Ren from F4 Thailand: Boys Over Flowers x gorya.(if they ended up togetheir)
(note: my man is fine, love his style his hair, you know I NEED HIMMM, gorya and ren should i ended up togetheir.)
The city lights began to bleed into the twilight, painting the sky in hues of bruised violet and fading rose. In the quiet hum of my apartment, a decision solidified, a daring, reckless thought taking root. I picked up my phone, my fingers tracing the familiar name: Ren.
"Are you having a party tonight?" The words felt foreign on my tongue, laced with a hint of something I couldn't quite name.
The navigation app guided me through the labyrinthine streets, each turn a step further into a world that felt both alluring and forbidden. By the time the bus deposited me at the address Ren had sent, over an hour had vanished, swallowed by the anxieties swirling within me. A polished security guard, a sentinel of exclusivity, blocked my path. "Membership card, madam?" His voice was polite, yet firm.
"I'm here to see someone." My plea fell on deaf ears. He offered a gentle suggestion, a polite dismissal. "Madam, we prioritize our customers' confidentiality. Perhaps your friend could come down?" It was a perfect, impenetrable wall of politeness. I retreated, my mind racing, and messaged Ren: Are you free to talk?
My phone buzzed immediately, Ren's name flashing on the screen.
"Ah, I forgot this place is members-only," he said, his voice a hurried whisper, before I could even voice my predicament. "Wait for me at the entrance."
The evening breeze kissed my skin, a cool contrast to the fire building within me. I hugged myself, a whirlwind of thoughts and doubts swirling. On the way here, I'd concocted a flimsy excuse – a surprise for Thyme. But as Ren led me into the opulent building, towards the elevator, the question I couldn't hold back tumbled out: "Is it just the four of you?"
Ren's gaze remained fixed ahead, but his reflection in the elevator mirror met mine. "I don't want to lie to you, Gorya." His words were a quiet admission, a confirmation of my unspoken fears.
A wave of exhaustion washed over me, heavy and suffocating. "Can I… not show myself?"
"Of course. There are private sections." Ren guided me through a discreet side entrance, and the true nature of "compartments" was revealed. The room was vast, a swirling dance floor at its heart, surrounded by hidden alcoves. You could observe the revelry, yet remain unseen.
"F4's party." Thyme had always spoken of it with an almost sacred exclusivity, a gathering of only the four of them. And there they were: MJ and Kavin, a whirlwind of laughter and movement, surrounded by a constellation of girls on the dance floor. Thyme sat apart, engrossed in his phone, a solitary island in the sea of festivity.
If Lita hadn't been perched beside him, her presence a silent, stinging accusation, I might have burst out, a genuine "surprise" on my lips. Which was the lesser pain? Thyme lost in a crowd of admirers, or Thyme with just her by his side? Before tonight, I hadn't conceived of such a cruel choice.
"You have a lot of parties like this, don't you?" The words were out before I could stop them, laced with an bitterness I hadn't intended. Ren, mixing a drink nearby, met my gaze.
"What answer are you hoping for?"
The air crackled with unspoken tension. MJ, Kavin, and Ren – all single. I had no right to judge, yet an inexplicable anger, fueled by the pulsating music and my own fractured heart, surged within me.
"Gorya." Ren's voice cut through the noise. "Would you like something to drink?"
He slid a tall glass towards me, the liquid inside a mesmerizing, dangerous hue. My eyes were drawn to the dance floor, to Lita, her head tilted towards Thyme, her hand resting on his shoulder with a familiarity that twisted something inside me. Thyme, his forehead creased, seemed to have had too much to drink. He offered a weak push, a half-hearted resistance, but didn't outright refuse her proximity. I lifted the glass, the cold liquid a shock against my lips, and drank in silence.
Half an hour bled into the next, the air thick with the unspoken. MJ and Kavin, masters of revelry, kept their circle of girls captivated, their laughter echoing through the room. Thyme, propped on the sofa, seemed lost in a haze of intoxication, his hand supporting his cheek.
