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☆彡PARK CHAEYOUNG

* The Little Mermaid (Masterlist)

* Tragedy (Masterlist) WIP

* Unlawful (Masterlist)

* Ms. Popular - Rewrite

- Part two

* Bon Matin! (Paused)

- Part two

* To be Loved (rq one shot)

☆彡LISA MANOBAN

* “I could be a better boyfriend.” 🎶

* Someone I Can’t Live Without

☆彡JENNIE KIM

* Sometimes It’s Okay To be Selfish (Old)

* Sometimes It’s Okay to be Selfish Rewrite (Masterlist)

* Hold Me Close and Don’t Let Go

* My Favorite Regular

* April Showers Bring May Flowers

* I speak for the trees (pt 1)

☆彡JISOO KIM

* The Best Thing Ever

* Masquerade My Heart

* Tomorrow’s Blessings (Masterlist)

☆彡 PAIRS

ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ CHAENNIE

“Y/n’s a vampire? What?”

Her hands trembled as she peeled off her jacket, each word burrowing deeper beneath her skin.

“I couldn’t believe it myself really.”

“She reacted badly to the Yuart powder… I heard it made her lose her senses and she almost bit a classmate.”

Jennie’s chest tightened. Yuart powder— faerie warding dust— was known to send vampires into frenzied disarray, stripping them of control, of reason. It exposed the hunger most of them tried to chain down. The hunger Jennie’s people had bled beneath for centuries.

Her heartbeat thudded in her throat, her fists curling so tightly the locker creaked beneath her grip.

“That sounds terrifying. Surrounded by humans and fae? What if she tried to tear someone’s wings off—”

The metallic crash of Jennie’s locker door rattled through the room, silencing the gossipers with a sharp sting of finality.

They scattered, their nervous giggles trailing behind them as Jennie stormed out into the field, her pulse roaring in her ears.

———-

Her feet pounded the earth, but her mind spun faster, chasing itself in circles she couldn't escape.

Vampire?

Her girlfriend? A vampire?

The words tasted wrong. Like ash. Like betrayal. Vampires. The same race that used to tear faerie wings from living bodies just to sip at their blood like fine wine. The same monsters who had worn her ancestors’ wings on their shoulders like trophies— fashionable, grotesque reminders of the wars they'd waged and the lives they’d stolen.

Her uncle. Her cousin. Her mother’s childhood friend.

Gone. Reduced to nothing but stories and missing pieces.

Even now, (though the High Courts forbade it,) faerie wings still found their way to black markets. Faerie blood still whispered promises of immortality and cure-alls. The laws had changed. The appetites had not.

And you— you’re one of them?

It simply wasn’t true. You were human. (Weren’t you?)

Jennie’s breath came hard and uneven as she crossed the field, her wings twitching uncontrollably behind her.

Humans, she’d understood. 

Humans mediated, softened the jagged edges between fae and vampire societies after the Great War. They were neutral. Convenient. Sometimes fodder, yes— but often bridges, peacemakers. It was easier to love a human. Faeries loved to play with humans, to trick them, to dance just out of reach. They were entertaining, and their companionship came naturally.

Vampires? Vampires took.

They always had.

Jennie had spent her entire life believing she would never— could never— love one.

What was she supposed to do with this?

If it’s true, how is she supposed to hold you and hate you at the same time?

———-

Shivers wracked your body and sweat beaded at your temple. It was hard to decide if you wanted to be under your comforter or not, really. Every so often you’d writhe, switch on your side, as a pained moan left your lips. The root of the cause came from your stomach, an unbearable ache that grew each passing moment. It was hunger that gnawed at your sanity, a beast with sharp claws that threatened to take control of you. 

How you had gotten into this mess was beyond you. You always played it safe. Perhaps it was time your luck ran out…

You laid there for another hour, gnawing on your lip, biting your fist— doing anything to soothe the ache behind your teeth. It was only when you began to fall asleep that the door opened. The cover over your head was torn away a moment later.

Jennie.

Narrowed jet met your droopy eyes, and you flinched at their intensity. Like a black pool, you could see your reflection if you got close enough, as well as feel the simmering anger radiating off of your girlfriend.

After a few seconds they slightly softened, a portion of the inky abyss giving away to a more humanoid appearance. Jennie blinked at you slowly, as if she was just noticing the state you were in. “You… what is this?” 

You sat up, your body protesting with the motion. A throb began to build before your eyelids, and you bit your lip hard to distract yourself. “Something I can sleep off.” Possibly. That would be in your best hopes.

As if your irritable tone had snapped something in her, reminded her, she quickly straddled your legs, a hand thrusting forward to where her fingers pried your lips apart. 

You had gone completely still, not even the poison running through your veins could prompt you to move a muscle. Her index finger pushed up your top lip, her thumb rested on the bottom, and her middle finger was directly under a particularly sharp tooth— one of a pair. A problem.

You could see the way her eyes narrowed into slits, the slight curl of the corner of her lip, like she couldn’t believe it. Before she realized what she was doing, she had prodded and poked and ran a finger down the fang out of morbid curiosity, and a cut had appeared a second after, deep and welling with blood.

The fae frowned slightly, she had never bled before. Her blood wasn’t the deep red color of a humans, but of a pale pink, like rose petals steeped in water for a long period of time.  

Jennie’s eyes shifted back to your face. Behind your weary statue was raw panic— if the utter cease of your breathing and widened eyes was anything to go off. She wondered if it was the smell of faerie blood, or the fact any moment a drop could land on your tongue and shatter whatever fragile constraint you clung too, that did it. Either way… “You lied to me,” Jennie stated with furrowed brows. Rarely did she ever accuse anyone of such a thing, assured they would never. She’s placed her trust in you, her confidant, her lover— where was your loyalty?

It was common knowledge faeries couldn’t lie or speak falsely. To pick apart truth from lie, she relied heavily on words and tone. Jennie had assumed you would speak only the truth… but you weren’t a faerie. And clearly not a human either. 

Oh, Jennie wanted to weep.

All this time, Jennie brushed off your oddities. She never questioned why you were completely immune to faerie spells and charms, presuming you were taught to slather crushed Rowan berries over your eyes or carry salt (which was not as effective). Never questioned why you didn’t get along with either of the races at the academy, preferring to mind your own. Why you became overtly squeamish in the proximity of open wounds or on certain celestial days of the year, disappearing to who knows where. 

It was the little things she took for granted.

Lost in her thoughts, self pity, and grief, she flinched at the scalding, slick tongue gliding and lapping at her wound. 

She would describe it like a starving young Wendigo, but not anywhere near as unsightly. 

Your eyes were heavy-lidded, sometimes slipping closed, sometimes gazing directly into her own. The emotion in them flickered between a ravenous desire and fleeting guilt. Brows pinched together in a desperate furrow, as if torn between restraint and indulgence, but your parted lips betrayed you. 

Your breathing was shallow, ragged, each swallow coaxed by the pulse above your tongue. Fingers tightened possessively around her wrist, your nails dimpling her skin, like you couldn’t bear the thought of her pulling away, even when you seemed so desperate for her to do so earlier.

The sight had the instantaneous effect of heating her body a few degrees and encouraging a blush on her face. When her hand was freed, she noticed the wound had closed up without a scar. 

Your eyes were foggy when you met hers, laden with a hunger barely laying dormant. “I didn’t mean to lie, Jennie. I was afraid,” you murmured. Afraid of her rejection. Afraid of that familiar flinch when faeries realized just what you were. 

“Afraid?” She echoed, more to herself than you. Jennie believed she was good at reading you. Seeing you vulnerable like this made her question herself, however.

Jennie sighed, her tense shoulders slowly easing as her wings drooped behind her— drooping just enough to brush the tips against the back of her calves, trembling with the ghost of adrenaline that hadn’t quite settled.

She loved you.

She still loved you.

She lifted a hand to cup your cheek, her thumb brushing beneath your lip, tender, steady. “I’ll forgive you,” she murmured, but her voice was threaded with affection, not anger. “But if you lie about something like this again….”

Your breath hitched, panic still clinging to the edges of your ribs. “Jennie, I—”

“I don’t care,” she whispered, leaning in, her wings giving a tiny, hopeful flutter. “You’re still you. You’ve always been you.”

You tried to back away, but she followed, stubborn. Always stubborn.

And when she finally kissed you, slow and careful, you felt the old fear surge up— the fear you’d carried from the very beginning.

Your fangs were always so close. You’d imagined it a thousand times: the smallest slip, the lightest scrape, and you’d nick her tongue. Taste her. Lose yourself like you almost had when she cut herself.

So you did what you always did. You pulled away, just slightly, enough to break the kiss before it could deepen.

Jennie’s brows knit in familiar confusion. “Why do you always do that?” she asked, her wings twitching with a quiet irritation. “Every time I try to kiss you properly… you back away.”

You looked down, ashamed, hands tightening into fists at your sides. “I’m not in the right headspace right now,” you admitted, voice barely a breath. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Her hand slipped into yours, warm and grounding.

“You won’t,” she said simply. Her wings fluttered, brushing against your wrists like soft silk, wrapping around you protectively— intimately. “Let me kiss you properly,” she whispered, leaning in again. “Please.”

This time, when her lips met yours, you didn’t pull away.

Your restraint was paper-thin, trembling, but you clung to it because she asked you to. Because she trusted you.

The kiss was slow, sweet at first, but the longer it lingered, the more your breathing faltered. You felt it— your fangs beginning to catch, grazing her lower lip when you tilted your head just so.

Jennie paused, sensing the shift in you immediately. Her wings fluttered nervously, brushing against your arms like a whisper, but she didn’t pull away. She knew what was happening. She could feel the tremble in your hands, the way your muscles tensed like you were on the edge of something you couldn’t control.

The Yuart powder still pulsed faintly in your bloodstream, the poison agitating your hunger, clouding your mind. You needed to purge it— 

When you broke the kiss, gasping, your lips trembling as your fangs fully descended, Jennie cupped your cheeks, grounding you. Her gaze was soft, even now.

“Jennie—” Your voice cracked with desperation, panic. “I need—”

“I know.” She nodded, thumb brushing your cheekbone. “It’s okay. I trust you.”

Your pupils dilated, breathing ragged, instinct dragging your gaze to her throat— the pulse there, so quick, so inviting. You leaned in, but she caught you, her grip surprisingly firm despite her trembling wings.

“No,” she said with a quiet gasp, pulling you back just slightly, her breath warm against your lips. “Not right there.”

Oh.

———-

(one year ago)

The dinner had been going so well. Jennie’s mother laughed at her father’s bad jokes, Jennie teased him right back, and you— nervous but managing— had even started to relax between spoonfuls of stew.

But then, her father set his spoon down with a soft clink, the weight of his gaze shifting squarely on you. His voice, still warm but laced with intention, cut neatly through the comfortable hum of conversation.

“So,” he began, fingers lacing together as he leaned forward. “Let’s talk boundaries.”

Jennie’s heart seized. “Dad, no.”

“Now, it’s nothing to be shy about,” he said, entirely ignoring her. “You’re both young. You’ll… explore. But there are some things you should know about faerie partners.”

You stiffened, eyes wide, but Jennie’s father continued, completely at ease. Your eyes flickered between Jennie and him. Was this okay to talk about in front of Jennie?

