#this show's dark scenes are so well lit | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

quinzzelx · 4 months

Text

Reflections

Azriel x Fem! Reader

Request: hello, i’ve been thinking about slight angst to fluffy filth with azriel x reader, i have this idea where reader gets az off in front of a mirror while he says nice things about himself, bc we all know his self esteem is abominable. [...]

Summary: You notice Azriel isn't feeling well and want to show him just how much he is loved.

Word Count: 6.1K

Warnings: Smut, 18! +, Fluffy smut, Soft Azriel, gentle sex, mirror sex.

A/N: This is soooo cute!! I really wanted to make this fluffy. Azriel deserves so much love and I loved writing this. Also, a friend of mine gave me a really mean idea for a very angsty second part, but that would be utter heartbreak omg...

☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆

Azriel moved through the day with a heavier shadow than usual, both literally and figuratively. His usual quiet demeanor had deepened into something more somber, his brooding silence punctuated only by the soft whispers of his shadows that clung close, mirroring his mood. It was one of those days when the weight of his duties hung heavily upon him, laden with guilt, self-doubt, and a gnawing anxiety that he might never truly be enough. His own insecurities clawed at him relentlessly, questioning his worth even as he worked tirelessly behind the scenes, unseen and often unappreciated.

You observed him with a careful eye, noting the subtle shift in his energy, the slight hesitation in his movements. Throughout the centuries of your friendship, which had seen countless shared secrets and moments of vulnerability, you had learned to read him like one of the many books lining the shelves of his dimly-lit office. You both danced around each other in a delicate ballet of unspoken words and intermittent closeness, occasionally succumbing to the gravitational pull of mutual desire that neither of you dared to fully acknowledge or define.

Recently, something had shifted. The air between you was charged, heavy with the things left unsaid, the feelings unexplored. Despite the deep bond you shared, Azriel had begun to pull away, cloaking himself in solitude and silence. His avoidance was a clear sign of his inner turmoil—a battle you knew all too well. He was adept at seeing the good in everyone else, lifting others with his quiet strength and perceptive insights, yet he was blind to the light within himself.

Determined to breach the distance he had imposed, you resolved to confront the barriers he had erected. Catching Azriel was never easy; he was as elusive as the shadows he commanded, adept at hiding his deepest fears and desires. But love, you had decided, was not a thing to be easily relinquished or left unspoken. It was a force as formidable as the magic Azriel wielded, and you were prepared to wield it with all the determination and tenderness it demanded.

You waited for him in his bedroom, adorned in one of your finest and sheerest black lace nightgowns, draped with a silk robe that whispered with every subtle movement. Positioned on the chaise in the corner of his spacious room, you gazed intently into the floor-length mirror adjacent to the door, reflecting not only your own anxious anticipation but also the room’s dark, elegant aesthetic.

As the minutes stretched into what felt like hours, the tension and expectancy built within you. The only sound was the quiet rustle of your gown and the distant, muffled noises of the House of Wind settling for the night.

Finally, the door creaked open, and Azriel stepped through. His arrival was signaled not by a flourish, but by a weary sigh, his silhouette framed momentarily in the doorway. His shoulders were slumped, bearing the invisible yet palpable weight of his duties and doubts.

As he entered, his familiar shadows danced around him, a dark entourage that seemed to pulse with a life of its own. Interestingly, the shadows flickered towards you briefly, acknowledging your presence as if in greeting. Yet, they maintained their silence, not alerting Azriel to your presence. It was as if they, too, conspired in your plan, understanding perhaps the necessity of this confrontation.

Azriel, oblivious to your presence and caught up in his own thoughts, moved slowly into the room. He loosened the clasps of his cloak and began to shed the layers of his formal attire, each movement heavy with exhaustion. It was only as he turned to hang his cloak in the wardrobe that he caught your reflection in the mirror. His movements halted abruptly; his eyes locked onto yours in the reflected image. A complex mixture of surprise, confusion, and a flicker of something deeper played across his features. For a moment, he simply stared, as if processing the sight and its implications.

“Why are you here?” His voice, though soft, carried the weight of his weary confusion and lingering shadows of his earlier brooding.

The room felt charged, the air thick with the unsaid, as you stood gracefully, letting the silk robe fall slightly to reveal more of the delicate lace clinging to your form. “I’m here for you, Azriel,” you said, your voice a gentle yet firm declaration. “I’ve seen how you’ve been carrying your burdens, and you don’t have to bear them alone. Not anymore.”

Your words hung in the air, a soft yet undeniable challenge to the walls he had built around himself. His initial shock gave way to a resigned vulnerability, the barriers beginning to falter under the weight of your sincerity and the palpable concern in your eyes.

Azriel’s gaze lingered on you for a long, silent moment, the battle within him almost visible. Then, slowly, the shadows around him seemed to retreat slightly, as if giving him the space to breathe, to decide. It was your turn to wait, the outcome of your bold move hanging delicately in the balance.

Your movements were smooth and deliberate, each step carrying the quiet confidence of someone who knows their power. As Azriel's gaze lingered on you in the mirror, the sheer lace of your nightgown played a tantalizing dance over your skin, hinting at the promises concealed beneath. When you let the silk robe slip from your shoulders, pooling silently at your feet, his reaction was instantaneous—a low grunt of undisguised desire and perhaps, a hint of conflict.

"You've been avoiding me," you murmured, your voice as soft and enticing as the silk that had just glided off your body. "I missed you, Azriel." The words were simple, but they carried the weight of your genuine concern and longing.

His jaw tensed, a slight narrowing of his eyes betraying his inner turmoil. Muscles tight, he took in the sight of you—each curve accentuated by the delicate lace, the soft lighting casting shadows that played over your form. Doubt flickered behind his gaze, a constant companion in his thoughts. "What are you doing?" he asked, his voice rough with a mix of confusion and rising heat.

Smirking slightly, you stepped closer, each movement calculated to show your appreciation of his formidable presence. His impressive wings, the strong lines of his body—every inch of him spoke of a crafted perfection that took your breath away. But beyond the physical, you saw the soul of the man who had stood by you through centuries, his loyalty unwavering, his strength a beacon. Tonight, you were determined to show Azriel just how much he was loved and adored. He deserved to feel valued, not just by those around him but by himself. If he needed a reminder, you were more than ready to provide it, to break down the barriers he had erected around his heart.

Reaching him, you placed a hand lightly on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart under your palm. "Let me remind you," you said, standing on tiptoes to whisper directly into his ear, your breath a warm caress. "Let me show you how much you mean to me, to all of us. You are not alone, Azriel. You never have been." The intensity of your words seemed to pierce through his defenses. For a moment, he was still, the only movement the subtle rise and fall of his chest. Then, slowly, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close against him, his embrace a silent acceptance of your offer. His forehead rested against yours, a silent acknowledgment of the connection you shared.

"Mhm," you hum softly, letting one of your hands wander down his back, feeling the tense muscles beneath his shirt as your fingers explore the broad expanse of his shoulders, tracing his tattoos. The warmth of his skin radiated through the fabric, speaking of the battles he fought both outside and within himself. "I want to make you feel good," you whispered, a promise laden with devotion and want.

Azriel's response was almost imperceptible, a slight relaxation under your touch as he allowed himself a moment of vulnerability. His eyes remained closed, focusing intently on the sensation of your hand moving over him. The muscle in his jaw worked silently, a visible sign of the tension he carried. As your scent enveloped him—sweet notes of arousal mixed with the calming lavender of your soap—it threatened to undo the control he so rigidly held over himself. He suppressed a groan, the depth of his yearning surfacing despite his best efforts to maintain composure.

Your other hand gently traced the line of his jaw, feeling the tension there and willing it to ease. "Let go with me, Az," you coaxed, your voice low and soothing. "You don't have to be strong all the time. Not with me." Your words, heartfelt and sincere, aimed to penetrate the walls he built around his emotions, to reach the man who so rarely allowed himself the luxury of being cared for.

Slowly, Azriel opened his eyes, the usual guarded hazel depths now shimmering with a mix of emotions—conflict, desire, and a dawning realization that he could perhaps find solace in your arms. His hand reached up to cover yours, pressing it against his cheek, turning his face to plant a soft kiss in the palm of your hand. It was a small gesture, yet laden with significance, an acknowledgment of his trust and his willingness to lean on you, if only for the night.

You pull him into a kiss, one that starts soft and gentle but quickly escalates into something deeper, more meaningful. Your hand, not content with merely cupping his cheek, slides to the hem of his pants, palming his hardening length through the fabric. The moment he groans softly into the kiss, you seize the opportunity to deepen it, slipping your tongue into his mouth, fully asserting your presence.

The kiss turns heated in an instant. Azriel's hands wander to your waist, his touch sending shivers through your body as he feels your heated skin through the thin fabric of your nightgown. "Fuck," he grunts as the kiss breaks, his eyes roaming over you with newfound intensity. He takes in the sight of your nipples, visibly strained against the sheer lace. "You look..." he trails off, exhaling sharply, the raw desire evident in his gaze. "Absolutely breathtaking."

Encouraged by his reaction, you begin to undress him slowly, each movement deliberate and filled with intention. As you peel away his clothing, his heart hammers in his chest, the sensation distinctly different, more intimate than any encounter before. This wasn't just about physical need—it was about connection, about exposing not just bodies but also hidden depths of emotion.

His shirt falls away, and you take a moment to trace the lines of his well-defined chest, your fingers exploring each scar and muscle, a silent testament to his battles and burdens. Each touch seems to speak words you both had held back, acknowledging his vulnerabilities and strengths without needing to articulate them verbally.

As you kneel to undo his belt, your proximity to him intensifies the atmosphere. The sound of the buckle clinking softly as you open his pants is almost deafening in the quiet room. You glance up at him, finding his eyes locked on yours, a mixture of apprehension and longing swirling within.

With his pants finally loosened, you help him step out of them, leaving him as exposed as you are, both physically and emotionally. Standing back up, you press your body against his, feeling the heat radiating from him, the rapid rise and fall of his chest synchronizing with yours.

"Let me take care of you tonight," you whisper against his lips, a promise hanging between you, as heavy and tangible as the air itself. "Let me love you, Azriel." You guide Azriel to stand before the large mirror, positioning him so that he can see both himself and your reflection. Standing just behind him, you drape your arms over his broad shoulders, allowing your hands to roam freely across the hard planes of his chest. The room's temperature seems to climb with each deliberate caress, the air charged with an electric current of anticipation and desire.

Catching his gaze in the mirror, you let a slow, confident smirk play across your lips. "I want you to watch," you murmur, locking eyes with him through the reflection. Your voice is low, a sultry command that sends a thrill through him.

Your hands move with practiced ease, tracing down his abdomen, feeling the muscles tense under your touch. "Look at how strong you are, my love," you whisper, your voice a mix of admiration and desire.

You hold Azriel's gaze in the mirror, your eyes locking with his as you let your hand slide into the waistband of his underwear, feeling the soft, silky skin of his hard cock beneath your fingertips. Your touch elicits a shiver from him, his eyes fluttering shut as he leans into your embrace, his wings twitching with anticipation.

"I want you to repeat what I say," you murmur, your voice a seductive whisper as you continue to stroke him, your movements slow and deliberate. You feel the tension in his body, the way he strains against your touch, and you revel in the power you have over him in this moment.

"Say it," you command softly, your tone firm yet loving. "Repeat after me."

His breath comes out in shallow pants as he nods, his eyes still closed, lost in the sensations you're evoking in him. "I-I'll repeat," he manages to whisper, his voice husky.

You smile, a knowing smirk playing at the corners of your lips as you guide him through the words, each one a testament to his worth and your desire for him. "I am worthy," you say, your voice steady and sure. "I am strong. I am loved."

Azriel's voice trembles slightly as he echoes your words, his own affirmation mingling with yours in the air between you. "I am worthy," he repeats, his voice growing stronger with each repetition. "I am strong. I am loved."

You feel a swell of pride and affection for him as he speaks, his words a declaration of self-worth and acceptance. But you're not done yet—you want him to know just how much he means to you, how deeply you desire him.

Leaning closer, you press a kiss to the shell of his ear, your lips brushing against his skin as you murmur words of adoration and desire. "You're so fucking sexy, Az," you breathe, your voice low and sultry. "Your body, your mind, your heart—I want all of you. I need all of you."

As you continue to stroke Azriel, you feel him twitch with each movement of your hand, a visceral response to your touch that drives you both further into the realm of lust. The air between you charges with electricity, every touch and whisper amplifying the tension that wraps around you like a tangible force.

"You are incredible," you breathe out, each word laden with desire as you maintain the rhythmic motion of your hand. "Feel every stroke, every touch. This is how much you affect me, how much you are wanted."

His back arches slightly as he presses into you, his breathing deepening. The heat from his body radiates, mingling with yours, creating an enveloping warmth that makes the air around you shimmer. "I love how you respond to me," you continue, your voice a seductive whisper that sends shivers down his spine. "Every shudder, every moan. You're so beautifully responsive."

Your words of praise and the relentless motion of your hand draw deep moans from him, each one escaping his lips like a confession. His hands find yours, his fingers intertwining with yours to increase the pressure, guiding you in the silent language of lovers intimately familiar with each other’s desires.

"Look at us," you command gently, nodding towards the mirror. His eyes open slowly, heavy with arousal, and meet yours in the reflection. The sight of yourselves, wrapped in such an intimate tableau, heightens the erotic charge of the moment. "See how perfect you look, giving in to pleasure. This is you—powerful yet so open and vulnerable with me."

You press your body closer against his, your chest flush against his back, letting him feel the full length of your body, the firmness of your breasts against him. "You are so strong, Azriel, but here with me, you don’t have to be. Just feel," you whisper, accentuating your words with a firmer stroke, pushing him closer to the edge.

You continue your tender assault, spreading kisses from his neck down his shoulder, each touch light and reverent. Azriel's breath comes in heavy pants, a sign of the deep pleasure coursing through him as your thumb grazes the throbbing, sensitive head of his cock, slick with arousal. The gentle yet deliberate movements of your hand contrast with the intensity of the moment, creating a stirring blend of tenderness and heat.

"You're doing so well," you murmur, peppering his skin with soft kisses that make him shiver under your touch. "Feel every sensation, let it wash over you. You deserve this pleasure," you continue, your words dripping with affirmation and encouragement.

As he tries to savor the moment, clinging to the waves of pleasure you elicit from him, you notice the overwhelmed look in his eyes—a mix of disbelief and ecstasy at the gentleness of the encounter. His usual demeanor of control and restraint is nowhere to be seen, replaced by raw, unguarded vulnerability in the reflection of the mirror.

"Keep going, Az," you whisper, your voice a sultry command that sends a shiver down his spine. "Tell yourself how good it feels, praise yourself like I praise you."

A flush of embarrassment mixed with arousal colors his cheeks, his gaze darkening further as he meets your eyes in the mirror. The intimacy of the moment, your hands skillfully wrapped around him, heightens the erotic charge between you. His voice, when it finally emerges, is husky and hesitant, but grows in confidence with each word. "It feels... incredible. I am... strong, and I am desired."

Hearing Azriel voice his own pleasure, a rare admission from him, something coils deep within your stomach, a mix of pride and further craving. His words, reflecting both the affirmations you've given and his own acceptance of them, deepen the connection, making this moment about more than physical pleasure—it's about emotional liberation and acceptance. "Look at how powerful you are, how much control you have over your own pleasure," you guide him, your voice both soothing and seductive.

Encouraged by your words, he begins to move his hips subtly, entering into a rhythm guided by the motions of your hand. His own words become more assured, his voice stronger. "I am powerful... I am worthy of this pleasure... I deserve this."

As he articulates his own worth, his climax builds, the tension in his body winding tighter. His breathing grows erratic, and you tighten your grip just slightly, increasing the pace, pushing him closer with a loving yet firm hand.

"Let go, Azriel," you coax as he teeters on the brink, your voice soft yet commanding. Azriel's grunt resonates with a newfound confidence, his instincts beginning to surface as he takes control. His hips snap forward decisively, rutting into your hand with a series of firm, deliberate thrusts. His gaze locks onto yours in the mirror—dark, intense, filled with a fiery desire that sends a thrill of anticipation coursing through you.

"What do you want, Azriel?" you ask, your voice a soft challenge, laced with curiosity and an undercurrent of your own need for him. The question seems to unleash something within him, a torrent of pent-up longing.

With a decisive movement, he gently removes your hand from his length, confusion flickering across your face. But before you can question his actions, he swiftly pulls you around to face him. The sudden shift in dynamics catches you off guard, and you find yourself staring up into his heated eyes, your back pressed against the cool surface of the mirror.

Azriel's hands find your waist, his grip firm but not constricting, as he leans in close, his breath hot against your ear. "I want you," he murmurs, his voice low and dangerous. "I want to show you just how much I need you, how deep my desire runs."

He pauses, his eyes searching yours for a moment, gauging your reaction, before continuing with a more raw, almost primal tone. "I want to see you unravel beneath me, hear you moan my name as I take you, right here, right now."

His words send a shiver down your spine, a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation bubbling within you. The audacity of his words, the explicitness of his desires—it's intoxicating.

"I want to feel your body tremble as I fill you, to watch your face in the mirror as you come undone from my touch." His fingers trail up your side, light but purposeful, drawing a line of fire along your skin.

Before you can respond, he bends down, his lips finding yours in a kiss that seals his vow, a kiss so deep and consuming that it leaves you breathless. When he pulls back slightly, his gaze is unyielding, locked onto yours with an intensity that holds the world at bay.

"This is what I want," he declares, his voice a blend of raw need and absolute certainty. "Tell me you want it too."

Caught in the whirlwind of his passion, your own desires flare to life, matching his intensity. "Yes," you breathe out, the word a surrender to the storm, an acceptance of his claim over you. "Yes, I want it, Azriel."

Satisfied with your affirmation, he smiles, a predatory, triumphant curve of his lips that promises untold pleasures. The chill causes your nipples to harden immediately, a visible reaction that doesn't escape his intense gaze. His eyes, dark and predatory, drink in every inch of your revealed skin with undisguised hunger. His scarred hand ventures lower, tracing a bold path down your abdomen until it finds the heat between your legs. You gasp, a soft moan escaping your lips, as his fingers explore your wetness, a rough groan vibrating from his throat in response to your arousal.

"Azriel," you whimper, your voice laced with need and a faint protest, "this was supposed to be about you."

He looks up at you, a sly grin playing at the corners of his lips. "Believe me," he responds, his voice low and husky, pressing his fingers more insistently against you, "making you feel good is very much in my best interest." His words are punctuated by a deliberate stroke that sends a jolt of pleasure coursing through your body, making your knees buckle slightly.

He steadies you with a firm arm around your waist, his touch both possessive and protective. "Seeing you unravel, hearing you moan my name—it’s what I need right now," he continues, his tone both commanding and coaxing. Azriel gently turns you to face the mirror, pulling you back against his chest. The heat of his body envelops you, and you feel the firm pressure of his arousal against your lower back. Instinctively, one of your hands reaches back between your bodies, grasping him firmly, feeling his length and hardness, which elicits a soft groan from both of you.

His fingers continue their expert ministrations, circling, teasing, pushing you toward the edge with skilled precision.

The room seems to close in around you, the mirror reflecting your intertwined forms, a visual echo of the intense connection that sizzles between you. Every touch, every whisper, intensifies the electric charge in the air, pulling you deeper into the vortex of desire.

As Azriel's hand works its magic, you find yourself leaning back into his chest, seeking support as your body begins to tremble under the onslaught of pleasure. His other hand travels up to cup your breast, thumb flicking over your nipple in a rhythm that mirrors the actions of his fingers below.

"This is about us," Azriel murmurs into your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "About me showing you how much you mean to me, how much I want you." Azriel’s touch becomes even more deliberate as he strokes your clit, his fingers tracing the contours of your slick folds before teasing at your entrance. All the while, he whispers sweet affirmations into your ear.

In the mirror, Azriel watches every reaction that flickers across your face—each flutter of your eyelids, every bite of your lip, the way your brows furrow slightly in concentration and pleasure. This visual feedback drives him, his actions tuned to elicit more of those beautiful responses.

"You always make me feel incredible, Azriel," you breathe out, meeting his gaze in the mirror. "No one else can make me feel like this."

His eyes, dark with his want and need, reflect a mix of pride and deep affection. "You’re mine," he affirms, the possessive words not a demand but a declaration. His fingers resume their motion, now with a renewed vigor, as if spurred on by your admissions.

You watch together in the mirror as his fingers delve deeper, exploring you, his other hand caressing your breast, pinching and rolling your nipple between expert fingers. The dual sensations, coupled with the intensely erotic sight of your intertwined bodies reflected back at you, drive your arousal higher. "I want you to see how much you enjoy this, how you respond to

me," Azriel murmurs, his lips grazing the sensitive skin at the nape of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. "I want you to watch yourself come undone because of what I do to you." As the heat of your arousal intensifies, you find yourself overwhelmed by the need for more—for him. Your whispered disclosure sends a visible shudder through Azriel, and you feel his response in the twitch of his length in your grasp. His gaze softens, filled with a tumult of emotions that had shadowed him earlier, now mingling with the undeniable love and warmth radiating from your intertwined bodies.

"Earlier," he drawls, his voice thick with emotion as he thrusts one finger deep inside you, causing a sharp intake of breath. "You said you want all of me..." His words trail off as he watches your reaction, then, deliberately, he slides a second finger alongside the first, stretching and filling you, pausing to let each sensation sink in. "Not just my body, but my heart."

His fingers move rhythmically, pumping into your core as his body presses flush against yours, his breath warm against the skin of your neck. His lips gently flutter over your skin, each touch a whisper of affection and promise. "Tell me," he commands softly, his request hanging in the air, laden with deeper implications.

Meeting his gaze in the mirror, you breathe out your confession, each word laced with the depth of your feelings. "I love you, Azriel." The words hang between you, powerful and sincere. As his movements inside you pause, you continue, compelled to reassure him of his worth. "You deserve to be loved. I don't know anyone else who deserves it more than you do."

In that moment, something shifts in Azriel’s eyes—a flicker of vulnerability, a glint that might be the beginning of belief, something warm and soft. His fingers resume their motion, but now with a tenderness that mirrors the emotion swelling in the room. Slowly, he withdraws his fingers, only to replace them with the head of his cock, positioning himself at your entrance. The anticipation makes your heart beat wildly, every nerve alight with the need for him.

"You deserve to be loved too," Azriel whispers back, his voice husky with emotion. "And I—I love you, more than I ever thought possible." With that confession, he pushes forward, entering you in one smooth, deliberate motion that makes you gasp both from the fullness and the profound significance of his words. As the intensity of your passion deepens, each thrust is imbued with a profound sense of connection, a merging of souls as much as bodies. Azriel's eyes, filled with a mixture of desire and adoration, remain locked on yours in the mirror, capturing every expression of pleasure that dances across your features.

You're bent forward slightly, your back arched, your body yielding to his as he continues to fill you with each delicious thrust. Wet sounds fill the air, mingling with heavy breathing and soft pleas as the rhythm of your lovemaking builds, each movement proof to the depth of your connection.

Unlike your previous encounters, which were fueled by hunger and passion, now it is suffused with something more profound—love. "My legs are about to give out," you whimper, feeling the strain of the pleasure coursing through your body.

Azriel responds by pulling you back against his chest, his hand firm yet gentle around your throat, guiding you to stand straight as he continues to grind his hips against yours. The sensation of his cock nestled deep inside you, combined with the warmth of his body pressed against yours, sends wave after wave of pleasure through you. With a soft smile and a lingering touch, he slowly withdraws from you, the air cool against your heated skin. Turning you to face him, his eyes brim with love—a look so intense, it feels as though it could completely engulf you. He seals his emotions with a kiss, tender and passionate, a perfect echo of the feelings swirling between you.

He guides you gently towards the bed, sinking back first onto the soft sheets. You climb over him, straddling his hips with graceful ease. Lowering yourself back down onto him, a mutual groan fills the space, the sensation overwhelming yet deeply right. The kiss never breaks, each movement of your lips in sync with the rolling motion of your hips.

His hands find your hips, gripping gently, guiding and meeting each movement with his own. Every thrust is a word unsaid, every connection a line in a poem of your intertwining lives. The way his body responds to yours, the way your heartbeats seem to synchronize with each thrust, it all culminates into an exquisite dance of love. As you continue to move rhythmically above him, Azriel's words flow like a soothing stream, each phrase dripping with affection and devotion, encouraging your every motion. "You're everything to me," he murmurs, his voice a gentle rumble that vibrates through your core. His hands are tender yet purposeful, one gliding to stroke your clit in slow, deliberate circles that send waves of pleasure crashing through you.

The intensity of his touch makes you gasp, your head tilting back as stars burst behind your closed eyelids. Feeling the shift, Azriel gently guides you back down, his body rising to meet yours. His lips find the delicate skin of your breasts, and his teeth graze lightly, careful not to hurt but enough to send a shiver down your spine. He marks you lovingly, each kiss and nibble a witness to his deep feelings, branding you as his in the most intimate of ways.

The room is filled with the sound of your combined sighs and the soft rustle of the sheets as you move together. Azriel's other hand anchors you, his fingers digging gently into your hips, guiding your movements to meet his upward thrusts. The dual stimulation of his fingers on your clit and his deep, steady strokes inside you draws you ever closer to the edge.

His eyes never leave your face, watching every flicker of pleasure, every shift of emotion as you ride the waves together. He sits up slightly, his arms wrapping around you to pull you closer, chest to chest, heart to heart. His breath is warm on your neck, his murmurs filled with words of love and future promises.

"Let go with me," he whispers, his voice husky with desire. "Let me feel you come undone."

Encouraged by his words and overwhelmed by the mounting pleasure, you surrender fully to the sensations. The world narrows down to the here and now, to the feel of Azriel beneath you, inside you, all around you. As you climax, your body tightens around him, a wave of euphoria washing over you in an intense, all-encompassing rush, crashing down on you like a tidal wave. Azriel follows shortly after, his own release spurred by the tightening grip of your body and the overwhelming sense of love.

In the aftermath, you collapse against him, both of you panting, sweat mingling, hearts beating in a synchronized rhythm of deep contentment. Azriel's arms hold you close, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"We are made for each other," he breathes out, a smile in his voice, the weight of the world lifted from his shoulders. As you lie intertwined with Azriel, the tender strokes of his fingers drawing soft patterns on your back, a sense of tranquility envelops you, wrapping you in a cocoon of warmth and affection. The air is filled with a serene stillness, broken only by the steady rhythm of your breaths mingling in the quiet of the room.

You feel a surge of emotion welling up within you, a profound sense of gratitude for this man who holds you in his arms. With a soft smile playing on your lips, you nestle closer to him, your head resting against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear. It's as if the world fades away, leaving only the two of you in this bubble of love and warmth.

"Azriel," you begin, your voice barely above a whisper, "you deserve the world and more." Your words are imbued with sincerity, each syllable carrying the weight of your affection. "You've always been the one to give so much, to sacrifice without hesitation. And yet, you never ask for anything in return."

Tears well up in your eyes as you continue, overwhelmed by the depth of your feelings. "You're the most beautiful soul I've ever known, inside and out. And I... I love you more than words can express."

A soft gasp escapes your lips as you struggle to articulate the depth of your emotions, the magnitude of your love for him. "Sometimes," you admit, your voice barely a whisper, "it feels like the weight of the world is crushing down on me, suffocating me. But then... then you walk into the room, and suddenly, everything becomes clear. I can breathe again." Your confession hangs in the air, the silence punctuated only by the gentle rise and fall of your breaths.

As tears well up in Azriel's eyes, his gaze meets yours with a depth of emotion that takes your breath away. His brows furrow with the intensity of his feelings, and he pulls you closer to him, wrapping you in a tight embrace. With trembling hands, he gently lifts your chin, capturing your lips in a soul-crushing kiss.

In that moment, he pours every ounce of love and tenderness into the kiss, conveying with each touch the depth of his emotions. As you part, his chest heaves with emotion, and he gazes into your eyes with a vulnerability that renders you speechless.

"My love," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion, "those words... they mean more to me than you could ever know." He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, his touch feather-light against your skin. "I never thought myself deserving of such affection," he confesses, his voice raw with honesty. "But you..”

He takes a deep breath, his gaze never wavering from yours. "With you by my side, I can finally sleep peacefully," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "For centuries, I wandered in darkness, haunted by my past. But with you, I've found solace, a sense of peace that I never thought possible."

You reach out, cupping his face in your hands, your thumbs gently wiping away the tears that still linger in his honey-colored eyes. "Az," you whisper, your voice filled with tenderness, "you deserve all the love in the world. You are worthy of every ounce of affection I have to give."

With a soft smile, you press a kiss to his lips, a silent promise of your unwavering devotion. "Together," you murmur against his lips, "we'll navigate through the darkness, hand in hand, until we find the light." In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of each other's embrace, you know that you've found your home in each other's arms. And as you hold each other close, you're filled with a sense of peace and contentment that you know will carry you through whatever trials lie ahead.