When Lita finally guided him away, a silent departure unnoticed by the other two, a painful truth settled in. This wasn't the first time she'd taken him from one of these parties. My mind flashed back to her casual mention of a party at Thyme's apartment. How many had been there?
But I didn't ask Ren if this was a regular occurrence. His earlier question echoed in my mind: What answer are you hoping for?
Setting down the empty glass, I met Ren's steady gaze. He was watching me, his expression unreadable. He didn't flinch when I caught him, simply raising an eyebrow, a silent question in his eyes.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice soft.
I nodded, though my hands had begun to tremble, betraying the fragile facade. "Ren."
"Do you… remember what you said to me on the rooftop at Yingde?" I forced a smile, a brittle thing that felt ready to shatter. "My answer is yes."
His expression remained unreadable, a mask of calm I couldn't penetrate. He simply continued to look at me, his thoughts a mystery.
The words were out, irreversible. I steadied my gaze, forcing myself to meet his eyes. A cheer erupted from the dance floor, MJ perhaps attempting a magic trick.
"Okay." Ren's voice was low, even. The slight nervousness I'd sensed in him earlier had vanished, replaced by an almost unnerving nonchalance, a casual acceptance of something so profound.
He even shifted in his seat, settling in as if discussing the weather. "What do you want to do?"
I must be insane, a voice screamed in my head. Yet, I stood, drawn to him by an invisible force, and leaned down, my lips meeting his.
His mouth tasted of spice and something stronger, a mingling of tequila or whiskey, a stark contrast to the sweet cocktail I'd just consumed. He reached out, one hand cradling my neck, the other finding the curve of my waist, pulling me closer for a deeper kiss. When I gasped for air, a desperate struggle against the delicious suffocation, he finally pulled back, a slow smile spreading across his lips.
In that moment, I knew. We were no longer the same people we had been. Thyme, Ren, and I – the innocence had been shed, replaced by a complex tapestry of unspoken desires and hidden truths.
My birthday arrived, a day I'd anticipated with a flicker of hope. Thyme had returned early, a gesture that momentarily soothed the persistent ache in my chest. A month prior, he’d insisted I keep the evening free, promising an intimate, undisturbed celebration at his apartment.
I’d agreed, clinging to the image of a perfect evening. The morning was filled with a flurry of birthday messages, each notification a small comfort. At noon, I met some friends from my department for lunch. Midway through the meal, a message from Ren popped up. Simple, concise: "Happy Birthday."
Our last meeting had been that night, a whirlwind of impulse and unspoken promises. In my reckless excitement, I'd blurted out the idea of a secret relationship. He'd agreed, and since then, a strange, tense silence had settled between us. We hadn't been alone, or perhaps I'd deliberately avoided him. The weight of dating someone behind Thyme's back was a heavy burden. Wouldn't a clean break be simpler?
But I had no concrete proof, only the gnawing suspicion fueled by Lita's presence. She could have simply dropped him off, her closeness a mere lack of boundaries with friends. More importantly, I didn't want to initiate the breakup. A voice, persistent and dark, whispered in my ear: How far will Thyme go?
How far indeed? He led me, blindfolded, into his apartment, a playful "Happy Birthday!" echoing as he finally removed the blindfold. The living room was a riot of color, balloons and ribbons adorning every surface, a slightly lopsided "GORYA" hanging proudly in the center.
"I spent the whole afternoon decorating," Thyme announced, a hint of pride in his voice. "Try not to cry from being so touched."
"So," I countered, a playful glint in my eye, "I should wipe away my tears and start pointing out the flaws?"
"You wouldn't dare." He feigned a glare, then his expression softened into a smile. "Come, sit by the window while I get the cake." I watched his retreating back, a complex mix of emotions swirling within me. Just then, his phone buzzed, and he stopped, pulling it from his pocket.