“For example,” he said, pausing just long enough to be unbearable, “the lower wings are very sensitive. Not painful, just… overstimulating. If she ever says—”

Jennie shifted nervously. Oh God. Is he really starting there? “No,” Jennie blurted, her voice jumping an octave as she slammed her fist on the table, “not right there!”

Her father nodded approvingly. “Exactly. Listen when she says that.”

Jennie’s jaw dropped, aghast, but he was already on a roll.

“And another thing— just don’t mark any skin above the collarbone. It’s unsightly.”

“Father!” Jennie barked, her wings flaring out in pure disbelief and embarrassment as heat flooded her cheeks.

Her mother sipped her tea, utterly unfazed. “Your father is right. You don’t want to walk around with love bites in public. Fae skin holds color longer. It stains.”

And you, caught somewhere between mortified and deeply attentive, simply nodded. “I’ll… I’ll remember that.”

Jennie buried her face in her hands. She was never bringing you home again.

———-

You paused, lifted your back head up, and pecked her lips, a soft hum leaving you. “Lower, then?”

Jennie hid a smile, “Yes…Thank you.”

“And you didn’t oppose it?” Lisa asked. 

“Well, even though I was surprised by their boldness, it wasn’t unwelcome. This change is proving much better than I anticipated.” 

“How so?”

“Jisoo didn’t pause to think, “To start, I actually like spending time with her instead of feeling forced to do my part by the council or village.  She’s very amusing. And...the way she speaks…she doesn’t know what she’s doing sometimes but I enjoy listening to her talk about what she likes. She's not self absorbed or obsessed with power like my other grooms…they were such a headache. I know I make her jumpy— she’ll have to get used to me, of course.”

Lisa nodded. “You’ve had some men like that in the past but still got rid of them though.”

It made sense, Jisoo thought. “Yes. Because I couldn’t bear to marry someone I don’t truly love—“

“Love?” Lisa interjected. “You love her?”

“I’m getting there,” Jisoo answered. “I really do like her; I truly want her to be happy with me.” And she’ll wait for you to like her too. Then she will love. Her gaze shifted towards you again. Your hair was falling in front of your face, and your head had dropped to your shoulder, your body slightly slumped in the seat. She clicked her tongue in a displeased manner, almost wincing at how uncomfortable you looked. That wouldn’t do.

“That’s enough questioning for now.” She spoke after a beat, standing up from where she sat. She walked over to you, and without another word from Lisa, picked you up carefully. You shifted briefly, snuggling into her neck. A moment later you tensed up, your eyes snapping open; so that— that comforting scent was… 

You began to struggle, heat creeping up your neck. “Jisoo, I—”

She cut you off, frowning down at you. “Go back to sleep, I’m taking you to the bedroom so you may rest more comfortably.” Jisoo glanced at Lisa, who has yet to leave, raising a brow.

“And here I thought you were excited to see me,” Lisa protested. Nonetheless, she smiled at the sight.  She could tell you’d last much, much longer than the others. It was exciting, and she couldn’t wait to tell the girls. Jisoo probably wouldn’t be happy if she did but, who cares?

When Lisa took her (temporary) leave, Jisoo began carrying you to your room. You thought she’d just drop you on the bed and leave. You didn’t expect her to change your clothes to something warm (much to your surprise; you were too tired to argue however, and let her) let alone get under the blankets with you, curling her arms around your waist.

Now you really didn’t think you could go back to sleep. It wasn’t uncomfortable laying with her, per se — but still. Still. You just couldn’t help but focus on the smallest of her movements— with each breath she took it ghosted the shell of your ear and neck; the feeling of her warmth encasing you like a cacoon. 

“Jisoo?” You murmured sleepily. “You’re staying?”

“Only if you want me too,” she whispered.

You stayed quiet, and Jisoo squeezed you a little tighter. And just before falling asleep, you felt her kiss the back of your head, one of her hands drawing shapes on your waist. 

.

When you woke up the next morning, you didn’t expect Jisoo to still be there. You were startled when you opened your eyes, shocked enough that your body tensed up and your breath stalled momentarily. The Kumiho was still sleeping peacefully, it seemed, but her legs were intertwined with yours, face nuzzled against your collarbone, all squished and puffy, with soft puffs of air leaving her slightly parted lips. 

You couldn’t resist the smile forming on your face upon seeing her, finding the moment oddly pleasing— cute, even, but as soon as the thought crossed your mind you shoved it away. Buried it deep, deep down where it can be locked away until it becomes nothing more than a notion foreign to you. You’re not supposed to find a woman cute, yet alone a beast, yet Jisoo wasn’t— what was she to you?

You glanced at the Kumiho again, taking in the inhumane ears and tails— tail, now; the others seemed to have disappeared during the night to who knew where. It was another thing that left you curious, interested, and it distracted your worries momentarily as you found yourself reaching for Jisoo’s fox ears that twitched every so often. 

You gently traced over one with your fingertips, the ghost of a touch(you don’t want to wake her), feeling soft fur and structured padding and cartilage that you wouldn’t have expected. It made you wonder if her tail felt the same, and maybe it was something you’d find out during your stay here. You didn’t want to wake her up with your curiosity. 

Among other things, you’d really like to be able to get up. It would be really great if you could. You would merely walk around, explore more of the mansion and perhaps find Jiseul or Keo-woo. Though, the moment you attempted to slip away, Jisoo stirred, and you ended up trapped once again, pulled back into position, and if anything, even more so stuck when you woke. 

A low sound of displeasure was heard before the Kumiho picked her head up from your collarbone, eyes bleary with sleep. “What is it?” She rasped, looking you in the eyes— who’s equally staring back with bated breath. Her voice was rough with sleep, but it was a very pleasant, alluring sound. It made your stomach churn in two ways: one because of fear— something you needed to learn to let go of— and in another way you refused to acknowledge (they call it butterflies, don’t they?). 

“Nothing,” you replied stiffly, forcing yourself to keep eye contact despite thoughts of a sweet kiss resurfacing because of the proximity. “Good morning, Jisoo.”

A wide, otherwise sly, smile spread across Jisoo’s face. “Good morning, love,” she replied softly. “I love hearing you say my name.”

You didn’t say anything back, reeling over the endearment term, and Jisoo’s smile only grew. She gave you a squeeze to your waist. “When you wake up your heart sounds rather loud. Is something wrong, or… are you trying to flee?” Are you still unable to trust her?

“I wasn’t,” you spoke up, shivering slightly at the fingers caressing your sides. “W-What happened to your tails?”

“I simply put them away. They’re inconvenient and uncomfortable when I have to lay down. I can do the same with my ears.”

You nodded. “I see.” So that meant she could blend in with humans. The idea that Kumihos could be living amongst humans undetected in your village was a shocking revelation.

“Do you usually wake up at this time?” Jisoo asked. It was an early hour— six in the morning, and at this time the sun would just be reaching the top of the mountains. 

“I do, it’s hard for me not to. At this time I would have to get up to open my flower shop,” you explained, suddenly slightly sullen in mood. 

Jisoo was not a stranger to your sudden change in attitude and sat up fully, giving you her full attention. “You like to garden?”

You could physically feel yourself become happy at the mention of gardening. “Yes, I find it an enjoyable and entertaining hobby for myself. It’s nice to work with pretty flowers and have a part in taking care of them… I like seeing people smile when they’re given as gifts or a surprise. Not to mention they all have different meanings and you can combine them to portray a message and— sorry I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

“Not at all, it’s very interesting. And well, if you’d like to pursue that entertainment, I do have a garden here, as you know, where you’ll find anything you need, as well as any flower. I usually leave the maintenance up to the servants, and although I don’t like the idea of you getting your hands dirty when they would willingly do it for you… I suppose that’s the work that comes with gardening and what you like about it. What’s mine is yours.” 

You perked up, eyes wide with excitement, although still cautious. “Are you sure I’m allowed?” When Jisoo nodded you were filled with delight— you could just imagine yourself passing time in the garden, surrounded by what was familiar to you. (And you’ll even be able to learn about the ancient and exotic flowers as well)!

Jisoo almost cooed at your enthusiasm and how much energy you seemed to emit right now, wanting to simply smother you and everything dear to you— feeling her heart swell with warmth, fondness and if any more possible, love. Unlike a lot of other humans, you enjoyed the simple things and it was so endearing.  

“Would you like to get dressed for the day? I can get you something quick or you may choose from the closet. However, if you’re still tired, you may sleep more.” Jisoo suggested.

“No it’s okay– I can get dressed…. And, uhm, you can pick anything, if that’s alright.”

“Of course,” Jisoo said, and finally– she moved, giving you enough space to sit up and come to the edge of the bed. You watched her cross the room to the closet, searching it for anything she deems suitable for you. Her tail swished behind her in a smooth motion, left right right and left, and it made you smile, reminding you of an excited dog (beastly fox, in this case). Jisoo left the closet, coming back with a white and red modern hanbok. The skirt was a subtle red color, the blouse-dress white and embroidered with red carnations. 

“As you know, I usually have the maids do this, but I’ll feel rather envious if they get to dress you on such an important day; so do you mind if I do it instead?” Jisoo asked, her tone quiet, like she was too shy to speak any louder. 

You didn't reply immediately, and while laying out the clothes she glanced at you, wondering, waiting, before she decided to say something else. “But of course, you can do it yourself if you're uncomfortable. The only thing I’ll do is help with your shirt.” 

You shook your head, realizing your lack of response. What was important about today? “It's okay; you can help me.”  

Now that you've agreed, Jisoo doesn't waste any time unbuttoning your silk pajama top and sliding it down your shoulders. Her intense gaze made heat simmer beneath your skin, burning you from the inside out. The process of wearing the hanbok isn't long and dredging, especially when the only thing you had to do was lift your arms and let her assemble the pieces correctly once the base was on, however, Jisoo was delaying the process, appearing fixated on the expanse of skin.

“Jisoo?” 

She shook her head, placing the hanbok on the bed beside you. “This won’t do…” She said under her breath, looking conflicted. “I haven’t marked you yet.”

“...Marked me?”

“Because I’ve delayed the ceremony so you could become more comfortable with me, hoping for you to get adjusted before then, the others are curious as to why I did so; It’s tradition that on the first night a groom comes, they are marked. If you happen to walk around today unmarked, and I have an…audience, let’s say, they will come for you.” 

“Come for me?” 

Jisoo frowned at the thought. “Yes, they'll take you away, and some aren’t as docile and patient as me.”

“I don’t want that,” you expressed, a spike of anxiety making your heart beat faster. Who could you trust besides Jisoo? If she says she’s not like the other Kumiho… then how much worse are they? What if they are like the ones from the legends?..

“Then,” Jisoo started slowly, “I should make sure they don’t, yes?”

You felt unsettled. “By marking me you mean–”

“Yes, to make sure others will know you’re with someone already, so they don’t snatch you up and claim you before I do.” she explained.

“Others can do that? You must be joking.” Quite frankly, you’re in disbelief. You don’t understand– or, you just didn’t want to understand.

“I’m not,” Jisoo stated. No longer is her tone that soft and smooth one you favored. Instead, it's firmer– she’s serious, and she’s telling you it’s very true. “There are truly demons out there who’ll jump at the chance to take, and I won’t allow it if it comes to you. If they see you walking about with no mating mark, no indication you are mine, they’ll assume you’re a stray human that they can get easily at will.”