#azriel x reader #azriel acotar #smut #acotar #x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel #imagine #reader insert #azriel smut #azriel fluff #fluff

535 notes · View notes

inhuman-obey-me · 6 months

Note

🕶 with Barbatos please??👀 also yes on MC! (sorry for being specific, you can ignore it if you want but can it be directed at mc i'm not normal about Barb)

"I saw a little thing I didn't like you tried to hide." - Barbatos/MC

content warning: blood, reference to torture/gore

Barbatos has a reputation.

It is one that you remind yourself of at times, when you get lost in his sweet words and even sweeter treats. Those soft smiles, his ever-readiness to serve, his meticulous attention to detail so that things were always perfect for you – he would insist you had him wrapped around your finger, but sometimes you wonder if it truly isn’t the other way around.

After all, while you loved that side of him – one that few had the privilege to witness – you could not help but be intrigued by the part of him that reigned in the shadows.

The part of him that delighted in the slow torture of a traitor. The part of him that could use a knife to cut up a bleeding-heart artichoke just as deftly as an actual bleeding heart. The part of him that could drive someone mad just by warping the space around him, damning them to experience eternity in a matter of seconds.

Perhaps you were a bit too intrigued, your morbid curiosity having led you now to wander the dark halls of the Demon Lord’s Castle in search of him. He was supposed to meet you at the foyer earlier, but when the ever-punctual demon was nowhere to be found, you decided to take matters into your own hands. You wanted to see if you could catch the consistently composed butler off-guard, unprepared.

A fool’s quest.

You pass an archway and stop in your tracks, swearing you heard a faint scream from down below. A metallic scent pervades, your stomach churning as you take a step, and then another, and yet another – slowly descending the stairs, unsure of what you’ll find at the bottom.

It’s dimly lit, torches along the walls flickering with magic flames. Your eyes adjust, and your heart nearly skips a beat as you see Barbatos in the distance. You dive behind a wall, peering around the corner to observe.

He seems to be talking to someone, though you can’t see who. A cell, you think, as you notice the iron bars gating certain areas. The light catches on an object in his hand, something silver, and you realize he’s cleaning it off with cloth. Your own hands fish out your D.D.D., opening the camera function to zoom in and get a clearer look.

Oh.

He’s splattered with blood, standing in a pool of it. It’s a sight to behold, and you’re unable to tear your gaze away from him. Slowly, your finger goes to the capture button, taking a photo of the scene. You duck back into the passage, checking to see how the shot turned out – and chills run down your spine as Barbatos seems to be looking straight into the lens.

“Tsk, tsk.” Gloved fingers tightly wrap around your wrist, forcing you to turn around to meet a dark gaze that you knew all too well. “I saw a little thing I didn’t like you tried to hide.”

“B-Barbatos!” His name leaves your lips in a squeak. You don’t know how he got to you so fast, but you do know it’s better not to question it. “I-I’m sorry, you didn’t show up earlier and I got curious and wanted to look for you so I ended up down here and then I found you but I didn’t want to disturb you and –”

He puts a halt to your rapid explanation with a single finger against your lips, his gaze softening. “I’m sorry, my dear. It’s not like me to forget or lose track of the time. I must make this up to you immediately.” He lets go of your wrist, examining you once over before taking a step back. “But first, I need to freshen up. Shall we go upstairs?”

With a nod, you follow him back up to the brighter hallways of the castle, though he pauses once you’re at the landing. “...And what are you going to do with that photo?”

“Oh.” You can feel the warmth rush to your cheeks. “I, uh … just kind of wanted it for myself.”

“Is that so?” You can hear the amusement in his voice, see the way his lips twist into a smirk. “Well, if that’s the case, I suppose I can let your little reconnaissance slide. Next time, however,” he leans in close, breath ghosting your ear. “Just ask.”

#SORRY this is late #wrapping these up for real now #will finish up the last couple this week #but yes we're also not normal about barb totally understand #obey me #obey me!#obey me swd #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me barbatos #obey me barbatos x mc #obey me barbatos x reader #om! barbatos #obey me nightbringer #obey me fic #obey me drabble #writings #4000 follower celebration #the all encompassing [mod] cosmos