"Something urgent?" I asked, a flicker of apprehension in my voice. He shook his head, dismissing it as an advertisement, tucking the phone away.
When he unveiled the cake box, I was genuinely surprised. A colossal creation, adorned with an army of pink cream bows, it barely fit on the table. "Just the two of us?" I confirmed, a note of disbelief in my voice. He nodded. "It took me ages to choose this design. Come on, light the candles and make a wish." He reached for the candle box, and his phone rang again, a jarring interruption.
Thyme's brow furrowed. I took the candle box. "Let me do it." He offered no argument, quickly silencing his phone and immersing himself in a flurry of typing.
The sheer number of candles, over twenty, was a little daunting. I hesitated, then decided to use the last digit of my age instead. Thyme, finally finished with his message, looked at the solitary candle on the cake and chuckled. "What took you so long?"
"I did it on purpose!" I feigned indignation, stomping my foot. He raised his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay, just make your wish."
With eyes closed, hands clasped, I struggled to formulate a wish. Thyme's phone, resting on the table, rang again. This time, a call.
My eyes flickered open, but before I could see the caller ID, he snatched the phone, answered, and retreated to the balcony.
The single candle flickered, a silent reminder of the fleeting moment. I quickly closed my eyes, made my wish, and blew out the flame, the faint scent of smoke lingering in the air as I waited for Thyme's return.
Countless scenarios played out in my mind as I waited. The nervous energy was too much. I opened the bay window, seeking solace in the glittering cityscape below.
"Gorya." Thyme's voice from behind startled me. "I… have to go out."
"Oh… okay. I already made my wish anyway." I turned, forcing a lightness I didn't feel. "What about the leftover cake?"
His expression was conflicted, as if he had something more to say, but in the end, he simply pressed a kiss to my forehead. "Don't force yourself. If you can't finish it, just leave it. I'm heading out now. Get some rest."
"You're not coming back tonight? Is it urgent?" I watched him walk towards the door, the act of changing his shoes a small, mundane action in the face of this unexpected departure. He straightened, his reply clipped. "Something seems to have happened with Ren. I'll go check on him. I'm not sure when I'll be back. You can go to sleep if you're tired."
I offered no further protest, simply watched as he opened the door and disappeared into the hallway. The click of the lock echoed in the sudden silence of the empty apartment.
As I smoothed the pink bows on the cake with a fork, I dialed Ren's number. "Gorya?" His voice was a question.
"What happened?" I asked, my voice surprisingly steady. A pause. "What?" He echoed, confusion in his tone. "Aren't you with Thyme? He said ages ago he wanted to spend the night with you."
"Do I sound like I'm with him right now?" The wind seemed to whistle through the hollow space in my chest.
Ren, ever perceptive, grasped the unspoken. "I'm at my apartment."
"I'm coming over. And… I want cake." My eyes flickered to the time on my phone – 11 PM. The request was absurd, yet it tumbled out. "I haven't had any cake today."
Earlier, at lunch, anticipating Thyme's cake, I'd shared the slice offered to me with my friends. They'd teased, Eat less, Gorya, you don't want a tummyache tonight.
"I'll wait for you." Ren's agreement was immediate, unwavering.
Nighttime taxi drivers, it seems, possess a certain wildness. After he’d navigated two red lights with alarming ease, I finally choked out, "Driver, please slow down. I feel sick."
"Whoa, you must be too warm. Air conditioning's broken. Want me to open the window?" The driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror.
"No, I'm three months pregnant, and the baby's unsettled. Gotta save my strength for later… tearing the mistress apart." The words tumbled out, a breathless, nonsensical stream. The taxi’s speed plummeted. Spotting Ren on the sidewalk, I yelled, "Stop here! He's my brother!"
As I stumbled out, the driver was still shouting at Ren, "Work hard later, don't wear your sister out!"
Ren's expression was a mask of bewilderment. I rubbed my stomach. "I'm starving."
