#yeah well I feel sad too godamnit | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

teonjae · 4 years

Text

some things are better left unsaid...maybe

starring haechan ft. mark! (and other members of nct)

genre angst, fluff

words 9.3k

inspired by bags by clairo

a/n you can look at the mark preview here! this is my first time writing something like this so i hope you guys enjoy it!

one.

“is that take-out?” haechan says as soon as he hears your footsteps enter the kitchen. “yeah,” you reply dejectedly, “can you come here? i want to eat with you.” your best friend of 3 years and roommate of 7 months sighs as he sits up and switches off the tv. “i figured,” he lets out a small yawn and rubs the sleepiness out of his eyes, “did he reject you or what?”

you send a slight glare his way due to his nonchalance on the subject but brushed it off anyway. “no, i didn’t tell him,” you say, causing haechan’s eyes to widen in slight surprise. “what happened? you were so brave before you left,” he sits down and clasps his hands together, clearing his throat, “i like him too much! i’m going to confess my feelings now, no matter what happens!”

you scoff at him, “i do not talk like that. stop exaggerating, hyuck. and my voice isn’t even that high!” your voice slightly raising at the end. haechan chuckles before nudging your hand using his, your eyes drift to his. “what happened this time?”

“we just watched tv-“

he snorts, “again?”

“yeah but he showed me this song he was working on.”

“oh, he did?”

“yeah, and he played the guitar too.”

“that sounds...nice, i guess,” haechan quips before shoving another dumpling in his mouth, “and you didn’t confess because?” “it was a love song.” “oh,” he bites his bottom lip, “then shoot your shot. why didn’t you go for it?”

you exhale deeply, “because,” haechan raises his brow at you. knowing you, you would’ve confessed right then and there — a not-so-clear sign yet enough to convince yourself that maybe, just maybe, it was about you all along, making you pour your undeniable feelings out of your chest. but for some lame reason (he didn’t bother asking) he was different. mark fucking lee was different and he only introduced him to you six months ago.

“it’s not about me,” you pout, making haechan’s heart skip a beat. “he told you? who it was about?,” he asks. you purse your lips together and look around the room, suddenly feeling nervous under your best friend’s interrogative gaze. “no..?,” you question more than answer, “well not exactly but the lyrics sounded so like fun.”

haechan clicks his tongue in slight amusement, “are you saying you’re boring?” you raise your brows, “no! i mean we just watch tv lately and talk, i wouldn’t call that fun,” your see haechan trying to keep his laughter in (for your sake), “hey! is this funny to you?”

he clears his throat and gets into a more relaxed position, still smiling, “no but that’s exactly what you’re saying.” “glad to know you take my misery for entertainment,” you say bitterly, “but it isn’t about me so there’s that.” you lean back as you watch the boy in front of you gather his thoughts. “mmm, he hasn’t mentioned anyone new lately. well, except for you.”

he notices a glint in your eyes and he doesn’t know if he should feel mesmerized that you look so perfect in his eyes right now (lips slightly curved up into a smile with slightly damp hair from the rain awhile ago, adorned in a simple white tee, a pair of blue white-washed jeans, and your grizzly socks) or disappointed that the cause of the spark in your eyes was because your crush talked about you. “what’d he say?” you anticipate as you place your head on your hands, your body leaning onto the wooden table.

haechan hums in amusement and shakes his head, “you were so sad earlier. it takes you something as simple as this to make you happy.”

you huff before throwing a napkin at him, “whatever, you suck,” you stand up and push back your seat before exiting the kitchen, leaving haechan to clean the table (he groans at this), “i’m gonna watch tv.”

“be careful, babe!” haechan quips from his seat. “do you want me to play the guitar for you after?,” he laughs after hearing you whine.

the next day, you wake up to the sound of a pan dropping to the floor, followed by a string of profanities made by your roommate. you stretch to get rid of your sleepiness before getting to the door of your room. as you opened the door, you were greeted by the face of your best friend who was holding up a tray of pancakes complimented by orange juice, “what’s this?”

“good morning to you too, wicked witch of the west! what happened to your hair?,” haechan teases as he barges into your room. you rake down your hair in embarrassment as you watch haechan place the tray on the floor, sitting crossed-legged. “i had a good sleep, that’s what happened,” you close the door and move to sit across him, the tray in between the two of you. “i’m not sure if breakfast-in-bed is supposed to work this way. on the floor,” you sip on your artificial orange juice. “deal with it,” haechan deadpans, “and need i remind you that you have a date later at 2 pm.”

“it’s not a date,” you say as you harshly cut your pancake, “i already told you that he does not like me and he never will.”

“you’re selling yourself too short, baby,” haechan tells you, then snorting because of the syrup dripping from the corner of your mouth. he wipes it with his thumb, mumbling something about how you are and actual baby and how you wouldn’t survive without him, causing an unnoticed blush to spread across your cheeks. “who are you and what happened to haechan?”

“can’t i be nice to my beautiful best friend for once?,” a smug smile gracing his features as he leans back.

“disgusting and no, ‘cause you’re usually not like this. i think this is the nicest you’ve been to me for the past three years. did you do something?,” you question him rapidly, leaning forward and staring into his brown orbs.

he does the same and makes the space between the both of you slightly decrease. after a moment of intense eye contact between the two of you, he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, “consider this,” both of your hearts beating loudly at his action, “a gift out of pity!”

he pushes you away at the last word and your back hits the floor. “lee donghyuck!,” you shout as he runs out of the room with your unfinished breakfast, laughing. you sit up and glare at him when his head pops back into your room, “it’s already 1:15,” he grins cheekily. your eyes quickly dart to the digital clock on your nightstand, the numbers showing exactly 1:15 pm, 46 minutes until you’re considered a minute late to mark’s house. “oh shit!,” you dash to your bathroom, haechan shaking his head as he closes the door and retreats to the kitchen, a smile on his face.

two.

“hey,” you nudged haechan’s head with your socked foot, but he paid no attention, “hey,” you call once more, dragging the out the ‘e’. when he doesn’t even spare you a glance, you place your chin on his shoulder, making his heart speed up as he keeps his eyes glued to his phone. “what do you want?,” he mumbles. “what are you getting for mark’s birthday?,” you say and he finds it cute. he wishes you could talk about him like that. “a bottle of ketchup maybe,” he answers.

“doesn’t he hate ketchup?”

“he won’t if it’s from me,” you roll your eyes. “are you giving him something?”

“yeah but i don’t know what to give him. that’s why i was thinking you could help me,” you trail off towards the end out of shyness, but he just hums in response. “hey, could you look at me at least once. i’m trying to ask help from you,” you pout, “talking to someone while you’re on your phone is rude, you know.”

lee haechan won’t look at you, at least not now. not when you’re all pouty at him, asking for attention. he couldn’t afford to have his heart in a frenzy while you’re this close to him, so he settles on dragging the act for a little bit more.

“hey,” you say softly, the hint of sadness makes haechan finally look up from his phone, his breath hitching due to your faces being so close, noses almost touching. “are you mad at me?,” you question him. “what?,” his brows furrowing as he moves into a more comfortable position, one where he can’t think about kissing you right now, “baby, no. i was just...talking to someone.”

he hesitated and you noticed, “you’ve been acting weird lately. did i do something wrong? is there something you want to tell me?” yes and no. haechan shakes his head, “no, i promise. uhh i think you should give him something hand-made? you’d send the message straight away and if he still doesn’t get that, i don’t know what to do with him anymore,” he suggests, scolding himself internally because why is he helping her when he knows he’s going to get hurt if they end up together, godamnit.

“hmm, alright,” you stand up, unconvinced, “you can tell me anything, okay? i’ll listen.”. “i know,” haechan replies smiling up at you, and when you move down to kiss his cheek (a sweet ‘mwwwah’ as you do so) his face turns beet red but then again, you don’t see. “i’ll head out! i’ll text you when i’m done.”

haechan doesn’t know how to calm his heart down.

you pass by packed restaurants and two antique shops in a span of 15 minutes but you still can’t seem to find the cute plant shop you planned to get mark’s gift from. you settled on giving him a small house plant he could put in his room and to just decorate the pot so it wouldn’t look too plain (and a hand-written letter, of course).

“did hyuck give me the wrong directions?,” you mumble to yourself as you check the directions he gave you via text. you then start to worry when you notice the grey clouds above your head and curse at yourself for not remembering to bring an umbrella with you.

you continue to walk down the sidewalk absent-mindedly, eyes glued to your phone. that is until you bump into the side of a stranger and land on your bottom.

“oh shit. i’m so sorry, man- or woman- oh, y/n!,” mark rambles as he helps you up to your feet, chuckling at your situation.

“mark, hey,” you say nervously. he’s dressed in a black shirt and simple jeans, his round glasses telling you he had been running errands. “what are you doing here?”