530 notes · View notes

fox-guardian · 4 months

Text

[ID: A sketchy digital comic of Alice Dyer from The Magnus Protocol showing a scene from episode 15, Well Run. She is a skinny white trans woman with freckles, shaggy brown hair, crooked teeth and pink painted nails. She is wearing pink cat-eye glasses, three pairs of silver earrings and snakebite piercings, a dark blue hoodie, and a dark red and gold braided bracelet and yellow paper bracelet. The comic is three panels showing her lit from behind in a soft yellow and lit from in front and below in a darker teal. She is hunched over, performing CPR on someone while looking panicked and in tears while saying "N-Nellie the elephant packed her trunk, and said goodbye to the cir- Shit, shit. Shit! SHIT!!" with the speech bubbles spanning across the whole comic. The first panel shows her waist-up from the side, the second is a close up of her hands, and the third is a close up of her panicked expression, tears falling from her face. The background is a dark green with a black vignette around the edges. end ID]

~~~~

did a real sketchy alice comic because i hadn't seen anyone draw this scene and i. needed it. so i went a bit ham last night and did this <3

#fg's art #the magnus protocol #tmagp #alice dyer #tmagp 15 #cursing #ask to tag #the braided bracelet is a friendship one for sam. he has a matching one <3 the yellow one is just the like. bracelet for the concert venue #behind the scenes teehee

346 notes · View notes

mxnhoo · 23 days

Text

like it (h. hj)

"a no-label relationship, how thrilling can it be?" | cover preview ׂ╰➤ hwang hyunjin x reader (ft jay, jake and jungwon from enhypen, chan, seungmin, jisung, minho) genre angst, toxic relationship, reader has long hair, toxic LAWL, aruging crying kissing in the rain (we love to see it), reader enjoys photography w/c 17.2k warnings toxic relationships (ig), arguments, manipulative, aggressive kissing (gasp!), a lot of kissing (I HOPE I DID OKAY FOR THE KISSING SCENES), hyunjin is possessive, hyunjin invades reader's privacy, hyunjin takes things without permission, hickies, slightly suggestive ig?, occurrence where the reader gets harassed/assaulted physically, fighting, cheating, THERE IS MORE BUT ILL UPDATE WHEN I WAKE UP COS I JUST WANNA POST THIS ASAP, semi-proofread

a/n finally, the fic is out! it came out later than expected, and i apologise to yall for that. this is the first long fic i've ever written and ive learnt that long fics arent for me LOL. cringed so much writing this, i literally have a love-hate relationship with this, but i seriously hope yall enjoy this because i spent so much time on it. likes comments and reblogs are appreciated, and once again so sorry it took so long!

now playing i like it - stray kids

It was getting dark outside — the sun slowly setting, roads having slight traffic due to it being a little after peak hour, and your window blinds were closed, your living room being dimly lit from the lamp on the table and the ceiling light that was barely working.

"Don't tell me you're still going out with Jay?"

You finished tying your hair up in a ponytail before averting your gaze to Hyunjin, an expression of grimace on your face. He was resting on your couch, legs were in a manspread, his arms crossed and his head thrown back on the cushion. He returned the sour expression and all you could do was turn your head back to the mirror to touch up on your make-up, picking up the different brushes.

"Why can't I?" you retorted back, your annoyance towards him gradually growing as you start to dab the brush on your face, focusing on the small details. You two just had an argument moments before, a big reason was because you had plans with other males — well, just one, your best friend, Jay. You two also bickered about other small things, nitpicking each other’s small habits, and it all led to this.

"Because I'm here?" He sat up on the couch, his posture straightening as he locked his gaze onto you, his eyes showing fury as you remained unphased, putting down your brush and holding up your eyebrow pencil, drawing over your eyebrows. His sentiment sounded contemptuous, but this wasn't your first rodeo with him.

"Oh yeah? What are you going to do about it?" you taunted, clearly not intimidated by him as you fully turned your body to face him. The corner of his mouth curled up, raising his eyebrows as he set himself up from the couch, walking towards you until he was in front of you. Considering you were seated, you had to tilt your neck upwards to maintain eye contact with him, your eyes showing no remorse towards him.

"What will I do?" He leaned forward, his face mere inches away from yours. On the outside, you remained nonchalant about it, but on the inside it felt like your heart was going to burst out. "What do you think I'm going to do?" he threw the question at you, and you could feel your heart skip a beat. The way you two were holding eye contact so intensely made your eyes linger over his lips, admiring how plump and captivating it looked, and it didn't go unnoticed.

He leaned in, smashing his lips onto yours with no warning and you gasped. He took the chance to slip his tongue inside your mouth, two of your muscles dancing strongly against each other with strong passion. You closed your eyes and your hands slowly wrapped around his neck. His hands cupped your jaw, manually tilting your head so he could gain more access to your mouth. The passion in the kiss was so evident and it fueled the fact that you both despise yet yearn for each other so much. You slowly felt as if you were running out of breath, so your hands snake down to his chest and you attempt to push him back, but your attempt is fruitless.

This only made him kiss you more aggressively, and this was a way of expressing his frustrations and jealousy to you, since you obviously didn't want to obey him. You gradually started to feel light-headed, and he finally pulled back from the kiss, his forehead resting on yours as he looked at you with the same fury in his eyes. You panted, desperate to catch your breath as you could physically feel your heart racing. His gaze averted to your lips and he chuckled at the sight of your red lipstick being smudged, bringing his fingers up to smudge your lipstick even more.

"Forget Jay, Y/N. How could you think about him when I'm right in front of you?" his eyes softened and he pleaded, causing a pang of guilt to hit your heart. You released a sigh, your hands falling back down to your sides as you leaned back from him, looking around the room to avoid eye contact with him. "I'll cancel, okay?" you muttered, feeling guilty for making Hyunjin feel that way, as well as for cancelling plans with Jay extremely last minute.

You and Jay originally had plans to go see a movie, and you had been looking forward to it for a week, but guess things just don't go accordingly sometimes.

Upon hearing that you'd cancel, his face lit up and a wide grin spread across his face. He brought you into an embrace, his broad frame perfectly wrapping around yours as you nuzzled your face into his neck, enjoying his warmth.

“Thank you, baby,” he mumbled, hugging you tighter and you shook your head.

“I’m still mad at you,” you replied and he only laughed it off.

You felt so complete with him, so many moments when you wanted to rip your hair out because of him but it always ended up like this. Always ended up in his arms, and no one else.

"You signed up too?!" you exclaimed, nearly choking on your food as you kept your focus on the boy in front of you. Jay lightly grinned at your reaction and nodded his head. Loud chatters fill the cafeteria as you stared at the boy in front of you with a wide grin. Bliss filled you as you processed that you wouldn't be alone in the photography club; it's always nice to have someone familiar around.

"I didn't know you were into photography too, Y/N!" he chuckled, taking a bite out of his sandwich afterwards and glancing at you. You were so excited to finally have a mate that you could talk about photography with. Even if he was your friend for a while, you never knew he had the same interest as you. You were experienced with it, having bought your own camera a little while ago and playing around with it whenever you had free time. Unfortunately,

"Yeah! I actually bought my own digital camera a while ago but I recently lost it.."

Jay pouted upon hearing the news, sharing the sorrow you felt when you first realised you had lost it. "But it's okay! They provide cameras in the club, don't they?" you added on, lightening up the mood.

Jay chuckled and nodded, admiring how you could quickly light the mood up. You took another bite of your meal, munching it down and took a sip of your chocolate milk from the plastic straw.

"Actually, I've already been in the club for a while, I could introduce you to a few of the members right now if you want?" he offered, and your eyes instantly lit up, your face leaning closer to his. "Seriously?! Right now?! You would do that?" you jubilantly expressed, feeling euphoria run through your veins. Jay gave you a small smile and nodded, and you stood up from your chair immediately, creating a loud dragging sound from your chair which caught the attention of a few others in the cafeteria, but you could care less.

"Let's go now then!" you exclaimed, taking Jay's wrist with your left hand and your right hand still holding your half-eaten burger. Jay looked surprised at your excitement, but went along with it regardless. He was more than happy to lead you to the club room. On the way you kept telling Jay about your experiences with photography, and he shared some of his experiences too, helping you to realise that Jay was really interesting as well.

"Well, here we are!" Jay stood in front of a door, glancing at you and realising you had the brightest expression on your face. He chuckled at the sight of you being so eager and he nodded at you, opening the door and gesturing for you to enter first. You slightly bowed and mumbled a small 'thank-you' before stepping in and realising how the room was filled with about 5 people. All of them were new faces, or so you thought.

"Hey guys, we have a new member!" Jay stepped in and closed the door after himself, glancing between at his club mates and at you, flashing you a welcoming smile. From the way he spoke, you could somewhat tell that he was already close with the members, and it reassured you since it would be easier for you to make friends through him. You looked at each person one by one, noticing how each of them were at their own individual spots and giving them a friendly smile until you looked at the last person.

Hyunjin.

And he was holding the camera you mentioned about, angled at the corner of the room closest to him. The one you had lost.

"Oh?" Hyunjin said, his tone sounding amused as he eyed you up and down. You looked at him with widened eyes, not expecting him to be here out of all people. You cleared your throat and averted your gaze away from him, feeling his eyes burn a hole on you from his intense gaze. It was true you and Hyunjin had something, but you two never revealed it in public.

"Do you know her, Hyunjin?" Jay questioned, your sudden awkward behaviour not going unnoticed. Hyunjin smirked and raised his hands up as if he were surrendering, "Who knows?". You bit your lip, feeling uncomfortable at this situation and feeling like anyone would be able to infer that you and Hyunjin had something, but your thoughts were interrupted by Jay's laugh.

"You're scaring the poor girl, at least be more welcoming," Jay laughed out and walked over to the side of a boy who had silky straight hair, his hair slightly over his eyebrows and partially covering his eyes, and a black hoodie nicely fitting over his torso. You formed eye contact with the boy and he flashed you a small smile, a dimple forming on one side of his cheeks.

"Y/N, this is Jungwon, the president" Jay gestured to Jungwon, and Jungwon slightly bowed down. "Hi Y/N! I remember seeing your name in the list; just didn't expect to be seeing you so soon!" he spoke, his voice sounding like honey. He extended his arm for a handshake, and you nervously walked towards him and took his hand, firmly shaking it. You were slightly taken aback to how casual Jay was with the president of the club.

"Hi Jungwon! Nice to meet you!" you greeted him. You felt as if you were walking on eggshells, knowing very well that Hyunjin was watching your every move, and you were familiar with his outbursts after seeing you interact with other males. After the handshake with Jungwon, you quickly pulled your hand back and fidgeted with your fingers, already imagining the argument with Hyunjin in your head.

Jay helped to introduce to the rest, initiating friendly small-talk and helping you to getting to know the members. They were all pretty friendly and lovely people to get to know.

As you reached the last person, Hyunjin, you formed eye contact with him, biting your lip as the tension between the two of you became increasingly unbearable.

"Y/N, this is Hyunjin, and Hyunjin this is Y/N!" Jay introduced. You felt a lump in your throat, suddenly losing the ability to talk.

"Hello, Y/N. Nice meeting you," he extended his hand and flashed a smirk, his gaze on your hand and waiting for you to take his. You cleared your throat and nervously raised your hand up to take his hand until the loud school bell rang. While everyone else looked at the clock or at their wrists for the watch, you immediately pulled your hand down. Hyunjin watched you and slowly put his hand down.

While everybody else was distracted by the school bell and packing up their belongings to head to the next class, Hyunjin took the chance to lean to your ear and whisper, "Meet you after school".

You stumbled back, a shiver running down your spine and you were aggressively shaking your head and shooting a glare at him until he raised his occupied hand. The hand that was holding your camera.

"Unless you don't want this?" he mouthed, not voicing anything out.

You scoffed and scowled at him, giving him a single nod before turning your back on him to leave the classroom. Your eyes immediately met Jay's and you both started to converse while leaving, knowing that you two share the next class.

"Like Jay more than me?" he shot out, swinging the straps of your digital camera as he walked. You walked beside him, keeping your eyes on the camera to make sure he didn't accidentally drop it and he suddenly came to a halt, catching you off-guard and almost causing you to slip.

It was currently late evening, considering that your school ended later than usual today. You and Hyunjin were walking around in a more secluded area in the city that was still near the school, the place being dimly lit and fewer people being present.

Suddenly his body fully turned to yours, his hand lifting your chin up so you could look at him. Your eyes widened as you realised what he was doing, forming eye contact but remaining completely still.

"I asked you a question, darling."

You blinked your eyes at him in confusion, not realising that he had actually asked you a question after cautiously watching your camera that he was holding. You stuttered, "Huh? What? What question?".

"Do you like Jay more than me?" he questioned once more, his face darkening as he stared into your eyes and leaned closer. You gulped, wanting to jump off the earth as you immediately closed your eyes as the proximity increased. The weight of the question hung heavily in the air as the silence grew to be more unbearable. You slowly opened your eyes and were expecting to be met with an angry expression, but you are met with the opposite.

His eyes looked sad, and his eyebrows furrowed upwards. Your heart broke at his expression and you finally answered.

"No."

"Really?" his face lit up, his eyes blinking at you in elatedness. You were shocked to see that he wasn't angry or asking it repeatedly for reassurance but you weren't complaining. "Yeah. I like you more than Jay," you stated.

He flashed you a warm smile and cupped your cheeks, placing a soft kiss on your lips which caught you off-guard. It was almost a switch inside him flipped and he was happy all of a sudden. You felt as your heart started beating in a frantic rhythm, and blood started rushing to your face. You started to feel nervous and you flashed him an awkward smile, avoiding eye contact afterwards.

"Tell me more!" he leaned backwards, still looking at you. "Am I more handsome than him? More attractive?" he continued, clearly wanting your validation and you honestly found his jealousy adorable.

"Yes, you're more handsome than him, okay?" you reassured him, the warmth in your heart growing as your gaze went back to him. You took the time to notice his attire, his straight curtain hair parted into two different sections and a few strands of hair over his eyebrows. His looped silver earrings and necklace nicely complemented his skin tone, and his strong perfume filled the air.

He seemed overjoyed at your response, clearly wanting to hear more. "Am I the only guy in your life?".

Oh.

You blinked at him, slightly taken-aback to his sudden question. Was he the only guy in your life? I mean, technically yes, from how you two acted, but you two never.. had a label. You wanted to agree to his question, but you were reluctant. You answered back with a question, "Are you? You tell me."

He chuckled at your response before pecking your forehead and letting go of your face.

"Let's go."

You looked at him, feeling confused to where he meant but he took your wrist and started dragging you. "Where are we going?" you questioned, feeling genuinely clueless but he continued to drag you, not looking back to answer you.

"Nowhere."

You ended up in the subway with him, walking around the station as you both waited for the train to come. Your hand was interlocked with his, your arms swinging back and forth. There weren't a lot of people since it was starting to be late and the day after was still a weekday. You wanted to ask him so many things, like — when did he take your camera? When did he join the photography club? Since when did he actually know Jay?

"What are you thinking about?" he questioned, breaking your train of thought and causing you to gain back consciousness and look back at him. He had a soft expression, sincerity evident in his voice as he softly grinned at you.

"I have a lot of questions about today."

"Oh yeah? Spit."

"You had my camera the entire time?" you shot out the first question that had been at the back of your head for the entire day after you saw him in the club room. You were happy that your camera was with someone you knew, but you were confused about how he even got it. Sad too, that he practically stole it from you.

"Yeah. Took it while you weren't looking when I came over," he confessed, his tone showing no guilt or remorse. "So.. you deliberately took it without asking me?" "I guess so."

You weren't surprised, you were already used to this, just slightly upset that he didn't tell you first.

"But why?" you asked the part you've been eager to hear the most. "I wanted to make sure there weren't other guys."

'Is that so?' you thought to yourself.

"So did you find any other guys?" you asked. You knew you didn't have any photos of other guys in your camera, but you wanted to hear his response. "You're in the clear," he tilted his head upwards, giving you a downwards smile and his hair fell down to his temples from his forehead. "Must be fun invading my privacy, huh?" you wried, but at the same time you felt thrilled at the thought that he was being possessive.

He simply laughed at your comment, feeling guilty about your statement. He asked, "Shoot more questions, bet 'ya have more".

"You were in the photography club?" "Yeah." "Why didn't you tell me?" "You never asked."

Fair point.

You sighed at his comment, now realising that you don't know much about Hyunjin but it was a stark contrast when it came to Hyunjin's knowledge about you. It felt almost as if he knew everything about you, and it made you feel so vulnerable to him.

"You knew Jay?" you asked the final question.

Hyunjin hummed, indicating he was thinking before he nodded.

"You never told me you and him knew each other personally." "Once again.. you never aske—" "I know that, but you could've just said a simple 'Oh, him and I are club mates' or whatever."

You thought that Hyunjin only knew Jay because you brought up Jay multiple times and that you and him hung out in school. Jay and Hyunjin knowing each other personally was the last thing you expected, especially in a photography club.

"Well, now you know."

The train arrived, the sounds of the train railing in filling up the atmosphere in the train platform. You glanced at Hyunjin and he nodded, both of you walking at one of the doors where the train would open.

Both of you sat in the train, talking to each other and resting on each other. With your hand interlocked with his, his thumb slowly caressed yours and you felt at ease with him, forgetting about all of the relatioship's toxicity. Time passed by, both of you just sitting in the train accompanied by each other's presence as the train stopped at every stop, the cabins slowly emptying out as it became later.

There was endless chatter, laughter and bickering and before you realised, your train eventually reached the last station, the clock already striking past midnight. It was already time to go home since it was a school night, and you two had classes to attend to the following day.

Before you two parted ways, he spoke up, "Hey, about my question, what's your answer?". You flashed a perplexed look, trying to recall what question he had asked.

Oh, that question. You took a few seconds to think about it, feeling like your answer weighed heavily and required sincerity, possibly impacting whatever relationship you had with him.

Am I the only guy in your life?

"Yeah. You're the only guy."

Your response made him smile, and he took your hands into his, bringing you closer.

"It's the same for you, okay? You're the only girl in my life". Your heart melted at his words and you felt truly percepted. He continued while planting a kiss on your cheek "Goodnight, Y/N".

You watched as he walked away from you towards the opposite end of the station, entering the train which was practically desolated and your heart clenched as the doors watched, your eyes on him even as the train moves away. (You didn't want to admit it, but you were feeling upset that he wouldn't take you home, but you tried to brush the feeling away).

By the time you've reached home, it was already 3am. Upon opening your front door, you didn't even bother to turn on the lights, just heading straight to your room and flinging the door open. You felt exhausted, but recalling the quality time you spent with Hyunjin warmed your heart up (but a pinch of sadness because he didn't take you home).

You carelessly drop the bag onto the floor beside your table, a loud thump echoing through the room and you immediately shuffle your feet towards your bed, falling on it, your arms and legs widely spread as you stared at the ceiling, not even bothering to change your clothes first. Your room was completely dark, but the moonlight that entered through your window made certain areas in your room visible — though barely. Not only did you get to spend time with him, but knowing that your digital camera indeed didn't get lost assuaged your worries.

Wait.. Talking about your camera.. Did he even pass it back to you?

You immediately sat up, setting your feet on the floor before walking towards your light switch, making extra effort not to accidentally kick or trip over anything. Upon flicking the lightswitch, the sudden bright light caused you to flick your head downwards and shut your eyes. You slowly opened your eyelids as you gradually grew accustomed to the different lighting and you looked at the corner where you had placed your school bag when you reached home.

You quickly shuffled your feet towards your bag, unzipping the front pocket to see if there was anything, followed by the biggest pocket. Your anxiety grew as you slowly unzip, peeking your head into your bag. To your relief, your camera was resting nicely inside the big pocket on top of your school materials. You quickly snatched it out, inspecting the camera to ensure there were no scratches or dents, and luck was on your side because your camera was in perfect condition from the last time you saw it.

You released a sigh of relief and slouched your back, feeling as all the worry inside of you disappeared. You turned on your camera, wanting to quickly get the feeling of using your camera again after being so sure that you had lost it, and you wanted to quickly take a random shot.

Your bedroom could be considered neat. You were sitting beside the table that was at one corner with your laptop on it, a lamp and at the other side of the room was your bed, but your sheets were all ruffled up from a moment ago. You quickly shot your bedroom, hearing the camera click and a flash shooting through the room.

You pulled the camera away from your face, pressing a few buttons and quickly looking at the photo you took and smiled. You clicked buttons to see your other shots until you realised that there were photos that you don't recognise at all. And that's when you realise that Hyunjin has probably taken a few shots himself from when he deliberately stole your camera.

The first photo was a photo of.. you? And it was a shot of you talking to Jungwon and shaking his hand. This must've been when Jay brought you to the club room earlier.

Second, third, fourth shots were all him taking mirror selfies. There were more photos where he was intentionally making a stupid face and you giggled at his stupidity, your heart feeling warm that you had these photos for yourself, and you continued to click until you reached one photo.

It was a shot with the flashlight on, the photo slightly blurry. A girl could be seen raising her hand up to the camera, probably to block her face and as you inspected the photo more, you realised that there were purple marks visible down her jugular, causing you to gasp. You could physically feel your heart shatter as you continued to scan the photo, now zooming in and realising that the background of the photo seemed familiar.

You could make it out that it was Hyunjin's bedroom, and the girl was sitting up on the edge of his bed. Her hand had fully covered her face, leaving her identity unknown to you but all you could care about were the marks down on her neck.

You felt as nausea washed over you and your heart dropping. You knew that unless Hyunjin was a dickhead and shared your camera around, it had to be him who took that photo. You instantly turned off your camera and dropped it to the floor, not caring about the potential damages done to it and you just flicked the lightswitch to turn off the light. You threw yourself on the bed and nuzzled your face into your pillow, feeling as tears form in your eyes.

Tears slowly start to escape your eyes, feeling deeply betrayed by your discovery. The fact that that photo took a while to reach in your camera gallery just tells you that it's been a while since it's been in your camera, so how could Hyunjin treat you so nicely and restrict you from seeing other people when he goes out to meet people other than you? Heck, you didn't even have the thoughts to go down on Jay on the day you were supposed to go to the movies, but here Hyunjin was, marking others.

"'only girl in my life' my fucking ass, bro" you thought.

"Fuck you....." you mumbled weakly to yourself and your voice cracked as the image of Hyunjin's face appeared in your head when you closed your eyes. You whimpered, feeling as if the whole world just came crashing down and you continued to cry yourself to sleep until you eventually drifted into a deep sleep.

The bright sunlight crept into your room from your window without warning, and your eyes fluttered open as your nose felt congested and your eyes puffy. You groaned, feeling your body score and you rolled over to the other side of your bed where your phone was laying, and you checked the time.

11:28a.m.

You missed class, and typically you'd be panicking and immediately getting yourself ready for school, but not today. Today you were tired and you just needed the day to yourself — a day without school, interacting with people, and also a day without seeing Hyunjin. You picked up your phone from the nightstand and tried to turn it on, spamming the turn-on button repeatedly and realising that your phone was dead probably since you forgot to plug in your phone before going to sleep. That was probably why you didn't wake up, your alarm didn't even ring to wake you up —but it wasn't like you were going to get up anyways.

You sighed and turned to lay on your back, your arm resting on your forehead as you closed your eyes, recalling the reason you were even upset in the first place. It was such a lovely hangout with him last night and it felt as if you two became even closer, but now it felt like he was a completely different person to you.

Still holding your phone, you took a moment to reflect upon everything that has a moment and a bittersweet feeling ran through your veins. You sat up from your bed, looking around and still realising your digital camera on the floor. You set your feet on the floor and shuffled your feet towards the camera resting on the floor and picked it up, inspecting it for damages. Luckily for you it was still in perfect condition, but for now you just didn't want to use it — for now, you could only recall bad memories with it.

Walking to your table at the other corner of the room, you gently placed your camera down and plugged in your phone, seeing the charging screen. You released a heavy sigh and turned away from the devices, stretching your arms in the air and letting out a loud groan.

Did he take that photo intentionally? Were you not meant to see that photo? Would he message you and reassure you out of nowhere?

You slapped yourself for thinking about these questions. You didn't want to see him physically yet he was implanted in your mind, and it pissed you off.

Today, you were going to spend it on yourself. No one else, just you.

It was a nice day outside, beautiful even. The sun was out shining, the breeze brushing against your face and the streets being lightly occupied since the majority of the people were busy in school or work. You skipped down the street, feeling your hair blow as you smile at the different people you form eye contact with. Sometimes when other people return the smile it almost makes you forget how much your heart had been hurting. Keyword — almost. You look down at the pavement, releasing a loud sigh as the road beside you had cars driving past you at steady speeds.

You weren't just going anywhere, you were going to your comfort place. Your favourite cafe — Chronos Brews. You always bought the same pair of items, but maybe today you were going to get something different.

As you pushed the glass door open, the bells attached to the door chimed and while forming eye contact with the worker at the counter, you grinned at them. You strolled towards the counter and went face-to-face with the worker.

"Hey, what can I get for ya?" the male greeted, his Australian accent strong and your eyes shifted to his nametag that was hanging above his left chest pocket.

Sim Jaeyun.You have never seen him before, perhaps he was a new worker?

"Hey! Uhm.." you greeted and you trailed off, looking at the menu to search for something new. Once your eyes found an item you found interesting, you continued, “Could I get a New York cheesecake and a..” your voice trailed off as you eyes continued to scan the menu, “passion yoghurt smoothie?”.

The male smiled at you and nodded, proceeding to press buttons on the cash register and looking up again afterwards. “That’ll be 11.90, cash or card?”

“Card.”

“Okay.” He smiled.

You sat on a vacant table, the cafe being emptier than usual since everyone else was at work or school. You never realised how calming it could be when you were in your favourite cafe with barely anyone else inside. Just you, the apparent new worker - Sim Jaeyun as well as another girl, sitting at one corner busied by her laptop. As you heard footsteps approaching you, you looked up and you were met with the worker holding up a glass cup containing yellow slush with a straw poking out, and a small plate which had your cheesecake accompanied by a mini fork. He set the food down on your table, and gave you a warm smile.

“Good choice,” he suddenly spoke up, causing you to raise your eyebrows, “as in, your food choices. I like the passion yoghurt smoothie too.”

You smiled at him, “Just wanted to try something new today. I hope it’s good.”

“It will be, no worries,” he reassured, watching as you lean closer to the straw, sipping up with the drink. Your face immediately lit up, your eyebrows raising, your eyes slightly widening and a smile plastered onto your face, “You’re right, this is good”.

You continue to sip on the drink, the liquid level quickly dropping as he laughed at you. You lean back on your chair, and look at him again, “Say, I come here often but I’ve never seen you before”.

He quickly nodded his head, “Yup, just started a while ago. Usually take morning shifts, do you usually come in the afternoon?”.

You nodded your head, “Yeah I do. Makes sense why I’ve never seen you before”.

He suddenly raised one eyebrow, humming in thought. He asked, “No school or work? It’s a weekday morning” and you quickly shook your head. “I mean, I do still have school but.. Today’s my day.”

He nodded, understanding what you meant, “Well then, could I give you my number?”. You shot your gaze at him, caught off-guard by the sudden question and you raised your eyebrows. He continued, his face growing red as his eyes widened

“A-ah, not for any particular reason! You just kinda.. Seem cool, y’know? And if you need anyone to talk to..”. You laughed at him as you watched him aggressively shake his head and hands.

“Okay, sure, why not?” you giggled, handing your phone and watching as he nervously tapped his phone number, his hands slightly quivering.

After you got the new worker’s number, you left the cafe and went to different places, walking in a mall and buying things, walking in a park. It was a day out with yourself.

Must be fun, huh?

You came back home just a little bit before you ate dinner, and dropping all your bags from shopping, you immediately found your way to your room, picking up your phone and turning it on with high expectations. Your hope only crumbles when you realise that you do have notifications, but not from him. Not a single ‘Why didn’t you come to school today?’ or a ‘Are you okay?’ or if you were lucky, an ‘I’m sorry’.

Before you knew it, you were already grabbing your jacket from your closet, picking up your personal handbag from the floor and putting on your slippers, preparing to leave your house with one goal in mind - confronting Hyunjin.

He first wronged you by taking the photo of the girl, maybe it was intentional to make you jealous? Maybe it was unintentional, but you don’t know which one was first, but at this point you didn’t care. You were mad and wanted to hear it from himself, and if he wasn’t even going to reach out to you, you’re going to reach out to him first.

Standing in front of a door you’ve been in front of so many times, you anxiously knock on the wood, folding your arms as you wait for a response. Seconds felt like hours, and you felt the anxiety in you growing. Sweat rolled down your temples and you bit your lip, suddenly forgetting the words you rehearsed on the way to confront him when you actually saw him face to face.

Your head shoots up as you hear the door unlocking, watching as the door swiftly opens, revealing the man who has you wrapped around his finger. The man who puts you on an emotional rollercoaster, never once getting a break from how unpredictable he is. He looks bewildered at the sight of you, his eyebrows raising, eyes widening and his lips slightly parting, clearly speechless.

He takes a few seconds to process that you were right in front of you and finally breaks the silence, “Y/N? Why are you here?”.

You immediately frowned at his question.

Was he not going to ask how you were? Where were you instead of school? His words pricked your heart but you kept your head high, folding your arms as you lifted your head, “I saw the photo”. Features of confusion washed over him as he looked at you as if you were speaking alien language

“What phot-” “You have another girl you’re fucking with.”

His eyes immediately widened, blinking at you repetitively as he tried to find words to respond to you. “Y/N, what are you-”

“Don’t fuck with me, Hyun. I saw it in the photo in my own camera. A girl, on your bed, with hickies. You can’t tell me I’m hallucinating.” you emphasised ‘with hickies’, your chest finally feeling light as you finally let out the words you’ve been wanting to say ever since you saw that photo in the morning.

You watch as he gives you a confused look, and it makes you feel stupid about yourself, almost doubting yourself.. “Y/N, do you seriously think of me like that?”.

“Hyun, don’t turn this around on me. I literally saw-” “Y/N,” he interrupted, his gaze softening as he tilts his neck, “you do remember I told you that you’re the only girl in my life, right?” “How the fuck is that relevant in this?!” you yelled. You quite literally couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

His shoulder relaxes, folding his arms, “I genuinely have no idea what photo you’re talking about. I did take photos on your camera, yes, but it was all photos of me, Y/N. Trust me, I never had a girl over, and if anything, the girl would only be you.”

“So you’re saying my eyes are lying to me?” “Yes. I genuinely have never taken any photos of girls, or even girls on my fucking bed. You know me Y/N, I only have eyes for you.”

“No Hyunjin, I literally saw-” “Y/N, please? I know this is serious but I’m really busy right now. Can’t you just forgive me?” He steps forward towards you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you to him, his body now pressing against yours as he looks at you with a pleading expression.

You want to pick up a fight against him. You want to stand your ground, and tell him that you know that what you saw was right. But the way he was pleading, the way his voice sounded so soft, the way he was looking at you so softly and holding you so gently, it made you think otherwise. You averted your gaze, suddenly having a pang of guilt hit you as you sucked the insides of your cheek, not daring to look at him.

“Look at me, please?” he used one of his hands to hold your chin and lift it up to meet your eyes. You looked back at him, your jaw tightened as the guilt grew. You notice how he eyes your lips and how he was gradually leaning closer and you shut your eyes, almost afraid for what was coming.

Before you knew it, his lips were on yours, however, the feeling was different. Typically, kisses with him would be intense, greedy and passionate, but this time it was slow and gentle. He was taking his own time as he slowly cupped your jaw to angle your head. His mouth moved slowly with yours, and you could feel yourself meaning.