Ren's apartment was a single, spacious room. A large bed dominated the space, nestled beside the balcony. A whimsical row of succulents lined the window, their shapes outlined by a string of twinkling star lights. I was captivated by the tiny plants when Ren appeared at the dining table, a cake in his hands, beckoning me over.
It was a small chocolate cake, unadorned save for a simple inscription in black cream: "To my love."
"My usual bakery didn't have birthday cakes today," Ren explained, folding a paper party hat and offering it to me. "This was their signature cake. It's all they had."
"Really? I thought you wrote that on purpose." I ignored the hat, lighting the single candle and closing my eyes, a silent wish forming on my lips.
When my eyes fluttered open, Ren was there, his fingers gently wiping away the tears I hadn't realized were falling.
"Why are you crying? Aren't you happy?" He cupped my chin, lifting my face to meet his gaze.
I looked at Ren. He wore a black long-sleeved shirt tonight, a stark contrast to the vibrant chaos of the party. He leaned down, his eyes, filled with a depth I hadn't seen before, reflecting only me.
"I… want to," I said suddenly, the words a desperate whisper. "Before I change my mind."
Ren's hand loosened, and he took a step back. "I'll take a shower first." A hint of laughter laced his voice. "I want to see you finish eating when I get back."
When Ren's hand, still damp from his shower, brushed my cheek, I was biting the last mouthful of butter from the fork, looking at him with a bewildered expression. He said nothing, simply captured the mouthful of butter in his mouth, then slowly, deliberately, pushed my teeth open with his tongue.
It felt as though he was truly checking if I had consumed every last crumb. His tongue explored my mouth, a slow, languid dance, transferring his breath, his essence, to me. He rubbed against my palate, again and again, while his other hand, with a practiced ease, began to unbutton my shirt.
As my shirt pooled around my feet, he finally released my swollen lips, his touch moving from the back of my neck, tracing a path down my spine.
"Why are you trembling?" His chin rested on my neck, his other hand lifting my skirt, slipping beneath the fabric, finding the slit in my panties, and sliding inside.
"…!" My legs instinctively clamped together. He soothed my earlobe with a gentle bite. "If you're nervous," he panted, his voice rough, "help me take off my clothes."
Ren's attire was simply a hastily donned bathrobe. As I fumbled with the ties, he took my hand, guiding it over his sculpted abdomen, down his mermaid line, and to the hard, pulsing heat beneath the thin fabric. The sheer power of it, even through the material, was overwhelming.
A wave of unfamiliarity washed over me, but his kiss soon pulled me under, drowning me in a tide of desire. The late hour amplified every sensation. I watched him, kneeling above me, legs spread, as he slowly reached for a condom from the bedside table. "Do you… sleep with many people here?" I bit open the package with my teeth, a smear of lubricant catching on my lips.
He watched my fumbling movements, his gaze intense, until I finally grasped the tip of his erection, my hand beginning to stroke downwards. "No," Ren said, his voice low and husky. "I got these when you asked me to date."
He didn't deny having been with others elsewhere, and I didn't press the question. I simply arched my back as his index finger, already slick, teased my already moist entrance, occasionally brushing against the hardened nub. The intermittent sounds of water in the room seemed to echo the frantic beating of my heart. I bit my lower lip, trying to stifle the sounds escaping my throat. Ren finally withdrew his finger and brought the fingertip to my mouth.
"Tell me how it feels later."
"How to tell… ah!" I looked up, and he was already inside, a single, deep thrust. The sudden fullness stole my breath, my waist arching involuntarily. Small moans escaped my lips, following the rhythm of his movements. Ren smiled, a slow, knowing smile, and began to move.
"Like this," he said, his voice a low growl. He grabbed my hand, intertwining our fingers tightly, then used the grip to lift me up. The penetration deepened, a shiver running through me as my body, not yet fully adjusted, was stretched and filled. He stroked my hair, a comforting gesture that belied the intensity of the moment. "Be good," he panted. "Move on your own, okay?"