You swallowed dryly. You didn’t know how to respond, what to think, or how you should even begin to take that piece of information. The only thing getting through to you is that you could be taken. Kidnapped, and never returned– all for not being marked. You could possibly die along the way or never see your brothers again. Jisoo’s attitude about this told you all you needed to know– this is her world, not yours. And you must follow the rules. “Then– if I let you mark me, I’ll be fine?” You inquired hesitantly.

“You will,” Jisoo confirmed, searching your eyes. “But seeing as you’re somewhat reluctant, it can wait… I’m not here to bring you displeasure not to pressure you with this, it’s just something you should be aware of. So, in that case, you should–”

“No! Just wait,” You said, cutting her off, and before you could think better of it, reached out and placed your hand on top of Jisoo’s own that rested on your knee. The Kumiho looks at you with furrowed brows, slightly surprised. You take in a breath. “It’s fine, really. I’m just– I’m still trying to get used to this all. I’m not necessarily uncomfortable, but worried it might hurt– I don’t mind if it’s only a few marks.”

“Are you absolutely sure?” Jisoo pulled her lip between her teeth, concealing a smile, and her tail started moving again, albeit slower than before, yet still showing how excited she’s become.

“Yes. If you can keep me safe; please do. I can’t afford to go missing… And you've already compromised so much for me. I’m sure I'm difficult to work with sometimes.” You’re aware that what you ask is selfish, but you had promises to fulfill, and if you suddenly get taken by another demon other than Jisoo, who you aren’t familiar with and used to, things could be bad. 

“Then I will,” Jisoo agreed. She didn’t waste any time sitting on your lap, where she can have easy access to the smooth skin she's been eying moments ago. You shivered lightly with the first touch of Jisoo’s lips to your neck. You closed your eyes at the feeling of her lips kissing your jaw and throat, dragging across your clavicle with the occasional flicker of tongue. Your lungs ached for air as Jisoo mouthed at your racing pulse point, her fangs lightly scraping the skin. Your nails dug into her waist when she began to nip at your skin, just to the point of a dull ache, anticipating a bite. The bites aren’t heavy, yet they sting in a way that makes the area throb– however, when she runs her tongue over the small wounds, it makes the pain numb; you feel particularly weak when she does that, like a flushed and trembling mess. Seemingly satisfied with your neck, she moves lower, right above your bra at the swell of your breasts, and— “Jisoo,” you whimpered. “W-Wait. I think– not near there, please.” The feeling is entirely too much.

“I’m not doing anything bad, calm down,” She replied, all sultry. She paused for a moment to look at you, and god, you felt faint. Nevertheless, Jisoo continued her marking, and you threaded your fingers in the Kumiho’s hair messily, a desperate attempt to pull her away before she could work on the area but she didn't budge. Instead, she found it amusing, deciding to give open-mouthed kisses and– Jisoo stopped suddenly, releasing your skin with a soft sucking sound, leaving you irrationally disappointed but relieved at the same time (if that’s possible). She looked to the doorway. 

“Jisoo.” There was a stern voice speaking out into the room. You go rigid, trying to access the situation. You felt her arms curl around you, tight, secure, giving you a singular squeeze before retreating. Jisoo slid off your lap and sat beside you, glancing at you for a moment— a hint of a smile on her face— before looking to the side with an unhappy look, clearly unamused at the interruption. You shifted slightly to see.

Standing at the side of the bed closer to the door was a woman with a Hanbok style like Jisoo’s. She was no taller than Jisoo, had sharp, feline-like eyes, ginger hair, and a small mole below her eyebrow. What drew your attention was the set of furry orange ears on her head and the tail behind them. (The sight makes you wonder: is there anyone normal here)?

“What are you doing to her? Weren’t you told to take it slow until the ceremony? You know you can’t eat her now.” They lectured, and your breath hitched. Eat? What’s with all of them saying eat or devour? Are you some type of food to them?? It makes no—

Your thought process is interrupted when Jisoo runs a nail over where a hickey was slowly forming on your sternum, your attention immediately on her after. There’s a small pout on her lips and a slightly displeased expression to her beautiful face, telling you just how much she didn't like that you were focused on the visitor instead. It’s childish, and the area now hurts: you think internally. If this visitor wasn’t here maybe you would have dug your own nails– that do have some sort of length– into the soft pads of Jisoo’s ears to see if she liked it. 

“Jisoo.’ Another warning. The Cat-like Kumiho doesn’t seem fazed by her behavior at all. Nonetheless, it annoyed Jisoo more.

“Am I not even allowed to do this much, Jennie?” She voiced bitterly, reminding you of a child, once again, being given boundaries they don’t want to follow.

“You are, but isn’t it right to assume you’ve done enough for now? Look at her.” Jennie pointed at you, her head tilting in a way awfully cat-like. “She’s evident of your marks, so now, you leave her be. She needs to eat right now to regain her energy. Do you want her to starve?”

Jisoo glanced at you, then back at Jennie. Jisoo thought about saying yes, considering it’d give her more time with you, but then– your stomach growls; the sound is loud and telling, and it has the stranger smiling at Jisoo like she’s won a bet.

.

Very reluctantly, after finally getting changed, Jisoo let you go with the cat. 

“I’ll be with her, so you don’t need to worry.” Jennie rolled her eyes. “And while we’re gone, you need to go to the courtyard and organize your servants. They’re in a panic of excitement and concern for this human, as well as what preparation to make for the ceremony.”

“Ugh, can’t that wolf do that?”

“She’s busy with Lisa setting up things,” Jennie explained. “I'll be taking her now, and I can promise she’ll be safe with me– we don’t have to leave the barrier today. You may fetch her later in the day, or even after breakfast if you’re that impatient.”

“Do you have any questions?” Jennie asked once you were in the hallway. You didn't reply right away, turning to look back inside for a reason unknown to you, expecting something, anything– but you didn’t see Jisoo there anymore. She’s disappeared again. Jennie raised an eyebrow at you when an expression similar to disappointment settled on your face. A grin tugged at her lips, making you feel embarrassed.

You averted your eyes. “I do.” It’s hard to find the right words for what you wanted to ask– because there’s a lot you wanted to know. Jennie somehow knew, and assured you to take your time, and that you could be comfortable talking to her. “We’ll be seeing each other a lot from now on. You can call me  what Jisoo calls me, Jen, nini, or anything you like.”

“So I can call you cat–”

You shook your head, an action you hoped got rid of such thoughts (no matter how many times she reminded you of one), and situated yourself on the ground beside the couch, you stared at her face for a while, admiring her beauty. It’s something you know you’d never get used to. Your gaze dragged across the bit of freckles on her nose and cheeks, to her long eyelashes that were dark against her skin. You watched as they fluttered as she dreamt. 

A sigh left her lips, and she turned to her side, facing you. She had a soft pout shaping her lips, and you found yourself staring at them longer than you should’ve. She was so adorable asleep… What?

You blinked owlishly, heat rising to the back of your neck after realizing how creepy you were being. The last thing you wanted to do was make her uncomfortable. Just as you were about to retreat, you realized the potato chip was still nestled between her fingers, and, worried she’d crush it and make a mess, you reached out to pluck it from her hand, only for her eyes to flutter open. They were bleary, clouded with sleep, and caused a stir in your stomach. She blinked at you, a blush slowly appearing on her cheeks.

Startled, you toppled onto your elbows. “R-Rosie?“ You stammered. 

Crunch.

The crisp sound made you both look at the chip now crushed in her palm. She sat upright, now thoroughly embarrassed and wide awake. 

A smile grew on your face, and you dismissed the apologetic look she was giving you. “Here,” you said, grabbing the empty chip bag on the nightstand. “You can put that in here.”

“Did you sleep well?” You asked when she finished transferring the crumbs into the  chip bag.

Rosie nodded with a yawn, stretching her arms above her head. The action revealed more of her slender stomach and the soft curves of her waist.  It was distracting, and you quickly tore your gaze away from the sight to focus on the chip bag in your hands, thus not noticing the sly smile on her face. You played with the sides of the bag, pinching the aluminum plastic between your finger tips. She tapped your forehead to get your attention again, her brows raised in question, and mouthed How was work?

“Ah,” you said, relieved for a distraction. “It was fine— same old stuff. We have a new worker joining us, and so far she seems nice, a little clumsy though. I’m in charge of helping her out.”

She knew by now you weren’t one to love interacting with people— you would rather stand back and observe, finding interest in the actions of others, how they moved or expressed themselves. She thought that was why you were able to read her so well, how you were able to understand her despite the fact she didn’t have a voice. 

However, she didn’t know why she felt a twang to her heart at the mention of your new coworker, a feeling of unrest growing in her stomach. She felt anxious about today and didn’t know why the feeling still lingered. 

Rosie reached for your hand with a frown, noticing a bandage wrapped around your index finger. 

You looked at it, remembering your little accident earlier. “Oh, it’s nothing serious, just a shallow cut. The stapler nicked me when I was trying to refill it.” 

A staple..er? Rosie stared at you quizzically. 

“It’s a tool used to clip stacks of papers together and it’s sharp in some areas. I was refilling it when it clamped down on my finger,” you explained. 

Her mouth made an ‘O’ shape and she nodded, but you could tell she still didn’t understand. Either way, you were prepared to answer anything she asked you— who were you to deny her curiosity? 

“Are you hungry?” You asked, standing up. It’s been a while since you ate lunch, and knowing she had just woken up, she was probably hungry as well. You opened the fridge and staring back at you was a jar of mayonnaise, a single egg, a half of tomato, and two pieces of cheese. You bit the inside of your cheek, wondering how you didn’t notice the lack thereof earlier. “Looks like I’ll be going grocery shopping,” you murmured, closing the fridge. Your grandmother always told you to buy ingredients, which you took to heart, cooking your meals instead of ordering out. She also insisted you become a chef one day— which obviously didn’t happen. 

Rosie was watching you from over the couch, and when she noticed you were staring back at her she looked away, pretending to be interested in her hands. 

“Do you want to come with me?” You offered tentatively, noting her mannerisms. She definitely wanted you to ask– if the way her head whipped toward you and began to nod rapidly, if the way her eyes brightened and a smile tugged at her lips was any indication. “Then that’s settled, why don’t you put a coat on? And some warm pants.”

…

The doors to the grocery store slid open with a mute whoosh and a bell sounded out as you walked through. Rosie, still holding your hand (to which she insisted on the moment you walked out the door to make your way here), appeared shocked at the technology before staring in awe at the assortments of fruits and veggies that lined the entrance-aisle. You believed it was safe to assume she’d never seen a supermarket before, or seen this much food in one place, and it was evident that she had no idea what to do and looked quite apprehensive. But, she followed you closely behind nevertheless.

You grabbed two large baskets after realizing all the carts were being used (or missing), handing one to Rosie. "Can you hold this for me?... Thanks." You then began your journey of looking for ingredients. For tonight, you planned to fry something, perhaps chicken-- spicy chicken-- and maybe some white rice, vegetables and whatever else you find.  Your eyes fell on an aisle marked "spices," and your eyebrows furrowed, you definitely need to restock (flavorful food comes at a price, after all). Rosie seemed to realize where you were headed because she took the lead, yet peered over her shoulder every once in a while to make sure you were still there.