“oh, i just had to give something to a friend. he works there,” mark points to the café on his right, jovial as its name. “you?”

“i was just,” you plan to get his gift another day, sigh, “on my way home.”

“i’ll give you a ride,” he fishes his keys out of his pocket and is about to turn on his heel but you grab his wrist to stop him, “no! it’s- it’s fine,” you stutter, “i was about to call hyuck anyway. he needs to get his ass out of the apartment,” you laugh awkwardly and slowly let go of his wrist, slightly questioning yourself why you had to grab him instead of just calling his attention.

suddenly, you feel something drip on your arm and literally five seconds later, rain pours harshly on the both of you and mark as you stand outside jovial. mark quickly grabs your hand, making you blush furiously as the cold rain nips at your skin, and drags the both of you to his car parked nearby. he opens the door for you and you get in quickly. he shuts it after and rushes to get on the other side, jumping into the driver’s seat.

“you alright?,” mark looks at you with concern. “i’m fine,” you tell him as he finds something in the back of his car and pulls out a white towel. you were about to take it from him and dry your hair yourself, but he places over your head first and dries it instead. his face was so close to yours that you’re sure he could hear your heart thumping loudly in your chest. his eyes held focus as he dries your hair, and you feel your feelings intensify all the more.

mark exhales when he’s done, “there. better?,” he smiles at you. you nod back, afraid that your voice would betray you. he looks to the back to find something once more until he pulls a grey hoodie from his black sports bag and hands it to you. “i think you should change at the back,” your eyes widen at his order. “what?! no, mark, it’s fine really,” you shake your head as you push the hoodie towards him. “come on, y/n! you’re gonna get sick and hyuck would kill me if that happened,” he smiles at you.

“then what about you? you’ll get sick and i would kill me if that happens,” you tell him seriously but he just chuckles at you. “just get in the back,” he insists.

you hesitate for a bit before taking the hoodie from him and moving to the back, taking your shoes off so you won’t dirty his seats. mark connects his phone to the radio to play a song before drying his hair with the same towel you used. as you slip on the hoodie, you recognize the song as john mayer’s new light.

you transfer back to the front, pulling the seatbelt over your shoulder before mark starts the engine. “what do you want from mcdonald’s?,” he licks his lips. “oh mark, you don’t have to really-“

“y/n,” he gives you a short glance, enough to make butterflies erupt in your stomach, “i insist. stop acting like we’re not best friends! i was going to get one on my way anyways,” he tells you.

best friends? best friends. you doubt if you could ever get him to see you in a new light on your way to mcdonald’s.

“wow, this is really good,” mark comments as he munches on his burger. “mark, that’s a cheeseburger!,” you laugh at him. “exactly! i think i’m just hungry,” he chuckles.

it was about 4 pm when you got out and bumped into mark. now, it was nearing 6:30 when you guys thought it would be better to eat in his car rather than in the restaurant itself.

“your birthday’s coming up. any plans?,” you start, fiddling with the burger wrapper. “i’ll have a party. invite johnny-hyung and the others, you know how stressful their jobs are.”

you hum, “yeah but producing’s great though! like not all people are gifted with the talent to come up with lyrics, let alone the beat and stuff...like you,” you mumble the last part and when you finish, you look sheepishly to your side to see mark already looking at you, his lips curved up into a soft smile. “did i say something funny?,” you ask, worried that you didn’t get the term ‘music producer’ correctly even when it’s quite obvious. “no, no. it’s just,” mark laughs and shakes his head. you wait for him to continue his sentence as a moment passes.

“you’re cute,” he states, smiling at you. “oh,” you giggle at the compliment, feeling your face getting hot for the nth time that day.

your phone buzzes on the dashboard, catching both of your attention. you pop a fry into your mouth and wipe your fingers on a napkin before grabbing your phone and checking the caller id. “is something wrong?,” mark asks.

“no, it’s just hyuck. hold on,” mark nods and puts his arm on the armrest, tapping his fingers patiently while looking around the almost bare parking lot.

you accept the call, “hey hyuck, is there something wrong?”

“is there something wrong?,” he asks with a hint of disbelief in his voice, “it’s almost seven! and it rained, y/n, you forgot your umbrella. where are you?”

“oh it is?,” you pull the phone away to check the time, 6:53 it read. when you don't answer his second question, he goes, “i’ll pick you up. text me your location.”

“i’m here with mark,” as soon as you said this, you see mark turn to you and ask, “is that hyuck?.” you nod and put the phone on speaker. you heard haechan repeat mark’s name in question but you ignore it.

“hey, haechanie!,” mark shouts, his enthusiasm making you smile. “mark-hyung! would it be okay for you to drive y/n home?”

“yeah, sure. definitely,” mark answers, looking at you. “do you want her now?,” you snort at his choice of words making the both of you laugh.

at the other end of the line, haechan can’t help but feel sadness and jealousy inside of him when he hears you laugh. “why were you with mark? were you with him the entire time you were gone?,” he thinks to himself.

“haechanie, i’ll drive her home now if you’re so eager,” mark jokes and he hears a “hey!” coming from you in the background. “thank you, mark-hyung. drive safe, please,” he ends the call.

three.

you feel it. then you don’t- oh it’s coming up again. it’s right there but it won’t come out.

“five, four, three, two....one,” haechan counts down, and right when he says ‘one’, a loud sneeze comes out of you.

“bless you,” he says as he passes you a box of tissues. you mumble a thanks before blowing your nose and laying back down on your pillow.

haechan places the back of his hand on your forehead and tsks, “you’re still hot,” he mumbles. he places a damp towel on your forehead and leaves to get the soup he was making earlier.

when he comes back into your room, he sees that you have your arm over your eyes to block the sunlight, making him worry even more. he places the soup on your nightstand before drawing the curtains to block the sunlight from your face.

you remove your arm but keep your eyes closed. your headache seems to worsen and you feel your eyelids getting hot. you feel the bed dip beside you and the towel being removed from your forehead, “hey,” haechan says, “you gotta sit up. i made you soup.”

a second or two passes and you sit up slowly, carefully leaning your head on the headboard. “aaa,” haechan lifts the spoon and motions for you to open your mouth. “i can feed myself, you know,” you say.

haechan closes his mouth and his face morphs into a ‘i’m trying here but you’re not cooperating’ face, “i’m worried you might spill the soup on your white sheets that i cleaned. open up,” he retaliates and lifts the spoon again. you give in and open your mouth and let haechan feed you.

you raise your weak arms to grab the bowl of soup from haechan, your hot finger tips grazing his warm ones, and place it on your lap. “i think i can handle myself. you should go or you’re gonna be late,” you tell him.

haechan hums in thought, “i really think i should stay,” making you groan. “come on,” you whine, “i already feel bad for not attending mark’s party. you’ll make me feel worse by not attending.”

“you sure?,” you’re best friend winces, “mark would understand if i tell him you’re sick and i’d take care of you.” you try to push him with your leg with the little strength you have but he doesn’t budge. “please?,” you tell him softly, “for me?”

haechan sighs, “fine, but text me if something’s wrong, alright?”. “yes, i know,” you reply to him. “do you want me to give your present and return the hoodie for you?,” he rubs the back of his neck, a habit he does when he’s stressed or worried. you feel bad when you remember the slight worry on his face the night mark brought you home, and think that he probably won’t enjoy mark’s party like he’s supposed to while he’s this worried about you. your heart swells.

“no, thank you. i think the least i could do now is send him a birthday text and give his present when i’m better,” you sip a spoon of your soup. “alright, call me, okay?,” he says as he opens your door. “yes, yes, now go!,” you tell him, showing that you were annoyed but the both of you know you don’t mean it. he smiles sadly as he steps out the door.

“i love you!,” he says before your door seals shut. you gulp down the rest of your soup and grab your phone to text mark a short birthday text. you lay down after, sleep slowly taking over you.

mark’s party is packed, even filled with people haechan didn’t know. he arrived early in the party, sparing him enough time to talk to his hyungs who were either working or years above him in college. he’s missed them so damn much, he almost forgets the pile of college tasks he left at home, and you being sick.

it was already nine in the evening when he was already halfway through his drink, a mix of coke and slight alcohol yangyang prepared for him when he insisted he should drink at least a little. the party seemed livelier than compared to three hours ago when some of mark’s relatives were still in his house. now that they’re gone, people got more comfortable and some of them even played beer pong on the pool table (he was surprised to see kun playing). right now, he was just chilling on the couch, jaehyun beside him, listening in on the conversation he and the birthday boy are having.

“you’ve never been to a blind date? not even once?,” jaehyun asks the raven-haired boy. “nope,” mark says, popping the ‘p’ before taking a sip from his red solo cup. “i kinda find them scary, i guess,” he explains.