As the kiss continued, you felt your anger for him slowly dissociate, your stomach being filled with butterflies and your chest feeling fuzzy as you finally wrap your arms around his neck to pull his face closer to yours.

You had thoughts that you never wanted this to end, or that he was right, he would only pick you, but suddenly the image on your camera appears in your head again and it causes you to push him aggressively, breaking the kiss and his hold around you.

He looks at you flabbergasted, evidently bewildered as to why you suddenly pushed him away and you just spoke weakly, “We can’t do this..”. No matter how hard he tries, you know your eyes weren’t playing with you and that the photo was real, and you can’t kiss him or the greed for him and the pain would be worse.

“Hyunjin?” a high-pitched voice spoke out from behind Hyunjin, causing your heart to drop and your blood to go cold, already knowing what was about to come. As you averted your gaze from Hyunjin to the voice behind him, you saw it. You saw the girl in the camera, the same girl in your camera on Hyunjin’s bed with hickies all over her neck.

She had the same blonde straight hair, bangs that were slightly uneven and she was wearing an oversized shirt that you hated you recognised. It was a shirt you yourself wore multiple times.

You could now confirm that the girl was definitely in Hyunjin’s bed, and that all her hickies were definitely from Hyunjin herself. You were speechless, frozen, you were unable to do anything as your mouth remained agape, not being able to form words as your mind goes blank.

The silence between the 3 of you became extremely uncomfortable, and though no words were spoken, each second was like a knife piercing your heart and being twisted.

You couldn't do this anymore. You can’t deal with this bullshit anymore. Without thinking, your palm swiped across Hyunjin’s cheek, a loud slap echoing the atmosphere as you scowled at Hyunjin.

You were done and you weren’t going to feel like you were just one of his toys he can use and throw away once he was bored. “Fuck you, Hyunjin,” was the last thing you said before you readjusted your bag on your shoulder and stormed away, not looking back. You could feel both of their gazes on you as you walked away, but you couldn’t care less, not wanting to face them again, or anymore.

The only thing you could think about was Hyunjin and that girl. You were feeling so many emotions to the point it was overwhelming - humiliation, betrayal, anger. You felt so ashamed for actually believing that you were going to be the only girl in his life. So much for a relationship with no actual label, right?

Anger grew inside of you as you replayed the scene in your head repeatedly, wishing that you didn’t just slap him, but also yelled at him and put him in his place. Who was he to throw you around and treat you as if you were nothing?

Fuck him. Fuck Hyunjin. He’s a fucking dickhead.

You slowly tried to regulate your breathing, staring at the ceiling and occasionally shutting your eyelids as you tried to put your mind to something else. That girl can have him all she wants, and you were just done with him.

You needed to take your mind off of this, put yourself out there to forget about him, but what is there to do? Maybe you can hang out with a friend, listen to music, talk to new people, and what’s a good way to do all at once? A fun night at the club, of course.

Loud music plays through the speakers that surround the entire room, people being able to be spotted in every single corner, everyone having their different reasons for being there. Some want to hit up with others, some want to bond with their friends, some wanna have a drink, and some want to forget their miserable ex. In your case, it was all of the above.

You were walking past the crowd, trying to get past people and constantly angling your body to get through, and once you were finally at a corner with lesser people, you released a breath you didn’t realise you were holding in. You were enthusiastic at the idea of going to the club, but now that you were actually here, the atmosphere was quite overwhelming.

There were people who were literally all over each other, making out with each other as if they weren’t surrounded by a hoard of people, people vomiting and drinking, and people who were just there to dance and vibe to the music. You took out your phone from your purse, nervously checked the chats with your friend and typed to ask them what they were.

Just as you sent a message, you felt a tap on your shoulder, causing you to jump and immediately shoot your head at the person tapping your shoulder, and you release a sigh of relief once you realise it was your friend. Sim Jaeyun, the worker you met at the cafe a while ago. He nervously laughed and scratched his neck as he blinked at you, “This was the last thing I expected when you asked me to go out.”

You laugh at his comment, his presence being a sense of reassurance in an atmosphere of people you didn’t know. You smiled at him, “Is this your first time at a club?”.

He ran his hand through his hair, huffing his breath and blowing his fringe, “I mean, no, but the last time I was here I was just stuck to my friend ‘cause I had no idea what to do..”.

Your eyes lit up at his response, “Right! Like you have no clue how to dance, or if you should talk to someone new, y’know?”. You felt even more comforted that someone was exactly like you, clueless on what to do when you were in the club.

The club was famous for letting people forget their emotions, but you only felt like you confronted your feelings more in the club. He shook his head aggressively, snapping his fingers and pointing at you “Exactly that!”.

As time passes by, you and Jake start to get to know each other, like how he owns a pet dog named Layla and how he loves building legos. You also learnt that he came from Australia (which was kinda obvious from his accent) and that he’s a music-freak - he knows how to play so many instruments that you can’t even name all. You two had bought drinks and were sitting on a table, just chatting as you both got to know each other.

“Hey, I gotta go to the toilet real quick, yeah?”. You gave him a quick smile and nodded, watching him as he stood up and left for the toilet. You relaxed on your seat and sighed, feeling happy that you had a night to get to know someone new, and it felt like forever since you’ve done that considering how much Hyunjin had restricted you.

As you folded your arms and stared into blank space, you felt an arm wrap around you and you immediately flinched, trying to shift away but couldn’t. You turned and saw a man, probably in his late 20s and your stomach drops, suddenly freezing and being unable to do anything. You could tell that he didn't have good intentions, his smug smile telling you everything as he eyed you up and down.

“What’s a pretty babe doing alone in a club like this, hm?” the man said, his tone confident yet sounding so suffocating and your breath hitched, unable to form words as you just stared at the man.

“Why do you seem so uncomfortable?” he laughed out loud and you nervously laughed, your eyes constantly blinking as you looked down to your feet, feeling so small as he pulled you closer, feeling his warmth against your body.

You wanted to push him away, you wanted to scream at him for touching you but for some reason you just couldn’t do anything. Your heart was rapidly beating as your breathing picked up the pace, anxiety starting to grow inside you as you got nervous about what the man would do to you.

“Baby, do you like this?” he suddenly put his hand on your thigh, making you gasp and hold your breath. Tears were forming in your eyes as you bit your lip hard, not realising the cut that formed.

“S-stop..” you softly cried out.

“Why baby? Don’t you like it?” his hand slowly traced up your thigh, and you were regretting wearing a skirt to the club. You felt the tears break free from your eyes and you shut your eyes, not being able to fight back. That was until you heard a loud thud beside you and his arm on your thigh being hastily removed.

You shot your eyes open to see what happened and saw the man holding his face as he was forced to turn to you. You looked up further and saw Hyunjin, panting and his face full of fury as he held up his fist, his position as if he just punched the man.

“H-Hyunjn..” you weakly called out, and for a second his gaze softened as he looked at you but was quickly averted to the man. You suddenly forgot all your hatred for him when you saw him again.

“Get. Your fucking hands. Off of her.” Hyunjin commanded, his eyes full of rage as his jaw clenched and his fists shaking, his fingers white from how tightly he was clenching his hands.

The man simply turned his gaze back to Hyunjin, chuckling slowly as he looked at Hyunjin’s expression, scoffing at the sight in front of him, his hand touching the spot on his face that got punched. “And why should I?” the man taunted and leaned back to you, his arm remained wrapped around your shoulders and you stiffened up further.

Hyunjin smirked and cracked his neck, the sounds being loud “You better listen before things get fucking messy, old man, now get your hands off of her. I won’t repeat myself again.”

The man shook his head and laughed, “Look man, I’m not trying to-”.

And before you knew it, the man got punched again and you gasped at the sudden action, your hands flying to your mouth. You noticed how there was now blood flowing out of the man’s nose, and that Hyunjin was tilting his neck and pulling up his sleeves, his eyes almost looking psychotic as he rubbed his fists, his gaze fixated on the man and watching his every move.

You looked at the man and he looked like he lost his mind, his grin so wide and he started to laugh uncontrollably, his head slowly turned back to Hyunjin. His arm slithered away from you and he stood up from the chair, walking up to Hyunjin. “Do you fucking know who you’re messing with?” the man threatened, his head tilted and Hyunjin simply stared down at him.

Suddenly, Hyunjin grabbed his collar and heatbutted him, “Look, I don’t give a fuck about who you are, you touch my girl again I’m fucking killing you, got it?”. You were afraid that a fight was going to break out, but the man simply pushed away, lifting his hands as if he was surrendering and he shook his head, “I got you man, no need to be so fucking sensitive”.

The man was about to pat Hyunjin’s back to form a truce but Hyunjin gripped his wrists tightly and only glared at him, his glare being enough to tell him to fuck off and the man simply went away, glancing once more at you before he disappeared into the crowd.

“Y/N” he called out to you, his eyes still being full of fury as you stared at him. Deep down, you still hated him, but given that he just saved you from that situation, all you could think about was how grateful you were to him, how much you wanted to go back to him, how much you wanted him again. You stood up from your seat and walked towards him, saying nothing and pulling him into a tight embrace.

Upon coming into contact with you, he froze but after a few seconds you could feel his hands rest on your back, slowly caressing you as you found comfort in his hands, almost wanting to burst out crying from the situation you just experienced.

“Sorry, is this your boyfriend?” a voice spoke out and you immediately pulled back from the hug to see Jaeyun. Your eyes immediately widen and you start laughing nervously, not knowing how to respond. Hyunjin stepped towards the guy, clearly feeling threatened, “And who could you be?”.

You immediately step in, “Hyunjin, this is Jaeyun, Jaeyun this is Hyunjin”. You nervously smiled and scratched your neck. Jaeyun was smiling at Hyunjin while Hyunjin was glaring at him. You realised that you needed to thank Hyunjin, and also that you and him needed to have a talk.

“Ha..ha.. Jaeyun, let's meet again another time, thanks for tonight,” you said as you grabbed Hyunjin’s wrist and started to pull him out. You looked over your shoulder as you started to walk out, watching as Jake smiled and said his goodbyes.

Once you and Hyunjin were out of the club, you and him stood under a streetlight, and you were now face to face with him. As you looked at him, you noticed his stern expression still being present. “Who is he and where did you meet him?” he questioned, his tone evidently displeased.

You were taken aback by how pissed he sounded, your anger for him slowly returning and overpowering your gratitude for him, “Now why does that matter when you literally had a girl over just a while ago, huh?”.

Hyunjin groaned while running his hand through his hair, biting his lip, “Look, I know you might not believe me but I broke it off with her?”.

“And how am I supposed to know if you’re lying or not?!” you yelled.

“I swear this time. I kicked her out that very day you saw her, blocked her and even broke it off.” he said, his tone sounding serious but you had no idea if you should trust him or not.

“Look, you’ve lied to me once and you can do it again, Hyunjin,” you stated, your heart aching.

“No, please, I understand why you’re mad at me, and I’m a fucking dick for it, Y/N, but please just trust me this one time,” he pleaded, his gaze softening as he took a step towards you, his hand moving upwards to hold you by the waist but you slapped his hand away.

“Hyunjin, trust me, I really want to trust you, but I don’t want to constantly get disappointed and hurt again,” you spat out, “Do you know how hurt I felt when you literally lied to my face and that girl just appeared right behind you?”.

“And do you know how angry I felt when I saw you with that guy?!” he snapped, causing you to flinch. He noticed and his gaze softened, “I-I’m sorry-”

“I don’t give a fuck Hyunjin, you hurt me so much, do you think I care if you’re angry?” your voice cracked and you could feel tears welling up in your eyes as you relive the pain you felt just a while ago.

“Please Y/N, give me another chance, I promise you I won’t hurt you again,” he pleaded, sounding desperate as he took another step closer, your bodies almost touching as he looked at you.

He continued, “Don’t.. Walk away from me.. Don’t walk away from me.. please..?”

You shook your head, biting your lip, “Hyunjin.. I really don’t know..”. He cupped your cheeks and his eyes softened as he saw your hurt expression. He caressed your cheeks with his thumbs, his eyes looking at your facial features.

“I’ll do anything it takes to earn your forgiveness again, please?” he pleaded once more and all you could wish for was your heart to stop beating so fast so you could think straight.

“Okay,” you replied, but it came out as a raspy whisper. “Can I.. kiss you?” he questioned, his eyes already on your lips as he slowly started to lean closer to your face. You nodded your head, afraid that you were making the wrong choice, but your heart longed for this, your heart longed for him, and at this point you weren’t even thinking about the consequences.

As his lips finally landed on yours, you felt the tears break free from your eyes. He angled his head for more access to your mouth and your hands grabbed his shirt, slowly pulling him closer. The kiss was hesitant, Hyunjin probably afraid you would’ve pushed him away or reacted negatively, but once you responded, he released the breath he never realised he was holding in.

His mouth moved so tenderly against yours, mouths moving in a similar rhythm as he tries to show you how much he loves you without any words. His hands slowly slithered down to your waist and pulled you impossibly closer, feeling his warmth against you and you could slowly feel yourself losing to this kiss.You knew you’d only get hurt over and over again if you were with him, but being with him just feels so right. His lips complemented yours so well, and the way you both always ran back to each other just proves that the feeling was mutual.

You felt yourself growing breathless so you tapped his chest, signalling to pull back but he interpreted it different and only kissed you harder, causing you to form a muffled whimper as he kisses you more passionately, his lips moving more vigorously and he ran his lip on your bottom lip, silently asking for entrance and you obey. Your head was feeling fuzzy as he continued, slipping his tongue into your mouth and your tongues fighting in a fiery battle for dominance. He finally pulled back, panting heavily as he rested his forehead on yours and stared into your eyes intensely.

“Tonight, stay with me, okay?” he pleaded, his eyes soft as he continued to pant, his lips agape. You nodded, your heart about to burst from how fast it was beating. You stared at him, noticing the bruised spot on his cheek from your slap and you caressed the spot lightly, feeling guilty for it

Few days after the incident at the club, you and he became close again, reverting back to your old non-labelled relationship, your kisses being more passionate and your greed for each other being increasingly evident.

Today, he wanted to have a game-night with his boys and also invite you over, wanting your presence around him even as he hung out with his friends.

Maybe he was improving, since back then he wouldn’t even want to bring you near his friends from the fear of them finding out that you two were a thing.

Maybe now that he was more open to his friends seeing you and him together, he was serious about you, and maybe he’d be asking you out soon. Who knows?

Your heart flutters at the thought, thinking about all the different ways he would ask you out. Maybe he was going to do it while the other boys were around. Maybe another day, and he’d gift you a bouquet of flowers? Maybe a romantic dinner - the list goes on and on, but you just couldn’t wait to make it official with him.

Game night he said. His friends were sitting around you on the couch as 4 of them hold up Switch controllers, all of them yelling at each other as they stare intensely at the screen, trying to get the task in the game done.

In the room there was Chan, Minho, Jisung, Seungmin and of course, Hyunjin himself. Since there were only 4 controllers, everyone but you and Seungmin was playing, and you just awkwardly watched as they continuously shout random call-outs to each other. Seungmin was to your left, and Hyunjin was to your right, your legs in physical contact.

Being aware that Hyunjin was too occupied with the game, you looked at Seungmin who was attentively watching the screen, and feeling your gaze on him, he quickly looked back at you to form eye contact. He gave you a small grin and greeted you, “Hey Y/N”.

You knew Seungmin but never really talked to him even in class since he was always around other people. At other times, he was around Hyunjin, and you and Hyunjin never really talked publicly for.. many reasons, of course. This was the first time you actually had the opportunity to talk to him properly, and you mirrored the smile, greeting him back.

“Hey, Seungmin”.

You knew that even if he hung out with Hyunjin who could be a bad influence, Seungmin’s kind heart still remained, and your impression on him always remained positive from the times you see him in class. “How are you?” you questioned, feeling less awkward as you finally find someone to chat to while the others are busy with their game.

“Been okay, just been having my usual baseball practices, class been tough lately, you?”, he replied, the soft smile never leaving his face. You looked around the room and hummed like you were thinking and you shrugged, “Just been the same, I recently managed to find my lost camera so that’s great”. Upon saying that, you glanced at Hyunjin who was still chaotically playing his game, holding his fist up to cheer once they managed to finish their mission.

“Is that so? Must be nice finding something you lost,” “I agree,” someone to your right voiced out, feeling an arm wrap around your shoulder as they pulled you closer. You looked to your right and made eye contact with Hyunjin, him giving you a smug expression as you glared at him since he was the culprit.

“Say, wanna play Y/N? I bought a new game earlier this week, I think it’s pretty fun” Hyunjin questioned, his smug expression never leaving his face as your eyes softened, and you slowly nodded your head, “Why not?”.

Next thing you knew, you were holding the console and chasing after Hyunjin in the game. Apparently, the game name was 'Cops N Robbers’, and you scream at him from all the tactics he uses to juke you. The game setting was in prison, and you were the cop while he was the robber. There were snickers from the other boys who were also playing, finding it hilarious how naive you were to games and how Hyunjin could easily trick you.

“Y/N, don’t you think this reminds you of us?” He suddenly blurts out in the middle of his laughter. Still furious, trying to chase him, pressing the buttons aggressively “What the hell do you mean? Just get back here!”.

Hyunjin continued to laugh, “Like how you always chase me, y’know!”.

Your fingers stop moving on the console, taking the time to straighten your posture and look him in the eye. He sensed your gaze on him and he did the same, leaning back on the couch to give you his mischievous expression that you had a love-hate relationship with. Your face turned sour as you immediately understood his implication, and the corner of his mouth curved up while raising his eyebrows.

“It’s not one-sided, Hyun, it’s mutual,” you stated, your tone dead serious.

Hyunjin simply smiled, his eyes practically lighting up, “I know.”

You excused yourself after a while to use the restroom, needing a moment to yourself and as you finished washing your hands, you walked down the hallway and heard the other’s voices while wiping your damp hands on your shirt. You felt uneasy as you recalled the conversation you had earlier with him. ‘Like how you always chase me’ ‘I know’

So he knows that the two of you are after each other. Wouldn’t that mean that there is something special then? Maybe.. there is a need for establishment?

You stared into blank space, their voices gradually getting louder as you get closer, their words falling on deaf ears until you heard something that stood out to you.

“Are you guys seriously not going to get together?”

You feel your body turn cold and you instantly halt to a stop. You stopped breathing as if they would be able to hear you, and you slowly shuffled your way closer to be able to hear their conversation better. You peeked into the living room, seeing the back of their heads while seated on a couch, still playing.

You saw Seungmin avert his head to Hyunjin, “Yeah, seriously, the way y'all look at each other is insane.”

Seungmin wasn’t wrong. Your eyes then went to Hyunjin, though it was only the view of the back of his head, hopeful that his response would be something you wished for.

“Why do we need a label?”.

Oh. He continued, “Her and I are fine as we are now, we don’t need a label.”

Your heart dropped, shattered, sunk. His words were like a knife that just stabbed you in the heart, and it definitely was the opposite of the response you desired. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t hurt, but maybe he was right. Maybe a label is not needed, maybe you were just too expectant.

You instantly turned your back and sprinted back to the toilet, not caring if you were making noise. Tears welled up in your eyes, but you were not about to cry. Not now.

The boys had probably noticed your presence from the sounds you made as you shut the toilet door shut, looking into the mirror and turning on the faucet to wash your face.

One half of you was telling you that you should stop hoping, while the other half was telling you to establish what the both of you were,, and it was the only thing you could think about.

Fuck it. You’ll ask him later.

You stared at your own reflection on the mirror, the features of worry taking over as you bit your lip, praying for the best. If not, you were praying you’d be able to take his response well. You didn’t know which was scarier - losing him or yourself in the process.

“Hyunjin, don’t you think you’re too obsessed with that camera? It’s literally all you ever hold nowadays..” Seungmin grumbled, holding onto Hyunjin who was trying to pull his arm back. Seungmin pulled Hyunjin into the crowd of people, loud music blasting from the speakers that were placed at every corner of the place, people dancing and getting all over each other.

It was a sight that Hyunjin wasn’t unfamiliar with, but a sight that he wasn’t that uncomfortable with. The room was slightly dark, the disco lights flashing rainbow colours and Hyunjin sighed, wishing he was anywhere else but at the club.

“Now why’d you drag me here again?” Hyunjin grumbled, looking around the room, probably finding something he could photograph. He brought the camera to his eyes, angling it around to find something that could be photographed, whether it was the crowds of people dancing, or the sofa area where people were getting messy with each other.

“You’re such a fucking loser, y’know? Stuck in your room all day, get a girlfriend for fucks sake,” Seungmin hissed, sick of his best friend having an image of a loser.

“What’s the point? Relationships are so troublesome,” Hyunjin complained, still shifting his body to find anything to photograph until his camera is directly pointed to you, standing at one corner, talking to one of your girl friends and he accidentally snapped a photo, the flash turning on and he immediately tried to cover the flash with his hand, bringing the camera down frantically.

“Who’re you taking a photo of?” Seungmin followed the direction that Hyunjin was looking at, his eyes landing on you laughing with your other girl friends and he sighs.

“No one, it was an accident,” Hyunjin spat out, clearly flustered that he almost took a photo of a stranger.

“Are you interested in her?” Seungmin suddenly questioned, causing Hyunjin to choke on hair, putting his hand on his chest as he tried to stop coughing. Seungmin shook his head and patted his friend’s back, helping him to let all the air out.

“It’s okay to be interested. I’m kinda grateful you found something else other than your camera interesting for once,” Seungmin teased, watching Hyunjin recover and stand back straight.

Hyunjin cleared his throat, “Who is she?”. Seungmin smirked at his question, “That’s Y/N, she’s in the same class as me.”

“Is that so?” "Yeah, you like her?" Seungmin turned his neck to him, smirking at the boy. "Yeah."

After Hyunjin said goodbye to the boys at his apartment door, the sounds of the door closing and feet shuffling towards you could be heard. Your eyes were closed, head resting against the cushion of the couch as you folded your arms for extra warmth, and you felt a weight sink you down on the couch beside you. You felt an arm wrap around your shoulders, pulling you to lay on their shoulder and you inhaled a familiar scent, a scent that drove you crazy without fail.

You opened your eyes and looked up at Hyunjin who had his gaze locked onto you, his gaze dark as he scanned your features slowly. Your eyes, nose, lips, and he also studied your behaviour, noticing how you mirrored his actions and how your chest was rising up and down at a slow but steady pace.

His expression was unreadable - as usual, and the amount of thoughts that fill your head became overwhelming. No words were spoken, and you had no idea what was going to happen now that you and him were alone. So many questions you wanted to ask, and you were so afraid that if you said the wrong thing, he was going to slip away.

“What are you thinking about?” he spat out, finally breaking the silence between the two of you.

You hum in thought, thinking about the right words while looking into his eyes, your eyes flickering to his lips every once in a while and you finally respond, “Us”. It took a lot of confidence for you to confess that, and you bit your lip anxiously, almost instantly regretting it as you thought about how he would react to it.

The way your eyes constantly flickered to his lips didn’t go unnoticed, and the corner of his mouth curves up, his hands snaking down from around your shoulders to your waist, bringing you to closer proximity as he leaned in, “What are you talking about, Y/N?”.

His hot breath hits your lips, his eyelids halfway closed as you finally shoot the question that you’ve been dying to ask, “What are we?”.

In almost an instant, you could feel the mood of the atmosphere change. Hyunjin's breath hitched, leaning backwards and he looked at you, his expression still unreadable.

You loved how handsome he was, but you absolutely despised how you could never read him, never predict how he felt or what he was going to do next. Your eyes fell on his lips, watching how it was opening and you were anticipating his answer.

“It’s late, you should go home,” his tone shifted, sounding cold and distant. “What?” you looked at him, your eyes widened as you felt bewildered at his response. Is that even considered a response?

“You must be tired, let’s talk soon, yeah?” He moved back, removing his arm around your waist as he folded his arms, his gaze averting to the light above the two of you.

“Hyun-”

“I’m tired, Y/N, I can’t bring you home, sorry, I’m going to sleep now, goodnight.”

You watched as he stood up from the couch, the weight beside you disappearing. He was so evidently avoiding eye contact and he started to walk towards his room. Before he could step into his room, you stood up and blurted out, “I heard your conversation earlier!”.

He suddenly freezes, a few moments of silence before he turns around, his eyes finally meeting yours. “It’s not important, I don’t want to talk about it,” he firmly stated. This time, you could tell that he looked uncomfortable, angry even. His eyebrows were furrowed and he was sucking the insides of his cheeks, his jaw clenched.

This sight of him was like another knife added to your heart, and you bit your lip as you slowly nodded, “Okay.”

You didn’t know if it was appropriate, but you spoke up, “Goodnight, Hyun.”

You turned your back on him, picking all your things on the couch before pacing for the door, and as soon as you stepped outside, you slammed his front door shut. Once you were outside, you exhaled as if you were holding in a large amount of air and you leaned against the door, rethinking about what you just asked.

The thing you just asked may have just potentially ruined your entire relationship and you wanted to beat yourself up for it, wanting to turn back time and keep your mouth shut, but whatever’s been done is done, and you just have to wait and see what happens.

Before you knew it, it was the start of a period where he didn’t contact you. Like, at all.

Heck, he even avoided you like the plague. On campus whenever you’d see him, he’d notice you then turn the other away, pretending like he didn’t see you at all. You’d go to the photography club to see him more often and on days you were lucky, he was there, but he’d be occupied talking to someone else.

You’d patiently wait until he was finished conversing with the person but when he was done, he would find an excuse to leave as soon as possible. And every single time he did, he had this unpleasant expression on his face. It was the same one you saw the night you dropped the question on him, and you watched him slip away from you.

With Hyunjin practically gone from your life, you had more free time to hang out with Jay, but everytime you were with Jay on campus, you’d always catch Hyunjin staring at the two of you in your peripheral view, immediately looking away once eye contact was formed.

If you were going to be honest, you felt like shit. Were you seriously in the wrong for wanting to establish something? Wanting to make things official?

The first few days, you cried your eyes out, burying yourself in your blanket and feeling regretful for asking him in the first place. You constantly checked your phone for any notifications from him and reread your past chats to relive the past emotions. Once you even called him on accident, your face going cold but before you could drop the call, he had already rejected it.

Talk about brutal.

When Hyunjn was gone from your life, your life became peaceful, but was it really peaceful when he intentionally did it without warning? You eventually accepted it, limiting the amount of times you open your chats with him and looking out for him in the hallways.

3 weeks fly by, and you were so convinced that you’ve moved on from him - except you didn’t.

You tried finding the spark in other guys, like Jay, but your heart never melted for him the same way it did for Hyunjin. Your eyes never scanned the room for him like you did for Hyunjin, and you never checked your phone for his notifications like you did for Hyunjin.

What made it worse was that even with Hyunjin avoiding you, he was always somehow around you. Always.

In your favourite cafe whenever you were about to leave, you’d feel someone’s gaze on you and when you look up, you'd accidentally make eye contact with someone and it would've been him. He was definitely watching you the entire time you were there and you remained clueless about it.

Another time when you were eating lunch with Jay, you saw him at the corner of your eye, watching as he sucked his inner cheek and clenching his jaw.

You felt so many emotions. You felt upset and humiliated because you realised you were being toyed with, longing because you missed his touch and also satisfaction from the way he seemed jealous whenever you were with someone else and that he was always watching you.

It was as if you won the game, having him wrapped around your fingers and following you around like a dog, watching your every move. No matter how much you were in love with him, you were satisfied that you were getting under his skin and getting a reaction out of it, you loved seeing him pissed. It was difficult, but it used up every muscle in you to not lose self-respect to contact him again, whether it was by approaching him in real life or texting him.

You were sitting in front of your mirror, the air conditioner on, windows shut and the room dimly lit as you do your skincare, your thoughts drifting to Hyunjin when you suddenly get a notification.

As you swiped up a fair amount of moisturiser from the container into your index and middle finger, you looked at the direction of where your phone was facing downwards and shrugged it off, thinking that the message can be attended to after your self-care session. You applied the cream on your face, ensuring that each area on your face had equal amounts of it when your phone ding-ed again.

And again.

You raised your eyebrows and rushed to spread the cream evenly on your face, curious to who could be messaging you at this time at night. You hurriedly wiped the remaining cream on your neck as you quickly picked your phone up. You were expecting a spam notification from one of those brands you forgot you subscribed to, or maybe a message from Jay or Jake, but it was one you were never expecting.

hwangjin ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ : hey im outside

hwangjin ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ : open the door

Your eyes widened as your head shot forward in disbelief. You didn’t know if he was joking and was about to just turn your phone off until another one came in.

hwangjin ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ : please

Next thing you know, you swung your apartment door open to reveal a Hyunjin who was panting, probably from running, his leather jacket wrapped around his wide figure and you eyed him up and down, not believing the sight in front of you. You knew that you were going to see him again, but you never expected it to be at his own accord. Your jaw dropped slightly, your eyes scanning his entire figure.

“I’m cold, can I please go inside?”

Still slightly confused, you nodded your head slowly and moved aside, gesturing for him to go inside and he gave you a small smile, stepping in and you closed the door as he entered. You watched as he removed his shoes and placed it at the rack at the spot he usually places it.

Without looking back, he stepped into your living room as if he hadn't ignored your existence for 3 whole weeks.

You quickly followed behind him, watching his every move. It almost felt unreal that Hyunjin himself was in your living room, walking around. He set himself down on your couch, a loud sigh leaving him and he pursed his lips, looking up at you. Eye contact with Hyunjin wasn’t new, but with the thing of him ghosting you, you almost thought you were dreaming. You stared at him with your mouth slightly agape, your eyes not blinking even once as he chuckled.

“Why.. are you here?” you finally mutter out the question that confused you the most.

“I missed you,” he replied with no hesitation.

You were taken aback at how easily he could just show up at your place out of nowhere and just admit he misses you after ghosting your entire existence for a long period of time.

“What the fuck?” you blurted out, features of disgust taking over you.

“Look, I know I ignored you, okay? But-” “Yeah, you better have known you fucking did.”

He sighed, looking down and leaning forward, his arms resting on his knees and hands clamped together before continuing, “I just needed time. Time for myself.”

“For what exactly?” you shook your head in disbelief.

“I don’t know, my head was just.. Kinda all over the place,” there was a moment of silence before he continued, “I’m here because I want to make it up to you.”

“I’m not forgiving you so easily, Hyunjin. You threw me away too easily for 3 whole weeks.” “You’re counting?” “Of course I am, dipshit!” you shot and he only shook his head, a playful smile on his face indicating he wasn’t taking you seriously.

“I know it won’t be easy, but just give me another chance, hmm?” he pleaded, his eyes lighting up as he looked up at you, flashing a small pout.

You cross your arms, biting your lip as your mind gets flooded with so many thoughts. You wanted to forgive him, but you were afraid he was going to throw you away again. You wanted to shut him out, but you feel empty without him. “You can’t just leave and expect me to accept you into my life so easily,” you shot, feeling overwhelmed that you had to make a decision.

He stared at you in silence, so many thoughts behind his eyes before he suddenly held his hand up, “Let’s go on a walk”.

You tilted your neck, “Are you crazy?!’. You turned your head to look at the clock hanging near you, “It’s literally past midnight, Hyunjin!”.

“I know,” he replied, with no emotions in his voice. “I’ll bring you to eat your favourite,” he added.

“It’s cold outside,” you gave another excuse. He immediately unzipped his jacket, discarding it from his body and offered it to you. You shook your head in disbelief, “I just can’t-”.

“Please? Pretty sure your favourite cafe is still open, and I know a few photography spots if you wanna bring your camera along,” he asked again, his words so tempting. You sighed, not believing what you were going to say next, “Fine”.

