder to do this when you’ve already found the one destined for you. It’s this pull, this need to be around them that makes it harder to be without them and with someone else – it’s why they don’t fight against it.

Even though Chris tried, and failed miserably.

He opens his mouth to say something, to ask her for a fresh start so that he can show her that he’s a good mate, a good choice in a partner for her, but when he does – she yawns. Loudly. Letting out a short laugh, Chris nods and understands what it is that she’s needing before she even asks for it; she’s been awake for a long time, holding out for him to wake up and deal with her interrogation so of course the exhaustion is hitting her now.

She’s human, after all. She isn’t built for this and while there’s still so much to do and work out – Chris needs to take it at her pace.

“Come here.” He lays on his back, bringing her head to rest on his chest, running his calloused fingers up and down her spine and keeping her close. “Sleep, hm? If you still have questions when we wake up then I’ll answer whatever else you want me to. I have no secrets from you, Sugar.” His body feels more at ease with her cuddled into his side, his breathing slowing down as he feels the tension leaving her and her fist unfurling on his stomach. It’s how they are meant to be – wrapped up in each other.

His eyes start growing heavy, his mind focusing on the steady heartbeat next to him and using it as his lullaby. The last thought that crosses Chris’ mind as he falls asleep is how this is something that he could get used to.

He could live the rest of his life with her like this in his arms.

Morning breaks and when the Alpha finally stirs from his deep sleep, the deepest he’s had in a long time, he finds himself alone. The side she was on is cold and her scent is fading. It hits him rather quickly: she left. She left while he was sleeping.

Chris searches the house, going from room to room as he calls out her name but it seems that nobody saw her leave the house. Her presence is a fleeting memory from the night before and with her taking everything when she left – it’s almost like she was never there. Chris lays down on the bed, huffing dejectedly as he rests his hand on his head and stares up at the ceiling in thought. “Why did she run away?” There’s nobody who can answer that question except the woman herself but it seems like she’s decided that she doesn’t want to be contacted at all.

Her phone is off. Serena hung up on him when he called the bakery. He could go to the bakery and see her but something tells him it wouldn’t go down well.

“Fuck,” he groans. Flinging his arm out, he accidentally hits the bedside cabinet in his frustration, knocking off the lamp. “Ah– shit.” He looks down to find that the lightbulb had shattered on impact and made a mess, representing his own mess, but that thought is short-lived because something else grabs his attention. He should focus first on cleaning it up, especially because shattered glass isn’t fun to pick out of his feet but the small letter laying on the floor has Chris reaching over instead.

It’s from her. He knows it’s from her. Chris could recognise her handwriting from a mile away.

Chris,I know it might seem like I’m a coward for disappearing before you even wake up but I just don’t know if I can do this. Not right now, at least.You said that the bond will remain and I know that eventually this won’t be something I can push away and ignore forever but I just need some time to think and adjust to everything that happened.One minute, I hated you… or at least wanted to, then the next thing I know, I’m held captive by my ex-boyfriend and someone I trusted and thought was my friend. I learned that werewolves were real in the span of a few hours and not only are they real – but I was used to hurt one over a grudge that happened before we even met. Murder and death are treated like everyday things and I get it, rules must be different for you but for me – even if Theo wasn’t someone that I cared for, I will never believe killing someone is okay.It’s also hard to accept that someone who has spent weeks pushing my buttons and making me unable to stand the sight of him, is meant to be this person I am connected to due to some bite mark that he put on me. Without my permission, I might add.While I want to say that I’m angry at you, I don’t know what I’m feeling to be able to put it all into words other than I need time. Please give me that. Let me work through things in my own time and maybe… well, eventually, we can connect again and see how things go.

Sighing, Chris places the letter on his bedside cabinet and sits up. With feet placed on the carpeted floor and a hand rubbing over his face, he thinks about what she must be going through and he knows that he needs to respect her wishes. She’s had so much thrown at her and it’s not fair for him to push her more. In time, he can hopefully work his way into her heart and show her that he’s not the man she hated. In time, Chris can make it up to her and make things right. He can start on the foot he should have when he first saw her that day but right now, she’s right – it’s a lot for a human to take in in such a short period of time. She needs to come back in her own time and he’ll give her that.