Every few feet Rosie would hold up an item she plucked off the shelf, and when you nodded she would put it in the basket before walking away with a smile to find something else. You simply shook your head in amusement, glad she was having fun. Figuring she would come back and find you, you moved to the next aisle slowly, so she would still be able to locate you nearby. You did this because you knew how it felt being separated from a parent in the grocery store, lost but trying not to look lost as you searched for your family, a growing sense of dread worming its way into your stomach the longer you looked.

Rosie wandered the aisles with a subtle boldness– she wasn't as uneasy as when she first walked in– looking for something else to find. She liked the smiles you would give her when she found something useful. She liked the smiles you gave her when she found something useless, too. Either way, she was on a mission. Or, maybe it wasn't a highly important mission because the moment she passed an aisle that contained brightly packaged, illustrated items, she swiftly turned and entered it. Her eyes widened, and she looked at the different packaging, with, what she believes is edible, a variety of "foods"-- all shapes and sizes. Everything looked so appealing, and she was simply dying to know what was inside. Maybe you would get it for her?

As Rosie was contemplating which package to get, she was approached by a group of guys– looking like they were in their early adult years or so, unbeknownst to her. One guy who was being jostled around and whispered to was pushed towards her, the others staying behind and snickering behind their hands. He took a deep breath, pulling his phone out his pocket.  “Hi, I think you’re really cute and wondered if I could get your number?”

No answer. 

He tried again, yet still received no answer. He looked back to his friends who merely shrugged. So he waited. They gave her a moment to see if she was just “lagging behind” but she kept staring at the packages—practically burning holes into them. But she was thinking hard. Very, very hard and intensive.  Which one should she choose when they all looked good? She’s never had this type of food, and never had to pick something out for herself, either. The servants in the palace would do it for her, not trusting her ability to pick out something that's not….”human-originated”. Would you like what she got? 

Would you smile at her again for her choice?

She wanted to know. 

Completely absorbed in this new task, Rosie took both of the packages and walked away, leaving the guy standing there dumbfounded.

“What just happened?” He murmured.

Just as you were about to go off and find Rosie, feeling that she was taking longer than usual to come back, she entered the aisle, looking very serious. She stopped in front of you. “Rosie?” You questioned, then the candy packages she held garnered your attention. “ Oh, are you interested in those? Do you want to try them? They're a little sour, but I’ll get them for you.” You smiled at her, relieved nothing bad happened, and found her behavior endearing.

You put them in the basket before informing her you were done shopping, the two of you making your way to the self-checkout. She trailed behind you like a puppy (yes, the reference again), grinning so hard her cheeks began to ache, feeling accomplished and happy beyond belief. She smiled at me again!  And she knew it was something she wanted to see a lot more, a sight that made her heart speed up.

…

You arrive home with arms with multiple bangs strung on them. You unlock the door and let Rosie in first, instructing her to put the bags on the dining table. As she’s doing that you make one trip to the kitchen with bags, put them down, then go back for the last of them. 

You’re just outside your door frame, bending down to reach for the bags, when the wind gets knocked out of you, and your arm is pulled behind your back. “What–” Your leg is swept from under you and you fall to the floor with a thud, a hiss leaving your mouth, a pounding beginning to resonate behind your skull. You groan, feeling pain throbbing where your body made contact with the ground. 

A shiny black shoe invades your vision, and you hear a woman's voice. 

“Where’s Rosé?” She demanded, and you had a feeling it was something you were expected to answer, but you didn’t have it in you to care. 

“What?” You murmured, blinking rapidly, trying to get a grip. There was a weight on your backside, keeping you down, and you figured its whoever is wearing those black shoes. Must be a tough guy.

Hah.

“Don’t play dumb, human,” came a gruff voice. Ah, so there were really two people.

"Aren't we all human here?” you mumbled, finding what he said weird. This smart comment earned you a tug on your arm, which was already pretty far pushed behind your back. You yelped.

You heard a sigh of frustration. The woman spoke again,  “Get off of her, KK.”

Just as he was removing himself off of you, rapidly approaching footsteps were heard, and a body shoved him away, running to your side. “Rosie?” You furrowed your brows. She should go back inside, you didn’t know if these people were dangerous or not. Nonetheless, she helped you sit up, and you did so with a quiet hiss, meeting her frantic eyes. She checked you over, and when she deemed you okay she whipped her head to the side and glared at the woman and her bodyguard. And what a mean glare it was; you’ve never seen that look on her. 

The feline-eyes woman appeared shocked at the action, and in a meek tone called her name. “R-Rosé? What— why are you...?” 

Why is she protecting you? Her captor. You’ve done horrible things to her. 

The woman looked unsure, confused. 

There were those who didn’t believe in Soulmates, those that thought the system wasn’t fair. But what was fair about fate? It was just a way to bind two people together. Forever. You either got lucky or you didn’t, there’s no in between— soulmates are simply a random occurrence. And the world was too cruel to give everyone the same happiness.

You were one of the few people who didn’t believe in soulmates despite the evidence they were real being all around you. You didn’t believe in the fairytales from poets, the grand, romanticized adventures about those looking for their fated pair, those who traveled across the world, suffered many hardships, and finally, by the wonderful power of destiny, found their other half. 

It was all a joke to you. It was unhealthy, too. Imagine spending almost your whole life wishing upon a dazzling shooting star for a soulmate to take you away from the loneliness and the imaginary scenarios, making them true, only to find out they died or broke the tie. Or to pathetically plead to the otherworldly force that created soulmates each year for someone to save you, to love you, for it to not be answered?

It was your own personal experience— something you believed to be a forever thing.

 It wasn’t.

.

The crescent moon grinned down upon you mockingly, its light illuminating the streets. Everyone seemed to always have a destination in mind, somewhere they knew they had to go. You were always lost.

 A bitter wind nipped at your face and hands, and you pulled your scarf up more.You looked at the heavy brown-paper bag in your hands and sighed, you had to go back home. Those all familiar feelings bubbled up inside of you once again: hopelessness; fear. These feelings made you hurt, they were empty feelings that just seemed to grow bigger everyday, making it harder for you to have control. You clenched your fists to stop the shaking, even dug your nails into your skin. It didn’t help. 

(Even if you did right, you’d still get punished).

That’s how it always started: the trembling. It started from your fingers and made its way through your body till you’re shaking. When you shake you no longer have control of your nerves. If you’ve lost control of your nerves, you get dizzy. Then you’ve lost the ability to breathe properly… and you drown. 

You ripped your gaze away from the bag that held bottles of tequila and champagne and forced your feet to move forward. Though, too caught up in trying to prevent yourself from getting overwhelmed, you failed to notice the wild animal scurrying on the sidewalk in front of you. A shriek left you and the bag in your hands dropped as you jumped out of surprise, its contents smashing and spilling out on the floor and your shoes. The smell is strong, and you wrinkle your nose. 

There goes your chance at having a peaceful night.

You hope they’ve fallen asleep and forgot. When you’re walking up the driveway you saw that the lights were still on. They’ve just forgotten to turn them off. They’re asleep, you told yourself over and over as you're unlocking the door.

They’re not. 

Your mother was still perched on her soulmate’s lap, just as she was when you went out, looking at you expectantly. Your eyes darted to the floor, and a quiet, shaky breath left your lips. 

She noticed your hands are empty and her face falls. You could see the burning color appear on her cheeks— she’s angry now, and in front of her soulmate you’ve embarrassed her? 

“Excuse me,” she murmured as she slid off his lap. She walked past you, heading to the hallway, and even though she doesn’t verbally tell you to follow her or do any type of gesture, you just know to follow her. 

You’re in the hallway, and oh, what a hazardous place to be in. Your eyes darted around the small corridor, taking mental notes of what looked sharp and what could bruise you and what might— “(Y/n).” Her voice was cold and it made you jump, she gave you a what-the-fuck look. “Where are our drinks? Where have you gone to take this long and come back empty handed? Where’s my money? Where has it been spent?” She bombarded you with questions.

“I had them, but…” Should you tell her you were a klutz and dropped it? 

Well, you’re unable to anyways. The moment your mom scrunched her nose up with that glint in her eyes you knew what was coming, yet you weren’t ready for it. It was just so fast. 

A heavy, hard smack collided with your cheek, knocking you off balance to the ground. The trip wasn’t so smooth as your back dug into the sharp dresser edge on the way. You held your cheek, blinking rapidly as pain assaulted your senses. God, your head was spinning, your ears were ringing, and your face burned. You bit your lip to stop any cries. Tears pricked at your eyes and you refused to look at her, your gaze trained to the polished wood boards. 

Your mother has already come up with her scenario, her answer instead of hearing you out. (Not that the outcome would be any different, but maybe less harsh).

“So you decided to drink it yourself, huh?” She scoffed, rubbing at her temples like you were an annoying headache. “I knew I smelt something… You naughty little girl, that was ours!” You still smelt like the alcohol, meaning you must’ve drunk theirs, that’s the only reasonable conclusion, right?

You saw her coming closer to you. She grabbed a handful of your hair and you yelped, forced to stand up. Your legs scrambled for grip underneath you and as soon as it’s gained, it’s lost when your mother’s knuckles collide with your jaw on the same side of the slap. She was not going easy on you, and you deserve it. You deserve this, because this is what you get for not paying attention.

Your vision blurred for a moment and you finally let a cry escape your lips. “Mom!” Your mother rolled her eyes and practically manhandled you to your room, her nails digging into the side of your waist and arm with a bruising grip as she pushed you forward. “Mom! Please stop, it hurts!” 

“Good,” she sneered, fingers digging deeper into your skin. You whimpered in agony. “You had one job…couldn’t even do that.” You’re scared, everything hurts, and you're beginning to tremble again, and this time, maybe you’ll welcome the panic if it’ll give you something else to focus on. 

She pushed you onto your bedroom floor and snorted at your state. “Go to bed. I don’t want to hear anything from you.” Then she slammed the door, the sound ringing in your ears. 

You didn’t have the energy to drag yourself onto your bed, and would rather not risk making things harder for yourself, so you curled up on the ground. The sharp smell of cigarettes lingered in the air, causing your nose to sting, each shallow intake of air more stuttered than the last as you began to weep. The gash on your cheek was painful, and the feeling of a wet sensation let you know that the skin was broken and bleeding. 

You can’t do this anymore. 

You've seen how hard it is for people with mothers and fathers that aren’t soulmates. The judgment, the uncertainty, the hushed whispers. You’ve experienced it first hand. 

Your mom and dad weren’t soulmates, just two people that stopped trying. Ever since your mom found her soulmate (Evan) and broke up with your dad, you were able to see your mom finally in true love, yet your dad was broken. His soulmate, who died before they could meet, awaited him in the afterlife. Not long before they broke up, it was like the Universe decided he had nothing else to live for if not with his soulmate, and he passed. 

Since then, Evan stopped you from finishing your studies to stay home and take care of your mom and the expected baby. The miscarriage was highly unexpected, and you’ve been the punching bag since. Your little brother's death was traumatic for them, and they couldn’t come up with a reason why it had to be that way— so it was pushed onto you. 

It’s your fault, your mom told you; you should’ve taken care of her better, Evan had said, she was too stressed out because of you. You’ll never find your soulmate, they said, creating the first crack. You're unlovable. Useless. Who could ever love you? You’re here because your soulmate left you.

(It was then you realized you couldn’t rely on a soulmate to save you).