That night, he brought you out to Chronos Brews, treated you to anything you wanted and you two eventually started to talk again, though you had your guard up.

You brought your camera and he really did bring you to a few photography spots that were amazing despite it being night time. You did this once.

And twice.

Thrice.

A fourth time wouldn’t hurt right?

He was now the one frequently messaging you, double-texting (sometimes even triple) and calling you at night just to hear your voice, and facetime you just to see your face. He even brought you flowers on a random occasion and you two went to school together, frequently heading to the photography club to chill together afterwards and hanging out afterwards. It was like how it was before, but you saw him even more frequently and you had no idea if it was a good or bad thing. But as long as your heart feels happy, right?

Frequently when you were with him, you’ve always felt a bit scared that he would just slip away again, part of you thinking it was because you asked the question but you tried to brush it off, thinking that you were just overreacting and that you should just be happy with whatever you have now.

Everything is so perfect now, why ruin it because of your overthinking?

You laid in his bed, his arms wrapped around you as he gently caressed and patted your back, his touch making you feel sleepy. The past few days have been amazing. Hyunjin was now doing everything that a boyfriend would do - bringing you more flowers, playing songs on his guitar for you, calling you every night just because he wanted to hear your voice and see your face, acting intimate with you even in the public eye.

He surely seemed more serious about you, wanting to show everyone that you belonged only to him, glaring and threatening anyone else who showed signs that they wanted to hit on you or even befriend you. You looked up at him, the way his eyes were closed and his bangs were covering his eyebrows, looking so peaceful.

You could tell that he was gradually falling asleep from how his hand movements got slower and weaker, and you only stared at his features, softly giggling to yourself about how cute he looked. His chest rose up and down slowly, his body completely relaxed with you in his arms and you could only wish that you and him could stay like this forever.

Sitting on his couch, your eyes were glued to his bare back as he stood at his kitchen sink, washing the dishes after you and him had eaten dinner together. You softly smiled, feeling comforted by his presence, finally feeling like he wanted you as much as you wanted him.

“Hyun,” you softly called out, and he hummed in response, his head slightly turning over his shoulder as he continued to wash the dishes.

“Come here, quick,” you pleaded, wanted to feel his warmth again and he chuckles, nodding his head but not sparing a glance at you. You observed as he finished washing the dishes, placing the plates on the drying rack and washing his hands before he turned his back, eyes forming eye contact and he approached you with a small grin on his face.

He sat himself beside you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you to his chest, “Miss me that much?”. You giggled and nodded your head, ruffling your head into his neck.

“Hyun,” you softly called out, your heart starting to beat faster as you mustered up courage to shoot the question again.

You continued, “Can I ask you a question?”. He hummed, caressing your shoulder with his thumb, and you shot your gaze at him, looking at him with doe eyes.

“What is it, Y/N?” he smiled down at you, his eyes filled with affection. Looking at how comfortable he was, it warmed up your heart and made your chest feel fuzzy, butterflies filling your stomach and you couldn’t help but feel that your feelings were being properly reciprocated.

“Promise me you won’t get mad?” you asked, suddenly feeling hesitant. You had faith that he wouldn’t get angry anymore from how much the two of you have been bonding the past few weeks, but you still felt dubious since you remember how fast he switched up the last time you asked him the question. You were afraid he was going to slip away again, but you were hoping that this time he’d react differently.

“As long as it’s not that one dumbass question, I won’t,” he chuckled and your heart instantly dropped. Your smile started to fade and you blinked at him in confusion,

“What ‘dumbass’ question are you.. Referring to?”.

“That stupid ‘what are we’ question or whatever you asked last time,” he spoke, the smile on his face remaining which caused your heart to shatter. Even after all this time with you, he still didn’t want to establish anything and even called the question ‘stupid’.

You immediately pulled away from him, features of hurt on your face as it was now his turn to be confused, the warmth he felt from you slowly disappearing.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, and the way he was so clueless made you feel so irritated, “Oh..” he now understood your reaction, “Don’t tell me you were going to ask that shit again..”.

“I don’t see what’s so ‘stupid’ about it, Hyunjin” you spat out, frowning your eyebrows as you felt a knife stab your heart.

“No-” he seemed flabbergasted by your response and scoffed, “I don’t see what’s so important about knowing what we are, Y/N,” his words twisted the knife in your heart, and you clenched your fists, your fingers turning paper white from how tightly you were clenching them, “Can’t we just be happy as we are? Don’t you think it’s fun?”

“It’s not fucking fun, Hyunjin!” you snapped, and his eyes widened, taken aback that you raised your voice at him. He stared at you, his jaw dropped and his eyes darkened, his eyes expressing how infuriated he felt. You continued, “I’m worried every single fucking day that you’re going to just suddenly slip away one day, Hyun,” you bit your lip and your voice started to crack, “Why don’t you want the same thing? After everything?”.

He took a deep breath and turned away for a second, huffing air afterwards and causing his bangs to fly up. “Do you realise how much of a clingy, annoying bitch you sound right now?!” he yelled, causing you to flinch. Your eyes widened as you realised what he said, bewildered that he could say such degrading words to you. You both stared at each other, the weight of the air being heavy and the knife in your heart twisting even more now.

“Clingy.. Annoying.. Bitch?” you repeated, your voice soft and in disbelief as you still needed to process what he said to you.

“I thought you were different, Y/N, it was more fun when you weren’t worried about all these shitty things,” he continued, and you shook your head. “Since I’m not so fucking different, then I can just walk out right now, can’t I?” you stood up from the couch, your body still fully facing him as you kept your guard up in case he tried to do anything to you.

“Fuck, just go! I don’t give a fuck!” he yelled and you could feel tears forming in your eyes, but you weren’t crying. Not right now, not in front of him. You weren’t going to let a dick break your heart and make you feel sad. You flashed him a hurt expression and almost in a snap, his facial expression softened, “Wait- Y/N- I didn’t mean tha-”

“I’ll go since you want me gone so bad,” you stormed to his room to take the bag that was laying on the floor, looking around to ensure you left nothing behind. He quickly followed behind you, trying to get you to look at him, “Y/N, please look at me”.

You ignored all his pleads, not even sparing him a glance as you walked past him out of his room, already heading straight for the door. He grabbed your wrist and you stopped moving, “Please, I didn’t mean that Y/N and you know that”.

You flicked his hand away from your wrist, turning your body to look at him, tears already breaking free from your eyes as you shouted, “I’m fucking sick of being treated just as one of your toys! I’m done Hyun, I don’t wanna see you anymore!”

“I’m sorry Y/N, I didn’t mean it-”

“I’m done. I’m done with.. whatever we have!”

You turned your back to him, heading straight for the door. This was the moment you’d never thought you’d be experiencing so soon. You were so afraid of the day that this was going to happen, and now that it happened, you had no idea how to feel. You opened his front door and looked at him one more time before stepping out and slamming the door shut.

The day you left, he tried to contact you multiple times, whether it was call, text, going to your house, approaching you in school, but you brushed him away every single time. You didn't want to deal with his bullshit anymore, but he wanted you to let you understand his perspective. The last time you saw him, he mentioned a time, date and location. You had the choice to go, but you didn't know if you were going to meet him. You didn't know if you were ready or if it was worth hearing it.

That day eventually came, and you were just hugging your pillow, all cozy in your bed. Your phone vibrated and you lazily rolled over your bed to pick it up and see what notification you received. Your heart aching when you realised it was from him, a feeling you were so familiar with.

hwangjin : hey

hwangjin : you remember we're meeting up right?

You knew that if you went, it could possibly be the end of everything. A part of you was so afraid of what he was going to say. You were about to turn off your phone until more notifications came in.

hwangjin ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ : i'm really sorry, okay?

hwangjin ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ : i really hope you come

hwangjin ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ : give me a chance to explain myself

hwangjin ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ : okay?

You received another notification which broke your train of thought.

Weather Alert: 🌧️ Heavy Rain Expected! 🌧️ Get ready for showers! Rain is expected to start within the next hour and continue throughout the evening. Make sure to carry an umbrella and stay safe.

"Y/N!" the familiar voice called out to you, and you scanned around the cafe until you spotted the figure that was aggressively waving his hands and looking at you.

You sighed at the sight of him, not looking forward to the conversation you two are going to have. You took your time to walk to him, dragging the chair opposite of him and sitting yourself down, his eyes locked onto you and watching your every move.

You set your eyes on the table, realising how all your favourite items from the menu were nicely set down and you looked up at him, noticing his guilty expression.

"I.. bought your favourite!" His voice sounded nervous, and you looked at the classic New York cheesecake that was served on a nice small rounded plate, accompanied by the usual passion yoghurt smoothie that was packaged in a plastic cup, a small amount of whipping cream overflowing from the hole of the dome lid.

You raised your eyebrows at him, praying that whatever explanation he had would be convincing enough and make your anger for him perish.

You pick up the small fork that was resting on the plate and stab the cake, putting the cake to your mouth and chewing. You didn't say a single word, you wanted him to do all the talking so you could evaluate to see if he was even being serious about wanting to clear up the misunderstandings you both shared.

You savored the sweet taste that filled your taste buds as you continued to eat on the cake, patiently waiting for him to speak up.

"Y/N..." your eyes travelled to his, raising your eyebrows as you anticipated what he was going to say. "I love you."

You dropped your fork to the floor, creating a loud metallic sound across the entire cafe. You received glances from other people, but they quickly went back to their business. You blinked at Hyunjin in disbelief to what he had just confessed, and your mind that was overflowing with thoughts suddenly cleared up.

His confession didn't particularly make you feel overjoyed, just shocked. You'd be lying if you said you would have expected this.

"You.. love me?" you blurted out, still feeling taken aback by his sudden confession when you were expecting him to do anything else, like apologise or whatever.

"Yes. Yes I do," his voice sounded serious. You were never expecting the day that Hyunjin, your situationship, was going to be direct with his feelings and not fucking around.

"How so?" you shot out, curious as to his reasons on why he 'loves' you. A soft thunder accompanied your question, adding more suspense to the situation.

He looked slightly taken aback by your sudden question before he cleared his throat and looked around, blood rushing to the tips of his ears and a hint of pink flashing.

"I.. love the way you look so gorgeous" he hesitated, but he looked relieved after mustering up the courage to voice it out. You didn't feel satisfied one bit. You only felt annoyed at his answer, scoffing upon hearing it. "Okayyy? That's all?".

He seemed slightly puzzled as to how the first reason wasn't sufficient, but he cleared his throat and continued, "I like the way you kiss me.. hug me..". You rolled your eyes, not feeling a pinch of sincerity in his words and you sat back, folding your arms.

"Are you serious right now?" you scowled. Even a kid in elementary school could show more sincerity than Hyunjin, and this thought made you just want to slap him and leave him.

"Why wouldn't I be, Y/N?" he asked, giving you the puppy eyes before you roll your eyes once more, the annoyed feeling slowly turning into irritation. You spat out, "Let's be serious, Hyunjin. You're only with me for fun". A louder thunder was followed by your words, the sound of rain dropping commencing.

His facial expression immediately showed that he felt offended, and he defended himself, "If I was only with you for fun, I wouldn't be thinking about you every fucking second!".

'Now that's what I'm talking about.' you thought.

He continued to rambled on, "I wouldn't be imagining you while messing around with other people, or—"

"Okay, so what are we?"

He fell silent but he continued to stare at you, noticing the grimace on your face. He finally spoke up after a while, "We're friends".

'Ouch,' you thought.

"So we're friends that hug, kiss and get jealous over each other?" you contradicted his statement, your tone filled with sarcasm.

"Friends with benefits?" he stated, almost sounding confused and it made you want to scream at him.

"No.." you stood up from your chair, taking your belongings and he mirrors your actions, immediately standing up and panicking and feeling puzzled as to why you were preparing to leave. "Y/N—"

"No. I don't want to do this anymore." you stated, tears slowly forming in your eyes as you shot a glare at Hyunjin. He bit his lips and seemed unsure of what to do, and this sight of him broke your heart even more.

You picked up your bag, storming out and upon opening the front door of the cafe, you soon realised that it was pouring heavily, but it was the least of your concerns. You stepped out into the rain, feeling the cold water hit your skin and you shivered at the contrast in temperatures from inside and outside of the cafe.

You heard a voice behind you, "Wait, please!". You knew it was him, and it took every part of you to just not turn around and just continue walking, but you were forced to a stop when he gripped your wrist tightly to prevent you from walking even further. "Please.. can we just please talk?".

"I'm just.. so fucking confused! What the hell are we?!" you cried out, throwing his hand and turning your body to him, your tears continuously running down your cheeks but blending with the raindrops that fell onto your face. Your face wrinkled up, feeling so furious yet the emptiness in your heart yearning so much for Hyunjin.

Hyunjin's gaze softened at you, his eyes showing remorse as he cupped your cheeks, pecking your forehead before resting his forehead on yours. You continued, "I don't see a point in this, you already stated clearly that we're just friends with benefits, you don't want a label, but that's exactly what I want, Hyunjin".

"You love me, and I love you, so I don't see why it's so hard to—" you rambled on but your words were quickly put to a stop when he placed his lips on yours. Your hands immediately snaked up to his scalp, grabbing his hair while he cupped your cheeks, pulling your face closer to him. The kiss was slow and intimate, and it was almost like all your problems and misunderstanding vanished in one second.

The rain continued to pour, both of your bodies getting increasingly drenched but it was a problem that didn't bother you and Hyunjin. The warmth that was filling your bodies was sufficient, and the burning desire for each other only brought the two of you closer.

He tilted his neck in desperation to gain more access to you. He softly nibbled on your bottom lip, silently asking for permission for you to open your mouth, and without any reluctance, you opened your mouth.

Your tongue is immediately met with his, and they are swirling against each other. He took this chance to explore your mouth, your heart slowly melting at the passionate kiss. Blood rushed to your faces, both of your faces being a bright red as you both were desperate to sate your desires for each other.

It was obvious, you two were made for each other. Regardless if there was a label or not, you both always ran back into each other.

He softly pulled away, his eyes locked onto yours as he beamed at you. You returned an annoyed smile, and you ran your hand through his dripping hair, slicking it back.

"Please just tell me, I don't want to just be your 'maybe', Hyun," you stared into him, your gaze intense.

"For all I know, you aren't just a 'maybe', Y/N," he replied.

There were a few moments of silence before he continued, "I'm scared, Y/N, I really am," he tucked a hair that stuck to your face behind your ear, the raindrops never stopping to drench your bodies, "But I wanna figure it out with you, please".

You shook your head, not feeling completely satisfied but you were feeling happy that he was honest. He finally opened up to you, and you felt like it was a big improvement.

You two stared at each other for a moment, and you chuckled at the sight of him, warmth filling your heart as you felt like everything had changed. Realising that you were chuckling at him, he stuck his tongue out at you, and pecking your cheek afterwards, holding you oh-so-gently.

"Don't hurt me again," you said, but it came out as a raspy whisper and he slowly nodded.

"Of course," he replied. "I love you," he blurted out and it caught you off-guard, but you quickly composed yourself and chuckled at him, squeezing his cheek, "You're so adorable, you know?".

"Don't tease me, god,"

"I love you too," you replied. "I know you do"

And he pulled you into another kiss.

taglist! : @chwesuh-imnida @hyunlvrs @aft2rsexs @laylasbunbunny @neosracha @axhyyy @zennnnny @superbbananananana

@tsunderelino @skzdedgf (just thought you'd like to get tagged!)

236 notes · View notes

chocosvt · 1 month

Text

HER | part five.

✧✎ synopsis: wonwoo, a heartbroken and burnt out writer nearing the end of his math degree, wants nothing to do with the seemingly perfect, intimidating girl who has everyone under her thumb. you. unfortunately, his literary talent has got him shoved him between a rock and a hard place when you want to write a book and require his expertise. you two are the furthest from compatible. wonwoo can’t see this going well. at all.

pairing: wonwoo x fem!reader word count: 23.8k genres/tropes: writer!wonwoo, university!au, plug!vernon + boyfriend!mingyu as prominent side characters, SLOWBURN (i am not fucking around this is my slowest burn yet), relationship drama, soul searching, strong angst/hurt (i’m coming for the jugular), comfort, romance, smut, a smoothie of every emotion on earth.

(!) warnings: drug use (weed, cocaine, ecstasy), wonwoo has anxiety + anxiety attacks + fairly dark thoughts, prescribed medication, gambling, intense language, infidelity, throwing up.

✧✎ a/n: just some quick things i want to make apparent!

the fic is told from wonwoo’s pov, not the reader’s!

all major timeline events are organized through chronological dates

any smut or potentially triggering scenes are NOT MARKED bc the content is already quite mature, so just plz be aware of that!

bolded and italicized text implies the characters are conversing in korean, tho it doesn’t happen often!

the fic in its entirety is 140k, so it has been split into 6 parts.

posting a bit earlier tn since i've got work tmo morning! i can't believe there is only one part left after this one!! :o

last chapter was angst up to the eyeballs so hopefully this one mends some of that heartache <3 still, much has yet to happen! this chapter contains one of my fave scenes teehee.

⇢ part one | part two | part three | part four | part six ⇢ soundtrack for those curious! ⇢ read at ur own pace! :)

—AUGUST 3RD.

The last time Wonwoo had been at your apartment to help you write, it was around the evening, into supper. He remembered the scent from the three-wick candles lit up in the kitchen—bonfire and vanilla—which you insisted was a necessity because it was the perfect way to relax your tense mind. Deciding not to cook, you had ordered Chinese takeout instead, and the entirety of the evening was spent sitting criss-cross on the comfortable rug splayed across the living room floor, indulging in warm food, writing, and letting the TV flick through a random season of your favourite drama show.

It was perfect.

Even now, as he sat on the bench across the street from your apartment complex, Wonwoo could still recall all the infinitesimal details—the fried crunch to every vegetable-filled spring roll, how the candles softly crackled when you blew them out at the end of the night, your small and very sleepy voice bidding him goodbye as you walked Wonwoo downstairs into the lobby—each memory sprung alive with such vividness. Wonwoo wished he could be poised outside your apartment knowing everything was the same; undamaged and intact. But that was an outcome too blissful for reality to maintain.

You had a specific nightly routine, particularly on Thursdays, after work: showering, followed by having a quickly thrown together dinner, applying a face mask, and then a movie before bed. He found himself memorizing a lot of your patterns over the months.

Wonwoo hadn’t texted you—he was doing this completely unprompted, without an inkling of his arrival. Maybe that was a terrible idea which should be discarded for something gentler and less likely to explode in his face, but that would only lead to more ruminating and more ruminating meant less doing.

The thing was, it was nearing eight o’clock. Wonwoo had been sitting on the bench for almost a half hour while the sun gradually sank, watching the occasional green leaf flutter down from the chestnut oaks adorning and shading the parkway behind him. The longer he waited, the further the shadows of the trees stretched, until he was completely engulfed and framed alone underneath their dark, cool silhouettes. Light still spilled across the street, igniting the space where everyone else was strolling, each person steadfast in their pace to be somewhere that wasn’t a sunset orange city street.

Breathing out slowly, Wonwoo glanced down at his hands.

It was like the first time he met you.

Just suck it up. Go do it.

He walked between the trimmed hedges that led to the complex door. The lobby area was exactly as he remembered it, though Wonwoo had come to learn those little complimentary desserts and cucumber waters set out the first day he visited you were no longer a thing, which you had vehemently complained to him about during a brief promenade through the park—another one of your palate cleansing ideas.

“Oh! Those pastries, by the way—they stopped doing them! I heard about it from my neighbour when I went down to get the mail. I was pissed, pissed, pissed! Apparently, there’s a lady who made them specifically for our complex because her grandson lived there. Well, he’s moved out now, so we all got fucked! If I don’t get my cute little lemon square with the raspberry on top and the powdered confectionary sugar all placed in a decorative doily, I will legit kill myself. Something has to be done… hey—can you bake, at all?”

Hence your immeasurable disappointment when Wonwoo revealed to you that he wasn’t notably talented at baking. Still, the incident provoked him to spend at least an hour a night researching different recipes for lemon squares that he could manage to pull off if given enough time and a handful of supplemental trial and error.

Wonwoo pushed the button to the elevator.

The heartbeat heavied in his chest while waiting for the doors to pull apart, the anticipation and nervousness coming down hard like thick snow flurries. A commercial ding at last echoed throughout the vacant lobby. Wonwoo immediately stepped into the small, confined space, feeling his breaths begin to drag, becoming almost audible in his desire for more oxygen.

Without a doubt, this was probably the hardest thing Wonwoo had ever done in his life. Even moving away from the comfortability and closeness of his family in Changwon—no matter their disagreements or quarrels—couldn’t compare to the emotion so palpably tugging within him akin to an ocean tide under a full moon.

He felt every twinge, but he was still doing well to maintain his composure, though Wonwoo couldn’t help himself from fearing that the control might leave him in the cold wind of seeing you again.

To look into your eyes could feel quite dissecting and Wonwoo didn’t know if he was yet strong enough to stomach the scrutinization despite how warranted it was. The best he could do was to expect nothing—this wasn’t about gaining closure, or basking in the liberation from righting a wrong—it was about the effort of accepting a profoundly hurtful problem he caused. You were hit front and centre by the shrapnel and you deserved to hear acknowledgement.

At the moment of reaching your floor, he didn't knock straight away.

Wonwoo stood outside the unit for a moment, removing his glasses and pulling at the sleeve to his large black hoodie, massaging away a smudge from the lens. After fitting the frames back to his face, he knocked. Each breath was fluttery. He tried so damn hard to soothe himself because life was unfortunately not a loop of constant aid and permanent reassurance and sometimes there was no other option but to be discomforted. At least he had his own company.

There was no movement from behind the door.

Swallowing very dryly, Wonwoo knocked again.

Nerves twisted in his stomach and turned his complexion pallid, though it was just on the edge of manageable and Wonwoo would have otherwise been quite proud if not for the lock suddenly clicking and the gentle, slow twisting of the doorknob. His fist clenched, the blunt nail on his index finger picking at his scarred cuticle.

Even when he saw you—Her—for the first time in over a month, accompanying the liminal doorway, staring back at him with an expression that he could use an entire pencil detailing, Wonwoo was able to sustain his control. Still, his heart was fucking racing.

Your eyes were wide, glassy, though somewhat veiled by the dip in your brows that began to gradually furl deeper in their recognition of his presence. He felt his stomach drop faster than lightspeed when a frown twitched into your lips, distorting the surprise in your face to anger, while the fingers at your leg curled into a rigid fist. There was a dewiness to your bare cheeks and a sweetened aroma from your skin that suggested you had gotten out from the shower not too long ago.

Wonwoo relaxed his hands.

“Hey.”

Expectantly, you said nothing.

There was a rolling, emotional sea unabashed to your face, continuously morphing between every shade of wrath within the sticky silence. Wonwoo worried you might slam the door shut.

He needed to say something fast.

“I know what you want to do—you want to close me out. I get that. I can see it all over your body. And, believe me, I understand.”

Your hand grabbed the edge of the door. That initial glassiness in your eyes only grew glimmerier; the frown tacked onto your mouth somehow threaded with even more fulgurant rage. He could see that you were going to snuff him into nothing, like grabbing onto a candle wick with your fingers despite the hot wax and flame.

But it couldn’t end so abruptly.

Wonwoo held up his hands, baring his palms in defense.

“Just—okay. Her, I hurt you. Hurt is even too weak of a word to use. I know that. I promise I do. I know what I did… and… and I know that I must have some fucking gal to come here unannounced after everything I said, but I've got an explanation. I swear.”

There was notable uplift in his chest, watching your grip loosen on the door, fall down to the handle, losing the hostility. Wonwoo paused to catch his breath, ensuring his eyes never wavered.

“And… if you decide to listen to me… and you still really don’t want me in your life… I-I can respect that. If all you want is for me to disappear and never bother you again… I can respect that…” he felt sick just voicing it, like he could faint at the prospect. “It might be such a stupid fucking thing for me to say, considering how I treated you, but I genuinely want to do whatever will make you happiest.”

Was it good enough? Feasible, even marginally?

Wonwoo didn’t know. He could only stand in place and study the metamorphosis of your face—from deep-seeded anger, to something pained and unintelligible, and now, contemplation. The inner monologue in your head was probably running on overdrive.

Your fingernails carved into the door.

He kept quiet, waiting, until you quickly wiped something from your cheek and swallowed the lump in your throat.

“… Fine,” you uttered in a raspy, weak tone.

Relief struck him like a breeze during a heatwave.

“Thank yo—”

“But if I say I want you to leave, then you will leave, and you will not say one word on your way out my door or spare me one glance, even if it’s from the corner of your fucking eye.”

Wonwoo was staring straight into your gaze, then shifting to the pointed finger sticking in his face. You were deadly serious.

He nodded.

Finally, however, you stepped aside to let him in.

Wonwoo didn’t know if he should sit or stand. If he should grab a stool at the marbled kitchen island or come to fit himself at the edge of the cream sofa. The interior was pretty much identical to his previous visit, though he realized that a few potted plants you once kept by the elegant floor-length windows were missing—he’d assumed they’d died—it was probably somehow his fault.

“Um, where should we—where do you want to—”

“Kitchen.”

With your arms folded stiff, you walked behind the island.

He stood on the opposite side, knowing it was likely not a coincidence that you opted to put a barrier between yourselves.

It was a foolish idea and he would certainly not extrapolate, but Wonwoo wanted to ask about you. He wanted to know how your work was going at the beauty salon, if you had any more obnoxious dinner parties with your parents—were you still writing? To even look at you from across the hard countertop, captured in the quiet dimness of your kitchen, with your soft and bare face and those cute silk pyjamas, was enough to stop his heart if he allowed it.

Wonwoo pushed up his glasses, sighing.

“Before I explain anything… I just want to say—”

“I don’t care about that,” you interrupted without hesitation, eyes scalding and sharp, “I know you’re sorry. It’s the least you could feel after everything you said to me. I don’t care.”

“R-Right…” he trailed off, sensing the heat from the overhead lights as though they were shining directly into his face. Wonwoo pulled at the sleeves of his hoodie, gulping, “I guess you want to know—"

“Why. I want to know why you did what you did.”

“Why?” He echoed dumbly.

“Yes, why. Pull out an entire script and apologize—I don’t want that. Acknowledge what you did—good for you. I’m glad you can see how fucked up it was, all while I had to cope with your analysis on why I’m such a god-awful person. People say sorry all the time. I know it can be genuine. I just don’t care. Sorry doesn’t help me understand. Sorry doesn’t take away the weeks I lost, tearing myself apart. Sorry doesn’t mean fucking anything to me if all you’re apologizing for is something I already lived and breathed.”

“No, that—yeah, it makes sense...”

His fingers suddenly gripped the edge of the island, knuckles ivory white. Your intensity was more disorienting than a drug, but Wonwoo knew he needed to stay calm. Breathe. Listen.

“Okay, so?” You shrugged. “Tell me, then.”

“Why I did what I did…” Wonwoo exhaled, staring at his reflection in the marble while his mind twitched into complete blankness. “Well... I-I guess I was feeling… there was a lot I was feeling and... fuck.”

At the last second, he scraped everything he was going to say.

Wonwoo then looked up at you, who was so cold and reluctant.

“You know, um… before I met you, I had a girlfriend. I know I've never mentioned it. But her name was Jeanie. I met her at the university, actually. She worked in the Morrison library—like, the big stone building that looks like a castle, almost. Anyway. I met her because I needed to sign out a textbook for this elective I was taking and she helped me find it… Jeanie. Yeah. I don’t know if you ever saw her or—she was really shy. But I felt like she listened well, no matter what you were saying, or what you were talking about. She would give you her full attention. And… I just remember thinking… I could tell you anything, Jeanie. I could tell you I fucking pushed someone in front of a bus and you would wait and listen and hear me out until the end. She would make you feel… normal… human.

But—the thing is—I’m sort of laughing because I’m saying all this now, but… at the time, even despite my love for her, and how much I trusted her… I just… I kept her out. I didn’t think it was a bad thing. She knew I had anxiety, but never knew how bad. I never told her I stopped taking my pills. I never told her my actual feelings about anything… like, despite having this perfect person in my life, I still couldn’t open up. I didn’t think there was much harm to it, either. It would cause tension. Things would get… uncomfortable… but as long as she was there, I was like—I can get away with this. I don’t need to really discuss anything. She will always be here.

And then… one day… she just… wasn’t… uh—ahem—sorry, just—something in my throat, b-but, uh… yeah. She was gone. All her clothes, all her belongings: toothbrush, makeup, clothes, stuffed toys, notebooks, mugs, house decorations. It was all gone. I remember coming home to an apartment that was stripped bare. Like a skeleton. She took every part of herself from it. And all I could do was dumbly stand there and look at the bones.

Her number was disconnected, too. There was no one I could get a hold of that would tell me anything until I got this weird, vague email from her mom. ‘My daughter won’t be seeing you anymore. She’s safe. No need to worry.’ Those words picked themselves into my brain. I would go to sleep seeing them. I would repeat them in my head all night, and wake up with them still chiming. And I thought to myself, with all the weight in my heart… how could she do this? How could she leave and take everything and erase me without a word? It had to be her and it had to be the world just proving my point: being vulnerable, trusting, expressive—it isn’t worth it.

I really, truly believed it. I mean, I held onto it. I always looked at her as the one with the issue, but—fuck—it was me. I was the fucking issue. I… I must have made her feel so unimportant. I probably confused her, destroyed our trust, fucked up her concept of love. Like… I made her feel so trapped… that she felt the best thing to do was disappear, because there was no other way out… I made her feel that way. Me. It was me the entire time. And… I never really processed that until you were six feet away, screaming at me, cursing me up and down in the same living room I came home to that day, all emptied out. I had it out with you, the way I never had with Jeanie…

And the truth is, Her… I kind of… I always sort of knew I had that problem. I lived without ever wanting to acknowledge it. But I never really… I-I basically… I didn’t care about fixing it until I met you.”

Wonwoo tilted his head and stared at your quivering bottom lip, the shininess to your razor-sharp eyes, the manner in which your fingernails were sinching indents upon the skin of your biceps.

He paused, chuckling.

“I know I already told you… but you used to terrify me. I didn’t think we would ever mesh. Whenever I looked at you, I saw someone who knew herself, and I was so severely the opposite. But miraculously, I guess, you ended up being the person I feel the most comfortable with… when I see someone strong like you unravel, it makes me want to unravel, too. The trust I had for you was infinite.”

From across the island, Wonwoo noted how your eyes momentarily drifted down. A lump was sitting square at the base of your throat and it took a very dense swallow for you to even speak.

“… Had?” You whispered with a sniffle, hugging yourself.

Rolling out his shoulders, Wonwoo frowned.

“It was the party, Her. If you remember us talking in the guest bedroom… I told you that story about my brother and I, about my decision to move from Changwon… you’d nearly grappled Bells down to the ground an hour before. You apologized to me because you thought it ruined my night, but I promised you that it was fine, that I would always be here for you. And then we split ways. And you… you were… well, there’s really no clean way to say it but—”

“I had sex with Mingyu.”

“Uh, well… yeah.”

You shook your head. “He’s my boyfriend, Wonwoo.”

“I know, I know. It makes it sound stupid but—”

“No—wait. You’re pissed at me because I chose to have sex with my boyfriend? Are you—are you hearing yourself?”

“Her, please, listen—”

“I went through all of your bullshit because of that!”

“Can I just—”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

“It was because I liked you!”

Wonwoo’s heart was thumping almost audibly against his chest while his veins soared with adrenaline. Your fists were sitting, balled, on the kitchen island, though they began to unfurl as the weight cupping his confession—which was a mild version of what he truly meant to say—hung in the air like the plumes from a wildfire.

“I liked you, a lot," he admitted, watching your eyes slim with confusion, "and I’m sorry if that ruins us even more… but it’s true.”

“Wha—what—no. What do you mean you liked me? You liked me as in what? You liked me in a crushy silly way that’s just for fun, o-or you liked me in a serious way, that’s like, you want to… you want…”

Your mouth hung open, shoulders hunching.

His teeth gritted. “I thought I could… I wanted to…”

“Please just spit it out.”

“I wanted to be with you. I wanted to be your boyfriend.”