“isn’t that the purpose of it though?,” haechan argues, “you go on a blind date in hopes of meeting ‘the one’ and getting to know them more.”

“have you been on a blind date?,” mark argues back.

“countless of times,” haechan sighs dramatically, “i used to let y/n set them up for me but they never work.”

“maybe it’s because she is ‘the one’,” jaehyun says smugly before drinking. “yeah, hyuck. why won’t you ask her out, dude? you’re never this shy,” mark backs him up.

haechan looks at him and bites the inside of his cheek. “she likes you, idiot,” haechan says in his head bitterly, but then he also thinks that you’re an idiot for not noticing his feelings when other people could tell. he knows your crush on mark is so different from all your other crushes before but he thought he could make your heart swerve to his especially with the way he was acting for the past year, even before you liked mark.

“no, we’re not like that,” haechan gulps, “we’re just friends,” he states as he swirls the drink in his cup. his friends just shrug at his answer, not fully believing him, and continue to observe the party while sipping on their drinks.

mark suddenly snaps his fingers, grabbing the attention of haechan and jaehyun. “a friend of mine’s going here. she’s from canada,” mark says excitedly and haechan gets a feeling he wouldn’t like the next words that would be coming out of his best friend’s mouth. “she’s really special and i’m planning to surprise her when she comes home from the airport. i need your help.”

“what is it?,” jaehyun leans forward with interest while haechan just bites his lip and asks, “wait, who is this?”

“kang mina. i told you guys about her before, she’s like my childhood best friend before moving here,” mark explains. “and i thought hyuck here was your first best friend. right, haechanie?,” jaehyun jokes, patting haechan’s back while the latter nods as he sips on his drink. “anyways,” mark’s eyes drift to something else in the party but he continues, “i’ll tell you the final details on the day itself. she’ll get here the day after tomorrow so it’s simple, really.”

jaehyun lets out an ‘okay’ while haechan downs the rest of the drink. mark leaves before he could even say a proper goodbye, “hold on, someone’s playing with the toilet paper packs. i need to-“ haechan never got to hear the rest of his sentence as he watches his best friend disappear into the sea of people.

“jaehyun-hyung,” the younger one says, “i’ll be leaving now. i need to check up on y/n. tell mark-hyung i said goodbye,” he stands up from his seat and places the cup of the coffee table. “take care, hyuck! the both of you,” jaehyun calls out, not bothering to look up from his phone that he had out earlier.

four.

you dressed yourself with a simple hoodie (haechan’s hoodie, that he left in your room and never got back) and some leggings before getting out and locking the apartment. after being bedridden by haechan for two days, you were left with a refrigerator with only vegetables and cabinets filled with cup ramen, so you decided to get some grocery done nearby.

on you’re way to the grocery store, you bump into mark who’s got his hands full with white plastic bags. “hey, mark,” you greet him.

“hey!,” mark chuckles, “we’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

“why? do you mind?,” you say, not knowing where the sudden confidence came from. “no,” he smiles, “not at all.”

“oh right, i’m sorry i didn’t get to see you on your birthday. i’ll give your present the next time we meet,” you rock on your heels nervously, “and your hoodie.”

“no worries, i understand,” mark bites his lip and raises the bags he’s holding, “listen, i’ve got to go. where are you headed?,” he asks.

“the grocery store, but i’m fine. you could go now,” you smile back at him. “alright, see you!,” mark jogs off.

you were about to continue your walk to the grocery store when mark suddenly comes back, “there’s something happening tomorrow. i want you to be there,” mark says quickly, “can you make it?”

“yeah, sure!,” you say, “where?”. “my house,” he answers and you nod. “great! thank you, y/n!,” he shouts as he run off, making you laugh.

on your way home from the grocery store, you can’t help but think about the words mark uttered to you awhile ago. “i want you to be there,” the words clearly ring out in your head. you smile to yourself as you continue your trek home, wondering if the contents of the white plastic bags were for you.

the next day, you dressed yourself nicely. you put on a simple dress you didn’t know you had before getting into your car and heading to mark’s house.

when you get there, you see people lined up in front of mark’s house. you see johnny, jaehyun, taeyong, and jungwoo who’s holding a sign but you couldn’t read what was written on it.

you parked your car down the street and head to where jisung was standing. just then, a white sedan came and stopped, causing a slight commotion within the people on the front. “oh, y/n! there you are,” jisung pulls you to stand in between him and renjun, handing you a party popper. “what’s this?,” you ask him. “just watch,” he says excitedly and points his party popper towards the middle

the door of the white sedan opens and a girl your age steps out. “she’s pretty,” you think to yourself. you hear a guitar being strummed and your eyes dart quickly to mark, who starts singing a song that seems familiar to you, his voice making your heart beat louder and louder. your eyes look back to the girl, her hands covering her mouth as her eyes form into an eye smile.

you look at everybody around you, endearing smiles covering their faces. you scan the crowd until you see jungwoo, happily holding a sign that said ‘KANG MINA, WILL YOU GO ON A DATE WITH ME?’, in red letters.

your throat becomes dry and tears well up in your eyes. you try look at anything but the sign while cursing yourself for hoping that mark had something special planned for you. you let your eyes wander until you make eye contact with haechan. he’s already looking at you while holding up a phone, recording the whole cause of your heartbreak. he sees the sadness in your eyes and bites his lip, shaking his head as he looks away.

your eyes drift back slowly to mark and the girl, the boy standing just a foot from her as you stare at them. mark looks so happy, maybe because a clear ‘yes’ was written on the girl’s face. you bite your lip as your vision becomes blurry.

you don’t know if it was the party poppers going off or the sound of your heart crashing into complete despair, as mark ends the song and picks the girl up in his arms. everyone cheers and rushes towards the couple, just like those football teams when someone does a promposal in the middle of the field, while you stay in place. you and haechan do.

your eyes find each other once again as you both lower the items you’re holding. a tear slides down your cheek and you quickly wipe it away in embarrassment, running to the bathroom inside mark’s house. when you get inside, haechan rubs his face and sighs in frustration as he feels anger bubble up from inside of him.

you feel like going home. you wanted to go home, but you couldn’t say no to jisung when he begged you to stay and eat with him, claiming that he wanted you to try the kimchi fried rice he prepared with the help of taeyong. so after agreeing with him and telling him you’ll leave right after you eat, he gladly drags you over to the backyard where people took their seats as they wait for everyone to settle down before they dig in on the food set on the long table before them.

so now, you were seated beside him and renjun, while mark and kang mina (you learned her name when johnny started chanting mark’s and her’s names while you were in the bathroom, the crowd joining in soon after) were seated on the other side of the table, chatting happily with the older hyungs.

haechan sits across renjun, not quite enjoying the steak he was having. he looks up to see you looking at the couple on the other side and winces when he sees mark feed kang mina a piece of steak, his hyungs teasing him after. he runs his tongue along the side of his cheek as looks back at you, head cast down on your plate as you play with the few amounts of meat you have left. he cuts a portion of his steak and puts it on your plate, “eat some more,” he says before chewing a slice in his mouth. you look up at him in slight surprise and he silently urges you to eat what he gave you. you blink a few times before cutting the steak into smaller pieces and placing one in your mouth.

an hour passes by and chatter continues to fill the dining table, more on the other side than on yours. haechan hears a chair scraping against the floor and sees mark standing up, “excuse me, i gotta take this,” he hears him say and heads out of the house. he quickly finishes his steak and follows him soon after, your eyes following him.

haechan passes through the house then goes on out to the street, where he sees the back of mark talking to someone on the phone. he walks up to him as the latter ends the call, “i’ll have it sent by thursday. alright. see you.”

after pressing the end call button, he turns on his heel, about to get back to the house until he sees haechan in his way, “haechan? what are you doing here?,” he asks.

“mark-hyung,” haechan starts, “can we talk for a bit?”

“yeah, sure,” mark puts his phone on his back pocket, confused by his best friend’s serious tone, “what’s up?”

“why is y/n here?,” haechan deadpans. a confused frown forms upon mark’s face, “huh?”

“why is she here?,” haechan repeats. “because i wanted her to? she’s my friend and i thought that she could support me. i didn’t want to leave her out. is there something wrong?,” mark asks, not quite getting the situation.

haechan looks at him with disbelief and runs his hand through his hair exasperatedly before putting his hands in his pockets, “you really don’t get it, do you?”

“haechan, what? did i do something wrong?,” mark takes a few steps until he’s about an arm’s reach from him.

haechan scoffs and says, “mark-hyung,” he inhales, “she likes you. y/n likes you.”

surprise etches unto mark’s face, “what? how’d you know?”