With your studies discontinued, your life plans were shattered. You've been forced to live with your mom since your dad died, having no other place to go. You’ve hopped from job to job, saving up money to leave and get back on track, but they take it away from you anyways. You're stuck.

That’s why you decided to run away. 

When Evan and your mom retired to their room, you waited a few hours, then snuck out of your room— for the first time grateful for not having a lock— with a bag packed. You always kept some funds away from your mother, funds she didn’t know about, and today you would use them. The downstairs was quiet, and you made sure to stray away from creaky floorboards. You turned the corner, flinching upon seeing Evan in the kitchen digging through the fridge. You needed to go through the kitchen to get out. His droopy, unkind eyes settled on you. 

“Hey,” he said, frowning as he put his cup down. “Aren’t you supposed to be in your room?”

When he took a step towards you, you bolted, running past him and throwing the door open. A moment later the same door flew open, and you realized he was chasing you. “Hey! Fuck— get back here!”

You ran harder, barely getting air into your lungs as you turned corners and ran through streets, bumping into people. When you no longer heard his voice yelling after you, you switched into a slow jog, then a tired walk. 

You walked a few blocks, then entered a café to rest.

You glanced around the room, noting how cozy it was. It reminded you of how your grandma’s house would have a homey atmosphere; old family photographs hung proudly on the walls, soft music playing from a record player, and the air scented with something that made you warm. There weren't many customers, and you figured it was close to closing. 

You hung your backpack over a chair and sat down, resting your head on the table, taking a much needed break. You would order a drink, but didn’t want to inconvenience the baristas since they were cleaning up. When you felt your eyes closing, you reminded yourself to leave before 

they closed. 

It wasn’t long before you slipped into a nap, the comforting atmosphere lulling you deeper, and ignored the almost overwhelming feeling in your heart. You ignored the tugging sensation on your index finger too.

.

“Excuse me,” a voice whispered, accompanied by a soft tap on your shoulder. When you didn’t respond, she lightly shook your shoulder.

You flinched awake and she furrowed her brows. “Hi, I’m so sorry about that. I didn’t mean to scare you, but it’s closing time and…” She trailed off. 

You couldn’t believe Rosé from Blackpink, global kpop star and ambassador, was in front of you. You took note of the khaki, bear-printed apron she wore along with a name tag,p: the café’s uniform. But more importantly, why was she so much prettier up close? Her blonde hair was in a ponytail, and a couple strands were left out to frame her face. Her eyes were a soft but narrow shape, giving them a natural innocent look, and her nose was perfectly straight and sculpted. The bit of freckles that graced her nose and cheeks made her even more breathtaking.

The ever so reddening of her cheeks let you know that you were staring far too long. 

You quickly stood up and unhooked your backpack from the wooden chair, slinging it over your back. “I’m sorry,” you apologized almost immediately, as if it’s out of habit. Your eyes darted back to the floor, and she felt her heart break. 

Something clearly wasn’t right. 

“I’ll leave now…thank you for waking me up.” Without waiting for her response you started to walk away, unable to endure her curious gaze any longer. Though, a hand wrapping itself around your wrist stops you in your actions, and prompts a quiet gasp to leave your lips. Her touch was electric. You turned back around, trying not to dwell on the warmth encasing your wrist, and faced her. 

Why did she just grab you? She, too, looked shocked. Her cheeks dusted with a light pink as she looked away from you. Did she feel it too? 

Looking down, she noticed the harsh blobs of purple and green peeking out from your hoodie sleeve and her heart jumped for a whole different reason. They were shaped like fingerprints— like someone grabbed you violently. At the realization, she was momentarily rendered speechless. 

She only had one thing on her mind, and it wouldn't be right if she ignored it. Her eyebrows furrowed, and she looked down briefly before looking you straight in the eyes. Her eyes soft with concern, she asked, “Are you okay?” Immediately, you tensed up. You inhaled sharply, attempting to steady yourself by taking deep breaths. “You’re hurt. Who did this to you?” She pressed.

There it was. You could feel tears building at the corners of your eyes, and she definitely noticed. You tried to speak, but your tongue felt too heavy to form coherent words. “I— I’m…” You're fine? You injured yourself?

“Please tell me, I need to know.” Her voice was stern yet laced with a gently concern. You weren’t getting out of this. Her hand loosened its grip, but didn't fully let go. Did she know you would bolt the moment she did?

Your vision started to blur, and you blinked rapidly against the incoming stream of tears. It’s all you can do to keep yourself together. One part of you wanted to tell her, wanted to spill everything, the other held you back and wanted to tell a lie. You shouldn’t burden her. You could take care of yourself. But you couldn’t bring yourself to utter those words.

Noticing your inner turmoil, Rosé backtracked, and apologies were leaving her mouth in a rapid rush. “Sorry, I’m so sorry. That was very rude of me. I’m Chaeyoung. You are?”

You sniffled, feeling slightly overwhelmed. “…(Y/n).”

She smiled lightly. “(Y/n)? Your name is beautiful, I love it. Now… I know I was really forward just now, but I’m worried about you. I can’t just leave this unattended, I— I want to help you…if that’s alright.”

“Help?” You repeated quietly. The word felt foreign on your tongue, even more so hearing it applied to your situation. Usually people looked the other way, not wanting to get involved or merely too scared to. And you’ve gotten so used to it that you felt you weren’t deserving of help. Now, you bitterly wondered why it took so long to come to you, especially in times of need.

“Yes. Do you want my help?” She asked again, softer.

God, yes. Yes, you want help. You could only nod your head, a quiet sob leaving your lips. You hid your face, self-conscious in front of her. Suddenly, you're engulfed in a warmth, such a comforting embrace, and it only makes the tears fall harder. 

“It’ll be okay,” she murmured, letting you cry into her chest. She was taller than you, her chin resting delicately upon the crown of your head. The feeling of being cared for washed over you, easing your stress for a minute, allowing you to take some time to calm down. Her scent filled your lungs, and you could have sworn you smelled a floral mixed with vanilla. 

Once you calmed down enough, you pulled away and managed to whisper a hoarse, “Thank you.”

“Of course,” she replied. “Now, can I know what’s going on in order to help you better?”

After that short moment, you told her - a stranger you surprisingly felt you could trust - everything. You told her about your parents, getting chased as you tried to leave the house, and the origin of the bruises. You kept it brief, however, and once you explained the details of your situation she offered to take you to the hotel she was staying at.

You were hesitant to leave the café, fearing your family was searching the streets for you, she called her manager to get the two of you and you waited inside. While waiting, she asked you a few things about yourself and exchanged some things about her. 

You learned that she had a “complicated" job that left her restless at night, hence why she was helping out at her friend's café. She was humble to a fault, telling you about her friends and how grateful she is to have the opportunities she has now, too. 

It wasn’t long before her manager, a young-looking, friendly woman, greeted you when Chaeyoung opened the car door and the both of you slid in. You’re not good at small talk, but she was a natural at it. It wasn’t long before the conversation flowed freely and you didn’t have to pretend. She made you comfortable.

There was a lull in the air, the only noise being the car’s engine grumbling and the wind whipping by the slightly lowered window. She turned to face you fully, and you shifted in your seat from her gaze. “Do you know who I am?”

You bit your tongue at the question, not expecting it— at least, not this soon. (Was it obvious?) “I do. I mean, I may have seen your face on a few products and billboards.” You pinched at the fabric of your pants, not realizing you were beginning to frown. “Is that okay? I’m not trying to...” Intrude; leach; burden. 

She cut your rambling short with a chuckle. “That’s fine,” she assured. “It doesn’t change anything. I want to do this.” It honestly scared her how much she wanted to help you. 

She has been warned multiple times about “normal people”. 

They’re different, all they see is your fame, you on the stage, what you have and what they don’t. 

She has been used because of her kindness, taken advantage of and lied to. Threatened, even. But somehow she knew you weren’t like them. She was acting on a feeling she couldn’t explain. 

The feeling she has searched for her whole career, perhaps. She pushed the thought to the back of her brain— it was the least of her worries. Now, she needed to make sure you felt safe.

.

You expected she stayed at a quality hotel, but just seeing it— such a large, grandice building, was mind blowing. It was nestled between a street lined with high end brands and local restaurants, drawing eyes. Nonetheless, you didn’t feel any envy towards her. You knew she had worked hard to get to this point in life. 

You followed closely behind Chaeyoung, the guards at their post by the main entrance, intimating you with their blank expressions and bold stances. They gave her a singular nod as she passed, their eyes lingering on you for a few moments with masked confusion. You smiled wryly, imagining how it must look to others, and readjusted the facemask her manager had given you. 

You didn’t want to cause any problems for her.

Chaeyoung was a natural at conversing with people, something you lacked in, greeting the receptionist with a smile and small talk. She had just finished laughing at a joke. “Is there another room available on the same floor as mine?” She asked, glancing at you. You furrowed your brows, confusion reflected in your eyes.

The receptionist clicked around the computer for a moment. “Yes, there is. Are you trying to rent it?”

“I am,” she replied. 

“Okay can you state the guest name and residency? Or are you buying it in your name?”

“In my name—“

“No!” You blurt suddenly, coming closer to the counting. You turned to her, shaking your head. “I can…I can pay for it, Chaeyoung. You’ve already done enough for me. I can’t ask you to do anything more.” There was something in your voice, pleading, which caught her off guard. Why were you so against it? 

She tilted her head quizzically, her lips pursed together. Oh, she would spoil you. She smiled. “No, I can’t let you do that.”

You were flustered, calculating how much she would have to pay: a whole lot. It was definitely pricey for your current funds, but you didn’t care. You didn’t have to stay long… “But it’s only right—-“

”I want to. So please accept, okay?” 

Realizing she wasn’t going to back down, you gave up. (For now). “…You’ll at least let me pay you back after, right?” You really didn’t like owing people.

She pretends to think about it for a moment. “Nope, c’mon.” She grabs the keys from the lady and leads you to the elevator. 

The ride was silent, and Chaeyoung didn’t seem bothered by the lack of interaction. On the other hand, she realized you had a lot going through your mind. That much was obvious from your lack of expression.  

Once she returned to her suite, she would contact Alice or her family for connections to lawyers. Abuse was a touchy subject, getting you to open up would be difficult…

.

The suite was luxurious— spacious and lavishly decorated with high-end furniture, plush carpets, and drapery. The living room was furnished with comfortable sofas, armchairs, and a coffee table. The large windows offered breathtaking views of the surrounding city. Further in, the bedroom featured a king-sized bed with premium linens and soft pillows, and the lighting is carefully curated, creating a warm environment. The bathroom had marble floors and walls, a deep soaking tub, and a separate rainfall shower. 

You re-entered the living space, completely shook. Wasn’t this too much? 

Chaeyoung sat on one of the island chairs, swirling around. “Nice, isn’t it? I recently started booking with this place. They have 24-hour room service and a private chef upon request. There’s also a private lounge, spa, and fitness center— but I hardly have time to use those services anyways...” 

“It’s… definitely nice.” You couldn’t begin to imagine the price for one day— 

“I’m happy you think so, I want you to be comfortable. Are you hungry?” She was already grabbing her phone as she asked, a pamphlet in her hand.

You shook your head, only to be betrayed by your stomach rumbling. She laughed, and the sound made your heart stutter in your chest without warning. She had a cute smile on her face as she beckoned you over. “Not hungry, hm?” She teased. 