Flares of heat melted slow across his face. Wonwoo could feel his temperature climatically rising. Still, it wasn’t the entire truth. His likeness wasn’t just that—it was a fully blossomed and unshakeable love. Though, he figured it might be too much, too suddenly.

“O-Oh…” you stuttered, “… and, you thought that…”

“Maybe you felt the way I did. Not that I’m going to ask if you did or didn’t. I mean, this was over a month ago. I’ve had lots of time to myself. I’ve been thinking plenty… the point is, I let those feelings affect my clarity and that’s why I felt so hurt. I felt like I was so open and candour just to kinda have it… thrown back in my face. But it just seems like every relationship I have, I sabotage it somehow… I didn’t go about us in the right way—not at all. It blew up into something terrible. I wish every day that I would have handled it differently. But I didn’t. I kept my mouth shut when I should have just talked to you.”

“Oh… god, Wonwoo.”

“I-I don’t know. It was late, and I was high—you were off a line of coke for fuck’s sake—I just—in that moment, didn’t it feel… like we were something? More than friends? Maybe you don’t remember everything. Some of it’s a blur, even to me. Like some fever dream.”

“No… I do remember some of it. I remember the spare bedroom. I remember how fucking comfortable that bed was. You were there… you were… helping me… and we... I know at some point we were lying down together but I don’t remember what I was thinking or everything I said… it’s just—it’s a lot… too much, almost.”

A groan reverberated from within your deepest cavity and he could only watch through the warm kitchen light as you leaned forward into your hands, your body slumped against the countertop and radiating with agony. Wonwoo didn’t know what to make of the spectacle, though he chose to let you swim in whatever sentiment was swallowing you whole, your head beginning to shake back and forth.

“Wonwoo… listen… I get that—I get what you’re saying, okay? I get that you have this fucking problem with vulnerability, and trust, and the—the, um—the self-sabotaging. I know. I have that, too. And I can understand that it was possible to misinterpret us…”

That word was like a decommissioning punch to his gut—misinterpret—as though it was merely wishful, ditzy thinking and it was him and him alone living inside the delusion despite the fact you were snuggling up against him. However, Wonwoo bit his tongue and simply listened. He didn’t need his bruised heart getting in the way.

“But that night was just—it was irresponsible, okay? On both our parts. I have a boyfriend who I very much l-like, and… and we’re just—you and I, I mean—we’re good at being friends. And you said it yourself that you’ve had time to think and get past it, so…”

“… Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

Wonwoo didn’t need his love to be reciprocated nor did he want to know if you actually harboured any feelings toward him back then. All he desired was for you to get what you had plainly wanted—the why. Perhaps it was unsatisfactory, lacklustre, or maybe it was beyond ridiculous and too inconceivable for words.

He was grateful that he’d even made it this far.

With a heavy, laboured sigh, you managed to push yourself from the marbled counter. A hand then propped onto your hip.

Your nails clicked once against the island.

“So… that’s it, huh?” There was a nasally tone to your voice.

Biting his lip, Wonwoo adjusted his glasses, nodding. “Mmhm.”

Your head tilted straight back, like you were attempting to stop a runny trail of tears from escaping down your cheeks. You suckled in a breath, pressed your lips together firmly.

And then, abruptly, you laughed, pinching at your nose while your eyes squeezed shut. It was an exhausted, humourless laugh.

“Fuck… fuck, fuck, fuck.”

He didn’t exactly know what it was you were cursing, whether it be the realization of what the fight actually meant, or a reaction to his timid, but expired, confession. It could be that the information was too daunting and you were left with no instinct of how to manage it. Wonwoo chewed down on his tongue, keeping silent.

When your eyes opened again, they fell toward the fridge.

“Um… wasn’t it your birthday? Back in July?” You asked with a wet sniffle, brushing a wrist underneath your nose.

“Yeah… July seventeenth.”

Not bothering to speak, you walked over to the fridge and pulled the door open, pale light emanating from inside as you rifled around, moving containers and cartons and fresh produce. It was then that you revealed a cardboard box. Returning to the counter, you set the box in the very centre, and with trembling hands, you began unsticking the corners in order to reveal the surprise inside—a decent sized cupcake, frosted high with thick, white icing.

You sniffed again, turning to grab something from a utensil drawer, and then another item or two out the cupboard.

“It’s from Terra Cotta—it’s just a red velvet cupcake with cream cheese icing—which I ordered as a dessert when I ate out with Princess the other night. But I was too full to eat it after stuffing my face with pasta, unfortunately. So, I got it packaged up. Stuck it in the fridge. Forgot about its existence until now.”

A butter knife fell onto the island, followed by a lighter and a single pink candle. You sighed, eyes turning waterier by the minute, and Wonwoo felt a twinge in his chest that ached like hell.

“Do you like red velvet cake?”

Wonwoo huffed, shrugging. “Um, I’m not sure. Never had it.”

You picked up the candle. “Want to?”

He smiled. “Sure.”

Rather than keeping the cupcake inside the box, you moved the dessert delicately onto a clean porcelain plate and proceeded to shut the lights off. The orange sunset that painted the streets had bled out all its lurid colour. Wonwoo was just beginning to realize how dark it was in the apartment. You propped the pink candle into the expertly piped cream cheese frosting and ignited the tiny wick. A shivering halo of fire reflected in the marble countertop as the flame wriggled and the wax burnt.

Honestly, he didn’t know what the moment signified—if it was a mere gesture of forgiveness, or just a simple means to release all the tension—Wonwoo had not a clue. He thought he should be looking at the cupcake but Wonwoo was looking at you and the lambent glow flickering across your very upset, still face.

Sniffling again, you picked up the butter knife.

“Okay… hurry up and make a wish, please.”

“Really?” Wonwoo chuckled. “You want me to make a wish?”

“Uh… yes. That’s what people do when it’s their birthday.”

“It’s not my birthday.”

“Well—fuck—the spirit of your birthday, then.”

“You're asking a lot of me, you know. All this pressure.”

“Oh my god—it's just one ditsy little wish. I'm not asking you to write out your will, or solve world hunger. It's one stupid, tiny wish. For the sake of the moment. Hurry up before the wax drips on the icing.”

“I think you can just peel the wax off once it hardens—”

“Fuck! I don’t care, Wonwoo! God! Just—” he watched with a satisfactory smirk as you leaned forward and impatiently blew out the candle for him, “—there! Now, you don’t even get the opportunity to make a wish. Hope it was worth it.”

“So, you made a wish in my place, right?”

“Shut up. I’m cutting you the smaller half.”

“You didn't answer my question, though.”

“Hey, I don’t sound like that.”

“No, I didn't make a wish in your place—here.”

“Thank you.”

“… How does it taste?”

“Uh, it’s good. A little firm. The icing is really rich, but I suppose that’s typical of cream cheese stuff. But overall, I like it.”

“I really love red velvet. Especially in cupcake form.”

“Hm. Didn’t know that.”

“I wonder if I could get a dozen ordered for my birthday...”

“We’re celebrating my birthday and you’re already thinking of your own? Can you at least wait until I’m out the fucking door?”

“You said it doesn’t matter!”

“Now, that’s not what I said.”

“Don't act like such a smart ass.”

Wonwoo knew he missed your quippy retorts, but he hadn’t realized he’d missed it this much. It was filling a pitted crater within his chest that had remained empty and stone cold ever since the argument.

As you turned the kitchen light back on, Wonwoo stuffed the rest of the frosted cupcake into his mouth and dusted his hands clean.

He didn’t know what was supposed to happen now.

Stubbornly, Wonwoo didn’t want to leave your apartment. It had been too long since he’d last seen your beautiful face, and half his summer was already wasted to lamenting the relationship he’d ungraciously snipped in half like a fresh garden rose. If you wanted him to leave, then he would oblige, because Wonwoo could never go back on his word to abide by the choices that might make you the happiest. That was what he cared about most, anyway.

From the opposite side of the island, you began to cross your arms again, fingers digging tight into your ribs. Wonwoo could see that the hues of grief and melancholy hadn’t really abandoned your face since his arrival, and the tears that had earlier welled up in your eyes were steadily returning, glinting along your bottom lashes as though they were dew droplets. Feeling his throat turn dry and sensing the air become dampened with your sadness, Wonwoo knew what you were going to ask—he braced himself quick.

“So… um…” you began pulling at the short sleeve of your silk-buttoned top, rolling the fabric between uneasy fingers, “it’s getting a little bit late and I just t-think you should go now, Wonwoo…”

He nodded, pushing at his glasses. “Yeah… of course.”

There was such an evident somberness about the way his feet dragged toward the door. You had walked him over, and now that the space between you was significantly less, Wonwoo had never battled so hard with his self-control to keep himself from touching you—even if it was just a slight, chaste brush of his fingers against yours—the simplicity and feel of your strawberry-scented skin would appease his constant aching. He glanced at you, saw that your arms were still crossed and your eyes trained to muse over the floorboards.

Wonwoo scraped against the cuticle of his thumb.

Does he just… leave?

It felt too abrupt.

He smiled at you, keeping it soft and mindful.

“Thank you for listening to me… I mean it… you didn’t have to but you did anyway and… uh, I don’t know. Just—thank you.”

“Mmhm…”

You were squeezing at your ribs even tighter now, pressing in your fingers so unnaturally deep. In fact, Wonwoo was beginning to feel worried, especially when he noticed the quivering in your frame and the hard bite you were sinking into your lower lip—how there were tears streaking one by one down the slope of your cheeks.

Wonwoo’s hand had been lingering on the doorknob, though it slipped off absentmindedly. He wanted to reach for your shoulder and give it a comfortable, warm massage, but he was still too fearful.

“Her… are you alright?”

After a cautious step closer, Wonwoo paused, attempting to peer at your face despite its pointed direction toward the floor. The question was worthless, he realized. You were crying and choking up.

“Do you… should I go?”

God—what an even more stupid question to ask—the thing he wanted to do least was leave when you were this hurt. But Wonwoo needed to know if it was his presence that was disturbing you.

You shook your head, sniffled up all the wet, runny congestion in your nose. He watched the teeth free from your lip as you gasped.

“I-I don’t know… I’m really, really sad, Wonwoo.”

He thought he might panic in the midst of your crumbling, however, there was too much guilt and heartache inside him.

“I know…” he murmured.

Somehow, it felt so criminal to just stand there and watch you weep, hearing every desperate attempt for a breath as you could only clutch onto yourself harder and let the tears helplessly fall.

Wonwoo swallowed, feeling his throat burn.

“Can I comfort you for a bit?”

You hiccupped, and your face pinched up in complete misery, the response struggling to escape through the large sob you cried out.

“Please.”

Immediately, his hands braced against the edges of your very warm, wet face. The heat was radiating like a summer blacktop, and the tears were quick to pool against his fingers as he did his darndest to softly clean and wipe them from your skin—though, Wonwoo came to accept that it might be futile—and he opted to cup your cheeks for just a brief moment, staring into your damp lashes and puffy eyes.

“Still such a gorgeous girl, even when you’re crying.”

You huffed at him, grasping onto his hoodie and tugging it.

“I need you closer, please.”

Waddling into his arms, your face smushed right against his shoulder. In the dim august dusk that meekly glowed through the windows of your downtown, sumptuous apartment, Wonwoo cradled you, coaxing a hand nice and gentle along your trembling head while his arm kept you secured firm into his body. As wonderful as it felt to hold you in the way he always dreamt of, Wonwoo knew that those tears wrinkling his clothes were mostly driven by him.

Your arms dug into his chest. It seemed like you wanted to burrow impossibly closer, into his ribs if you could, but the desire frustratingly couldn’t be fulfilled. To compensate, Wonwoo attempted to squeeze you even more, though he was somewhat afraid of cracking you in half. Maybe that’s what you were craving.

But he liked you very much alive.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into your hair, still damp from the shower and rife with the scent of fragrant blossoms, “I know you don’t want me to apologize, but I have to. Everything I said to you… it was just stupid, pent-up rage from my own shortcomings… so much was building inside me and I made such a dumb fucking mistake—taking our situation and using it as a target—it was all bullshit..." inhaling a breath, Wonwoo sighed. "I shouldn’t have let you walk out that door… but I don’t think you would have wanted to listen, anyway... you probably would have just told me again to go fuck myself… you know, that was actually the first time I’ve ever been told that?”

Your cheek nuzzled against his shoulder. The breath you proceeded to cough out made it sound like you were terribly ill.

“T-That’s hard to believe…”

Wonwoo smiled, smoothing a hand down your back. “You think so?”

Threading your fingers deeper into his hoodie, you nodded.

Stopping to contemplate, Wonwoo ended up agreeing, “hm… yeah... you’re right. There were probably a lot of times in my life where I deserved to hear that. But you’re the first, anyway.”

“Y-You… you deserve to hear it again… I mean, what were you thinking, Wonwoo?” Raising your head from his shoulder and sucking in a much-needed breath, you rubbed at the glisten iridescent to your face. “I didn’t know… I was just trying to t-tal-talk to you…”

Wonwoo unstuck some small, matted hairs from your forehead, guiding them away with the daintiest movements.

“I know you were...” he answered, keeping his voice quiet.

“And then, in the car… I-I just sat there and cried for so long that the sky got dark. I didn’t know what to do—like, I thought I might call Mingyu but he was at work a-and I had no idea what I would even say to him... and then, I called Princess. And she said I could come over and I legit couldn’t get one fucking word out to her.”

Meanwhile focusing on your choked, heavy sentiments, Wonwoo continued to clean the tears from your face. A warm hand had grabbed onto his wrist, not stopping him—just gently holding—as though you needed the contact to ground yourself, even a little bit.

“The shitty part was… even when I was at my angriest… I still couldn’t get myself to hate you. But I wanted it so bad, Wonwoo. I stayed up almost every night, trying to convince myself that you were the worst person I ever met, a-and that I would be better off without you—that you were a poison to me and everything about you is just a ruse to hurt people. No matter what I told myself, nothing would ever work… because I would—I-I don’t fucking know—I would think about how fucking good you make me feel inside. H-How happy I am when I’m with you. You listen to me, a-and you care about my thoughts and my interests and you’re just—you—you fucking live inside me somehow and I want you out so bad but there’s nothing I can do.”

Wonwoo had removed his hands from your face.

They slid down to your hips. He squeezed them tight, digging his thumbs into your flesh and bone over the silken shorts.

“You live inside me, too.”

Rubbing off your nose, you shook your head angrily.

“It can’t be like that.”

His throat twisted up.

“Why?”

“B-Because it—it can’t. You know I have Mingyu…”

“I only think about you. It’s always you. I don’t want it to change.” Wonwoo pleaded, hanging onto every word—trying to search for your eyes despite the adamant refusal to meet his gaze.

“But I just—I can’t do it.”

“Why?”

“Because!” You pushed at his broad chest, forcing him away as the anguished, grief-stricken shout reverberated between the high ceilings. Gripping at your head, you started to cry again. “I-I’m still so fucking angry at you, Wonwoo. I hate holding onto it and I hate that it’s been over a month and I’m still processing everything, but I can’t just move on from those feelings! I have to see it through. ”

The air was ice cold against him.

He just wanted your perfect body back in his arms.

“O-Okay… okay. I get it.”

“You do? Because I can’t keep reliving this. I just can’t.”

Wonwoo sighed, curling his fingers in and out.

“No, I—I hear you. I promise.”

You still needed time. You weren’t ready to forgive him. That was okay, and he wasn’t the least bit vexated by it. If he had to wait an entire year, then he would wait. Nothing would shake him from you.

Slapping a palm against your cheek, you shoved away the further tears which were seeming to become an annoyance. Wonwoo wanted desperately to be the one to wipe your pretty face and kiss away the salty taste of your sadness, but he knew not to push his luck.

Beyond the windowpanes, the sky was nearly pitch black, pinpricked by all the distant lights from the city buildings.

“I’ll go now, okay?” Wonwoo murmured.

Folding your arms, you sniffled a little, nodding.

“Okay...”

He wanted to say goodnight to you, but then he thought of that rule you had proclaimed during your late-night phone conversation many moons ago—you had to say it first as courtesy.

Except, you were silent.

Nonetheless, Wonwoo had liked to think it was sitting right on the tip of your tongue, just as it was sitting on his.

—SEPTEMBER 8TH.

When he thought back on his summer, Wonwoo couldn’t believe the quickness with which it had flown by, especially considering how nauseously slow some parts moved while he existed, trapped, inside them. Still, it was probably Wonwoo’s most eventful summer since his move from Korea, in more ways than one. Now, it was back to university for his final year as a maths student, and Wonwoo actually couldn’t be happier for the introduction of routine and the opportunity to test all the inner workings he’d accomplished.

Just last week, Vernon had thrown together a small party in the backyard of his friend’s rental home. He was housesitting, and though Wonwoo wasn’t sure why the friend in question would pick a promiscuous drug dealer for hospitality upkeep, the party was apparently approved and Wonwoo had made the effort to attend.

It gave him the chance to reunite with Seungcheol and Seokmin who he’d unintentionally given the cold shoulder. He was just thankful they were relaxed about everything. The night was spent swapping stories from their summer by the makeshift firepit, drinking cold beers, and watching the fireflies twinkle in the dry backyard brush. Vernon had spent all his time sweet-talking some new girl he’d invited from the club, and when they disappeared inside for about half an hour, Wonwoo prayed his bladder could hold out.

Wonwoo had also invited Sierra.

He figured she was just too warm and amicable and he knew she would get along seamlessly with everyone there.

Since they last spoke downstairs in the pottery shop during late July, Sierra had gotten herself a girlfriend—a patron of the Honeymoon who worked up the courage to ask Sierra out after admiring her bartending skills, as he’d heard it—and Wonwoo was more than happy to extend the invite. Seungcheol had predictably brought along Princess, though Wonwoo hadn’t been too worried. They seemed to be on good terms despite the chip in the relationship.

If you had been in town at the time, Wonwoo would have invited you, too. But you weren’t, instead accompanying your mother on a three-day venture outside the city for some publisher’s trip.

But he kept you in mind the entire night. He saw you in the wide, bright moon sitting squarely above the crackling fire, and he felt you in the colder breezes that whispered the beginnings of a soft, fresh autumn. You were everywhere inside him, just like his blood.

Wonwoo had liked to think he’d done it right. All those conversations he shared with you over the phone since the reunion at your apartment seemed promising—even when they flared and ached like a broken bone—Wonwoo had just wanted to hear your voice and know your heart. Though, the conclusion had dipped him in a strange, confusing predicament he still struggled to reason.

“I think we work best as friends… we’ll always be friends.”

The moment was followed by the most intense silence, and then Wonwoo had shifted the phone against his ear, spreading on an audible smile that couldn’t have looked any faker in person.

“Yeah… I see that, too.”

But he didn’t.

He was still in love with you.

And now Wonwoo didn’t know what to do.

You had come to an agreement that he should no longer help you with the book as it had been a point of contention since the start. Plus, you were now confident enough in your skills to finish it.

Surprisingly, Wonwoo was okay with that.

Nonetheless, he did offer his help if you ever needed it.

In fact, as Wonwoo sat in the small auditorium for his newest elective—the continuation to last year’s creative writing—he was scrolling through an old document you had sent him months ago, containing a litany of the same messily written paragraph, just rehashed as you attempted to find the best wording for it. Wonwoo couldn’t help but smile against the palm squishing at his chin.

Your mind always did seem to work in twelve different ways.

Since he’d shown up early to the lecture, Wonwoo was able to pick a good seat in the middle. He recognized a few faces from last year as more students began to trickle in. Wonwoo kept his bookbag on the chair to his right because he liked the extra space, though he began fearing he might have to move it when the lecture hall filled to a degree past his expectations. Since when did all these people take the class last year? Was it because of the new professor? He spun a pen between his fingers, observing everyone rather judgementally.

“Hey—are you saving a seat for your non-existent friend, or are you leaving your bag here to make sure no one else would sit beside you? Not that anyone would want to with the way you’re begrudgingly staring down every single person who walks in here.”

Wonwoo grinned, the pen stilling into his hand.

He knew your attitude like the ducks on his aunt’s shower curtain.

“If it’s such a big deal to you, you can move it.”

“Oh, can I? Do I get the pleasure of moving your bookbag, Wonwoo? Are you really that kind as to save such a life-changing, personal, and intimate experience, just for me?”

Smirking up at you, Wonwoo dropped his bag onto the floor.

He was promptly greeted by a very shiny smile.

“That’s what I thought,” you said matter-of-factly, setting your iconic cream purse onto your lap after sliding into the chair.

“So,” Wonwoo huffed, leaning back and casting you a curious glance, “you didn’t tell me you were going to take creative writing.”

Pulling out some chapstick, you laughed. “Uh—you didn’t tell me, either,” the comment was wry and muttered through the obstacle of moisturizing your lips.

Scratching his temple, Wonwoo chuckled, “fair.”

“Gosh, there’s so many people in here. Way more than I was expecting. I mean, who even are these goddamn people? I hardly recognize any of them—oh my gosh, do you think it’s because of the new professor? I looked her up, you know. She’s published three books—they’ve all got crazy good accolades—and one of them was even made into a movie! That has to be why. Should I try to get face time with her after class? No—actually, I won’t. Then I look totally desperate. I’ll play it cool. I’ll wait until, like, three classes from now.”

“Well, you’re never short of making an impression.”

“Meaning what?”

“Fuck,” Wonwoo laughed, “what the fuck do you think it means? It’s not like I’m talking in morse code. You make an impression.”

You smacked a hand down on his knee. “Well, how do I know if you mean good or bad! And don't curse at me like that.”

“Okay, okay. You're right. I'm sorry.”

“Are you?”

“Yes,” he replied, softening his voice, “I am very extremely sorry.”

That little smile you gave him was enchanting.

Wonwoo cleared his throat. “And I meant good, obviously.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. If you say anything to her, she’ll love you.”

“That’s a bit extreme.”

“She’ll keep you reasonably in her thoughts?”

“Hm. Yes. I like that better,” you agreed.

While you busied yourself with removing the laptop from your purse and taking an extra minute to inspect your face with a small, compact mirror, Wonwoo glanced around the room again. A few people standing by the professor’s podium at the front were looking at you, their mouths moving in conversation, though Wonwoo could hear none of it from the general chatter. He supposed you were used to getting those dissecting, curious, maybe even sometimes hurtful stares. There was always a light shining on you, wanted or not.

As Wonwoo pulled open the class syllabus on his laptop, he felt a tap against his shoulder. Slightly turning his head, he spotted someone shuffling by in the cramped row behind him, waving.

“Hey, Wonwoo,” the stranger said quickly in passing.

Squinting at him through his glasses, Wonwoo nodded. “Uh, hey.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Who was that?”

He shrugged. “No idea. Someone from last year, I guess.”

“I see. Mr. Popular. Taking names and breaking hearts.”

Wonwoo laughed, shaking his head. “The opposite, actually.”

You giggled so lightly at his response, and for a very slow moment, Wonwoo saw and felt the heat of your eyes stilling in focus upon his face. He squirmed somewhat in his seat, fingers picking at the rough, dark blue material upholstered over the chair’s arm. But then you resumed staring back at yourself in the compact mirror while applying another layer of lip balm, and Wonwoo had to subtly breathe out all the butterflies that fluttered up from his stomach.

With a satisfying snap, you’d shut the mirror, stuffing it back into the purse that was sitting atop his bag on the floor. He wanted to ask you how the book was coming along, how much progress you had made since he last proofread anything, if you were still engaging in those messily long sentences or had you since learned to clean them up.

But it was hard for Wonwoo to ask.

He studied the nervous hands in his lap.

“So… are you free after class?”

You tilted your head in thought. “Uh, I think so? This is my only class today, actually. No more SSA. I’m beyond happy. No one else seemed to take it well but me. I don’t care, though.”

“No, you made the right choice.”

“So, why do you ask?” Angling your body toward him, you smiled, and Wonwoo felt this pool of warmth expand in his chest.

“Do you want to stop at the café on Sunnyside?”

“Maybe. Is it good? I’ve never actually ate there.”

“I think it’s good,” he said, bouncing his knee. “I used to sit in there all the time. I don’t as much anymore, but it’s a cute place to visit. About a ten-minute walk from here. Plus, it’s nice outside.”

You nodded. “I’ll think it over.”

Knowing that class was starting soon, Wonwoo moved the phone sitting on the edge of his tabletop into his back pocket.

“Actually, can I ask you something?”

He stiffened in his seat, hardly managing a nod. That always seemed to be a weighted question, especially in your hands, and the fact that you were biting the skin of your bottom lip only stirred forth more worry. Wonwoo folded his arms and nodded, feeling his heart beat.

“Well, it’s just—there’s no exact date yet, okay? But sometime in very late September my family is having another dinner party.”

Wonwoo’s fingers dug into his arms. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah…” you trailed off, continuing to bite your lip, “and, I basically—I-I’ve kind of been blabbing to my mom and stuff. You’ve definitely come up in some conversations. She made a comment that I could invite you and even though I disagree with her on, like, millions of things, I thought it might be a good idea…” your eyes flashed at him doubtfully. “So, like, I’m not gonna force you or anything. I’ve ranted to you about these dinner parties before so I’m sure you know how awful they can be. But… I don’t know… I mean, you don’t even have to stay the entire time. You could just pop by, o-or, or something like that. I just… I think seeing you before will help calm me down.”

Out of everything you could have asked, Wonwoo was least expecting the dinner party question. It seemed to have a very routine structure and Wonwoo couldn’t help but think that his presence there might throw everything off-kilter and the last—the very fucking last—thing he wanted was for your parents to absolutely loathe him. You always complained about them. Even with Mingyu and Seokmin there to accompany you, it seemed never to be enough. However, Wonwoo would hate to leave you hanging so dryly out in the open.

Even if he dreaded it, you mattered more to him than any awkward or nervous sentiments he harboured about the situation.

“Uh… okay. Yeah. I can go.”

You straightened up like a hair standing on end. “Really?!”

He nodded, pushing up his glasses. “Yeah.”

“Oh my gosh! You’re the best!”

Leaning over the chair rest, you bracketed your arms around Wonwoo’s neck, squeezing him into a quick hug that left his heart racing. Your sweet smell lingered in his nose as you slipped away.

“That’s such a relief… and—yes—for as much as I complain about it, I promise I’ll do my absolute best to keep everything on the rails. I’ll get you out of anything awkward or uncomfortable. And if you feel like it’s too much, I’ll be right there. I promise.”

Wonwoo smiled bashfully, shaking his head.

“Don’t put so much pressure on yourself. I can manage a few shit conversations and uncomfortable silences. I’ve got my own problematic parents. I appreciate the thought, though. Means a lot.”

It would be another matter to anxiously dwell over until it actually happened, but Wonwoo was okay with it knowing how receptive you had become to his mood. More than anything, he didn’t know how to deal with Mingyu. The party had been decent. There were multiple people to bounce off and uplift the weight, substances to mellow the tension and distract the mind. But this felt very different. This would be more intimate. Less room for error in the form of lasting, arduous glances and short but gentle touches.

All he hoped for is that it might end better than the party.

—SEPTEMBER 29TH.

“So, I’ll come pick you up, okay? Just gotta text me.”

“… Yeah, that works. Okay.”

“Take a breath, Glasses. If anyone’s got this, it’s you, alright? No negative Nina shit. You’re lookin’ gorgeous, even more than me.”

“It’s Nancy.”

“What?”

“It’s—never mind.”

“Who’s Nancy?”

“I said never mind.”

“Okay, okay. Jeez… make sure you drop the attitude when you get in there. It’s not very cute of you, yeah?”

Wonwoo felt Vernon’s hand grip onto his shoulder, bestowing him a confident shake that somehow only served to reveal how jellied and weak he’d become. But Wonwoo also knew he couldn’t sit inside the mint-scented interior of his friend’s vanilla Camry the entire night, waiting for some lightning bolt to strike him with the energy he blatantly needed. Consequently, his attitude had gotten a bit snappy.

Vernon was right, though. Wonwoo had to find it within himself to relax, take a breath, and realize the time would fly once he was past the initial haze. Besides, you were there. That was all he really cared about. It made the most impossible things possible.

Looking down at the sleek, unwrinkled material of his black suit jacket, Wonwoo gave it a final and deciding tug. He then reached for the gift bag sitting by his feet. Inhaling, his lungs filled deep with air and Wonwoo was clicking his fist against Vernon’s.

“You’ve got this, playboy.”

“See you on the other side, I guess.”

Exiting the vehicle, Wonwoo spared one last hopeful glance at his face-studded friend before slamming the door shut, now caught outside underneath the moon’s shimmer. Late nights in September always seemed to be somewhat dewy and cold, with golden, ruby, and amber leaves slicked against the streets like flowers pressed into paper. Wonwoo shivered, smelling the earthiness in the atmosphere.

After tightening his fingers around the straps of the gift bag, he began making his way up the smoothly paved driveway, toward the welcoming and aglow ambiance that beamed from your family house.

He grabbed the rung at the door, slamming it a few times.

The anxious breath slowly flowed from his mouth as Wonwoo’s mind raced with who would be the one to answer. Feeling his circled glasses slip, Wonwoo pushed them back up using his finger. At the same time, the front door swung open, and in the clarity, relief washed over him like the caress of that autumn wind.

“Fuck! You’re here!”

Before Wonwoo could get a word out, your arms were already thrown around his neck. The hug was fleeting. As quickly as your body was pressed flush against his, it was gone a second later.

“Uh, yeah. Just got dropped off.”

“Oh my gosh. Come in, come in,” you chirped like an excited bird, pulling at his elbow, “I’m legit so happy you’re here. Don’t worry about taking off your shoes. I know I’m barefoot at the moment but I’ve been so freaking scatterbrained that I haven’t even picked out a pair of heels yet. You look amazing. I’ve never seen you dressed up!”

His face began to burn at the compliment.

“I don’t attend many things that require fancy clothes.”

“Well, there’s a first for everything.”

Smiling, Wonwoo realized that he hadn’t really marvelled your dress, but there was something awfully familiar about it—the shiny olive-green colour, the elegant, revealing slit at the right thigh, the thin yet simple straps draped along the open, lowcut back—he then remembered it was the final dress you had tried on from that expensive boutique in the mall. Somehow, the material looked even more stunning on you now than it did before.

His face grew warmer, sizzling almost.

“That dress has always looked perfect on you.”

There was so much more he could spew in the moment, some cloying, sweet thoughts and some very impure ones, too. But Wonwoo wasn’t trying to cross boundaries and he had to respect your wishes of staying as friends, even if it tore him up inside beyond words.

Fiddling with your fingers, you gave him a soft smile. “I’m glad you recognized it.”

The hallway suddenly got very quiet. You were both just standing there, staring at each other, biting lips and scratching skin.

“So, um, I guess I can show you arou—”

“Oh, there they are! Honey, they’re out here!”

Wonwoo’s tender gaze had suddenly snapped toward a woman barging out from an illuminated doorway, a wine glass poised in her hand while the largest, most bedazzled necklace he had ever seen weighed down to her chest. Weathered heels beat the floorboards, echoing between the walls as she stalked toward him.

“You must be Wonwoo!”

Her hand was gripping onto his wrist and Wonwoo could only prompt a weak smile that was indicative of his racing, feeble heart.

“Yeah, correct. Pleased to finally meet you.”

“Oh, charmer. Pleasure’s all mine, sunshine. Okay, but—let me get a good look at you. Don’t feel like you have to stand by the doorway, all polite-like. Come a bit more into the light, over here.”

“Mom, don’t pull him,” you warned between clenched teeth.

“Ah, it’s alright, it’s alright. Don’t fret so much. Sheesh.”

Standing beneath the warm and yellow glow from the hallway chandelier, there was notable heaviness in Wonwoo’s chest as your mother’s dilated, intensive gaze wracked along his every feature, as though she were the reading the fine print to one of her catalogues.

“You’re certainly gorgeous,” she complimented, “and that voice! So soothing. How do you not have a lovely lady on your arm?”

Wonwoo’s eyes skipped to you in complete and utter panic.

Grabbing onto her shoulder, you gently guided her away.

“Mom, come on. You’re smothering him, alright? Remember the thing with Mingyu? I told you not to do that anymore. He just got here and I want him to actually enjoy himself. Don’t be so… pouncey.”

“Okay. I got it,” the mom said, lifting her hand and wine glass in submission, seeming serious for no less a few seconds. “The princess of the house, FYI. She always gets what she wants.”

You knocked her touch away as she wriggled your chin, very poorly veiling your annoyance through a grumble, “it’s not like that.”

“Didn’t I call in your father? What’s taking so long?”

“I don’t know. He’s probably hiding in his office.”

“Is that where he is? Really? When I asked him to set the table? Jeez. You spend all day cooking a meal, chopping and dicing and braising and frying, and the man just can’t be bothered to put out some knives and forks. This is why I opened the wine early, y’know.”

Your arms folded, and you appeared so much smaller.

“Seokmin set the table already.”

“Oh! What—he—he did? I didn't even notice!”

“Yes, like an hour ago.”

“Oh my gosh! That boy’s an angel. Raised so well, wasn’t he? You know Seokmin, right, Wonwoo? You’re all friends?”

Awkwardly shifting in his place, Wonwoo nodded. He couldn’t help but wonder where Seokmin or Mingyu were. There was dulled music echoing softly from a distant room in the house. Down the hallway corridor, it seemed to open up into a big living space.

Suddenly, your mom began to wiggle her finger at the bag he was holding limp in his hand, and for a moment, Wonwoo had even forgot it existed. She sipped from her gradually disappearing wine again, her words sounding muffled as they fogged up the glass.

“Is that a gift I spot in your hand, dear?”

“Oh, yeah,” he answered.

Flattening a palm over the intricate jewel necklace glittering down her chest, your mother fawned adoringly, and Wonwoo’s stomach immediately dropped knowing it wasn’t her gift at all.

“Gosh! You shouldn’t’ve!”

“Uh, a-actually, it’s not—it was—I got this for your daughter.”

His gut twisted, watching the excitement and gleam drain from your mother’s face, her smile wiped away like an eraser to a penciled drawing. At least you had brightened up, though it wasn’t without caution, and Wonwoo wasn’t entirely sure what to say.

Straightening her spine, a grin then twitched unnaturally to her mouth. She was directly back into the wine for another drink.