“i know ‘cause i’ve been there. i’ve been helping her do all sorts of things for you and you never notice. i’ve been helping her cope with whatever mixed signs you’ve been giving her and you still don’t notice,” haechan says as he points to himself.

a moment of shocked silence passes by as mark opens and closes his mouth like a fish begging for water. he runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek before he finally decides to speak, “haechan, i didn’t know, i swear. i was just being nice to her like a friend would.” he runs his hand through his hair when he notices the flick of anger in haechan’s eyes.

“exactly,” haechan whispers, “you’re too nice, mark-hyung. you don’t even know you’ve crossed the line already,” pain spreads across his face, “you know at first, i loved that you were so nice to me when i became your roommate. my friends were jealous that i had a roommate who takes care of me, buys me food, and doesn’t get mad at me when i’m too loud while he’s studying for finals. but then i didn’t, cause i thought that you acted like this because i was only a roommate. i started to wonder if you ever wanted to be my friend since you treated me so nicely. i know that’s not your intention but i’m your fucking best friend!,” haechan lashes out on him, “you can tell me if i’m hurting you, if i’m annoying you, if i’m a sick asshole who needs to be told off by his best friend because he’s too much, but you just stay silent and let me do my thing. it’s like you don’t want me as your best friend,” haechan finishes with his eyes watery.

mark opens his mouth again to say something but nothing comes out. haechan shakes his head and slowly turns around, about to head inside but pauses when he sees you get in your car, jisung trailing behind you, and leave.

haechan lets out a disappointed sigh and jogs towards the house. “where’s y/n going?,” he asks as he got there. “jisung’s mom needed help with something,” renjun answers him, “so y/n offered to drive him there,” his friend looks up to see the worry stretched on his face and asks, “is something wrong?”

haechan shakes his head. “i’ll go now,” he bids, not bothering to say goodbye to the others. he bumps into mark’s shoulder on the way out but he just passes by him and steps out the house, not uttering a single word.

haechan quietly enters the apartment, careful not to disturb the silence. he changes into sweats and a baggy shirt before treading softly into your room.

your room is dark, the only light illuminating the room comes from the lamp haechan picked out for you when you went out shopping.

your back is faced to the door, preventing haechan from seeing your tear-stained cheeks. he slowly climbs in from behind you, wrapping himself in the same blanket. he lays down before pulling your shoulder softly, making you turn your body and bury your head in the crook of his neck. he places his left arm under your head and uses his other arm to pull you close, leaving it on your waist. you stay like this for a while until haechan feels a warm drop on his shoulder. he kisses your forehead and pulls you closer, bringing his left hand to your head, whispering, “shh, it’s okay. it’s okay.”

“the song,” you sob out, “i-its about her.”

haechan’s mouth parts slightly in shock before sighing giving you another kiss on the head and hugging you tighter. he lets you cry on his shoulder the whole night until you eventually fall asleep, him following soon after.

you wake up the next day, using your arm to block your eyes from the harsh sunlight. you raise your other arm to rub the fatigue out of your eyes but freeze when you felt a patch of soft hair touch your fingers. you slowly open your eyes as you look to your right, haechan cuddled up to your side, his head on your shoulder. you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and rest your hand on his head for the meantime while you try to get back some sleep.

your phone vibrates from your nightstand, making you sigh in annoyance. you pat haechan’s head to get him off of you as you stretch your legs and your free arm. haechan groans as he turns to the other side, away from you, and pulls the blanket up to cover his head. you sit up and grab your phone from the nightstand, the time reading 12:47 pm, “wake up, sleepyhead,” you tell the boy sleeping on your bed, “it’s already past noon.”

you type in your passcode and open the message app, suddenly getting nervous at seeing who messaged you — mark lee. you gulp before opening the chat, your last messages being those you sent on the day of his birthday two days ago. ‘hey, can we talk? 1 pm at jovial sound good?’ the text read. you bite the inside of your cheek after reading it, anxious as to why he wanted to talk to you.

you type back an ‘okay’ before getting up and heading to the bathroom to shower, seeing that you have less than ten minutes left to get ready, but this time it’s different, you don’t rush.

five.

you stop in front of jovial to calm your nerves when you see the back of mark’s head in the café. you glance inside the white paper bag you brought containing mark’s plant and hoodie, making sure they’re still intact after you swinging them anxiously on the way here. you take a breath before stepping in, the bell chiming to signal a new customer has entered.

you slowly walk up to mark who’s on his phone and stop to hesitate. you clench your fists and walk back until mark stops you. “y/n, hey,” he greets you.

you give him a small smile, “hey,” you reply as you take the empty seat across him. “uhh i got you got hot chocolate cause that’s what you like, right?,” mark asks nervously and it makes your heart skip a beat because he remembered even if you only mentioned it once. “yeah,” you mumble shyly. “here’s your gift. and your hoodie. thank you, by the way,” you put the paper bag on the table and slide it to him. “thank you,” he says as he takes the paper bag and puts it to the side, giving you a soft smile. you take a short sip from your cup and mark clears his throat, making you look up at him.

“how do i say this..uhh,” mark sighs and runs his hand through his hair. he looks at you and licks his lips, “i-is it true? that...that you..like me?,” he asks. “did i get that right?”

your breath hitches in your throat at his words, you suddenly don’t know how to speak so you settle on giving him a short nod while you try to blink back tears.

“y/n,” mark was about to grab your hands but stopped himself, “i’m sorry. i can’t..i don’t feel the same,” he says slowly. “you were there right? you saw it happen?,” mark winces slightly as he refers to the day before, when kang mina went home and he professed his love to her. your cheeks heat up in embarrassment and your heart pounds harshly against your chest. “yeah, i saw,” you give him a sad smile and look away, “congrats by the way. never knew you had it in you. and it’s okay, i’ve had my fair share of rejections. this is nothing,” you try to brush it off but mark sees your eyes getting glossy.

“i’m really sorry, y/n. i’ve thought about how i acted towards you and it could’ve been misleading. i’ll be careful next time, i promise,” he says sincerely and it makes you feel bad seeing him apologize.

“hyuck gave me a good scolding yesterday. i should’ve realized sooner,” mark takes a sip from his cup as your head snaps back towards him with wide eyes. “what?,” you whisper.

“he said i was too nice, and he even felt bad because of it. i wanted to talk to him but it seems like he’s ignoring me,” he bites his lip and a tear slips down your face and you quickly wipe it away when mark notices. “hey,” he says with concern.

“oh no, i’m alright, really,” you try to laugh it off as your grip on your cup tightens, “really! i’m fine, mark. please, i’m a big girl now. and you’re not the first to reject me, but it’s not like i’ve never rejected anyone before. i did- it’s,” you stop your nervous rambling from going too far and exhale, forcing a smile, “i’m sorry for rambling...and putting you in this situation. it’s okay, i promise. i totally understand,” you finish.

mark just nods his head, “if you say so.”

“listen, i’ve still got some more work to do so i’ll head home now,” you mention while standing up. “thank you for this!,” you lift the cup up and leave with it immediately, and you don’t spare mark a glance when he bids you goodbye.

haechan jumps from the couch when he hears you barge into the apartment, the door making a loud bang. “y/n! is that you?,” he shouts, grabbing the remote and switching the tv off.

you stomp towards haechan and pull him up aggressively from his seat so that he’s standing right in front of you. “baby, what’s wrong?,” haechan starts to worry as he sees your already puffy eyes struggling to hold back tears.

“why did you tell him?,” you ask furiously.

“what?,” he breathes out, “tell who what?”

“why did you tell mark that i like him!,” you push haechan on his shoulders. “you know how bad i felt? how hard it was for me to see him do that? he apologized for being nice to me, for fuck’s sake!”

haechan continues to stare at you as you give up on holding back your tears, “who are you to do that? you should’ve let it pass! he didn’t have to know but why did you tell him?”

a moment of silence passes, you wipe your eyes with the sleeve of your sweater when he doesn’t answer. “are you sick of me?,” you whimper, “are you tired of hearing me talk about mark so you decided to tell him so he could reject me? so i’d stop? is that what you wanted?”

“y/n, no. i-“ haechan places his hands on your arms but you tiredly shrug them off. “then what, haechan?”

he bites his lip and puts his hands in his pockets, “i,” you look at him impatiently, “i was mad, alright? i was frustrated and i was tired of seeing him lead you on like that. y/n, i don’t know if you’ve noticed but like you and care about you more than enough to hate seeing you hurt.”

you scoff in disbelief, a pang to haechan’s heart. “are you that selfish?,” you say, “i know you’re selfish but i didn’t know you'd go this far.”

hurt flashes across haechan’s face. he doesn’t know what you’re talking about. you’re so blinded by the fact that you’re hurt and sad so, unknowingly, you put the blame on haechan and spit out words you don’t even mean. “so you told mark so he could reject me, and that i would move on from him, and you’d swoop in like some fucking prince charming? and you’d make me fall for you? is that it?”