“Maybe a little,” You said then, your face heating up slightly due to the embarrassment. She smiled wider, typing in the Suite’s website and clicking on food service. 

“What would you like? This place is really famous for their pastas and stews, but they have almost everything here.” She started listing off items, going from the most popular to the lesser popular dishes (they’re all expensive either way). Halfway through the selections you stopped her, finding a simple meal that was the least expensive yet filling. 

“Can you add the pho and salad to the order? I’m paying for it. You don’t need to spend more than necessary on me.” A stranger.

She frowned at that. “But I’m treating you, still.” 

“I know…but you’ve really done enough for me. I can’t ask for more,” you were adamant. 

“You can,” She emphasized. “In fact, I want you to. And I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but I was the one who wanted to bring you here, and I have more money than I know what to do with, so let me pay for your things, please. I want to do this, let me take care of you.” 

You bit into your tongue, mulling over the situation. You knew at this point she wouldn’t let anything go, she’d just insist, and insist, and insist, coaxing you to comply with her lovely smile, and her kind eyes, and her gentle tone that never fails to have you feeling so warm.

“Okay, fine,” You said, and immediately a smile was pulling at her lips, that cheerful mood she had before coming back as soon as it faded. “On one condition: you at least let me pay for the food— yours too.”

“But—”

“I need to do something useful, Chaeyoung. It’s killing me, so just this once, please.”

“Alright,” she reluctantly agreed, almost hesitant to even let you type in your card for the order. “Just this once, and this time only.” 

“Yes, yes, thank you,” You finally smiled. 

The hotel staff didn’t take long preparing your orders, which is likely expected of such a fancy place like this. The servers came in with a trolly and placed the meals on the table. It looked and smelt delicious, and you and Chaeyoung ate right away. 

Sometime while eating, Chaeyoung called for your attention. “Hey, (Y/n)?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you believe in soulmates?”

You paused, bringing the utensil away from your mouth. You took in a breath, steeling your emotions. “No.” 

She almost choked. “Can I ask why not?”

At that question you became quiet. Even more so than before. Soulmates— there it is again.

Everyone seems to talk about soulmates; finding their perfect someone, and it seems Chaeyoung is one of them. “I don’t.” You answered, smiling wryly. “A long awaited destiny finding your other half? It’s…it’s really nothing but a fairytale.” 

“Oh. Yeah… I guess it’s a little childish.” Once you saw her expression drop more, that look of concern on her face, you glanced away and started stuffing your cheeks with rice again. You shouldn’t feel guilty for opposing the idea— everyone’s entitled to their own options, yet the crestfallen look on her face gave you a pang to your heart. You felt you needed to explain why, and you did. 

“No,I didn’t mean it like that… it’s not childish to believe in. I just— I know they’re real; and it’s great if you find yours and you’re happy,” you began, finding it hard to express yourself. “I just think the system isn’t fair.” What you didn’t say, however, is that sometimes it’s a waste of hoping and dreaming. You’re bound to get tired of it, to give up after a while. And giving up hurts the most, because it means accepting you won’t have that happiness.

“I see,” She murmured, given your response. She smiled again, but you could tell it was lacking. “Well, let’s finish eating. The food is getting cold.“

“Right.” You both ate in silence after that. The mood was heavy, filled with awkwardness, uncertainty, and just— something. You didn’t understand why, however. Why is she so caught up on that rare concept? Why does she care if you believe in it or not? You really couldn’t understand her. 

.

Chaeyoung was standing outside the door, returning to her own suite. “I sent you a text from my real number. If you need anything— don’t hesitate to call me, no matter the time. I’m just down the hallway.”

“Okay,” you nodded. Then she left you alone to your own devices. 

You decided going to sleep would be the best course of action. You avoided checking your phone, worried that even though you’ve turned off your location they’d still find you. 

Just sitting on the king-sized bed made you drowsy, and you were glad Chaeyoung was helping you, because it surely made you feel safer. It wasn’t long before your eyes grew heavy and your breathing evened out, and you were happy to sleep peacefully.

However, it was short lived by rapid-paced banging on the door. Still in the bedroom, you heard the door knob jiggling aggressively, and a few murmured voices. You flinched, immediately reached for your phone to dial a number. It rings twice before she picks up. “Hello? Chaeyoung?” You call anxiously, circling your knees up to your chest as you sit on your bed. 

“Yeah?” She answers lightly, her voice evident of sleep, and as much as you’d hate to rip her from her sleep, even if she said she didn’t mind, but you had a problem. 

“Someone’s—someone’s banging on my door. I don’t know what to do. What if they get inside? What if it’s my mom? What if they hurt me? I tried calling the security but I got no answer. I’m scared.” 

“Okay, okay. Calm down. I’ll be over there right away. Stay in your room for now, okay?” Chaeyoung hurried down the hallway, mindful to not keep you waiting.

In front of your door, a man in a suit slumped against the wall, the hotel staff fussing over him. “Sir, you’re drunk! You’re disturbing our guests, this is not your room. Let us…”

She let out a sigh of relief, knowing the problem wasn’t serious— but still felt tense knowing you weren’t aware of the situation. When the staff got the man off his butt, she knocked on your suite door. “It’s just me. I’m coming in, okay?” With that, she cracked open the door slowly. Her heart nearly stopped when she saw you curled up into a tight ball, crying softly in your bed. Without hesitation, she walked over to the corner of your room where you sat, taking a seat beside you. You leaned back into her arms with a sniffle, looking at her with tears welling up in your eyes. The sight made her want to hold you tighter. “Hey,” she whispered, rubbing your back. “It was just a confused man, he had mistaken the room number.”

“…Really?” You sniffled and pulled away slightly, half-embarrassed you’re relying on her again, half not wanting to leave her arms. She made you feel safe. 

“Yes, the staff took care of it right away. I’m sorry you had to experience that…” She was frowning, frustrated it had to be your room, that you were probably scared out of your sleep because of it, and that it might’ve resurfaced some of your trauma. It pulled on her heartstrings seeing you so shaken up and anxious. 

“Oh,” you nodded, instantly feeling calmer at the news. “That’s good.”

“It is,” she agreed. 

You quietly cleared your throat, realizing the death grip you had on her shirt. Heat spreaded across your nape and face. In front of Chaeyoung, you felt like a middle schooler with a crush all over again. “Thank you,” you mumbled. 

“For what?” She asked. 

You fiddled with your fingers unconsciously, avoiding her soft gaze. Did she truly not know? “For coming here— for everything.” 

Chaeyoung wanted to shake her head and deny it— she did it out of her own violation, afterall, but instead accepted your gratitude. “Of course.”

Something has been on her mind for a while— your presence demanded her full attention; and despite not knowing each other for more than two days, you’ve managed to make her a mess— she felt like she'd do anything for you. 

“What’s that on your finger?” She asked, her voice a low murmur.  It was a red string, tied into a neat little bow, the other linking end tightly wound around her own finger. Her lips parted in shock, realization donning her features. 

“What do you…?” You looked at your finger, only for your words to die in your throat. You stared at the foreign string, heart pounding in your chest and blood rushing in your ears. It couldn’t be.

“You’re my soulmate,” she murmured, sounding so undeniably happy. 

“No…” you whispered, shaking your head. It was useless, though, because the evidence was there. You suddenly felt the need to escape Chaeyoung’s embrace— your soulmates embrace. Before you could attempt to get any farther, another step— there were a pair of arms quickly wrapping around you, pulling you against a familiar chest in a tight, tight, tight embrace. It's warm, unyielding, and you were trapped completely— you couldn't get away even if you fought. "Chaeyoung," you started, sucking in shaky breaths, trying to not get drunk by the close proximity. "Y-You said I'm—I'm yours. Your—soulmate?" You get out, half coherent and half blubbering.

She understood you nonetheless, and hummed in acknowledgment, holding you a little bit tighter. "I did," She confirmed. You hadn't even realized that you’d started crying— but you were, and there are hot tears streaming down your cheeks. They're salty, and they're bitter with disappointment, yet above all they're filled with relief.

You’re soulmates, she said.

The rare, one-time chance concept of being a fated pair— having someone in the world that was meant for you and you alone, your complete significant other, where the world pulled you toward them until that bond is broken by choice. It was a lot to process, and it changed just about everything, but—

“I’m here, and we can take this at whatever pace you want. I know it’s hard, very sudden, but… I want this. I want you, if you're willing to accept me.” 

…. ⚠️

“You look so beautiful tonight,” Chaeyoung told you, following behind you to your shared bedroom, admiring the way your dress hugged your body. It was a black fitted dress that showed off your shoulders and figure. Your hair was tied up loosely with a pink ribbon. 

She changed after the show, wearing something much more comfortable, but still looked amazing. 

You flushed, beginning to take your jewelry off at the vanity.  “That’s the fifth time you’ve told me that,” you said, a smile present on your face. “But thank you, it makes me really happy.  I should say I couldn’t take my eyes off you when you were dancing. It made me….” You trailed off, finding it too bold to confess. Over the course of six months, she’s worked her way into your heart almost effortlessly, supporting and loving you every step of the way. Everyday you're grateful that you were able to meet, even if the way you met wasn’t romantic. 

“Made you what?” Rosie stood behind you and rested her hands on your hips. Unable to help herself, she  bent down to kiss your exposed neck. You closed your eyes, sighing softly as she kissed the side of your throat. “It’s embarrassing,” you muttered, and she sank her teeth into your skin, causing you to gasp. “Ah— Chaeyoung…”

“Tell me, baby.” Her voice held that tone again, the one that had you shivering under her touch, aching for more. 

Knowing you couldn’t convey it through words, you turned around in her arms and wrapped your own around her neck, pressing a soft kiss to her lips as you remembered how she moved to some of their songs’ sensual choreographies and the control she had while doing so. She kissed back, deep and languid. Her palm was hot, sliding over your curves and leaving behind a searing sensation. You broke away from the kiss, your breath coming out ragged as you  looked into her eyes, her pupils dilated. “That’s how you make me feel,” you whispered into the little space between you. 

She responded by pulling you into another heated kiss. The vibrations of your moans against her mouth made her heart hammer in her chest as she began to lift your dress up slightly, wanting to feel your thighs on her hands again. 

Breath hitching roughly in her throat, Chaeyoung felt the tip of your tongue flick at the seam before sliding across its full length. She let you push your tongue past her lips, feeling herself losing herself in the moment, completely surrendering to the sensations coursing through her. (Kissing you seemed to do that to her).

Lips sliding and pressing against each other, tongues touching and tangling, you felt weak in the knees. You squeezed her arm, “Chaeyoung,” you said in between kisses, tugging at her shirt.

She groaned, the breathy sound of her name and the authoritative, low tone coming from you sent tingles rippling down her spine and left her feeling lightheaded.

With one last lingering kiss, she pulled away and led you to the bed by your hand. You laid down first, reaching for her and pulling her towards you. She crawled onto the bed after you, kissing you again. Your fingers played with her hair, combed gently through the locks. “This feels good,” you said quietly, tilting your head for more access, feeling a sense of contentment, desire, and love welling up inside of you. You felt her pause and smile against your skin. 

While busying herself with making pretty marks on your neck, her fingers traced along your bare thigh, making you writhe beneath her, and she reveled in how sensitive you were to her touch. 