“Well, that’s certainly thoughtful.” Wiping off her lips, she unnervingly held Wonwoo’s gaze for a brief moment, her eyes harder than diamonds. She then turned toward you, proceeding to gesture in a swirling motion with her finger at your face. “Sweetheart, if you don’t mind, could you take a few minutes to just fix your makeup?”

Your expression faltered, shoulders sagging.

“My makeup? What’s wrong with it?”

“Well, the lashes are lifting a bit. It’s not too noticeable in this dusky hallway but out in the proper light, everyone will be able to tell. And I wouldn’t use that shade of lipstick. Remember the tip I gave you? When we take photos that colour is not going to show well.”

“I do remember, yes. But I thought it could match with—”

“No but’s. These dinners are important for us, alright? Go fix.”

Wonwoo held his breath. In all his time spent getting to know you—your likes and dislikes, your pet peeves and oddly specific rules about the way things should work—the one cardinal sin was to never interrupt you. Even when he was fighting tooth and nail against you in his apartment, aching with hurt and bitterness, he didn’t cut you off once to get his word over yours. He doubted Mingyu had ever done it, and he was positive Seokmin hadn’t, either. To actually witness it felt somewhat like a crime requiring swift punishment.

Though, for all that Wonwoo was expecting in response to the rage that had just rippled across your face, there was nothing.

Because you’d choked it down like foul cough syrup.

He watched the fist unclench at your side.

“Okay,” you stated in surprising simplicity, “I’ll go fix it,” still with a sprinkle of attitude that your mother opted to ignore as she announced her trip into the kitchen to check the food.

The second she was obscured from view, a noticeable glisten of tears and exhaustion glimmered in your eyes, though you sucked all the emotions back with a deep, deep breath.

“Do you want to come with me, upstairs for a second?” You asked in a tight, shaky voice. “Unless you want to find Seokmin.”

Wonwoo shook his head. “No, I’ll see him later. Of course I’ll come with you,” he answered, smiling at you with all his tenderness.

He proceeded to follow you up a dimly lit staircase draped in a chocolate brown rug. The house looked quite small from the outside, hidden almost, by the inky night, but as Wonwoo accompanied you at the robust, wooden dresser kept against the corridor wall, he realized just how long the house actually was.

Your lower back pressed against the dresser, hands gripping the edges and fingers scraping the underside of the chestnut.

Wonwoo left the gift bag sitting next to an amorphous, black metallic sculpture that he couldn’t even begin to understand, then dusting off his palms and watching you shake your head.

“I mean, you’ve only been here for five minutes, and I’m already breaking out my seams,” you laughed, dabbing at a tear travelling too far down your cheek. “I’m sorry. I didn’t intend for it to be like this so soon and I’m not gonna force you to stay.”

“Stop saying that,” Wonwoo urged, tucking his hands into his pockets, “I told you I would come. I’m not going to abandon you.”

You paused, biting the swollen skin of your bottom lip.

“… Okay.” Looking down at the ground, you wiped your damp face again before hugging yourself. “She always does this… she always has something to point out. Nothing can ever be perfect for her. I’ve spent, like, all day, preparing myself, because that’s what she wants, and it’s still not enough. I don’t get it. I feel—” you sucked in a needy breath, pinching at your nose, “—I feel like I’m just some stupid doll she’s trying to perfect, but I never came perfect in the first place, so it’s all a big waste, and somehow, it’s my fault… I know I’m unloading and I’m sorry for that, too. This day has just been—I hate it. I hate these dinners. I fucking hate everything about them. I want to bang my head against the wall.”

Wonwoo smiled at you.

He untucked a hand from his pocket and reached for the clenched fist at your hip, spreading apart your fingers into his.

“Don’t worry about that. I’m listening, okay?”

Though your eyes were misty with tears and tiredness, you managed to return a frail little grin that was deeply sincere. Your hand tightened in his for a moment, and then you were stepping into him like he was a fresh blanket straight from the laundry. Fingers bunched up his suit jacket and your face was warm against his neck.

“I think it’ll be a little better tonight,” you whispered. “You’re the only one here who doesn’t make me feel like I’m going insane.”

Wonwoo passed up and down your bare back with his hand, admiring the softness to your pampered skin and the luscious scent of your hair, though he knew you had probably hated every moment trapped in the hot shower, exfoliating and shaving and scrubbing your body clean. He felt you squeeze onto him harder.

“Can I see what your gift is?”

“Oh, yeah…” he muttered, pulling apart from your heat, “it’s kind of a two-in-one thing. It’ll make sense once I explain.”

“That seems exciting,” you answered, returning to your lean against the chestnut dresser, folding your arms and smiling.

“So, um—if you remember the poker game—I owed you a pretty big lump of cash,” Wonwoo said, reaching inside the bag to grab a smooth, matte box, “and then there was the day at the museum, of course. Running home in the rain. You lost a shoe.”

“Oh my gosh, yeah…” you giggled fondly at the memory.

“I was at the mall—and, yes, I know. Why would I be at the mall when I hate the place? But I was getting my laptop fixed at that tech store on the third floor, and I also needed wires for my—okay. Never mind the rambling. Fuck, I’m turning into you now. Anyway, I walked past that one store you love and get pretty much all your clothes from. They had these heels in the window. The white ones, which you said to me are actually not white, but a very specific shade of ivory that I couldn’t see and still fail to see, to be honest. And they had that little bit of gold in the straps… but the point is—I got them for you.”

You glitched for a second, and it wasn’t until Wonwoo was basically pushing the box into your chest that you seemed to realize.

“Wait… you actually went to Rosette?”

He nodded matter-of-factly. “Yes.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Immediately, you flipped the box open and began flicking away the neatly trimmed cover of glittered tissue paper. “You got me the Gold Crystal Rope-Strapped and Ivory Ankle four-inch from Mirabella? Wonwoo! I-I was just talking when I saw them in the mall! I mean, you didn't have to actually get them!”

“I know,” Wonwoo answered, helping you pick the heels out from their imprints, “you’re always just talking, though.”

“Unnecessary.”

“To you.”

He was thankful you were too enraptured by the shoes to bother retaliating. Under regular circumstances, Wonwoo wouldn’t ever have been able to make such an expensive decision, but he still had some leftovers from winning the other poker matches at the party, in addition to a work bonus, and he knew that he still needed to repay you those favours even if they weren’t being held against him.

“They’re so freaking gorgeous,” you fawned, inspecting each heel like a jeweller would to their collection, “I can’t tell if I want to hit you or jump on you in happiness. I love them so much.”

“Well, I’m glad.”

“Oh my gosh, can you help me put them on? Pretty please?”

“Uh—yeah, ‘course.”

You gripped the edges of the dresser, slightly sitting on the surface as Wonwoo squatted down to your bare feet. He collected the first ivory heel and loosened the anklet buckle, proceeding to help slide the shoe on until it was fit perfectly. As he busied himself with loosening the buckle to the other heel, Wonwoo felt the ghost of your fingertips brush through his hair. In a spilt second, he froze, staring up at you, who was grinning back in utmost beauty.

“Just fixing your hair a little,” you stated innocently.

Wonwoo readjusted his glasses, nodding. “O-Okay.”

The action hadn’t felt that innocent, and as Wonwoo swallowed tight and continued sliding your ankle through the heel, he was overwhelmed with the most blaring, vivid, heart-hammering thoughts of smoothing his hands along each your soft thighs, pinning up the slippery silk to your olive-green dress, tugging aside your thin panties, burying his face and tongue so hot and heavy into your—

“Dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes!”

“Fuck,” you groaned, lolling your head back while Wonwoo finished settling the heel onto your foot, “just in case you didn’t connect the dots, that means we need to get downstairs.”

He returned to height, straightening out the sleeves to his suit jacket. For some reason, there was such an intense disappointment burning in his chest, as though his carnal thoughts were not just thoughts but an actual intent to pleasure you—which was completely ludacris given your friendship and the fact your boyfriend was probably downstairs—that had now been ripped away from him by the shrill pitch of your mother’s beckoning voice.

“Should I take the box—”

“It doesn’t matter.”

You grabbed onto his hand, tugging him toward the staircase.

“C’mon. Let’s get this shit over with.”

And Wonwoo followed, though he couldn’t help but note how you carefully dropped his hand upon rounding the corner into the kitchen, where Seokmin and Mingyu were standing about.

“Hey!” Seokmin exclaimed, pointing toward him. “Wonwoo!”

Expectantly, Seokmin looked like he belonged in a suit. That dark cherry red colour was rather fitting and only served to amplify the glow of his indestructible enthusiasm. Wonwoo awkwardly sauntered over to them, playing with the threads in his pockets.

Mingyu’s suit was more charcoal in tone, with his hair expertly gelled and combed. He mirrored a suave movie star as he leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping from his partly-filled wine glass.

“Uh, hey guys.”

You were hovering at the stove alongside your mother, talking in a hushed manner, while she stirred a large and bubbling pot of aromatic sauce, smelling like rosemary and perhaps cooked off vodka or some other alcohol. There was food everywhere—warm bread plates and fresh salad bowls and artistically painted casserole dishes covered by tinfoil. A window had been cracked open to help alleviate the heat swarming the kitchen, which Wonwoo could feel a little too uncomfortably in the air.

Seokmin grabbed at a couple crackers and cubed cheese organized onto a charcuterie board behind him.

“Don’t you clean up well?” He complimented with a big grin.

Wonwoo shook his head. “Not that well.”

“Hey—” Seokmin suddenly grabbed onto Wonwoo’s shoulder and pointed a finger at him, “—you’re here, alright? That’s an honour.”

Mingyu brushed the cracker crumbs off Seokmin’s suit.

“Don’t snack too much. She hates when you can’t eat.”

“Uh—I made this stupid board. I get to eat from it whenever I want. I’ll be fine, anyway. I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

Mingyu stopped tidying Seokmin’s suit, instead grabbing his wine glass off the countertop, sighing aloud, “that was a stupid idea…”

From the dreariness to his words and the slouch pulling down his shoulders, Mingyu didn’t seem to be all that excited or even half as chipper as Seokmin, though Wonwoo suspected that he knew the dinner parties to be a complete trainwreck. If Mingyu could hardly stomach a night with your parents despite all the stunning food and drink, then Wonwoo had no idea as to how he’d survive.

“So, um…” Seokmin lowered his voice, tipping his head close to Mingyu’s ear, “should we give him the rulebook?”

“Rulebook?” Wonwoo echoed.

“Uh,” Mingyu sipped quickly from his wine, “yeah, guess we can do that. Not in here, though. Let Her talk to her mom.”

“Easy peasy lemon squeezy.” Seokmin smiled, flashing a sly wink at Mingyu. “Hey, we’re gonna give Wonwoo a quick tour, alright!” He then called, his hand wrapping around the boy’s bicep, already beginning to tug him toward the hallway. “It won’t take too long; we’ll just show the bottom floor! Be back in a few!”

“Oh, uh, I guess that’s fine,” your mother replied while grabbing onto the pot handles with two tea towels, moving the sauce from the element, “but please do be quick! And, Seokmin—do you mind fetching the hubby from his office after you’re done?”

“I can do that, for sure,” he answered, smiling bright.

“Thank you, dear. I appreciate you so much.”

He was escorted out the muggy kitchen and down the corridor, flanked by Mingyu and Seokmin until they reached the living area where the piano music had been coming from.

Before he could issue even one question, Wonwoo was pressed down onto the red, very large-cushioned couch. Seokmin sat on the marble coffee table while Mingyu fixed himself onto the arm of a sturdy leather chair, crossing an ankle over his knee. Neither boy spoke for a moment and Wonwoo couldn’t help but feel a bit frightened as he listened to the elegant, soft piano tune fill the space.

“So… what’s the rulebook?”

“Well, it’s not an actual rulebook,” Seokmin corrected, “that was just for dramatics, allure, etcetera. But that’s what we call it.”

“We? You and Mingyu, you mean.”

Shifting in his place, Seokmin nodded, and his voice dropped an octave lower, "play the game long enough, you learn the rules.”

Mingyu’s chuckle dampened into the wine glass. “And there a lot of fuckin’ rules, that’s for damn sure,” he said with a scary smirk.

“But—we’ll just give you the crash course for now, as to lessen the overwhelmingness of what it takes to endure a dinner party.”

“Um, does Her know—”

“There are three principal rules; I’ll give them to you quick, so listen good,” Seokmin interrupted, leaning further into Wonwoo’s space, speaking quietly. “Rule one: do whatever the mom says, even if she doesn’t say it directly, or scarcely alludes to it. Makes everything ten times smoother, and gets her to like you, which is very important. Rule two: there is a guaranteed argument between Her’s mom and Her every fucking time—you stay out of it—never pick sides.

If you do get roped into whatever petty, passive-aggressive shame-fest they rake up, insert a compliment. Example: this steak is so tender and perfectly cooked! FYI—we’re not eating steak, so think of your own thing—and rule three: Her is like a freshly shaken can of carbonated soda and she can explode at any given moment. As her dear friends, and boyfriend, we have to make sure that doesn’t happen or else you’ll want to axe yourself.”

Wonwoo furrowed his brow heavily at Seokmin, noting a few crumbs left on his cherry suit from the cheese and crackers.

“How do we stop that?” He asked genuinely.

Mingyu proceeded to lower the nearly emptied wine glass against his knee, clearing his throat, “you don’t stop it.”

“But I thought—”

“It happens every time, without fail,” Seokmin answered, shaking his head, “but you can prolong it. You know, like cracking open the cap and letting out some air instead of the bottle fizzling into obliteration right away. The explosion’s not as big then. It’s easy. You just keep the conversation pushing. Don’t leave any space for bickering. Mingyu sometimes takes Her downstairs, or outside. To be fair, you don’t really have to worry about the last part.”

“Yeah,” Mingyu huffed, hardly amused, “lucky you, huh?”

“What happens if that fails?” Wonwoo asked.

Seokmin leaned back, tipping his head to the side. “Last year Her’s mom spent six hours braising these honey-garlic barbeque ribs with asparagus and stuffed potatoes. Guess where the food ended up by the end of the night? Because it wasn’t my starving mouth.”

“I don’t think I want to know,” Wonwoo sighed.

Bobbing his head approvingly, Seokmin smiled. “Exactly.”

“If these dinners are always such a mess, why do they keep happening? I mean, it doesn’t seem like anybody enjoys them.”

Fiddling with the thick folded cuff of his dress shirt, Seokmin shrugged. “I don’t know, to be honest. They used to a be a lot bigger in the past. Way more relatives and family friends. Just get-together's with a lot of food and drink and intoxicatedness. A way to maintain community and repore or something. But it’s shrunk down over the years. I still can’t tell if that makes it better or worse.”

Mingyu rubbed tiresomely down his neck, somewhat wincing as he massaged a sore spot. “It definitely makes it worse.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Seokmin agreed, “it puts more pressure on the rest of us… anyway, I should grab ‘the hubby’ as per request.”

Snickering, Mingyu flashed his pointed canine teeth and raised the wine back to his lips. “Makes your skin crawl, doesn’t it?”

With an uneased laugh, Seokmin smirked. “Every time.”

As the boy disappeared down a dark hallway to the right of the large living area, Wonwoo assumed he and Mingyu might return to the kitchen as it was probably not the best idea—leaving you alone for too long with your nitpicking mother—but when Wonwoo began lifting himself from the plump couch cushions he was sunken into, Mingyu’s hand touched at his shoulder to stop him.

In an instant, trepidation surged throughout his body.

Wonwoo’s face had most certainly gone white, though the lighting in the living room was too warm and orangey to tell.

“I just wanna talk to you about something real quick,” Mingyu said, stretching forward to leave his empty glass on the marbled table.

“Oh—um, okay.”

When he thought about the past few months, Wonwoo realized he hadn’t even spoke to Mingyu since the blowout party back in June. So much had happened since then, good and bad. Wonwoo could only suspect that he was about to hear the worst talking-to in his life, though he attempted to feign the terror for casualness.

Mingyu swooped a hand behind his ear, brushing back his perfectly styled hair, and looked to Wonwoo almost… forgivingly?

“I know you and I haven’t seen each other since the party at Seungcheol’s. I know some shit went down between you and Her and that it really blew up and you guys weren’t talking for a bit. She said, like, it was something to do with the book she’s writing and you were having differences about the direction and it kinda exploded.”

Wonwoo prayed it was imperceptible, the gigantic breath of relief he fought to exhale without too much giveaway, knowing that you hadn’t told Mingyu the truth to the argument. He was happy about your work-around, though he didn’t know if it was… morally right… that you opted not to tell your boyfriend—the person you supposedly trusted most—one of your biggest miseries.

“Oh… yeah,” Wonwoo exhaled, “it got pretty ugly.”

Mingyu nodded. “I honestly don’t even know if she’s still working on it. She doesn’t tell me about it. I don’t get why it’s so fuckin’ important to her but… I digress. Anyway, like Seokmin said, you’re here now, so you two obviously hashed it out. She seems to really appreciate you as a friend. And—hey—it helps takes some of the weight off my shoulders, y’know? Girl’s a fuckin’ handful sometimes.”

Wonwoo swallowed, feeling increasingly uncomfortable with the conversation and the alcohol he was beginning to smell from the boy’s clothes. He understood the situation was stressful for Mingyu, that he might be teetering between things absentmindedly, yet he nonetheless questioned what Mingyu’s intentions even were with you.

“Well, uh… I really enjoy spending time with her, too,” he murmured as Mingyu reclaimed his emptied wine glass.

There was a strong grip on his shoulder, shaking it.

“You’re a good person, man. Seriously.”

Using Wonwoo as a support crutch, Mingyu heaved onto his feet, then proceeded to straighten out his charcoal suit jacket.

“M’kay, I’m going back to the kitchen. We’re probably gonna eat soon so don’t spend too long losing your head out here.”

“Yeah, got it.”

He watched Mingyu amble down the long and subtly aglow corridor, carrying his wine glass low at the hip until reaching the threshold to the kitchen. You had suddenly popped out, stumbling into him with a smile and some hushed words that were impossible to comprehend as Wonwoo sat alone, listening to the jazzy piano tunes from the record player. After nipping a quick kiss against your boyfriend’s lips, you entered the living room with a crooked head.

“What’chya doing out here?” You inquired, pressing a hand against the grand, wooden frame adorning the entry way.

Wonwoo grabbed at his knees while pulling himself up.

“Just a quick pep talk. And a fly-by of some rules.”

“Oh,” you chuckled, “Seokmin’s crash course, was it?”

“Yeah.”

“Sometimes I call him John Green just to piss him off.”

Wonwoo smiled, stepping around the marble coffee table. “I feel like that might serve to stroke Seokmin’s ego above all.”

“No, it starts to irritate him after a while. You should know at this point I can piss off just about anybody. Even Seokmin. It’s a talent. Though I don’t think it’s enough for me anymore. I want to start pushing people to rock bottom or I haven’t done enough.”

There was a teasing sparkle in your eye as Wonwoo approached you. He could smell all that deliciously cooked food from down the corridor and his stomach was certainly responding to it.

“I can get you there,” Wonwoo said. “Don’t stress.”

“Forgot to fix my makeup. Want to come with me?”

He agreed, and you began to guide him across the living room, swathed in all its expensive mahogany fabrics, obtuse looking vases, and jade-green lamp shades that reminded him of late-night study sessions at the campus library. You pulled him past a wide shelf that was organized with much smaller, glazed sculptures that caught his attention as they lowly glimmered in the mellow light.

“Woah,” he gripped at your wrist, stopping your swift walk, “someone in your family loves ceramics, I’m guessing?”

You ricocheted back into his side, then taking a few seconds to adjust some invisible flaws in your hair before responding.

“That’s just some pottery I did when I was younger.”

Wonwoo squinted at you. “Really?”

“Mmhm.”

“You took classes?”

Shrugging, you muttered a simple, “yeah.”

“Is that why you were so interested in that vase back at my apartment?” When you continued to stare at him blankly, Wonwoo cleared his throat and reiterated, “the red one? It was really round at the bottom, but the stem was tall and skinny. You really liked it.”

“Oh—yeah—sorry, it’s been a while since I’ve last been to your apartment. I don’t know if that’s why I liked it. Probably.”

He smiled at you inquisitively. “I’m surprised you never mentioned that to me, considering my landlord is a ceramics teacher. I mean, as you know.”

Your eyes seemed reminiscent and adrift, glancing from sculpture to sculpture—lopsided teapots, poorly shaped toadstools, crooked little spoons—there were a plethora of your small creations laid across the shelf, gathering dust and appearing untended to.

Wonwoo cleared his throat, hands buried in his pockets. “I just didn’t peg you as someone who liked getting their hands dirty. I suppose it’s different when you’re younger, though.”

Pursing your lip, you nodded. “Things are always different when you’re young. My mom used to use the spoons I made to scoop sugar into her coffees. But she doesn’t drink coffee anymore. Just wine.”

“Well, it’s nice she appreciated your effort.”

There was a beat of silence. Your expression twitched.

“I had to beg to take those classes, y’know?”

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow at you. “How come?”

Your arms folded, and you shrugged again. “My parents honestly saw it as a distraction. I mean, why let your daughter play with some clay when she can hardly pass her math tests. But there was this super artsy girl in our recreational class who always made the best teacups from the clay, and she would paint them so beautifully… I wanted to be able to do what she did. So I asked my parents again and again and again until they fucking gave up and found a pottery class to enroll me in. Although, I'm pretty sure they supposed I would drop it sooner or later. Like it was just an itch I had to scratch. It was in this little art shop that looked similar to your landlord's.”

He smiled at you. “Was your instructor a polish lady?”

“No, she was not polish,” your head shook as you swept some dust from the black shelf, rubbing your fingers together, “I remember that much, but I don’t remember her name. It was after a flower, though. Something too complicated for my eleven-year-old brain to retain.”

“Probably Chrysanthemum or some shit,” Wonwoo muttered.

You laughed at his comment, “probably.”

“… Well, you must have liked it. You made so much stuff.”

“Oh, I loved it. I mean, looking at some of this stuff now, it’s not that great. But I didn’t really care that much at the time.”

“Considering you were a child, it’s pretty damn good.”

Wonwoo felt your elbow dig shallowly into his ribs. “Don’t try to flatter eleven-year-old me,” you warned him. “If you would have seen the other girl’s creations, mine would turn from pretty damn good to: well, at least she tried something new!”

“No,” Wonwoo chuckled, “that’s dumb.”

“Honestly, there was so much stuff that I made. More than half of it’s not even on this shelf. There wouldn’t be enough space.”

“Shit. What happened to it?”

You pinched at the olive fabric of your dress, massaging the silk between your fingertips for a moment while examining each and every sculpture moulded and grooved by your tiny childhood hands.

“My favourite part was destroying it,” you answered.

Wonwoo narrowed his brow, “I don’t think I could do that to something I spent so much effort and time creating.”

“Yeah, and that’s all good and fine,” you reasoned, adjusting your shoulders, “but I just didn’t see it like that, I guess...”

Intrigued, Wonwoo smiled at you. “How did you see it, then?”

For a moment, you thought, staring off into space.

“Well, I just don’t understand why people are so afraid of things being ephemeral. When you’re an artist, or a writer, or a musician, I feel like you want to make something that will last forever, transcend eras, touch people for a lifetime, or, I don’t know—you want it to stay preserved, like when they embalm things. But I feel like there’s just as much worth and importance to the things that hardly last at all. I feel like there’s so much freedom and self-assurance in building something up and then crushing it down.

That’s what I loved about it. When the clay would explode from between my fingers and stick into the lines of my palms because I was squeezing it so hard—it just felt good. Like it was supposed to happen. Like I was letting go. It doesn’t have to mean I… failed. It doesn’t have to mean I’m good at it either… I guess I just want to enjoy things without the burden of having to prove I deserve to enjoy them. Why can't I just do it? Why can't it just be between me and myself, you know? Why can't I decide what to take from it?"

Wonwoo nodded at you.

Contrarily, that was the opposite to his own beliefs surrounding his art, and maybe even his life. Wonwoo could never let things go, nor was he sure when that quality had permanently wedged its way into his human nature. For some reason, Wonwoo saw the past memory where his older brother had scampered away into the bushes surrounding the public pool during that game of Lifeguard all those hot summers ago, leaving an adolescent Wonwoo to get dragged from the water and thrown onto the sun-scorched concrete as everyone watched.

He saw the fuzzy, white glow that beamed from his laptop left open in the darkness, sitting still with all those pages he wrote, and yet to be filled with the words that he could never string together.

Unlike you, Wonwoo had never figured out the mechanism to letting things go. Instead, he held everything—between his fingers, across his shoulders, on his tongue, under his skin, deep inside his chest. Hence, for a split second, he was incredibly jealous that it seemed you could live without weight. You were just a breeze.

And just like everyone else, you were still discovering yourself.

“Anyway. That’s my take on it."

"Why'd you stop? This seemed like such a big part of you."

You flicked your eyes around, shrugging. "Things got in the way."

Wonwoo wondered what things, though he didn't ask.

"But we should hurry. Dinner will be ready soon and my mom will flip if we’re not at the table in time. She interprets it as ‘we don’t care’ and that will open a can of worms nobody wants to see.”

You sighed, then grabbing onto Wonwoo’s arm to pull him down another mysterious, long corridor in your maze of a house.

“Oh, Mingyu, that’s brilliant! I’m so glad the interview went well! I had him slip in a good word for you, too. But I’m sure you put the nail in the coffin. Walking straight into a promotion, you know, that’s something so hard to come by. You’ll settle just perfectly.”

“Yeah, thanks. To you as well. That word went a long way.”

“Making the right connections is certainly key.”

“It is. But I’m just lucky, is all. Your daughter is the real key. She’s given me so much—you all have—I just wanna let you know how grateful I am. Seriously. You’re some of the kindest people.”

“Shush! Before I give you a lash from this towel. It’s been sitting under the potato tray so it’s nice and hot… I’m so excited for your future together. A real power-couple! That’s for sure.”

“Hm. Yeah.”

Wonwoo was pressed flush to the wall just outside the kitchen, simultaneously holding his breath while listening to the conversation between your mother and Mingyu as everyone was presumably sat around the dressed table. Your fingers were hurriedly ruffling out some wrinkles in his tie while you repeatedly cursed at both your tardiness, and he simply let you do what you pleased. After a half-second adjustment made to his collar, you wasted not an instant more—Wonwoo was suddenly thrust into the warm kitchen with you impatiently in tow.

As expected, everyone was sat and waiting. Even your father had been at last pulled from his study, and he was positioned at the head of the long dinner table while twiddling a fork around in his fingers.

Your mother had an elbow propped on Mingyu’s chair.

She was the only one standing.

“Quick,” you whispered into Wonwoo’s ear, practically shoving him down into the empty seat beside Seokmin, “sit there.”

Upon the nervous side-eye that his friend shot at Wonwoo, he suspected that he may have just wriggled his way into an unfortunate ticket straight to hell. You held up the flowy, billowing silk of your olive dress while making your way to the seat across from him and beside a very unenthused-looking Mingyu, who was evidently chewing on his inner cheek. Wonwoo caught Mingyu’s stare for no less than a second, and there was nearly enough electricity in the glance to make a crackle.

A few more dishes had been squeezed onto the table since he was last in the kitchen. Despite the fact there was only six people eating, nearly every corner and crevice of the table was occupied. Your mother had cooked enough to feed an entire party, unless she was planning on sending everyone home with tupperwares full of leftovers.

“Looks super delicious,” Seokmin complimented.

Mingyu nodded in agreement. “Smells even better.”

Wonwoo didn’t know if he was also supposed to throw out some off-the-tongue compliment and keep the train chugging. The atmosphere was just so heavy—everything felt like an extreme effort—he could hardly breathe without the sensation of his lungs itching, as though they were adorned in cobwebs. Unconsciously, he’d started picking at his thumb, his appetite disappearing by the second in place of dread.

“You boys are so lovely, thank you,” your mother commented, straightening out the orange tea towel in her hand while continuing to lean into the side of Mingyu’s chair. “This was all a labour of love.”

Seokmin flashed a picturesque smile that Wonwoo had seen many times before. “Well, I’m feeling the love. That’s for sure. Are we ready to dig in all?” Still, there was a bit of anxious haste in his actions.

“One moment, first,” your mother stated, pausing Seokmin in his reach for a large casserole spoon. Wonwoo clasped his hands together even tighter as she said, “we’re going to wait a few minutes more.”

You had pulled out your chair, but you didn’t sit.

“Mom, I was just fixing my makeup. That’s what you asked me to do. There’s no reason to make everyone keep waiting.” You removed the towel from her hand and laced it through the oven handlebar. “Just take a seat, okay? I’ll start making everyone’s plates if they pass them.”

She smiled at you. “Well, that’s a very sweet gesture. But it doesn’t take long to fix an unstuck lash or change a lipstick. You’ve got yourself a makeup chair. You should know better than anyone, my love.”

Wonwoo hated this—he hated the way your mother’s criticizing was buttered up nice with a practiced, insincere smile and a crooning voice. He hated the way Mingyu was pushing fingers against the knot in his stiff eyebrow like something horrible was about to happen. He hated the way your father was uncomfortably mute, sitting only with a pursed lip and folded arms in complete disinterest, like he’d rather be anywhere else. He hated that Seokmin was continuing to beam his signature-watt smile even though the air was dense enough to crush everyone flat.

You picked up Mingyu’s plate, presumably because it was the closest to you, and started slopping some hot casserole onto it. Every movement was autopilot, thoughtless, as the steam from the breached casserole rolled up into the air and shrouded you.

“I was only trying to make it perfect,” you muttered.

“Make it what?” Your mother questioned, staring you down.

“Perfe—”

“Stop mumbling, my love. I can’t hear you.”

Mingyu’s messy plate was collapsed back onto its placemat with a very loud thud, and you looked to your mother with utmost annoyance.

“I was trying to make it per-fect.”

She quirked her head. “And you needed Wonwoo to do that?”

Just as he ruminated—the universe had a fearsome penchant for whirlpooling him into the centre of everything and anything horrible, like his name was written in the water. Though, Wonwoo couldn’t say he was expecting to survive the dinner party unscathed. He tried to remember the quick spiel of rules Seokmin had relayed to him—was it better to get involved or just shut the fuck up? Wasn’t Mingyu supposed to do something? Wasn’t Seokmin supposed to keep the conversation pushing?

“Mom, please, just—I was showing him around, okay? He’s the guest. He’s never been over before. Wonwoo has nothing to do with us being a few minutes late to dinner. So just leave him be.” You removed the tinfoil from another bowl. Grabbing a wooden spoon, you started slapping creamy mashed potatoes onto Mingyu’s plate. “Trying to make something out of nothing… why can’t we just eat for once?”

“Honey, we could be eating, but you’re choosing to sulk.”

“I’m not sulking! I’m trying to help!”

“No, no, no. Mingyu’s plate looks like an animal that got squashed by a car. If you can’t even properly fix your future husband a nice-looking plate of food without pooling all your anger into it, then there’s an issue, there.” She shook her head. “A very big issue.”

Wonwoo could see your eyes burning.

Mingyu had then sighed, removing the wooden spoon that was clenched up in your hand like a weapon and slipping it back into the mashed potato bowl. The boy tugged a few times at your wrist, keeping his tired voice as soft as possible while imploring you to sit down.

“It’s alright, everything’s fine,” he said, probably to soothe himself more than anything, “all the food goes straight into my mouth, anyway. Same goes for all of us. Sit down, Her, alright? Please?”

“No,” you snapped your wrist free, “I don’t want to sit.”

In a desperate hope to experience some sort of consolidation amongst the tension, Wonwoo angled a glance toward Seokmin. When his friend wouldn’t look back and merely opted to keep biting his blistering lip, Wonwoo quite literally felt a meteor sink into his stomach.

Slicking a hand along his shiny hair, Mingyu sighed even deeper. “Please just sit. You know what’ll happen. Please.”

Again stepping away from Mingyu’s attempted touch, you began to shout, and Wonwoo’s breath froze as your voice echoed around the kitchen in a hauntingly similar manner to the quarrel at his apartment.

“I already said no!”

From the head of the table, your father pushed out his chair. His voice was oddly gruff when he spoke, like he hadn’t said a word all day and his throat was hoarse by consequence.

“Don’t shout,” was all he warned.

Your mother shook her head. “She will raise her voice when she doesn’t get what she wants.”

Wonwoo couldn’t help but feel the cut from her disappointed eyes even though she wasn’t even looking at him.

“I’m raising my voice because you’re not listening! You haven’t listened to me all fucking day! Oh my god! It’s eating me alive!”

In an instant, Mingyu was to his feet, almost trying to court you into the corner by the open window with his hands that you battered away. Wonwoo gripped onto his knees. He couldn’t choke out a damn word and Seokmin seemed to have become stiller than stone.

“Calm down,” Mingyu urged, “take some breaths.”

“You still won’t listen!”

“I’ll listen later, I promise.”

“Mingyu, do you even hear yourself?!”

“Just—you’re blowing this out of proportion again.”

“Stop trying to control me!”

“Calm down and—hey!”

With a frustrated groan, you squirmed away from Mingyu and rushed back to the dinner table where your mother continued to stare at you with such conflict in her expression, as though it was mentally taxing her to compute how such a seemingly perfect, established daughter could simultaneously appear so unraveled and incomplete before her. For a second, Wonwoo thought you might take the mashed potatoes or casserole and just completely drench the wall in their remnants.

But you didn’t do anything. Instead, you looked across the organized table—the vibrant food, sparkling drinking glasses, and expensive, unpopped bottles of alcohol—at Wonwoo, who had admittedly felt pretty useless and paralyzed throughout the ordeal. You looked straight into his eyes and he could see that you were almost physically begging him for an out. And, if he could see himself as an outsider, it was probably the same damn look he was giving you.

Wonwoo hadn’t even noticed the silence in the room.

Your father coughed, retrieving his utensils, ready to sweep the argument and very obvious hostility under the rug—put a small little bandage on a gigantic wound that had been festering for years.

“Same dance every time. Come sit, Mingyu. Let’s just eat.”

That would be nice, if Wonwoo had any appetite.

That would be nice if he wasn’t pushing out his chair, getting up from the table, keeping his gaze level and connected with yours, watching you swallow hard, hold back your tears, anxiously flex your fingers in a momentary contemplation and then—unprompted—run. Just run.

Wonwoo fled into the corridor with you right behind him, your hands kneading against his lower back as he threw open the door to the quiet, dimly lit front porch where that damp and black September night was ready to breathe him in and whisk you two away. He heard the very confused shouting from the kitchen, but there wasn’t any time to waste.