She deserves that from him, and more.

There’s a ring on the doorbell and you sit up from the couch, humming to yourself as you quickly make your way over to the door. You’re not entirely sure who is at the door but you can tell that Chris is excited about it because for the last hour, you’ve had this overwhelming mixture of excitement and nerves rushing through your body as if you’re waiting for something.

Over the last few months, you have been learning more about this bond with the Alpha. You had spent time allowing yourself to accept what had happened and work through all the emotions that had hit you all at once and then when you had accepted that this is something that’s not going away – you did some research. Of course, Google can only provide so much but with that and the lore from many of your fated mate romances, you learned that this is something that cannot be erased easily – or at all, depending on which book you read. You could feel Chris’ emotions whenever he felt strongly about something, like missing you, and there was this constant ache in your chest that has been growing slowly over time. It has gotten to a point where you’re almost ready to pack it up and go back home – almost.

Not that it’s just Chris that you’re missing. You had left town completely, having headed back to the city to get away from it all, which seemed to work at first when it came to being away from the constant reminders. Eventually, you began to miss Serena and the bakery. You miss your sister’s cooking and being able to go for walks along the beach after work. You miss how clean the air is and how quiet it is at night. Over your months away, you have compiled a list of all the things you miss and realise that the longer you’re away, the longer that list gets.

“Delivery for…” the man reads out your name and has your sign for it. Handing over a beautiful bouquet of roses, you bring them close and take a deep inhale before smiling softly to yourself. 

Every few days for the last month, Chris has a new bouquet of flowers delivered to your door. At first, they were just flowers followed by a small text, telling you that he hopes you’re doing well, but the last couple of deliveries have had the nice addition of a letter.

You’re sure he got the idea from you.

“Thank you, have a good day.” You bow your head and take the letter from the delivery man before closing your door and making your way into the kitchen where the previous bouquet sits in a crystal vase. “Hm, they haven’t wilted yet…” You think to yourself before placing them on the bench to deal with later because you’ll have to find another vase for this one.

Sitting down on the couch once more, you open up the letter with a smile, wondering what words Chris has written for you this time. He’s strangely poetic, you’ve learned, always finding quotes from poems and sharing them with you or sometimes, he’ll share something about his past like how he once raced a few of his betas when he was a teen – only to end up running into a tree. Each letter held something that has you struggling to keep your distance, each text has you wishing you could tell him to come around, and every voicemail has your heart longing for him.

You made him miss you, even if it also made you miss Chris in return. You made sure that he had to work for your love. While you haven’t said those words to him or admitted them to yourself, with all the effort that he’s been putting in since you reached out a month ago – you can say that he’s on his way to winning you over.

Sugar,The new season comes in and your sister has decided that this means it’s time to rearrange the bakery.

You laugh softly, shaking your head because Serena had told you that Chris has not only been trying to make things right with you, but also with your sister. While you have the bond that makes it easier for him to break down those walls, Serena does not and from what she’s been saying – she’s making Chris work his ass off to get her blessing.

Not that it’s detering him in the slightest.

I know that you’ve been taking it slow and that you will decide to come back when you feel it’s time but I was hoping you might like to go out for dinner soon. No pressure, Sugar. It’s not like I’m going crazy without seeing your smile every time I walk into the bakery.

Just text me when and I’ll make it happen.

You smile, knowing exactly how he would have said those words because you can imagine the ever-so-confident smirk Chris would be wearing as he wrote that out. You realise that despite it all and how much he pissed you off, you can clearly imagine the way he would say certain things or how he would get this glint in his eyes whenever you fought back like it turned him on.

“It probably did,” you say aloud, speaking to yourself.