She groaned at the slight tug from your fingers threading themselves in her hair as she continued to kiss your neck. “We can stop anytime...”

"No,” You said almost too quickly, gasping when you felt her bite you lightly, teeth nipping at your neck before a tongue soothed the area. "Please, don't stop.” You were ready to go all the way tonight.

Chaeyoung’s heart could burst out of her chest in that moment, knowing that you were ready for the next step, that between soulmates it would make the bond even stronger. She made her way up and kissed you again, now with a fever and tenderness that had a growing hunger.

Your fingernails dug into her back when she darted her tongue slow and deep across the roof of your mouth— in and out, over and over, in a way that made you instantly imagine her mouth traveling elsewhere. The idea alone got you riled up. 

"Chaeyoung, please.." you gasped against her lips as another wave of heat circled through your abdomen and pulsed between your legs. 

"We've got time, my love," She slotted a leg between your thighs, pressing against your center purposefully. “I'm all yours tonight." Her hand slipped between your bodies, hiking up your mini-dress just enough for her to have access to your lace panties.

You gasped and tightened your grip in her hair, subconsciously bucking your hips the moment her fingers brushed across your center. A wave of pleasure overtook your body, and you could feel her edging to dip her fingers lower. It wasn’t long before she felt how soaked you were, how wet she made you, forcing a stifled moan from her throat that vibrated against your lips. You whimpered, tightening your thighs around her hand at the sound.

Knowing what you needed, she quickly discarded your underwear, and dipped a finger in you, making you shudder and squirm. Giving you a few moments to adjust, she watched your face for any signs of discomfort before pumping in and out. You lifted your hips off the bed to meet her pace, her finger reaching deeper with each slow, tantalizing pump. 

You could barely think straight with how intense everything suddenly became, and it only intensified as she added a second finger, pumping faster. There was a coil building in your stomach, moments away from snapping. “Chaeyoung— I’m gonna—” You panted heavily, your face burning, eyes closed tightly. With every stroke, your walls contracted tightly around her finger, making her curse under her breath. "Fuck, love. You're so tight... Are you close?”  

You nodded against her shoulder frantically, nails digging into her back.  

“Then come for me,” she murmured, adding her thumb in the mix to push you over the edge, her fingers relentless, as you arched forward, the pressure in your lower stomach building to such an extent you couldn’t hold back anymore. Your whole body trembled, incoherent words and moans leaving your mouth, your entire body shaking as an orgasm ripped through you. 

All the while Chaeyoung slowed the pace, your body writhing underneath her hand as she pumped in and out, her fingers gliding across your sensitive spot as she watched you come apart for her, helping you ride it out. She felt breathless, and absolutely loved seeing you like that; all flushed and sweaty, needy for her. You're her Angel— her soulmate. 

She kissed you, slow and sweet. “There, love. I’ve got you,” she cooed softly. “I love you, you did so well.”

Jennie felt like a poor, unfortunate soul. Under her nose, it’s been decided she would fly out to see her mother. She didn’t know what possessed her father to agree, or what made him hide it from her till the day of her departure. Jennie felt betrayed almost. She felt like a piece of driftwood, trapped in a relentless storm where the sea pushed and pulled her as it liked, regardless of what she wanted. 

Jennie didn’t want to go to New Zealand, and that much was clear with the heated debate she was having with her father. She was never one to protest this adamantly, however, it was called for as it was the summer before her Senior year. 

“But Dad,” she said desperately. “Please, it’s my last year of highschool, I can’t leave when I’ve been at this school since the beginning— what about my friends? My job? My accomplishments? I don’t want to leave so suddenly.”

“That's completely understandable, but there’s something else, I know there is.” 

They stared at each other for a few tense seconds, and Jennie scowled.

“Fine, I’ll tell you,” she quipped. “It’s because I don’t want to leave you alone here. I can’t! Not like mom did! I am not like her — I won’t be like her — and I don’t want to see her! Why now does she want to come back into my life? We were fine. I was fine on my own; and now? Now she wants me back right when I was content,” she huffed, tone on the verge of a growl. Tears swam in her eyes and her nose twitched. “I hate her—”

“Jennie! You will not go there.” Her father interrupted sternly, a deep frown on his face. Jennie flinched, gaze snapping to the floor. How her father still held her mother in the light made her distressed. She’d ask him ‘why’ and he would say ‘it’s love.’

Although his warning made her want to surrender, to give in and welcome the despair, Jennie still had some fight left in her. She lifted her chin and met his gaze, defiance shining in her eyes. A fire of resentment burning in her chest. “But you know what she did to us. I have every reason to loathe her.”

Us. 

Her father let out a drained sigh, running his hands down his face. He looked her straight in the eyes, and Jennie knew she was taxing him with this arguing, and she knew she could be in the wrong. But she didn’t want to accept that when it felt like she was right her whole life. She wanted it to stay that way. 

“Jennie, you don’t have to fight all my battles. What happened with me and your mother is a thing in the past,” he began, and Jennie felt hurt. “I have forgiven her and…”

“You forget.” Jennie snapped, unable to help herself. He ignored her.

“I forgave but I haven’t forgotten. Jennie, I have forgiven. You continue to live in the past, and that is why you light up about this topic. Back then…I regret involving you in so much of my problems, I should’ve shielded you from them. It’s only my fault you feel this way about her.” 

Jennie shook her head no. 

“Yes,” he said. In the past he was so absorbed in his grief he didn’t realize quickly enough that Jennie was beside him, feeding into his emotions, growing resentment for her mother when things were complicated back then. Jennie was stuck to an ‘us’ when it’s really just a ‘him.’ Jennie wasn’t left behind, and she was too young to understand that. Now she’s too old to want to understand.

“Well, I still don’t want to go,” she said stubbornly.

“Look, you’ve never had trouble making friends before, I’m confident you’ll be at the top of your class at any school, and you’ll have no trouble finding a job, so what is it? Besides your…issues with your mother.”

Well that’s just it, Jennie thought sarcastically. She didn’t want to see her mother. But most of all, she didn’t want to leave her father. He would be alone in this big, empty house. They had no pets. The maids only come every other two days and he rarely goes out as it is. 

Jennie looked around the room at the drawn ivory curtains, the small, black sofas, the mahogany desk with papers strewn about, and to the bed, where her father sat elevated. Beside him on the nightstand were pill containers with prescription medicine and drugs. Her father had countless health problems, thankfully none serious, but who would take care of him? He was a workaholic.

What if all the maids got simultaneously sick, and they couldn’t clean or take care of things her father couldn't? What if the chef decided to go tour five-star restaurants to further his own culinary skills and her father starved to death? (Not that he couldn’t cook for himself, but still.) What if he slipped down the steps and hurt himself? Her eyes watered, and she clamped her bottom lip between her teeth to stop it from trembling. 

Her father knew what was going through her head just from the way she was staring at him. “Oh, Jennie…” he murmured, and she ran to his side and threw her arms around him, wailing. 

“Dad,” she cried, voice watery and wavering. “I don’t want to leave youuuuahh.”

“It’ll only be for seven months, dear.” He said, stroking her brown hair.

“Seven months?” She snapped her head up, missing his chin by a few centimeters, tears brimming in her eyes. “That’s— That’s so long; that’s more than half a year!”

He chuckled. “It’ll go by quickly, and you can call me as much as you like. And if you’re really having trouble I’ll tell her to send you back.”

She sniffled, thinking it over. “…You promise?”

“I promise.”

Jennie sat up, rubbing her swollen eyes. “I haven’t packed my bags.” 

“The maids did it for you.”

“I haven’t quit my job yet.”

“Jennie, you work for me: the company.”

Jennie pursed her lips. “I haven’t told my friends. I can’t leave without telling them….face to face, they’ll think I’m dead.”

“You have two friends, and I’m sure they’ll be fine with a video call,” he reassured, raising a knowing brow. “Besides, you have plenty of time to do so.”

“Okay,” she said defeatedly. “When do I leave?”

…

Ladies and Gentlemen, Korean Air welcomes you to Auckland, New Zealand. The local time is 5:47AM. For your safety and of those around you, please remain seated with your seat belt fastened and keep the aisles clear until we are parked at the gate.

As a result of turbulence, Jennie had to peel her fingers off the arm rests one by one. She was glad her father booked her a seat with privacy because she didn’t need anyone to see her like this. She ignored the finger-shaped dips in the arm rests and looked out the oval-shaped window. The sun was just beginning to rise.

Jennie exited the plane with a yawn just as her phone dinged with a notification from her mother. She’s had her mom’s number all this time but she hasn’t used it to call or answer any of the texts she was sent for years. Jennie opened it reluctantly.

Mom: Jennie, I’m at the East gate, just outside it. I’ll see you soon.

She didn’t have to ask for any directions as her boarding gate was nearby. She walked with her carry-on luggage, a medium-sized suitcase with a minimum amount of clothes and items. She would have to buy more, she couldn’t travel with her whole closet.

Jennie was reaching the E-Gate, and outside the glass door was her mom, waving at her from the curbside and shouting her name as if the sign she was holding up wasn’t enough. Jennie blinked, feeling warmth spread across her face. Must she do that? She couldn’t bring herself to stand there and stare at her mother incredulously, it’d only delay things further, and she was tired. 

Jennie let out a long, depreciating sigh, gripped her suitcase’s handle so tight her knuckles turned white, and walked to her mother. The closer she got, the more butterflies fluttered in her stomach. The kind she’d rather not experience. Her mother was the carbon copy of herself, her father would say. She hated it. Jennie reached her.

“Mother,” Jennie greeted coldly.

Her mom sighed, her smile looking a little dimmer. “Hi, Jennie. I don’t even get a hug? A ‘Hello, I missed you?’” She joked, trying to make light of their situation. It wasn’t working. “You’re not happy to see me?” 

“No, not really.” Jennie answered. “I assume you feel the same?”

Not responding, her mom took Jennie’s bag and put it in the trunk of her car and they got in. Her mom pulled out of the parking space and began to drive. “I know that I’ve been a bad mom…and I’m sorry. I really am. And I know that’s not enough right now, but this summer I’ll try and make the most of it. I’m in the process of moving, so we’ll be going to that house. It’s a fresh start for both of us. You still like the ocean, don’t you? The house is by the ocean—“

“I’m tired.” Jennie interrupted. “Can we please talk later?”

Her mom gave a nod. “Yes, get some rest.” Jennie closed her eyes. 

When she opened them, a few hours had passed and it was brighter outside. She raised her hand in an attempt to block the sun. They were driving slowly down a street lined with houses. It was a pretty lively neighborhood, with lots of people and animals. There was a slight salty smell to the air from the ocean.

The car began to slow as it turned down a corner street, and Jennie kept an eye out, trying to guess which house her mom had bought. Her mom had a taste for a clean and modern look, so any house on the street could fit. But some houses had different designs, some more simple than others. Jennie was baffled when her mom passed the house she thought she would have picked and pulled into the driveway next to it. In the end it made sense since there was a moving truck parked on the curb. The house itself was white, a type of smoky brown, and gray, with two floors and a nice garage and porch, but the front yard was hideous. Horrendous. Horrifying. Heart-stopping?