Wonwoo flew down the wood steps and splashed through a shallow puddle reflecting the moonlight, running toward the long street drifted in thinly strewn mist. He continued to run, only stopping for a brief moment to turn around and observe you quickly fling off your heels before scooping them up while everyone crowded onto the porch, yelling.

In your bare feet and a smile so pearlescent, you sprinted straight into Wonwoo’s outstretched arms, giggling aloud while he gripped your body firm and spun you in a circle that saw your dress twirl like a ribbon and your legs brush through the alive air.

Mingyu began stalking down the driveway, visibly angry, his face twisted into a snarl that might see Wonwoo getting split in his nose.

“Fuck, fuck!” You cursed, squeezing your fingers into his. He was suddenly being tugged down the empty, dark street, as though there was some invisible curtain for you to magically disappear behind. “Let’s go!”

Wonwoo didn’t mind one bit. Indefinitely, he would let you tug him over a cliff if it meant you two could fall together. The street was long and wet but the air was so fresh. Every breath he took was pure.

He didn’t know where you were going.

But he didn’t need to.

“Be careful. I don’t want you to step on something sharp.”

“I think I already did.”

Wonwoo pulled tight on your warm hand, stopping you.

“Seriously? Let me look.”

You made a slight huffing noise while sitting down on a large boulder, not caring that the surface was sandy and damp, forming a dark imprint against your olive dress. Wonwoo squatted down, looking at the dirty underside to one bare foot, and then the other, realizing there weren’t any cuts. He then used the cuff to his suit jacket, brushing off the small pieces of grit stuck into the skin in case he missed anything.

In all honesty, Wonwoo had no idea where you two were. After running far down the fancy Hillcrest Street until your family house was completely obscured into mist and memory, you led Wonwoo off onto a separate footpath by the treeline. Your fingers were slotted into each other’s. This was the first time Wonwoo had let go of your hand since running away, and the chilled air felt like prickles on his palm.

Removing the phone from his pocket to shine a light, he wasn’t at all surprised to see the missed calls and texts that had collected minute by minute from Seokmin earlier. You didn’t even have your phone. The only thing you carried was the ivory heels that Wonwoo gifted you at the start of the evening, which were still clutched in your hand.

“No blood. No lacerations. Just dirt,” Wonwoo said. “If you did cut yourself, you might not even feel it with all that adrenaline.”

You smiled at him. “Your phone a graveyard of Seokmin texts?”

He smirked, flicking through them all. “Precisely, yeah.”

Leaning backward on the boulder, you at last let go of the heels and stretched your arms out behind you, staring up at the moonlight patterning between the forest trees, their branches more barren as the autumn leaves came loose in the breeze. They fell down one by one, rustling softly whenever they hit the ground. He heard you sigh.

“Everyone there can go fuck themselves.”

Putting his phone away, Wonwoo smiled. “Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“That line’s a classic, coming from you.”

He attempted to sit beside you on the boulder, ignoring how uneven and rough it felt under his butt. Wherever you were along the footpath, it was perfectly hushed, almost felt hidden. The tree branches above him had framed the moon akin to a picture—except, he felt like he was the one painted, and that it was the moon who was watching him.

“I’m sorry.”

Wonwoo began to look at you rather than the night sky.

“Don’t apologize.”

You stared at him deeply, licking your lips and shaking your head. His eyes were now well adjusted to the scarce light. Just the silver through the trees was enough to read and inspect your pretty face.

“It went off the rails.”

He shrugged, staring back. “It seemed like it needed to.”

“I made you part of it.”

“I made myself part of it.”

“But, I mean—just—if you… if you never…”

Wonwoo raised his eyebrow. “If I never what? Met you?”

Puffing out a long breath, you looked down, picking at something on the boulder with a manicured nail. “… Yeah.”

“No,” Wonwoo was firm to correct, continuing to stare at you intensely even if you couldn’t face him in the turmoil of processing all the emotion and chaos, “you’re the best thing to ever happen to me.”

You lolled out your tongue, smiling and sheepish. “Blah.”

He laughed, “I mean it.”

Sighing again, you glanced back at Wonwoo, your eyes flickering along his every detail in the dewy night. Your hand reached out to his collar, making another brief, probably unnecessary adjustment to it before sliding the gentle fingers down his chest. Wonwoo’s mouth ran disgustingly dry in that moment, to the point that he was relieved when you removed your hand because you might have felt how fast his heart was beating and thought him to be quite pathetic.

Tightly swallowing, he brushed an itch off his nose and opened his mouth with a question, his gaze catching yours. Although, at the last second, he weened himself from speaking when the doubt found and froze him. A breeze tickled through his hair and Wonwoo shivered.

Your brow furrowed.

“What?” You urged him.

Wonwoo chuckled. “Fuck. Nothing.”

“Not nothing. Please. What is it?”

You were leaning closer into him, enthralling him with those earnest, gleaming eyes. He swore the nighttime wind was pushing your sweet, blossomy scent against him—was pushing you against him—because now your thigh was squished right beside his and your shoulders were warm together. Wonwoo adjusted his glasses, cleared his throat.

“Who are you?” He paused, but didn’t falter. “Actually?”

Your forehead wrinkled. “What do you mean?”

Wonwoo examined every aspect of your face that he had come to know so well over the months—the face he gradually couldn’t stop thinking about, to the point you would appear in his dreams. The face he was once completely disinterested in, because you were not someone that should have any reason to be in his life, just as he had no reason to be in yours. He felt his body move closer into your inviting warmth.

In fact, you two were so close that if he moved even an inch or few forward, then his lips might find themselves pressing to yours and his hand might settle and smooth up along your thigh to your cheek. Then, it would be impossible to leave the footpath without digging into you right then and there, kissing and tasting from you everywhere.

“What’s your name?”

It sounded like an obvious, warranted question that just about anyone would ask given the opportunity. But Wonwoo had never found himself wondering it. The things he wondered about you were much different and more character-driven, yet Wonwoo had come to realize that your name was just as important and precious and intact with your identity as everything else. He almost felt like it was the very last piece of you that he hadn’t shifted into place—his last chapter in a very long, complicated, topsy-turvy, seemingly-never-ending book.

Wonwoo thought you might laugh at him.

Tell him, “Wouldn’t you like to know?” in that very smug tone of voice he’d hear from time to time while smiling hot with your secret.

Instead, however, you just stayed silent.

His hand touched with fragile softness at the edge of your face, a thumb then stroking along the space before your ear as you swallowed.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” he whispered, hearing the leaves rustle above him, “it’s fine either—”

“No, one second.”

Wonwoo bit his tongue, opting to watch you lean back while digging fingers into the cleavage of your dress. From somewhere—he could only surmise—you had pulled out a thin tube with a cherry lid.

“Was that the lip stuff you put on?” He snorted.

“Lip liner. With a sticky patch on it right here. Figured I should keep it close. You know, in case a crumb managed to remove a single spec of it. Can't have my mother passing out from shame.”

“Clever thinking.”

“Give me your hand.”

Stretching out his fingers, he let his hand sit in your lap while you pulled the lid off with your teeth, then gripping his wrist and halfway leaning down to push the tip of the lip applicator against his palm. The sensation was cool and smooth. He felt each letter you traced, though he refused to let himself guess until you were done.

Under the moonlight, Wonwoo raised the calligraphed hand to his face, pushing up his glasses as he realized—at last—the complete gist of who you were. And with your name came the understanding of what you were, in fact, doing in his very meaningless life.

Wonwoo kept staring fondly at his hand. But, as he was staring, you suddenly reached forth and smeared your thumb across the neat letters until they were lost. A memory made, and then covered.

Only between you.

When Wonwoo looked to you again, he saw everything about you so clearly that it was almost shining. Every decision you made, every word you said, the way you walked and dressed and flourished so openly before crashing so hard—Wonwoo could snap all those pieces into place.

“Can I ask you something?” You said.

He blinked at you absentmindedly, too caught up in his daze.

“Wonwoo?”

“Sorry—yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

Pressing your knees together, the wind fluttered the fabric of your silky olive dress, and he could tell you were getting cold.

“When you were at my apartment, apologizing to me about our fight, that was the first and only time I ever heard you mention your ex-girlfriend.” Clicking your nervous feet, you looked over his shadowy face and the moonlight dancing in his glasses, “was she your first love?”

Crushing his hands tight into each other, Wonwoo bit his lip. “Yeah.”

Keeping your eyeline steady, you nodded. “Was she… like… what did you love about her?”

He almost couldn’t breathe. “Everything.”

You frowned. “Even the bad stuff?”

“Yeah…” he mumbled, “even the bad stuff.”

It was very quiet for a moment, with you simply sitting in reflection and staring into the dark silhouettes of the trees. He was sure you already knew the answer to your initial question, although he understood that hearing him say it was different than infinitely assuming about a past that wasn’t yours. Wonwoo had been in love before, and then heartbroken down into little fragments of himself that he spent months soullessly dusting around. And somehow, he was in love again—a new love that felt so much different but still fit him so right.

“Hm…” you hummed.

Wonwoo placed his hand on your bare back, beginning to sweep his fingers up and down, sensing your skin quiver in response.

“It’s late,” he whispered, nudging his knee into yours and warming your ear with his breath, “I know you don’t want to go home, and that’s alright. I get it. But we should figure something out before my phone battery dies, yeah?” He proceeded to grab your hand and squeeze it. “I don’t wanna leave a pretty girl like you out in the cold and wet.”

When you looked at him, you were pouting, exhaustion shining on your face like the dew in the moonlit leaves. “I don’t want to go anywhere without you.” Your fingers gripped his impossibly tighter.

“Do you want to stay the night at my place?”

You snuggled your head into the crook between his jaw and shoulder, wrapping your arms around his elbow to hold him close. “Yes.”

“Well, I’ve got one call,” Wonwoo sighed, fishing out his phone and squinting against its lurid light, “better hope he fucking answers.”

Vernon was confused to say the least, beckoned down a random street at near midnight when he could be in bed with the girl he was happily feeling up just half an hour ago, until a certain phone call ruined it. Wonwoo could tell from the manner in which his friend’s heavily furrowed brow remained creased when he opened the vanilla Camry’s back door, allowing you to slide in first with your heels in hand while Wonwoo followed. Tugging the door shut, Wonwoo could then only smile at poor, disgruntled, face-studded Vernon who was continuing to inquisitively stare him down through the rear-view mirror as though there was something smeared across his cheek or stuck in his hair.

Perhaps it was the patches of dampness and dirt on Wonwoo’s suit and your once very elegant dress, but it didn’t matter anymore.

“So… uh… dinner went well, then?” Vernon asked in a big huff after no one offered to break the silence, slightly turning his head to analyze the backseat using his busted, buzzing ceiling light.

Wonwoo and you were pressed together. Both unreceptive.

“Woah. Stop talking over each other, guys,” he joked dryly.

“Couldn’t have gone better,” Wonwoo decided to say.

“… M’kay…” Vernon replied, still perplexed but probably sensing it was best to save all the questions for later. “Music?”

Wonwoo nodded and turned off the ceiling light. “Sure.”

That was the beginning and end of the conversation.

Vernon pulled out from Hillcrest, keeping his elbow against the half-opened window during the drive, meanwhile you were allowing your heavy eyes to at last flutter shut. Leaning your head against Wonwoo’s broad shoulder, he noticed that your fingers were playing with his—you had gently grabbed his thumb and started rubbing his pigmented scar in absent circles, massaging into all the weathered years spent scratching himself until his anxiety would peddle away. The lip liner was still smudged against his palm in a cherry-tinted blur that he never wanted to wash off.

Smiling, Wonwoo let his cheek sit atop your hair, sensing the delightful breeze from Vernon's window flow into the backseat.

He was glad he went to the dinner party.

“Here are the keys. This copper one here is for the shop. This blue one is my apartment key. Go inside and get warmed up. I’ll join you in a few, alright? Promise… be careful on the steps,” Wonwoo instructed after opening the car door, proceeding to wrap his keychain in your fingers once you had emerged into the wind and sodden air.

With the white heels strung through your arm, you nodded at him sleepily and walked up the three little stairs to the pottery shop.

After you disappeared inside, Wonwoo turned around and opened the passenger seat door, climbing back into his friend’s Camry kept stalled but running at the curb. At first, there was silence between them. They both gazed down through the illumination of the headlights washing out the empty street. Vernon then slid his hand off the steering wheel, letting it cascade through his messy black hair instead.

“Do I even wanna know what fuckin’ happened?” His friend asked, his head clunking back against the upholstered seat.

Wonwoo blinked down at his lap. He started to smile, feeling it creep along his mouth even though he knew how suspect it looked.

Then, Wonwoo chuckled.

“We ran out.”

He finally looked to Vernon, who was staring back with highly quirked eyebrows and a dropped jaw. After exchanging an incredulous glance with each other, the two boys were laughing and ripping apart the silence. Vernon crossed his arms, sunk further down in his seat.

“Never would I picture you doin’ that…” he said through a lazy grin, “runnin’ out with another dude’s girl is insane, can’t lie.”

Wonwoo rubbed a palm along his cheek, still fucking smiling. “Think he’s gonna beat my ass?”

Vernon stared at him, deadpanned in his expression. “Is that even a question, Glasses? I’d beat your ass. I don’t even have a girl.”

“I don’t care.”

“If he beats your ass?”

“Yeah.”

Suddenly, a hand was pushing against Wonwoo’s shoulder. Vernon was smirking at him hard, teething over his bottom lip.

“Damn. She’s got you by the scruff, huh?”

Wonwoo shrugged, beginning to shake his head. “You should see the way he treats her… there’s some weird ties between him and her family. I think he’s playing the long game… getting what we can while he can and then parading her around as a trophy or something. But she's miserable with him.” Running a thumb along his knuckles, Wonwoo grinned. “He can beat my ass if he wants to.”

Vernon clicked his tongue. “Well, just to float the idea, I’m s—”

“No,” quickly laughing away his friend’s questionable response, Wonwoo merely rubbed under his glasses and refused. “I’m not trying to get locked away for first degree murder. And neither are you.”

“I’m just tryin’ to say I’ve got you is all,” Vernon said with his usual nonchalance, as laid back as an ironing board, “but—you’re right. Save that for when I’m an actual drug lord. He’s not gettin’ anything from me. Not even a Flintstone gummy.”

“Well, I appreciate the favour. Sorry to interrupt.”

“Nah, I could tell it was somethin’ important,” Vernon excused, giving Wonwoo a comfortable smile, “s’not like I can’t ever get brain again. Your situation seemed like a once-in-a-lifetime thing.”

Looking back at the pottery shop and the single light within keeping everything aglow, Wonwoo wondered if you made it into his apartment okay. He was worried about leaving you on your own for too long, especially when taking into consideration the extremities of the dinner party (that hadn’t really been a dinner or a party when he thought about it). Rolling out his shoulders, he turned to Vernon again.

“She needs to eat something. I’ll order food. You want any?”

Vernon scrunched his face. “What—you’re askin’ me to come inside with you two? I’m not on real good terms with her, y’know that, right? Just ‘cause she’s fuckin’ with you doesn’t mean that for me."

“It won’t be like that.”

“How do y’know? You guys gossip about me?”

Wonwoo smiled, pushing up his glasses. “I just know.”

Vernon paused to think for a moment, his hand returned back to the steering wheel while sharp teeth pulled at the skin along his bottom lip. With just the edge to his face streaked in yellow light from the outside street lamp, it was difficult to interpret his mindset, although Wonwoo knew it was a done deal when Vernon removed the glittering keys from the ignition and the rumbling car at last went silent along the empty midnight street.

Besides, Wonwoo would pay for it all, anyway.

Vernon quietly trailed behind Wonwoo into the apartment, the front door left unlocked and the living area bathed by the warm-coloured light fixture but absent of your presence. His friend placed the car keys onto the coffee table with an uncharacteristic softness, and Wonwoo figured that Vernon was probably still feeling uncertain about spending time with you—which made sense—the last time Vernon had spoken to you (spoken probably wasn’t an accurate word) was the confrontation at the gas station where he feared you might light his hair on fire.

Though, when Wonwoo poked open his ajar bedroom door, he found you standing near his desk, peering across the walled corkboard and all its pinned photos from his life back in South Korea.

He flicked on the light, pulling out the deep blue darkness from the air, and smiled at you.

“Everything alright?”

With your arms folded, you seemed smaller than usual. “Yeah—sorry that I came in here without permission.”

He was quick to shake his head. “No big deal—you don’t need permission.”

You were silent for a few seconds, grinning to yourself, and then gestured to one of the glossy developed photos stuck to the cork.

“That’s Bohyuk?”

Wonwoo nodded, “yeah.”

He realized you hadn’t spent much time in his room over the months that you’d known each other. For the most part, Wonwoo would always be at your apartment, or some unique location necessary to your story-telling when he was still helping with the book. At one point it would have perturbed him to see you gazing along the finer details of his room so curiously. Now, however, he welcomed it.

Stuffing hands into his pockets, Wonwoo let you observe the corkboard, watching you with a very amorous, kind smile that he hadn’t even processed until his cheeks started flaring with a heated ache.

“Wonwoo?”

“Yeah?”

“… I’m hungry.”

Unable to flatten out his smile, Wonwoo walked over to you and smoothed his hand along the side of your face, then caressing his thumb underneath your twinkling eye and against your cheekbone.

“I know,” he murmured, “I’ll order food.”

“Chinese?”

“If that’s what you want, then I’ll make it happen.”

Delighted to see your expression brighten, Wonwoo at last removed his hand from your skin. He knew he shouldn’t touch you or look so fucking pathetically in-love into your eyes, but he didn’t care.

“Do you think I can shower? I want to take all this makeup off.”

“Yeah, of course. Go for—”

Suddenly, from the living room, there was a loud bang that distinctly sounded like Vernon plowing straight into something heavy.

“What was that?” You asked, covering your mouth.

Wonwoo chuckled, “Vernon. Hey—you alright?!”

“All good!!” His friend shouted back. “Just—how ‘bout don’t keep your fuckin’ weights right beside the couch, yeah? Almost broke my fuckin’ foot!”

“Oops.” Wonwoo shrugged very unapologetically, staring into your amused eyes and giggling together. “He’s gonna eat with us… he did a big favour coming down to get us and everything, you know?”

“That’s okay,” you answered, “I just want to shower.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll give you the room. Wear whatever you want. I’ll just take the keys so I can lock up downstairs.” He was nearly on his way out, but stopped abruptly. “Should we… uh… should I at least text Seokmin and tell him you’re safe? I mean, just in case—”

“Sure,” the response was quick and muttered with little care, “I’m sure they can surmise where I am, but you can do that, too.”

“Yeah, okay… well, I’ll leave you be. Food will probably be here by the time you’re out and dried off. I’ll make sure it doesn’t get cold.”

Finally, Wonwoo clicked his bedroom door shut. Keys in hand, he re-entered the living room to find Vernon plumped down on the couch with a pillow in his lap, all spread out like he owned the damn place, texting away on his phone. Wonwoo laughed as he walked by.

“Writing out your apology letter?”

“Somethin’ like that…” his friend mumbled, clearly more focused on his pixeled screen, “I might not be gettin’ that head after all.”

“Life’s all about sacrifices,” Wonwoo sighed while opening the front door, pausing briefly to mention, “we’re getting Chinese food by the way. She didn’t care that you’re staying. Anything you want?”

Vernon smiled while keeping his eyes trained to the phone. “No way. That’s a relief… n’yeah—I like the chicken balls with the sweet and sour sauce. Pork-fried rice is good, too. I’m not picky.”

“Noted.”

“So—wait—I have to ask, and you can tell me to fuck off if you want, but how did you become a drug dealer? Like, at what point did you even realize that was your… I don’t know… calling?”

Sitting cross-legged on the carpet with a carton of noodles in hand and a napkin splayed upon your bare lap, pointed chopsticks were being angled at Vernon from across the coffee table. He took a sip from his can of bright red soda, placing it back onto the coaster with a thud.

“Uh, fuck,” Vernon coughed, smiling subtly while beginning to pick through his own personal container of pork-fried rice, “well, I can answer it, I guess… do I get to ask a question in return?”

You grabbed the napkin, wiping off the sauce from your mouth.

“I’ll allow it.”

“Fair enough,” his friend answered.

Wonwoo had heard the story only once before during a smoke session on the apartment rooftop, though he doubted Vernon would trudge through all the details. Despite seeming like an open book who couldn't care less, there really were some sweet spots he didn’t like having prodded. Nonetheless, Wonwoo thought it was a good, earnest opening between the two of you, so he opted to stay silent while pulling the meat off his ribs with his teeth.

“Uh, I was a stubborn kid, let’s say that. Tried my hand at school but I could never get the hang of it. Could never keep a job long. My parents caught me usin’ once, weed and ecstasy, and they said if it happened again, I’m out.” Vernon fed himself another forkful of rice, taking a moment to swallow while you listened intently. “I thought I could keep it straight, but no luck. Yeah. They had no tolerance for it. I was out the next day. My mom was the most pissed, but she tries to reach out every now and then. I dunno... I feel done with ‘em, if I'm bein' honest. I’ve got somethin’ that works so I just run with it. The money speaks for itself so I can’t complain.”

As Wonwoo expected, it was the heavily watered-down version of everything that happened between Vernon and his family, however, it was enough to paint the picture. Taking a moment to slurp up some spicy noodles, you soon set the carton down and patted along your gradually swelling lips. The crumpled napkin was placed on the table.

“Yeah, I bet the money speaks for itself. You’ve got a bunch of stupidly rich university students on your roster. They go through just about everything they can get their hands on. It’s fucking insane.”

Vernon propped his elbows onto his knees, gathering more rice onto the plastic white fork while smirking at you knowingly.

“You’ve got that coke sniff, y’know?”

Wonwoo widened his eyes at Vernon, suspecting a wildfire.

But you merely shrugged, quite honest in your response.

“I know. I did it once with Mingyu, some friends, and I thought never again…” with a sigh, you massaged at your shoulder, staring off into a random spot that Wonwoo couldn’t pinpoint. “Mingyu was getting it for me at almost every party we went to. I don’t know. I thought, since he paid for it, since it’s right here, I might as well do it.”

Slipping the fork out from his mouth, Vernon grinned. “Coked-up sex is crazy. Especially when you've got the right cut. It hits.”

“Vernon,” Wonwoo immediately chirped at him while setting down his emptied container of food, his voice sounding particularly stern, like he was scolding a child for making an ignorant comment.

“What?” His friend laughed, raking a tattooed hand through his loose and shiny black hair. “It is. Feels like you’re on another planet.”

“Yeah, whatever. Just think a little before you speak, please.”

Again, Wonwoo was surprised to see your nonchalance.

“It’s okay. I know what you’re saying. I think… like… Mingyu only wanted me to have it for that reason—I’m making it sound like some non-consensual, pressured shit—it’s not,” you muttered, waving around your hand in dismissal, “I just… the thing is I don’t like how I feel afterward. But it was never enough for me to say that I didn’t want it. I liked that it would take me out of my head for a bit. My mind would stop running on overdrive.” Then, you pulled your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them. “The last time I did anything like that was the party at Seungcheol’s, though.”

Whenever the party was mentioned, Wonwoo would always bite down on his lip and tightly curl his fingers. He had discussed it with you in the past, beyond the summer evening spent at your apartment with a red velvet cupcake in between you and a painful, aching hug he could still feel all the warmth and regret to.

There were long, long phone conversations. And somewhere, stuffed in his mind, was the memory of you and Mingyu behind the door as he listened to every little sound—skin hitting skin, the desperation in your voice, wood smacking the wall.

“Yeah, is what it is,” Vernon replied. He pulled a toothpick out from his pocket and stuck it in his mouth. “Do I get my question now?”

“Uh… sure.”

Wonwoo had almost missed you staring at him. There was a concernedness to it, but when he smiled back you seemed to breathe.

“Still think I’m a gigantic fuckin’ tool?”

Immediately, you started laughing. Wonwoo followed suit, on the brink of embarrassingly blowing out the soda he just sipped from in a big spray. He was actually quite relived that Vernon had picked a more light-hearted question rather than something intimate. His friend swirled the toothpick around with his tongue, continuing to smirk in confidence.

“Giggle away. I’m curious, is all.”

Kissing your teeth, you held Vernon’s coppery, honey eyes. “You are a tool, one-hundred percent… but, I think you know that about yourself. And, um, you’re a good friend to Wonwoo. So… I guess my opinions about you have shifted. Appearances are deceiving.”

Pleased with your candour, Vernon grabbed his drink, leaned against the recliner behind him, and nodded his head approvingly.

“That tickles my fancy well enough.”

"Don't you think you'll want to settle down eventually?" You asked.

Vernon scrunched his eyebrow. "What?"

"Like, what if you find a girl. A really nice girl who could change your perspective. Do you think you'd want to settle down?"

With a quick laugh, Vernon shook his head. "Nice girls don't use half their last pay check to buy drugs. It's business at the end of the day."

Seeming skeptical, your eyes narrowed. "Right..."

"Vernon has his mind set on very specific things," Wonwoo smiled.

Straightening out the large shirt that draped around your frame—another garment belonging to Wonwoo that you had pulled from his dresser—you glanced between each boy and smiled.

“So... now I'm curious. How did this unlikely pairing meet?”

As Vernon was busy with navigating his toothpick, Wonwoo decided to tell the story, prompting him to sit up straight and alleviate his spine from being crooked against the hard bottom of the couch.

“I was convinced into attending a little New Year’s Eve party thing by these guys I don’t talk to anymore. Spent about half an hour wandering the halls, doing aimless laps, hating every second of it, debating if I should just take off. Not like anyone would notice. Then I bump into this guy—” Wonwoo nodded at Vernon, “—who was all tattooed and pierced up with this girl all over him. She was on the kitchen counter, one hand gripping his bicep while she was laying hickies to his fucking neck from behind.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes. “Who was that?”

Wonwoo shrugged. “Fuck if I know. Vernon?”

“Uh—I don’t know if I remember, honestly. She used to buy poppers off me like every damn week so I called her Poppy. That’s not her real name, though. She’s long gone. Moved cities months ago.”

“Yeah, well, he told me I looked like a lost ghost. Asked if I wanted a swisher. I agreed for some reason, and we went out back.”

Brushing a hand down your neck, you giggled. “A lost ghost?”

Vernon nodded, folding his arms.

“Yeah. Glasses always used to have that look to him. Dead man walkin’ kinda thing. Just wanderin’ around with no purpose.”

Wonwoo hoarsely chuckled at his friend, “jeez—thanks.”

“You can’t deny it.”

“I know. But to be fair, I was fucking going through something.”

“Mmhm, that’s why I took you under my wing,” Vernon sang, his eyes swimming with their usual gold-tinted mischief, “I could just tell you needed some guidance. Gave him the swisher of eternal friendship.”

“Is that what you call it?” Wonwoo huffed sarcastically.

“I call it many different things.”

You smiled sweetly at Wonwoo while your fingers played with the long cuff on the borrowed t-shirt. “Whatever it was, I guess it turned into something pretty good... and, Vernon, I am sorry for how I acted at the gas station. There was just a lot going through my mind.”

True to his casual, untroubled nature, Vernon swung his head dismissively while letting an arm collapse across his knee, the toothpick now in his hand and being spun between his ringed fingers. “No, you’re good. Don't worry 'bout it. It was just ‘cause you care n' shit. I get that.” Quirking his expression in an endearing manner, he proceeded to flash you a solid grin. “You didn’t singe my hair off so, I’ve got no grudge.”

You laughed, “I wouldn’t have actually done anything to you.”

“Eh, it’s hard to tell, isn’t it?” Vernon answered in a smirk.

Reaching for your drink, you sipped from it and then snuggled the can between your criss-crossed legs. Wonwoo examined that very intriguing smile opening its way across your mouth like a spring blossom, wanting to know the exact moment that sparked it.

A quiet pause passed, and then you were sighing with bliss behind it—that relaxed kind of sigh when everything seemed to click.

“It’s nice hanging out with you guys…” you murmured, staring across the coffee table scattered with ripped-open sauce packets, empty cardboard containers, wood chopsticks, and unfurling napkins. “It just feels lighter… I don’t know… making friends has always been so tough for me. The right friends, I mean. Friends that actually feel like friends.”

Wonwoo pinched his lip in his teeth.

“It can take a while before you hit the right people.”

Vernon shrugged, concealing a burp that had him rubbing down his broad chest. “If we’re all friends, then we’ve gotta be the weirdest fuckin’ collaboration of people I’ve ever seen.”

You snickered into your hands while Wonwoo lounged an elbow onto the couch to help prop up his head, rolling his eyes toward Vernon.

Though, Wonwoo could easily understand what Vernon was getting at. You, a popular and high-fashion campus honorary who at first glance seemed to have very little patience for anyone but yourself, followed by the guttural and unbothered drug dealer without a care in the world, beside an anxiety-ridden hermit just trying to exist and somehow not turn to a puddle in the process. Vernon was right—it was a strange grouping of people suckled together despite their completely different paths and choices. Somewhere, somehow, though, there was a connection.

Like a fated string weaving everything into a knot.

Since Wonwoo had already ordered the Chinese food fairly late, it was quite difficult to find an ice cream place in the area that was open past midnight. Vernon and his sudden craving for cookie dough had offered the idea, and you easily caved, which led Wonwoo on a spiral of searching through his phone. Unfortunately, the only ice cream they could order was vanilla soft-serve cones from a twenty-four-hour fast-food chain which arrived to his apartment dripping. But no one really cared, and Wonwoo threw on the television for some background noise.

The conversations lasted until about two in the morning.

Vernon had not so gracefully taken up the entire couch, his face shoved into the embroidered pillow, an arm left dangling limp over the edge, and a smear of soft-serve dried to his cheek. You and Wonwoo were sitting side by side on the floor, a blanket spread around your shoulders with your knee spilled onto his lap, attempting to finish up the random movie that he couldn’t even remember playing. When the credits began rolling, it took him a moment to process that the drama flick was even over. Your head was tucked against his shoulder, eyes shut but still twitching against the dull, meek light flooding from the screen.

He placed his hand on your bare thigh, fingers stretching eager over the warm and soft skin to carefully grip it and give you a squeeze.

Then, with his lips feathering at your forehead, he mumbled your name to get you awake. Wonwoo did feel somewhat guilty about stirring you, but he’d rather you have a comfortable sleep on his bed than the living room floor. He continued to rub your thigh nice and slow, watching your eyelids flicker open and squint at him through the dark room. There was a shallow grin that you gave him, full of contentment.

“You’re all fuzzy…” you yawned, proceeding to rub at your eye.

“It’s late,” he answered quietly, almost whispering, “I think I should get you to bed. You’ll be much comfier in my room.”

“Is Vernon asleep?”

“Mmhm.”

Turning back to glance at the couch, you yawned again.

“… Oh… so, we’re going to your room?”

“Yeah… c’mon, I’ll help you up.”

Wonwoo didn’t turn on the light in his bedroom since there was already a small separation in the curtains, allowing just the right amount of moonlight through to outline everything around him in bluish-silver.

You sat down on his bed, letting your fingers travel along the sheets to feel all the slight rumples and divots, only to look up at Wonwoo with a tired smile and sincere, blinking, gorgeous eyes that felt akin to a gut punch. As much as he wanted it—needed it—Wonwoo knew that he couldn’t sleep next to you. He couldn’t trust himself. He couldn’t fathom having you so fucking close in the intimate, cocooning darkness and not being able to squeeze his cold hands along every perfect part of you.

But you weren’t making it easy.

In fact, you were making it excruciatingly hard.

“Are you not going to lie down with me?”

Wonwoo felt the twig snap in his chest. You wouldn’t stop staring up at him through those wispy eyelashes and nibbling on your lip.

“I’ve got the recliner in the living room…” he could hardly choke it out. There was so much heat in his body that he could melt.

“Why sleep there? The bed is big enough.”

His deep voice twisted into a laugh he couldn’t avoid. “Yeah, the bed’s not the issue… uh, it’s fine, though. The recliner’s nice.”

He took a step back, but then you had grabbed his wrist.

“Wonwoo,” you said his name in a tender, breathy, desperate sort of way that sent his heart shattering to his feet, your eyes glistening through the sparse light like two comets, “I don’t want to sleep alone.”

Fuck—it was all he could think—fuck, fuck, fuck.

With your fingers still wrapped to his wrist, Wonwoo pushed his hand gently against the side of your face. He was closer to you now, applying a soft pressure to angle your head up at him. You were breathing thick per every second that passed, holding his eye contact without one fracture, smiling arch. Wonwoo wanted to drink you.

Leaning into his palm, you swallowed and squeaked, “please?”

His thumb was on your chin. Right under your bottom lip.

“Fuck, you can't look at me like that…” Wonwoo rasped in a low, hushed voice that was struggling not to crack.

Truly, he meant it.

Your hand slid further along his wrist, almost tickling him.

“Ple—”

Immediately, Wonwoo pressed his thumb past your bottom lip and onto the ridge of your lower teeth, stifling that dangerous little word before it could hit his ear the wrong way and render him spineless.

“No more, okay?” He murmured, slowly sliding the digit from your warm, damp mouth, feigning obliviousness to your thighs clamping together and the manner in which your fingernails dug at his skin.

There was another moment of intense, humid silence while he wiped the wetness against the edge of your jaw.

“Seriously,” Wonwoo firmed up his voice, “no more.”

When you at last seemed compliant, nodding, Wonwoo let his hand drift from your heated-up face. You stayed in place, quiet as ever, on the edge of his bed, watching him disappear through the doorway.

As he collapsed onto the recliner and pulled the blanket once pooled on the floor over his body, Wonwoo didn’t even bother shutting his eyes or removing his glasses. Instead, he stared up at the popcorn ceiling, letting his heart thump, thump, thump and his mind wander until he naturally couldn’t fight the imminent feeling of sleep.

It certainly didn’t help that you had wandered into his dreams—dreams that he should probably keep to himself, warped fully by desire and longing.

—END OF PART FIVE.

#seventeen scenarios #wonwoo scenarios #seventeen x reader #wonwoo x reader #seventeen imagines #wonwoo imagines #seventeen fanfic #wonwoo fanfic #svt fanfic #jeon wonwoo #svt scenarios #seventeen angst #seventeen smut

242 notes · View notes