“y/n,” haechan says sternly, “do you seriously think i would do that? do you really think i would stoop down that low?,” he scoffs, “i know you’re mad but you don’t have to accuse me like that either.”

“well it seemed exactly like that to me!,” you don’t back down, keeping your walls of pride up. “you told him after all. i do think you’d stoop down that low,” you huff as you look away.

haechan scoffs in disbelief, “you won’t back down, will you?,” he says to himself but you heard it anyway and it makes you more annoyed at him. “fine, let’s just say i did,” haechan spits out and picks up his jacket from the couch. he steps away from you before shaking his head and leaving, slamming the door shut on his way out.

six.

“y/n,” jisung grimaces at you, “the ice is melting. can you finish it at least halfway?”

you lean forward from your seat and drink the dalgona coffee he worked ‘so hard’ on until halfway just like he asked. “i’m sorry, i just,” you lean back on the couch and close your eyes, a groan coming out of you.

“did you like mark-hyung that much to actually say that?,” jisung winces, “i’m actually disappointed right now. you’re lucky i’m still talking to you.”

“i know, you don’t have to rub it on my face,” you tell him. “you deserve it,” he shrugs as he casually sips on his drink.

jisung lets out a laugh, making you turn your head to him, “what?”

“you know, jeno-hyung asked me the other day if you and haechan-hyung were a thing,” you make a sound of disbelief.

“yeah,” he chuckles, “i swear to my boss he looks at you with this,” he raises his fist and makes wild gestures with it, “face. it’s all lovey-dovey and it makes me sick, i wanna punch him.”

“you’re weird,” you tell him.

“you’re weirder!,” he argues back, “you like mark-hyung but then you act like you’re already dating haechan-hyung.”

you shake your head and look back up at the ceiling. all the good memories start flooding back to you, from haechan paying for your cup ramen at the convenience store on your first meeting, until he hugged you close as you cried on his shoulder a few days ago. you start to realize haechan was obvious with his feelings and you did act like a couple. you remembered how close your faces were the morning he made you breakfast, and how loud your heart was beating when he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. you remembered how he was planning to skip his best friend’s birthday just to take care of you. you remembered him knowing how you felt the day kang mina came home. “oh no,” you tell yourself when you feel your heart beat violently against your chest as your cheeks heat up. “i think i like him,” you whisper but it goes unnoticed by the teen beside you.

“actually, no,” jisung shakes his head, snapping you out of your self-realization, and points at you, “i want to punch you more.”

“what the fuck?,” you say confusedly.

“you’re stupid for saying those words the other day,” you groan, “and for not noticing his feelings for you in like, a whole year.”

“no, no. i know now, i just realized,” you say, “and i think i like him-“

jisung snaps his head towards you and forces you to sit up so that you’re facing him, “you what?”

“i think i like him,” you say slowly and jisung gasps, “i’ve been feeling weird around him — like a good weird, okay?,” jisung nods as he listens to you. “like that one time he brought me breakfast in bed and we ate it on the floor,” a confused hum comes out from jisung but he lets you continue without saying anything, “and his face was so close to mine,” he starts hitting you repeatedly on your thigh, “and he did this thing with my hair,” you demonstrated and jisung bites back a scream to come out of him, “i don’t know, i never felt like that around him.”

“felt like what?,” jisung knows what you’re talking about but he wanted to hear you say it out loud.

“like what i felt around mark. like my heart was going to pop out of my chest,” you let out another ‘i don’t know’ after your sentence as jisung jumps around and punches his fists into the air as he shouts “chenle owes me twenty bucks!”.

jisung soon calms down as realization sets on his face, “but he hates you.”

“he does?,” you nip on your fingertip nervously.

“probably, yeah,” jisung nods, “i would if you assumed that lowly of me,” jisung finishes as he hits you on the arm.

“jisung!,” you scold him as you hit him back, “you’re not helping!”

jisung frowns as he rubs the spot you hit, mumbling about how he didn’t even hit you that hard. “just apologize, geez. in person, okay? stop being a pussy.”

you scoff, “you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“you gonna kiss haechan-hyung with that mouth?”

slap.

seven.

it’s been at least a week since you last talked to haechan. he didn’t come back to the apartment ever since he left. you’ve learned from jisung that he has been staying with jaemin for the meantime. “he’s probably sulking right now,” jisung jokes through the phone as you drive to jaemin’s.

“you think this is a good idea?,” you wince as you take a turn, “i could’ve just asked him to meet up or something. why do i have to go there?”

“trust me, i’ve watched tons of kdramas. this is gonna be so romantic,” jisung squeals through the phone. you roll your eyes, “whatever.”

you glance to your right and you see a flower shop, giving you an idea. “hold on, jisung,” you say before ending the call.

you park on the sidewalk before entering the shop, the smell of flowers welcoming you. “hello!,” a girl jisung’s age greets you, “what would you like to get?”

you hum in thought, “do you guys have any sunflowers?”

“would you want a bouquet or just one?,” she shouts from the back of the shop. you thought a bouquet would be too expensive so you settle for one, “just one please!”

after paying and getting back to your car, you continue your drive to jaemin’s house. your phone vibrates from the passenger’s seat and you grab it without taking your eyes of the road. accepting the call, you press the phone to your ear, “what did you do?,” jisung asks.

“i bought him flowers. well, flower. i bought him a sunflower,” you tell him.

“ahh, sunflowers because he’s haechan. sunflower, haechan,” jisung repeats, “i get it.”

you don’t reply until jisung calls your attention, “wait wait wait,” you make a sound of acknowledgement, “are you gonna ask him out?”

“i don’t know actually. i’ll just apologize and give the flower” you tell him nonchalantly. “oh,” jisung sighs.

“well, i’m here now. wish me luck,” you step out of your car without forgetting the sunflower you placed on the passenger’s seat. “good luck!,” jisung ends the call.

you walk slowly in front of the gate and take a deep breath. you wipe your hands on your jeans before ringing the doorbell.

“who is it?,” you hear the voice of jaemin speak through the intercom. “it’s y/n. is hyuck there?,” you nervously ask.

“ohh, y/n!,” jaemin playfully says, “haechanie’s in the shower,” you hear a door close, “oh nevermind. y/n’s here. go outside.”

you don’t hear anything after that. you wait anxiously, playing with the plastic wrapper around the sunflower. you turn your attention to the gate when you hear it creak, haechan standing there as he wipes his damp hair with a towel. he looks so good in just his basketball shorts and black tee, it makes your heart melt. you wonder why you didn’t notice this before.

the sound of the iron gate closing snaps you out of your thoughts as haechan steps out silently. you nervously look into his eyes as he continues to say nothing and hangs the towel around his neck. “hey,” you speak first, “how are you?”

“i’m fine, i guess,” he simply answers, “you?”

“me too,” you fiddle with the sleeves of your jacket before taking a deep breath, “i’m really sorry for the other day. i wasn’t in the right mind and i shouldn’t have lashed out on you. i’m sorry for saying you would stoop that low but we both know you wouldn’t. and you’ve always been there for me so,” you trailed off, feeling embarrassed. ”i guess i was too…”

“too?,” haechan smirks.

you lick your lips before giving up on finding the right word. “i was a bitch, okay? i’m sorry,” you breathe out. “will you forgive me?,” you look up at him as he stares at you with a blank face. you bite your lip thinking that your apology wasn’t good enough and you probably wasted your last chance, until haechan opens his arms and pulls you into a hug, “i forgive you,” he tells you as he brings his arms down to your waist. “thank god. i’ve missed you so much,” you wrap your arms around his neck and hug him tightly.

you pull away and he grabs the flower from your hands and bring it to the middle, separating the two of you while his other arm remains on your waist. “what’s this?,” he teases as he twirls it around his fingers. “i was thinking about giving it to jaemin in case you didn’t forgive me,” you say sarcastically, making the boy in front of you raise his brow. you bite your bottom lip and wrap your arms around his neck again and fiddle with the towel around it, his heart beating loudly at your confidence. “i was thinking about asking you out because i think i liked you in the past few days i liked mark,” he rolls his eyes at the mention of your former crush’s name, “and i’ve thought about this for a week so i’m serious.”

“what if i’m just a rebound?,” he wonders. “if you were then i’d drop you the first week. out of guilt,” you scoff. he chuckles at your honesty, “and if i’m not?”