On another note, I was going to tell you when we were texting the other day but I didn’t want to ruin the mood. I thought you deserved to know that Minho has rejoined; he’s at the bottom of the chain until he earns the trust of the pack as a whole but he’s back. I don’t want you to come home and be surprised by his presence so I’ve made it clear that he stays away from you until you have decided to talk to him – I hope that’s okay with you. I didn’t want him to hinder your healing but I also didn’t want to overstep and make a decision for you.

This isn’t actually news to you because you already knew. Minho had texted you the moment Chris allowed him back onto the territory and had reached out to try and talk about what happened but you weren’t ready to deal with him. You honestly don’t know when you will be. Chris might have pissed you off and done things that you didn’t like or that had upset you but he didn’t betray your trust and kidnap you like Minho did.

He can sit in that guilt for a while. You can only deal with one werewolf at a time right now.

I’ll hear from you soon, hm? I’ll keep waiting until you’re ready but know that the moment you let me in – I’m never letting you go again.Chris.

Placing the letter down with the others on the coffee table, a little collection for you to read as you think about what to do next, you sit back and ponder about what you should do. You wanted to take time to deal with your feelings, to understand what happened and to try and figure out how to move forward with everything – you did that. You worked through it all and more. You even started to accept that this is how your life will be moving forward because as crazy as it all was in the beginning, haven’t you always tried to accept what life had to throw at you?

As crazy as a werewolf boyfriend might sound, clearly this was what the universe had decided for you from the moment you met Theo. Maybe you were destined to end up here no matter what path you took.

Taking a deep breath, you reach for your phone. If you don't make a decision now and act on it – you might take a few more months before going back.

[TEXT] <- Hey! So, dinner tonight? Pick me up at 7:30 and don’t be late!

[postsofbabel]

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[mesotokyo]

Taydaにアルミダイキャストケースの穴開けとUV印刷を発注してみる

海外のエフェクター制作情報掲示板でちょくちょく名前が挙げられている「Tayda Electronics」がアルミダイキャストケースの加工を請け負っていることを知ったので、発注してみた話です。

Tayda Electronics（以下、Tayda）はタイに拠点を持つネット通販サイトとのことで、特に音響機材関連に力を入れているようです。自分も何度かここで部品を購入していますが、（自分の発注ミス以外では）今まで特に問題があったことはなく、また物理的に日本から近いタイからの発送ということで送料も比較的お安め、発送されてから届くまでの期間も短いということで、海外通販サイトの中でもかなり使いやすいところかと思います（ただしサイトもやり取りも英語オンリーなので、それが大丈夫な人向けではあります）。

このTaydaなんですが、独自にアルミダイキャストケースを製造しているようで、比較的お安めに塗装済みケースを購入できます。サイズとしては「1590A」や「1590BB」、「1590N1（125B）」といったエフェクターペダル界隈でよく使われているHAMMOND製相当のものが用意されており、たとえばMXRのエフェクターと同サイズの1590B相当のものは塗装無しで4.59ドル、塗装ありで5.49ドルから、一回り大きい125B相当のものは塗装無しで5.49ドル、塗装ありで5.99ドルからとなっています（なお、本記事内で掲出している料金についてはすべて2024年10月12日現在のものです）。

こちらの塗装済みケースはあらかじめ塗装済みのものをストックしているわけではなく、どうも注文を受けてからTaydaで塗装を行って発送しているようです。そして、塗装前に指定した位置に穴開けを行ったり、塗装後にUV印刷を行うサービスも提供しているとのこと。ということで、試しに発注してみました。

Taydaでの発注方法

発注方法について詳しくはTaydaのサイトを確認して頂きたいのですが、発注できるサービスがそれぞれ商品としてサイト上に並んでいるので、加工したいケースとともにそれらをカートに入れて購入し、その後穴開けや印刷の指示を専用の別サイトで行う（先に指示だけ登録しておいてもOK）、という流れになっています。