Madness. I pressed him down, my hips twisting, trying to prolong the exquisite, vague pleasure. The room was dark, save for the twinkling star lights by the succulents, silent witnesses to our desperate dance. As I paused to catch my breath, Ren spoke again, his voice hoarse with desire. "I'm going to start fucking you, Gorya."
He slowly stood, pressing me against the cool wall, his body still connected to mine. The change in position sent a jolt through me. "Ren, Ren, ah… don't…" My pleas were swallowed by the darkness and the pounding of my heart.
He seemed not to hear, his hands gripping my waist, driving into me with a fierce intensity. I felt as though he were trying to push his very being inside me. He reached out, pulling my legs, which were now wrapped around his shoulders, urging them wider.
A wave of panic washed over me. Ren's face was a mask, his expression serious, focused, like an artist absorbed in a sketch. The intensity of his gaze unsettled me. I called his name again, a desperate attempt to pull him back to reality, and then, he smiled.
"What's wrong?" He leaned closer, his voice a low murmur. I kissed the corner of his mouth, a desperate, placating gesture. "Don't be too… I…"
He paused, his lips close to my ear. "Can I… fuck you a few more times?"
I closed my eyes, a slow nod the only answer I could manage. A low chuckle escaped him. He touched my earlobe. "You're so good." He said this, and then his fingers tightened around my ankle.
The last thing I remembered was his teeth grazing my collarbone, a searing heat spreading across my skin as he finally released, his body collapsing against mine. Exhaustion claimed me, leaving me limp and wanting only to sleep. Ren, ever attentive, first brought me water, then held me close, stroking my back.
He whispered something, but the words were lost in the haze of sleep.
New Year's Eve. Thyme, in a rare display of planning, had organized a party at a hotel, the top floor promising a spectacular view of the fireworks. As he picked me up, I couldn't resist a playful jab. "Isn't this usually an F4-only affair?"
He stiffened for a moment, then quickly shook his head. "That's all in the past. Besides, you're my girlfriend. You're part of the exclusive party now."
Really? I sat in the passenger seat, scrolling through my phone, offering no reply. Lately, I'd found myself deliberately avoiding any news or photos of Thyme and Lita together. The occasional glimpse of their interactions on Instagram barely registered, a calm, detached acceptance settling over me.
What was there left to say? At least now, neither of us owed the other anything. All that remained was the inevitable, a final severing of ties.
As Thyme led me into the hotel, his hand warm around mine, the other three were already there. Perhaps it was my presence, but there were no other girls tonight. It seemed Thyme was determined to prove that their previous "exclusive" parties truly were just the four of them. I greeted the others, a polite smile fixed on my face, and sat beside him.
Thyme was unusually subdued tonight, his mood heavy, his hand reaching for his wine glass again and again. MJ and Kavin were in their element, already plotting their post-midnight conquests. Ren was slumped on the sofa, a picture of quiet detachment, like an introverted bear hibernating in the midst of chaos.
We'd been in a silent standoff for a week. It had started on the stairs leading to the rooftop, a stolen kiss that had felt both exhilarating and terrifying. Thyme had messaged, asking where I was, offering to take me home. As I pulled away from Ren, adjusting my clothes, he'd asked, "Are you going to keep doing this?"
"What?" I'd smoothed my hair, the question catching me off guard. "Isn't this… a good arrangement? Thyme isn't ready to break up, and I don't see the need to expose his lies."
Ren's lips tightened, but he said nothing. "Are you angry?" I'd leaned closer, trying to read his expression, but his face remained a blank canvas. Ren was a master of concealment. I’d resorted to reminding him of our initial agreement. "But… you were the one who suggested dating in secret."
The silence had stretched between us ever since. Now, the scent of alcohol clinging to Thyme was overwhelming.
I excused myself, seeking refuge in the bathroom. As I washed my hands, I looked up and saw Ren in the mirror.