“then i’d want you to say yes and keep you for as long as i’d like.”

he wraps both of his arms around your waist and pulls you closer until your foreheads are touching, making the you smile. “and how long would that be?”

you make a thinking face and say, “pass the marriage phase, maybe? ‘til death do us part.”

he whispers ’deal’ before pressing his lips on yours.

kissing lee donghyuck was more than you imagined, filled with so much love and passion that it contrasts his soft lips. his kisses held the right amount of pressure, making your knees feel weak at his touch. you cup his jaw with your hands and pull him closer when he tilts his head to the side to deepen the kiss. you kiss for a while and haechan pulls away after feeling you smile. “so are you my girlfriend now?,” he smirks, his nose touching yours. “maybe,” you answer him and smile bigger. you give him a short kiss on his lips and when you pull away, he chases it with his own, wanting for more and it making you chuckle. you were about to remark on that but he kisses you, making you seal your lips against his.

before you both go into a full on make-out session outside jaemin’s gate, the intercom buzzes and you both pull away, laughing at your surprised faces. “get a room!,” jaemin scolds and haechan suddenly remembers he could see what was going on outside, “you’re gonna turn our neighbors into voyeurs, i swear to god.”

the end.

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writemetohell · 6 years

Text

And We Fight for Roses Too- Chapter 3 (rejected version)

For Katherine, the plan was simple: Go undercover at one of Manhattan’s many illegal sweatshops and write the expose that’ll finally kick start her career as a big time reporter.

The one thing she could’ve never planned for was a certain factory worker by the name of Sarah Jacobs.

“So... what do you think?”

Denton was giving Katherine That Look. That sad, nervous, puppy dog eyes look that asked, ‘You’re not mad at me, right?’. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, and he was rocking slightly on the balls of his feet, a habit he always fell back into whenever he was nervous. Katherine sighed and rubbed his shoulder affectionately.

“The apartment’s wonderful, Bryan. Really”

And technically, it was. It was certainly a step up from the glove factory. It was clean, for one thing. And it didn’t smell like dust and armpit sweat. Sure, it was small, but not small enough for two adults to live there somewhat comfortably, especially since there were two rooms. Well, technically one doubled as the kitchen, but there were two beds so that she and Denton wouldn’t have to share, and-

It was bizarre, Katherine realized, how much she was defending this shitty tenement apartment in the one of the seedier neighborhoods of Lower Manhattan. It was amazing what a few days in a sweatshop could do to your standard of living.

Her mind was still in a blur. The last three days had been miserably interchangeable; Katherine got up too early, went to bed too late, and in the interim dealt with backbreaking work along with the reserved kindness of Sarah and the aloof silence of the other girls. Payday couldn't come soon enough. And when it did, it was like leaning in for a kiss only to be struck with a slap.

“Forty-five cents! I’ve put in over nearly fifty hours of work for them and all they give me is forty-five lousy cents!”

“Calm down Katie, you’ve been here less than a week.” This was Rachel, of course, rolling her eyes for what must have been the fiftieth time that day. “You started Tuesday, of course they’re not going to pay you the full amount.”

“Not to mention you broke that needle on your first day, they probably took away money for that too.” Rebecca piped in.

“How could I forget.” Katherine mumbled to herself, rubbing her stinging, bandaged fingers.

Her new situation was not helped by the fact she had been squatting at Denton’s apartment since the experiment began. Staying at her own place on Park Avenue would really raise suspicions to a whole other level. But it was still a thirty minute trek to get from his place to the factory, and Katherine knew the girls were going to start talking soon if she didn’t show up with a legit address of her own.

So Denton started apartment hunting for the two of them. Their search had been quick, limiting themselves to places with running water and at least two rooms, and finally settled on a fourth floor residence of an only somewhat shabby tenement building in the center of the Lower East Side. The fact that it seemed to house mostly families there too seemed to comfort Katherine. For a girl who had never been downtown for more than a half hour at a time Katherine clung onto anything for comfort.

By early Friday evening she had almost finished unpacking. Denton was off for the night, covering a late-night politicians’ summit on the current Manhattan water supply. For the first time in what felt like ages, Katherine found herself completely alone; no Bryan, no chatty seamstresses, no creepy foreman. Just her and her thoughts (and the shouts of the people in the streets below). She took a deep breath and exhaled, rubbing her temples as she slid into a nearby chair. Maybe she could sit here for the rest of the night. Or maybe for all entirety. However long it took to make her feel like a real human being again. Eating, bathing, unpacking; all that could come later. She had a good twelve hours until her next shift, it wouldn’t hurt just to sit here and doze…

There was a sharp knock on the door. Katherine jumped out of her seat in surprise, knocking over her chair and banging her head on a light fixture in the process.

"Hello? Is anyone home?”

Crap. More Yiddish. She should have brought a dictionary before coming here.

“I’m your new neighbor, I came to say hello.”

The voice sounded young. And girlish. That was comforting at least. Katherine weighed her options- if she ignored the knocking, her neighbors would only grow suspicious. But if she answered she’d have to deal with a fluent Yiddish speaker, who was probably expecting the same of her. That would also raise suspicions.

The knocking wouldn’t stop. Finally, Katherine made a split-second decision and headed towards the door. She may have been completely unequipped for this situation, but if finishing school taught her anything, it was that rudeness was a lot worse than any language barrier. She was so caught up in her own thoughts, she almost jumped back in surprise when she finally opened the door.

There was Sarah Jacobs, hair free from its bun and flowing down her back, holding a ceramic container to her chest. Her fist was still in mid knock.

“Hello- Katie? What are you doing here?”

Katherine shifted uncomfortably in the doorway. “I... live here.”

“Oh right… I should’ve figured that.”

There was an unsettling pause wherein the two girls stared at each other, unsure of what say next. Sarah ducked her head and tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. She looked

different with her hair down. Softer, younger. There was a small stream of late afternoon sunlight coming through the one dingy apartment window, and it fell gently onto the side of Sarah’s face. It was a nice effect, Katherine thought. She almost looks like a figure in a renaissance painting….

Katherine quickly shook the thought from her head. She did not need unnecessary emotions like this. Especially now.

“So, um...what do you have there?”

“Oh, this? My mom made it, it’s kugel. She got all excited when she found out someone finally moved into the old Feinstein place. Don’t worry, it’s kosher if you’re strict about those kinds of things. Mom decided it play it safe, cause, I mean, we only do it on holidays, it can get so expensive, you know? But there’s always extra for special occasions and things like that...I’m sorry, am I talking to much?”

Sarah blushed when she got embarrassed. It was very cute.

“Oh, no Sarah, you’re fine. I’m a little startled, I guess. Please, come in.”

Right now their apartment was pretty bare- Denton got two second hand chairs and a small table for the main area. Two cots were shoved into the second room along with an old metal frame washbasin (Katherine did not want to think about how she was going to have a full body bath). A small stove was shoved into the left-hand corner of the main room, the one piece of furniture that came with the apartment. Katherine had only made a few halfhearted attempts to light it. The rest were crates, holding clothes and books.

“Wow, you did a really good job of cleaning this place! It was crazy when the Feinstein’s were living here, they had nine kids, and I’m pretty sure the grandmother was staying with them too before she died.”

Katherine shrugged. “It wasn’t too bad when we moved in. We were mostly cleaning up dust.”

“Is your family nearby? I’d love to meet them.” Sarah put the kugel on the kitchen table and stretched out in one of the chairs.

“It’s just me and my cousin right now.” Think quick Katherine, think quick. “Everyone else...is in Cincinnati. They moved there a couple weeks ago.”

To Katherine’s relief, Sarah only nodded. “Oh yeah, Cincinnati. There’s a lot of work out there. That’s gotta be tough though, leaving you all alone.”

Katherine shrugged. “I like my freedom. And there’s a lot room to breathe when it’s just me and him sharing a space.”

“Ugh, don’t I know that feeling. It’s tough enough trying to fit five people into two rooms. How many siblings do you got?”

“Six.” Godamnit. She was giving herself away more and more every day. Katherine jutted her eyes around the room, trying to think of an excuse to get Sarah to leave. Not that she wanted her to leave. But being around Sarah felt riskier and riskier by the moment. What was it about this girl that made Katherine want to blab her entire life story?

Sarah gave an easy laugh. “Wow, you win. I think people should get some kind of award if you’ve had to deal with over five. I know my mom really wanted a big family for a while, but…that really wasn’t in the cards for us. And honestly, I’m kind of grateful things worked out that way. I can barely deal with two brothers as it is.”

Katherine shrugged. “I think people just adapt to what they’re given. I feel like if I had only two brothers six would be intimidating to me too. Sort of like when I see families of twelve.”

Sarah raised her eyebrow and gave a little grin. “Ooo, that’s very wise of you, Miss Siegel. I’m impressed. Hey, wait-! Is that a Twain?” She pointed to one of Denton’s half opened crates.

Katherine peered over the table. “Oh! Um, I’m not sure. All that stuff’s my cousin’s. He’s, uh…going to night school. Sometimes. When he’s not working. Which he is. Right now.”

Sarah thankfully seemed to be too distracted to hear what Katherine was saying.

“Do you mind if I take a look?”

“Oh, I guess.” Where’s the harm in that, right?