穴開け（Enclosure Custom Drill Service）は本体と蓋部分で料金（工賃）が分かれており、基本的にはケース本体の加工で4.5ドル、蓋の加工で3ドル（それぞれ40箇所まで）となっています（ただし1590DD相当のものはサイズが大きいからか蓋の加工のみ4ドル）。ちなみに、穴開け箇所が40を超える場合は1つ辺り0.1ドルの追加料金が必要だそうです。

また、UV印刷（Enclosure UV Printing Service）は基本的には表面が4ドル、それ以外の面が3ドルで、面ごとに料金が必要になるシステムです。印刷は白＋YMCKのフルカラーで、さらに追加オプションでその上に艶アリ/艶消しクリア層の印刷を行うことも可能なようです。

発注仕様

今回発注したのは、MST/mesotokyoとして先日のPedal Geeks Meeting 東京2024（PGM東京2024）で頒布した「P-EQ」用の筐体です。PGM東京2024頒布バージョンではTaydaで購入した（穴開けなしの）塗装済みケースに手作業で穴開けとレーザー刻印を行って筐体を作成していましたが（以下の写真がそちら）、それだと数をこなすのはなかなかしんどいのと（特に左下の長穴の加工が大変）、安定した印刷品質を求めて今回発注に至りました。

元々P-EQはアルミダイキャストケースの蓋部分（一般的なエフェクターでは底面となる部分）に各種ジャックやツマミ、スイッチを取り付ける構造にしており、今回もこれを踏襲して蓋（英語では「lid」）部分のみに加工と印刷を行います（これによって、多少工賃がお安くなる！）

穴開け指示の登録

穴開けやUV印刷の指示（テンプレートの作成）はTaydaの通販サイトとは別の「Tayda Box Tool」というサイトで行えます。Taydaでの購入前にテンプレートをあらかじめ作成して保存しておけるので、先にこちらのサイトで（Taydaに登録しているのと同じメールアドレスで）アカウントを作成し、テンプレート作成をしておくとスムーズに発注作業を進められそうです。

まずは穴開け用テンプレートですが、ケース（もしくは蓋）の中心からの位置で穴を開ける場所を入力していくことで作成します。自分の場合、あらかじめ穴開けを行う場所を図面で作成していたので、そのデータを元にスムーズに入力ができました。丸穴だけでなく直線状の穴（？）や四角い穴を開けることもできるため、一般的なエフェクターペダルで必要な穴開けはほぼこちらの加工でカバーできそうです。

UV印刷の原稿作成

サイト上だけで完結する穴あけ加工とは異なり、UV印刷のほうはAdobe Illustratorでデータを作成して入稿（ファイルをアップロード）する形になるため、多少ハードルが高いです。一般家庭・オフィス用のカラープリンタは適当に作ったデータでもそれなりにちゃんと印刷してくれるのですが、業務用の印刷機ではそもそも色をCMYKで指定しないといけなかったり、文字もアウトライン化しておかないと対応するフォントがなくて正しく印刷できない、といったことが発生します。実際、Tayda側でも過去にそういったトラブルが多く発生し、その対応がとても大変だったそうで、そのため現在は入稿されたデータに明かな問題があってもTayda側での修正は行わない方針になっているそうです（つまり、トラブルが発生した状態で印刷されたものが納品されるということ）。

そのため、CMYKとかアウトライン化とかそういう話が分からない方は、そういうのに詳しい方にヘルプを求めるのが良いかと思います（お仕事で紙の印刷物のデザインをやっている人であれば問題なく対応できるでしょう）。

ちなみに、データの作成はAdobe Illustratorで行うことが推奨されていますが、入稿自体はPDFで行うため、ほかのソフトウェアで作ったものも受け付けてはくれるようです（ただし印刷結果については保証しないとのこと）。とはいえ、入稿データの要件を見る限り、PDFで出力できるだけでなく、最低条件としてベクター形式で出力でき、かつレイヤーと特色を扱えるソフトウェアである必要がありそうです。