Our eyes met and held. After drying my hands, I offered him a small smile. "Still angry?"
He remained silent. I sighed, the weight of the unspoken pressing down on me. "So, what do you want me to do? Come to your room tonight to apologize?"
It was meant as a joke, a desperate attempt to break the tension. But he simply said, "Okay." I froze, my hand on the doorknob. After a long moment, I nodded. "Then… wait for me."
On the way back to the main room, a painful clarity settled over me. If Thyme could just be honest tonight, maybe, just maybe, I could finally make a decision.
Thyme was slumped on the sofa, his gaze distant, lost in some internal turmoil. His eyes held a raw, aching pain. I ignored the knowing glances from MJ and Kavin and sank onto the sofa beside him, whispering his name.
"Thyme," I said softly, "is there anything you want to tell me?"
His eyes flickered, finding mine, a brief spark of recognition in the hazy depths. He seemed poised to speak, but the moment passed. "No," he finally said, his voice flat.
I stroked his hair, a gesture of comfort that felt hollow. "You're drunk. Let's go back to the room, okay?"
The elevator ascended to the 19th floor, each rising floor a silent reflection on the years we'd shared, on the love that had blossomed and withered. I understood, in that moment, why he clung to this facade.
So many years together, a love he had once fought for. To break up now would be an admission of failure, a silent declaration that his past choices were wrong. And not just for him. Even I couldn't bear to admit that this had all been a mistake.
Thyme, overwhelmed by alcohol and his own inner demons, fell asleep quickly, the distant roar of fireworks unable to penetrate his slumber. I curled up in a chair by the window, watching the explosions of color paint the night sky, a single thought echoing in my mind: Tomorrow. I'll break up with him tomorrow. The arrangement with Ren had been born of impulse, a desperate act. I hadn't truly intended to go through with it. But as I contemplated washing my face and seeking my own restless sleep, Thyme's phone screen lit up.
A text message from Lita. My gaze fell on the words displayed on the notification bar, and a bitter smile touched my lips.
When Ren opened the door, his eyes met mine, a silent question in their depths. "Wow," I said, a forced cheerfulness in my voice. "Room service, surprise!"
He looked at me for a long moment, then quietly closed the door behind me.
"Why didn't you turn on the lights…" The rest of the sentence was swallowed by a gasp as Ren's fingers, unceremoniously, parted my lips and pressed deep into my throat.
The sudden, violent intrusion triggered a wave of nausea, and I instinctively recoiled, but he held me firm. His fingers explored the back of my throat, a disconcerting intimacy, before attempting to push even deeper.
A suffocating sensation overwhelmed me, tears blurring my vision. I looked at him, my gaze pleading. Ren, seeing my expression, paused, then slowly withdrew his fingers.
As I coughed, gasping for air, his voice, low and intense, reached me. "I've been waiting for you for a long time, Gorya."
That night, the fireworks continued their explosive dance, a dazzling display of fleeting beauty. As they burst and faded in the air, Ren pressed me against the wall, his body a hard, demanding presence against mine. He must have bitten my neck, a sharp, stinging sensation, because later, I lay against the cool wall, my skin burning and chilling in turns.
Thyme slept until well past noon, the effects of the previous night's drinking evident in his haggard appearance. He rubbed his forehead, a low groan escaping his lips. I handed him a glass of warm water.
"Thanks," he mumbled, his eyes falling on his phone as he took a sip. He quickly put it down, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. I felt a wave of exhaustion wash over me, the events of the night catching up. I was about to head for another shower when his voice stopped me.
"Gorya," he said, his voice sharp, the sleepiness gone. "Why do you have bite marks on your neck?"
Finally. The moment I'd been anticipating, dreading. I turned, a weary resignation settling over me. "Didn't Lita invite you to dinner with her family today? Don't be late."
I saw the color drain from Thyme's face, mirroring, I was sure, the pallor of my own.