“Thanks.” Sarah darted over to the crate and began to dig through it. She picked up a Twain volume and began to flip through its pages. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed this, it’s so hard to find good books to read these days. Most of the second-hand stuff they sell around here is in Yiddish, and I can only half read that. But Mark Twain, he’s the best! Everyone talks about the ones he wrote with the boys and the whitewashing and stuff, but his travel books are really the best. Especially the ones where he goes Europe.”

Katherine’s interest peaked. “When did you read Twain?”

Sarah didn’t look up from the book. “Back when I was in school. I know he’s written more recent stuff, I just can’t get my hands on it.” She closed the volume and gave a small laugh.

“When David started high school, I tried to convince him to steal some for me. I even bribed him with my allowance. He wouldn’t budge though. Said that stealing was wrong, something about his permanent record.” She rolled her eyes. “As if the school would ever notice if one or two of their paperbacks go missing. Schools have plenty of books, he’d be doing a favor by taking a few of them off their hands.”

It never occurred to Katherine before that Sarah had had a life before the factory. “If you don’t mind me asking, how long were you in school for?”

Sarah gave a small sigh and put the book back in the crate. She walked back over to the table and flopped in the open seat beside Katherine. “I was fourteen. It was inevitable, most of the girls in my class were gone by that point. And there weren’t too many options for high school. There are what, two religious schools? And of course they’re all boys. David actually goes to the next district over for high school. It was…tough for a while, watching him leave every morning.”

She began to trace the outline of the table with her finger. “My parents argued over it a lot. It all came down to money at the end of the day. We needed it, and if was between me and my brother, well…” She gave a small shrug. “My dad gave this whole explanation about men’s colleges and how they wouldn’t accept gaps in education the way a women’s would but… I knew. I knew. So I did lacework with my mom ‘til I got sick of being inside all day, and then got the job at the factory. I honestly thought taking that job would give me more freedom but…yeah. It hasn’t really turned out the way I expected. How old were you when you left?”

The question took Katherine aback. “Oh, me? Um, same as you. I was fourteen too.” Her insides twisted together the moment she told the lie.

Sarah reached across the table and squeezed Katherine’s hand. “It’s tough sometimes, huh? You feel trapped, like you’re stuck doing the same thing every day and it’s never gonna get better.”

Sarah let go and stretched her arms over her head, leaning back in her seat. “Or one day you’ll get married and you’ll be stuck doing the same thing every day, only now with a bunch of kids hanging on your skirts. Makes you wish you were man sometimes, you know?”

“My life would be ten times easier if I were a man.” That came out sounding a lot angrier than Katherine had intended it to. She quickly rescinded in her seat, blushing deeply.

That was the most honest thing she told Sarah all evening.

Sarah leaned forward. “How so?”

“When I see Den- my cousin, I mean, doing something I that I know I could do…. hell, something I know I could do better than he could, I get so bitter. And I don’t mean too, I know I should feel happy for him…but it hurts. I just know if I was a man, I’d be getting the same opportunities as him. Maybe even better. It just…it frustrates me.”

There was a moment of silence between the two girls, where they each wanted to say something but weren’t sure how to begin. The quiet palpitated between them. Then Sarah spoke.

“Wait, your cousin? You said he’s working tonight, right?”

“…Yes?”

“So you’re here all alone?”

Katherine sat up a little straighter. “Oh, well, I guess…”

Sarah jumped out of her seat, almost knocking the chair back. “Why don’t you come eat with my family? We’d be happy to have you!”

“What? Oh no, I wouldn’t want to impose…”

“Katie, it’s not a problem at all. Mom always makes extra in case someone visits. Just put your kugel in the ice box and come with me. We live right under you.”

Katherine’s gut gave another twist. “Are you sure?”

“Come one, we’re neighbors now. It’s the neighborly thing to do.”

There was a good twenty-five seconds of pure panic that ran through Katherine’s mind as she followed Sarah down the rickety stairs. She was supposed to be keeping a low profile; doing the bare minimum at work, giving out as little information as possible, and in general keep people off her back. A week into the job and she had managed to fail all three of these rules.

Now she was going to meet Sarah’s family. At this rate the whole neighborhood was going to know her face.

“You don’t need to worry about introducing yourself, I’ve already told them all about you. Mom will probably ask how your fingers are doing- Oh! we’ve got extra gauze if you need it!”

The two of them stopped at the second to last door in the hallway, marked by a copper mezuzah tilted sideways on the door frame. Sarah kissed her pointer and index fingers together and held them gently up to the case. Then she pushed through the door, with Katherine following sheepishly behind her.

“Mama, you’ll never guess who our new neighbor is!”

“Sholem Aleichem? President McKinley? I would like clues, please.” The responding voice had a lilt to it that Katherine now recognized as Polish. Almost like Shayna’s. It belonged petite woman stood by the stove, her curly dark blonde hair coiled into a thick braid and positioned into a bun at the nape of her neck. She looked up from the large pot she was stirring.

“Are you the new neighbors? Where’s the rest of you?”

Sarah put a reassuring arm on Katherine’s shoulder. “It’s just Katie, Mama. She’s by herself, I thought she could eat with us tonight.”

Mrs. Jacobs raised an eyebrow. “Katie? The one with the fingers?”

Katherine held up her right hand somewhat apologetically and gave what she hoped was a winning grin. “Uh… That’s me.”

Mrs. Jacobs’ face instantly softened. “Oh, you poor thing! Yes, yes, of course you can eat with us. I’ll add another onion to pot, we’ll need some more water, David-?”

Katherine noticed a teenage boy sitting at the kitchen table. He held a thick textbook in his hand, and two more were towering beside him, fighting for space on the small surface with several long strands of unfinished lacework. He looked up from his book with an expression of half surprise, half pure anxiety.

“Yes Mama?”

“Get some water from the hallway, I need to warm it up so it can be added to the soup.”

David grabbed a bucket that sat at the foot of the stove. He gave a slight nod to Katherine and Sarah as he maneuvered his way around them and several chairs, making his way to the door.

“And say hello to our guest! I raised a gentleman, yes? Act like one please.”

A slight blush crept onto David’s cheeks. He paused and gave another nod to Katherine.

“Hello.”

Katherine tried to give another smile. “Hi, I’m Katie.”

David looked like he was about to respond, then thought better of it and jutted through the door.

Sarah turned to Katherine. “Don’t mind David, he’s just forgotten how to be social. He’s stuck in that goy school all day, reading these tombs.” She gave the textbook stack a hollow knock.

Mrs. Jacobs looked up from the onion she was chopping. “Don’t make fun. Your brother works very hard at school.”

“Yeah, and it’s turning him into a hermit.”

Taking in the Jacobs’ apartment, Katherine realized that they essentially had the same layout as the one she had upstairs. Two rooms, one slightly smaller than the other, and a small stove stationed at the side. But the Jacobs’ place was obviously more lived in; along with the table and several chairs, a neatly made bed sat by the window. Katherine could see a stack of dime novels shoved underneath it, along with a ratty baseball glove and several pairs of worn shoes. Dishes and other kitchenware were stacked above the stove, and a large metal basin was placed covertly beside it. Katherine wondered if they used to take baths. Maybe they’d let her borrow it if she asked…

Her thoughts were interrupted by Sarah’s voice

“Where’s Les?”

Mrs. Jacobs was now gathering up the lace pieces and putting them in the hamper. “He’s outside playing. You should probably call him in soon, I don’t want him all worked up at the table.”

Sarah nodded, and went over to the large, four pane window. She climbed onto the bed, getting a chagrined “Sarah!” from David, who had just re-entered the room, and opened the window with a single pull. She leaned out onto the fire escape and cupped her hands around her mouth.

“LES! GET IN HERE! SUPPER’S ON!”

“So much yelling, why is there so much yelling? How did I get blessed with children with such healthy lungs?”

A tall middle-aged man now stood in the doorway. His accent denoted foreigner, but his handlebar mustache and bowler hat were quintessentially American. His fist was grasped tight around a brown paper bag, and he smelled of something strong and distinct. Tobacco? Definitely tobacco.

Mrs. Jacobs gave him a quick peck on the lips as she wiped her hands on her apron. “I was hoping they wouldn’t keep you too late.”

“The foreman let us leave early. Probably wanted to get to the salons as soon as they opened. I swear, he could drink a whole army under a table. Men who drown their problems in liquor don’t realize their problems know how to swim! Remember that, David!”

“I’ll remember, Papa.” David was once again at the table, head absorbed in his book. The man turned to put away hat on a nearby hook and almost bumped into Katherine, who was trying to take up as little space as possible on the right side of the room. Expecting him to be angry, Katherine was shocked when instead he looked pleasantly surprised.

“Oh, hello there. Who are you?”

Sarah was now setting up bowls on the other side of the room “This is Katie, Papa. She just moved into the Feinstein place. We work together.”