ということで、今回はその辺の機能を一通り備えているAffinity Designerでデータ作成を行いました。こちらのページで実際にAffinity Designerで入稿したレポートがあり、適切にデータを作成さえすれば問題なく納品されたとのことで、物は試しとほぼ同様の設定で入稿データを作成してみました。

念のため、TaydaのUV印刷サービスページからダウンロードできる125Bサイズ用のサンプルファイルを元にデザインを置き換えてデータを作成しましたが、それ以外の出力設定等はこの記事のものをそのまま使っています。

デザインデータを作成したら、PDF形式で出力して、Tayda Box Toolにアップロードしてテンプレートとして登録しておきます。

発注

Tayda上で塗装済みケースと必要な穴開けサービス、UV印刷サービスをカートに入れて購入すると、Tayda Box Toolに購入したケースの情報が表示されるので、どのケースを何個、どのテンプレートで加工するかをTayda Box Tool上で指定し、加工内容を確定すれば発注は完了です。作業の進行状況はTayda Box Tool上に表示されるので、マメにチェックしておくとよさそうです。

納品

今回は9月30日に発注を行い、10月4日に作業が完了して発送が行われました。実際に手元に届いたのは10月7日です。こんな感じでシュリンク包装された状態で届きます。

穴開けに関しては特に問題なく、見た感じでは大きな誤差もなさそうです。印刷に関しては（物差しを当てて測ったので正確ではないですが）およそ0.5mm程度のずれが見られましたが、一応仕様上は許容誤差最大±1mmと記載されているため、これがAffiniy Designerで原稿を作成したことによるものなのか、それとも製造上発生する誤差なのかは不明です（ただ確認した限りでは個体ごとに微妙にズレに差異があるので、製造上の誤差のような気はします）。

印刷品質については特に目立つ問題もなく、市販エフェクターに劣らない見栄えかと思います。

内側には管理用と思しきマークが書かれていましたが、まあよくあるものなので気にせず。溶剤で拭けば簡単に落ちそうではあります。

ちなみに、穴開け後に塗装されるため、穴の断面部分にも完全に塗装が乗っています。そのため、シールド目的でケースと回路のGND部分を導通させたい場合は適宜一部塗装を削ったりする加工が必要になるかと思います（内側をマスキングして塗料が乗らないようにする有料オプションもあるようです）。

さて、今回は125Bサイズのケース＋塗装（青）でケース単体の価格が5.99ドル、蓋部分の穴開けとUV印刷がそれぞれ3ドルで、1個当たりの料金は合計11.99ドル。いくつか一緒に部品を購入したのですが、それも合わせて送料は10.73ドルでした。支払いはPayPalで、発注時点のPayPal換算レートが1ドル＝約151.52円だったので、1個当たり（送料込み）の日本円でのコストは約2,157円となりました。Taydaの塗装は最高級品質、という分けではないのですが（多少厚みのムラが見られることもある）、そのあたりを許容するのであれば十分に使えそうです（ただ時期によってはめちゃくちゃ納品が遅れる的な噂もあるので、そこらへんは要注意かもしれません）。

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[mesotokyo]

MXR M87 Bass Compressorを修理する

久しぶりにMXR M87 Bass Compressorを使おうと思ったら常時コンプレッションが最大にかかってる状態になるという不具合が発生していたので修理した話です。

発生していた症状は以下のような感じでした。

スイッチオフの場合、問題なくバイパス音は出る

スイッチオンの場合、INPUTを最大にしても、OUTPUTをかなり上げないと音が出力されない

GAIN REDUCTIONメーターのLEDが常に全点灯

内部のGAIN REDUCTIONメーターON/OFF切り替えスイッチをOFFにしてもGAIN REDUCTIONメーターのLEDは全点灯のまま

エフェクターのトラブル時に真っ先に確認すべきはスイッチオフで音が出るかですが、今回は問題なく音が出ていたので入出力ジャックやON/OFF切り替えのフットスイッチ関連のトラブルではなさそうです。