The explosive argument I'd braced myself for never materialized. Thyme, his eyes red and raw, simply asked who I'd been with. A sudden weariness settled over me. "Does it matter, Thyme?" I asked, my voice soft, devoid of accusation. "Do you want to beat up the other person and blame them, or do you want to admit that we've both been miserable for the past few years?"
He offered no answer, only a defiant declaration. "I won't break up."
"Fine." I shrugged, a forced nonchalance. "I knew about you and Lita from the start of school. I don't mind."
His response was the deafening slam of the door.
The following week was a blur of unanswered calls and ignored messages. MJ and Kavin, concerned and confused, bombarded me with questions about what had happened between Thyme and me. Thyme, they said, was drinking heavily, refusing to listen to anyone. I deleted their messages, a silent act of severance. Then, Lita called, her voice laced with concern. Thyme had gotten into a fight at a bar, could I come? I politely suggested she call the police if there were problems and, with genuine sincerity, wished her happiness.
The last person to find me was Ren. He waited outside my part-time job until I finished, the evening air cool against my skin as I stepped out. Seeing him, a headache began to throb behind my eyes. "There's one last thing we need to address."
As Ren walked towards me, I spoke, the words tumbling out, a final confession. "Do you remember what you said to me at the funeral?"
Ren, I thought, looking back, I'm truly grateful. You showed me the world beyond my own, the chasm between our lives, yet you never made me feel small.
I remembered the day he'd returned something to Thyme at school after we'd started dating. He'd mentioned Thyme falling on his yacht. I'd been struck by the casual mention of such wealth. A yacht, at your age?
Ren had paused, a flicker of something in his eyes, then changed the subject, offering to drive me to watch the sunset.
At the time, I was too consumed by the uncertainty of my relationship with Thyme to appreciate the quiet kindness of his gesture.
"No matter what," I said, my voice firm, looking at him with a sincerity that felt raw and vulnerable, "I truly thank you. But… I also have to apologize." I clasped my hands together, a silent plea for understanding.
"I'm sorry. I know you don't care for… traditional love, but I used you. I'm truly sorry."
If I hadn't sought comfort elsewhere, I knew Thyme would have eventually proposed, a desperate attempt to prove that his youthful choices, his love for me, hadn't been a mistake.
But love? Love had already fled, replaced by a quiet resignation. Our connection, once vibrant, had been worn thin by unspoken truths, by the constant presence of Lita, and by the countless trivialities that pulled our thoughts, forever out of sync.
He listened to my apology, his expression calm, unsurprised. Then, he spoke, his voice even. "It's okay. I was happy to help."
He paused, then added, the words a quiet challenge in the fading light, "Can I… chase you now?"
My headache intensified. I didn't want to delve into the complexities of what lay between us, but he insisted on taking me home.
Before Gorya could escape into the waiting car, Ren reached out, pulling her into a kiss that lingered, a silent conversation in the twilight.
She seemed hesitant, unwilling to dissect the tangled threads of their connection just yet. But Ren felt a quiet confidence settle within him.
After all, the night he'd pressed her against the wall, the taste of her skin beneath his teeth, he'd known Thyme would see the marks. Thyme, who craved what others possessed, yet could never tolerate his own possessions being touched.
If even that failed to ignite the inevitable… Ren looked at Gorya, already drifting to sleep in the passenger seat, and a quiet thought formed. Then, Thyme would simply have to accidentally stumble upon a photograph of him and Gorya, their lips locked in a kiss that spoke volumes.
As the last of the fireworks faded from the sky, leaving only the distant glow of the city, Ren gently touched Gorya's lips. "Happy New Year," he whispered, a promise, a challenge, a beginning.
(note: thank you all if you read all of this, I hope you enjoy it, and don't forget to ask me for requests of any anime or manga, or webtoon anything in my inbox, and don't forget to reblog if you enjoy this, and share it! And thank you again.)