Mr. Jacobs reached out his hand. “Katie? Fingers Katie?”

Katherine grinned and gingerly shook it. “The one and only.”

Just then she heard another creak coming from the doorway.

“I’M HOOME!” A little boy now rushed into the apartment, causing the energy to wind up in the small room like a tornado. In one hand he held a stick, and in the other a small ball that seemed to be stitched together with several different cloths. He bounded over to David, giving him a quick noogie on the head, then tossed the items underneath the bed, creating a small thud when the stick hit one of the books.

“Les, we have a guest!” Sarah admonished.

Les stuck out his tongue at his sister and turned to Katherine.

“Hi! I hope you don’t eat too much!”

Mrs. Jacobs shot her son a dangerous look. “Les, be a good neighbor. There’s always enough to go around.”

“But I wanna six feet by the time I’m David’s age, and I can’t do that if someone else is hogging all the food!”

“Don’t worry Les, you’ll always be a shrimp. David sucked up all the height genes, you’ll be lucky if you surpass me.” Sarah ruffled her brother’s head and mouthed ‘I’m Sorry’ to Katherine as she passed.

Les’ eyes widened. “That can’t be true. David, tell her it’s not true!”

David was attempting to fit his textbooks underneath the bed. “You won’t know until you’re older Les. I didn’t start growing until I was thirteen.” He gave the books a final shove and pulled himself up onto his feet. “Anyway, you don’t want to get too tall. Growth spurts are the worst, my pants didn’t fit for three years.” Subconsciously he tugged on one of his pant legs and blushed again.

Satisfied with the answer, Les pointed to his father’s hand. “What do you have in the bag, Papa?”

Mayer grinned and unfolded the top, letting Les peek inside. “Challah. I got one of the last loaves before the bakery closed.”

Mrs. Jacobs beamed. “Isn’t that a surprise…wait, what time is it?”

Mr. Jacobs checked his pocket watch. “Nearly 7:15.”

Mrs. Jacobs peaked out the window. “That means we’ll have sundown in a little while. Why don’t I get the candles out? We can make a full Shabbos meal out of it!”

Her husband shrugged. “I don’t see why not. It’s been, what? Three weeks? Four?”

“We did it last spring when Bubbe came over for Mama’s birthday. And before that it was because the Rubin’s were staying with us when their pipe broke.” Sarah was now placing spoons beside each bowl.

“Well, look! We have a guest tonight! Katie, does your family observe the sabbath?”

Katherine felt the air sucked out of her lungs. All eyes were on her. “Oh… well, not too often…my father’s always working, it’s hard enough to eat together as a family most of the time…” She trailed off, hoping that would suffice.

“All the more reason to do it then! It’s your first night in this building, we should make it special.”

Mrs. Jacobs had a smile that reminded Katherine of when her mother was planning a brunch for the Ladies’ Society; enthusiastic, and ready to hurdle any barrier it took to get to her goal. It was hard to say no to a face like that.

David looked out the window. “If we want to do it we better get set up now. The sun’s getting pretty low.”

Esther put two candlesticks down with a sort of definiteness to it. “See! We’re ready to go! Sarah, put the challah on something nice.”

Sarah shrugged and took a folded up blue cloth from the cabinet. She whispered to Katherine as she passed. “Hope you don’t mind. This is really important to my mom, we don’t get to do it too often.”

“Of course, it’s fine.” Katherine wondered what she had just gotten herself into yet again.

The candles were now lit, and Mrs. Jacobs put a bottle of wine and a thick goblet onto the table. Everyone was standing. Katherine held her breath, unsure of what would happen next and terrified she would get something wrong. This was another test, she could just feel it. The best thing she could do right now was stand back and watch; If she messed anything up, she could excuse it with exhaustion from work. Which was partially true.

Mrs. Jacobs’ eyes were closed, and she moved her hands over the candles in a curved, swaying motion. She then cupped her hands over her eyes and began to sing.

This was a different language. Not Polish, but definitely not Yiddish. It took Katherine a moment to realize she was praying. Sing-praying, now there was a novel concept. She was so enthralled by the action she almost didn’t notice the older woman pouring the wine into the goblet and holding it above the table. She then started another prayer. Everyone’s heads were bowed. The silence seemed to weigh on Katherine like a warm blanket, lulling her into a sense of mental comfort. For the first time all week, Katherine was truly relaxed.

The cup was being passed around, and everyone took a sip from it. Then finally Mrs. Jacobs picked up the challah, which Sarah had placed under the blue napkin. She sang one last prayer, and then ripped off a part of the bread and passed it around in a similar manner to the cup. The family began to sit and Sarah gathered the bowls and started pouring soup into each of them with a ladle.

The silence had broken, and Katherine could feel the energy in the room go back to normal.

“So Katie, Sarah tells me your surname is Siegel. That’s a good German name, we don’t get too many of those around here.” Mr. Jacobs was now passing the filled bowls to his left. Katherine took one and gratefully dug in.

“My father’s actually Austrian.” Shit. Why did she let that spill? How many stupid mistakes could she make in one night?

Mr. Jacobs threw his head back and laughed. “Of course! Austrian! How could I have not guessed?”

“Mayer says he can always tell.” Mrs. Jacobs was grinning. “He says he knew I was from Poland the minute he saw me. He was so, pre- what’s that word David?”

“Presumptuous?” David guessed.

“Yes, that one! I got so mad I told him I was Russian, just so he’d be less smug.”

Katherine laughed. “I’m impressed, most people never guess at all.”

“It’s the German in me, I can’t help it. We’re all born snobs, even us Jews. Maybe even especially us, since we’re usually the ones who get judged first. The smallest assumptions used to bother me as a boy, that we’re all peddlers or that we all work in textiles….”

“Some of us do work in textiles, Papa.”

There was an awkward silence at the table. Mr. Jacobs paused to mop his mustache with his napkin then patted Sarah’s hand reassuringly.

“Only for now. Once Broadwell finally gives me that promotion we’ll be set for the next few years. You can go back to school, and your mother- “

“Can finally sleep in?” Mrs. Jacobs was smiling mischievously.

Everyone laughed and the tension was cleared from the room again.

“Broadwell?" Katherine asked, "the cigar company?”

Mr. Jacobs nodded. “That’s the one. I’ve been working there since Les was born.”

“I'm ten!” Les piped in with a proud grin on his face.

Sarah rolled his eyes. “He’s nine.”

“He’ll be ten in two months.” David supplied as he passed the challah to his mother.

"And becomes a bigger pain every day." Les stuck his tongue at his sister for the second time that night.

"You two, no fighting! We have guest, yes? You need to stop- David, what's that word, with an 'A'? Antag-?" Mrs. Jacobs scrunched up her face in recollection.

"Antagonize?"

"Yes! You two need to stop antagonize each other!"

As the evening winded down, Sarah offered to walk Katherine back to her apartment. Mrs. Jacobs had given her a stiff hug along with the rest of the challah and an invitation to come by soon.

"And if you have no one for the high holiday, please, come and join us. You can go to our synagogue."

Katherine had not expected to receive this much generosity on her first day. She also didn't expect to feel so full. She wished she was a bear; stuffed with vegetable soup and challah and ready to sleep for the next six months. Her eyes were heavy and her head kept bobbing over like a broken toy about to snap.

When the two girls got to the upstairs apartment a dull light was peeking out from under the door. Denton must have gotten back a little while ago.

"Oh no, I forgot to leave a note for Bryan. He must be furious right now." Sarah scrunched up her face. "Bryan? What is it with your family and these goy names?"

Katherine was not ready to tell yet another semi lie tonight. "That's gotta be a question for our folks. Speaking of folks, your family's great. I really felt at home tonight."

Sarah gave a small laugh and brushed her hair back. "We try. My mom means it though. If you ever need anything or want to stop by, just let me know. We always need more girls around here." She gave a quick look over to the door. "Bryan is welcome too, of course."

There was a pause, and the two girls found themselves once again standing in silence, a quiet tension palpitating between them. Katherine wanted to reach out to Sarah. To touch her. To be held by her. To kis-

Before Katherine could think any further Sarah had leaned over and given her a quick peck on the cheek. Then, with a shaky wave, she bounded down the stairs, not looking back behind her.

Katherine walked into the apartment in a daze.

"There you are! I was wondering where you ran off to! I was ready to call the police, Katherine!" Denton's hair was askew, and he looked like he had been pacing the floor for some time.

Katherine barely heard what he said. Her body felt like mush, and her mind was spinning like a runaway carousel.

"Well?" Denton was now standing in front of he, very much the disappointed parent, with his hands on his hips. "Where were you? What were you doing tonight?"

"Denton-" Katherine spoke as if she had just discovered her voice for the first time. "You wouldn't believe it even if I told you."

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