GAIN REDUCTIONメーターは、その名の通り出力信号がどれくらい圧縮されるかを示すインジケーターで、これが全点灯ということは、入力音がものすごく圧縮されて（＝音量を下げられて）出力されている、ということになります。音が圧縮されているのでOUTPUTを上げないと音が出ない（出力信号が小さくなっている）、というのは推測できたのですが、じゃあどの部分が故障の原因なのかをこの情報だけで判別するのはなかなか難しい。ということで、ひとまず中身を出してみます。

ケースと基板の分離については、フットスイッチとポット、入出力ジャックのナットを外すだけで簡単に行えます。ただ、中身はほとんどが表面実装部品で、基板もフットスイッチや入出力ジャック、電源ジャックなどが組み込まれたメイン基板、ポットやロータリースイッチが組み込まれた基板、GAIN REDUCTIONメーターが組み込まれた基板の3枚構成でかなり高密度なものになっています。

ネットで回路図などが出回ってないか探してみたのですが、さすがにこの規模の基板はなかなかトレースも難しいのか見つかりません。

ただ、唯一参考になりそうな情報として、海外のベース関連掲示板にこのBass Compressorを修理したというレポートがありました。こちらでは2つの事例が投稿されていて、1つはオペアンプを交換したら直ったというもの、もう1つはロータリースイッチを交換したら直ったというもの。後者のほうは発生事例としても自分の症状と同じでした。

ちなみに、このロータリースイッチは4つのポジション（エフェクターの表示上は4/8/12/20）を切り替えられるもので、10本の足のうち左側の5本、右側の5本がそれぞれ独立している、いわゆる2回路4接点と言うタイプのもので、自分が作ったMST P-EQも同じスイッチを使っています。

ひとまずロータリースイッチを疑ってテスターで接触を確認したところ確かに片側が導通していない感じだったので、新品に交換してみることにします。

ちょうどロータリースイッチのすぐ近くにフラットケーブルがはんだ付けされていて邪魔ではあるのですが、スペース的には余裕があるのでまずはハンダ吸い取り器でハンダを除去して取り外しました。端子部分はあまり苦労せずにハンダを吸い出せたのですが、固定用の足の部分は穴が大きく、またスイッチのケースが熱を吸ってしまうためになかなかハンダを吸い取れません。そのため、刃の部分が薄いニッパーで先に固定用の足を切ってスイッチを取り外し、その後基板側に残った足に高温にしたハンダこてを当てて取り外し、最後にハンダを吸い取る、という手順で作業しています。

続いて新品への交換です。秋月電子通商で同じようなものが販売されているのですが、実際に現物を見比べてみると、2、3mmほどネジ部分の長さが違いました（左が取り外したもの、右が秋月電子で購入したもの）。

そのため、このロータリースイッチを基板の奥まで挿し込んでしまうとねじ止めができなくなってしまいます。幸い足の長さには余裕があるので、基板部分から本体の若干浮かした感じで取り付けることで無事ねじ止め可能な状態で固定することに成功しています。

こうすることでケースに接触する部分の面の高さが隣のポットと揃うので、（ポットがきっちり固定されている限りは）奥まで挿し込んで固定するよりも堅牢さは増すはずです。

この状態でテストしたところ、無事GAIN REDUCTIONメーターも入力に応じて反応するようになり、出音も一般的なレベルで出力されるようになったので直ったと判断して組み立てなおして完了です。なお、ツマミはねじ止めではなくて押し込んで固定するタイプのものですが、ロータリースイッチの軸に対しては若干緩い感じで、薄いビニールシートのようなものが噛まされて固定されていました。修理後も同じものを再利用したので、これから修理される方は取り外しの際に無くさないようご注意を。

[postsofbabel]

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[dilfslayer1080p]

BEST QUALITY: HIS WIGGLES

[postsofbabel]

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[wickedloving]

127

D34R D14RY... I DR34MT OF S0M3TH1NG N30

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