It was extremely overgrown. Wildflowers and weeds sprouted from the tall grass and it grew somewhat over the sidewalk and touched the lower walls of the house. She wouldn't be surprised if there were a few snakes living there. It was an eyesore, really, almost like the previous owners didn’t care at all about the land. The house stuck out like a sore thumb among the mowed lawns on the street. 

They got out of the car, Jennie slower since she was still groggy from waking up. A tall man walked out of the house and waved at her mom. He was the help, Jennie guessed. But when they hugged each other she knew they might be friends or coworkers. “Tom, I want you to meet my daughter. This is Jennie.”

He turned to her, grinning with slightly crooked bottom teeth. “Hello, it’s nice to meet you, I’m Tom. I’ll be helping you and your mom move everything in these next couple days.”

Jennie nodded at him. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

Before her mom and Tom got into conversation, Jennie asked if she could explore the house. Her mom said she should find which room she wants.

Inside, just through the front door, there was a foyer room, and further there was an open space that was most likely going to be the living room. The kitchen was just across that, and it was a pretty big kitchen space, dark marble counters, stainless steel fridge, and other things. There was an entrance to the basement, and a hallway with a bathroom, two rooms, and one closet. She didn’t want a room on the ground floor. 

Jennie made her way upstairs to find which room she would claim. She didn’t need the largest one, but there had to be a medium-sized one. On the right of the top of the stairs there was a larger bedroom. She walked further down the hallway and entered a room on the left, because if she went any further down it would just be a bathroom, and decided she would take it. 

The room’s walls were painted a light gray, and it had two windows, allowing plenty of light to come through. It was sized perfectly and would fit her needs. There was still a twin-sized bed in the corner; hopefully Tom would move it out. Jennie turned in a circle, mentally planning out where she would have her things and how she would design. There was already a closet built in the room, so she wasn’t going to need any large dressers. She would make the room look different from the one at her father’s— fresh start, her mom had said.

Jennie made her way to the windows and pulled open the old curtains, fully expecting to see an overgrown yard with weeds and sticks hidden between the tall blades of grass, but that wasn't what she saw. The backyard was mowed, landscaped, and overall very nice compared to the front yard. But something was off, something was out of place. There was someone in her yard that was definitely not supposed to be there. Jennie pressed her face to the wire screen, scrutinizing the figure.

It was a girl, and she was sitting on a thick branch of the big tree in the middle of her backyard, sipping a juice box and swinging her legs childishly as if she had no care in the world. Eventually, the girl’s leg-swinging pace caused her to lose balance and fall backwards. She fell first on her neck and then flipped onto her back. Jennie winced. 

“That was so mean of you!” The girl yelled.

 She unmistakably said that to the tree.

“What the hell?” Jennie murmured, brows knitted. She watched the girl with something akin to frightful fascination as the girl scolded the tree, her hands moving wildly in the air. She climbed back onto the branch a moment later, and Jennie’s gaze shifted to the juice box lying forgotten in the grass. (Litter.)

Oh. Oh. There was a stranger in her yard.

Jennie promptly ran to the doorframe of her soon-to-be room, leaning forward. “Mom! There’s someone in our yard! Mom!” She waited, rolling her eyes when she didn’t receive an answer. Her mom must still be outside flirting with Tom. Jennie quickly ran back to the window to check if the strange girl was still there, and after confirming she was, ran down the stairs and out the house.

Outside, her mom was being handed a basket by Tom, and as Jennie got closer she saw it was filled with treats of sorts. Jennie stopped short of her mom. “Mom, someone is in our yard sitting on the tree.”

“That’s nice honey. Why don’t you bring these boxes to the kitchen for me?” Her mother answered distractedly and she frowned. She was still making goo-goo eyes at Tom— and probably wasn’t conscious of it. (Yuck.)

“No– ugh. You're not listening to me. I said there's a literal stranger in our yard.” She told her again, then remembering how yelled at the tree like it would verbally respond, she grumbled, “A real weirdo at that.”

Her mom raised a sharp brow. “Yeah? How about you give them some of Tom’s baked treats? Maybe you could make a friend,” she suggested, smiling as she opened Jennie’s palm and putting a small treat-filled baggy in her palm. Jennie stared at it, the silly characters on it smiling at her mockingly. She scoffed and turned on her heel, making her way back upstairs with the goodie bag still in hand. 

She flopped on the twin-bed mattress, coughing when a cloud of dust flew into the air. Jennie rolled onto her back and stared at the ugly, off-white popcorn ceiling. 

She didn’t want to have to make new friends. She never wanted to live here. She never wanted to leave her dad. Yet she didn’t have a choice. 

Jennie closed her eyes and sighed. She laid there for a good ten minutes before she decided she would go back downstairs and find something to do. Anything to keep her mind off the fact that she was thousands of miles away from her family and friends. Downstairs, there were more boxes on the floor now, and Jennie groaned knowing she would have to help unpack. She found herself wandering to the kitchen, where the door to the backyard was. The strange girl was still there, staring past  the top of the fence at something.

Jennie sat on a stool, resting her cheek on her palm. She looked out the window at the girl, sulking. Numerous questions ran laps through her mind: Who was she? Why was she in the backyard? Does she go to her new school? Does she live around here?

“Hey, what are you looking at?” Jennie turned to see Tom was holding a stack of boxes. She could barely see his face. With a huff, he dropped them in the middle of the room before angling his head to the window. “Oh, I see you’ve met the neighbor’s daughter.”

“The neighbor's daughter?”

“Yeah. I think she lives next door. I heard the old owners of this house let her in their yard a lot. I heard their daughter and her were close.”

“You live around here?”

“You could say that,” he answered with a shrug. “Word travels fast in this neighborhood.” (Translation: Everyone is nosey.)

“Oh, okay.” Jennie replied. She doesn’t know if she should worry about seeing him around a lot or not. Tom walked back outside to get another round of boxes. Jennie left through the back door and could hear the strange girl now humming a song. 

“Excuse me!” She yelled as she approached the base of the tree.

The girl continued to sing and hum and swing her legs. “Hey!” She yelled louder.

The girl paused in her movements and sound-making, head lowering. “Oh, hello!”

“Yeah, hi. You can't, like, sit in a tree in your own backyard? Or in someone else’s yard?”

“But I like yours,” she responded.

“What?” Jennie said dumbly.

“You have such a nice tree,” she said. “Don’t you want to come up here?”

No she does not. She is not a monkey, or squirrel, or possum, or any animal that likes trees for that matter. “Who the hell are you?” Jennie demanded, moving her arms uselessly by her sides.

“(Y/n),” the girl responded easily, legs picking up their swinging again. 

“(Y/n),” Jennie repeated densely. “What the hell are you doing?”

You said nothing and began humming a song as you looked above the fence again.

“This is great—just fantastic.” Jennie muttered, shaking her head in disbelief. “You mind getting away from my house, (Y/n)?”

You stopped and finally looked down at her. Jennie was momentarily stunned, she hadn’t expected you’d be so pretty. Even so…

“Your house?” You asked, tilting your head oddly. “You live here?”

Jennie fought, very bravely— might she add— the urge to slap her forehead. Did you not see or hear her come out of the back door? “Of course I d–”

“In a tree?” You asked with wondrous eyes, sounding awed. “Really?”

Jennie backpedaled. “No, what? Just, no, I–”

“I’ve never met someone who lives in a tree. Is it nice? Where do you put your head when you sleep? Do the animals tell you bedtime stories?”

“I don’t live in a tree! I live in that house,” Jennie told her, pointing to her house when she shouldn’t need to. 

“Oh,” You said, seemingly disappointed. (Jennie didn’t care.)

“Yeah. So are you going to be leaving soon?”

“Am I going to be leaving soon?” You repeated like a parrot.

“Yes, are you?”

“Am I?” You asked again.

Jennie sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth. This was going absolutely nowhere. “Why are you just repeating…nevermind. I don’t have time for this. Goodbye.” Jennie said, turning on her heel to walk back inside. 

“Bye! It was nice to meet you!” You shouted after her, grinning. 

What a complete weirdo, Jennie thought, slamming the screen door shut behind her. She walked through the kitchen, intending to go back to her room and entertain herself with her phone, when she noticed her mom at the front door saying goodbyes to Tom. Jennie realized there were a lot more boxes sitting around now. 

The door shut and her mom turned around, eyeing the cluttered floor. “I guess we should start unpacking,” she murmured, hands on her hips. She looked at Jennie, seemingly hesitant. “You can rest if you’re tired, Tom managed to get the couches inside. They’re comfortable,” she offered. 

Jennie found herself shaking her head no. “I’ll help. It's a…” she yawned. “A lot of boxes.” 

Her mother raised a brow. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” she said, kneeling to open the first box in front of her. “I assume where Tom put the boxes is what room the things inside go in?”

“Yes, but don’t open the ones with green tape, I have to buy furniture for them tomorrow.”

So, in a slightly awkward silence, they unpacked the boxes, placing items in their respective places. Hours passed, and the sun sunk into the ocean and the moon emerged— as did the creatures of the night. The tree leaves blew with the wind and the ocean lapped the shore, a peaceful sound. 

Jennie was currently in the kitchen, organizing the plates and bowls into cabinets when she looked out the curtainless window to the backyard. It was pitch black save for the nightlights, and the strange girl was gone. 

“Jennie, why don’t you finish up there and we’ll call it a night,” her mom called from down the hall in the bathroom.

“Okay,” she responded distractedly. 

The juice box was tucked in a hole in the tree. 

…

Jennie was woken by gentle shaking of her shoulder. She blinked groggily, sitting up slightly. The face of her mom came into view. “What time is it?”

“12:26pm,” her mom told her.

Jennie yawned. “Why didn’t you wake me up earlier?”

“I figured you were jetlagged. And you’re probably hungry, so I ordered brunch.”

Jennie ate her french toast, listening to her mom tell her what the plan of the day was. They were to go grocery shopping to fill up the empty fridge,  to IKEA to buy some more furniture, and Jennie would have some time to walk around the neighborhood before sunset.

After she ate, Jennie went upstairs and dug through her suitcase's options and was surprised. The maids really did know what she liked, and she found it hard to pick an outfit since all of them were good. Finally settling on baggy blue jeans and a cropped, beige camisole with a matching jacket, she slipped into white flats and grabbed her wallet before heading downstairs. Her mother was already dressed and seated on the ivory couches scrolling on her phone, waiting. 

She looked up when Jennie approached. “You look nice. Ready to go?” she asked, standing. Jennie nodded at her and they walked out the door together. 

Jennie was in a particularly good mood after having food in her stomach until her mom brought up school in the car ride to the grocery store. The topic soured Jennie's mood considerably. She had hoped they would avoid any discussion about it till (at the latest— a stretch, really) the night before her first day of school. The idea of going to another school hadn't quite seeped in yet. 

“I’m sure it’ll be fun,” her mother tried, glancing at Jennie before returning her eyes to the road. “I’ve heard great things about the highschool from Tom; his friend’s son goes there.”

Tom, again. Tom this, Tom that, Tom said this, Tom did that.  “Speaking of Tom, what’s going on between you two?” Jennie pried. Did her mom think she didn’t notice the subtle flirting and touches they had as they were unpacking? Something was going on, and she was going to find out.

A mask of indifference settled on her mom’s face. “Nothing. And don’t change the topic. You never know, you might love the school.” 

Jennie rested her forehead on the window, watching the outside speed past. “We’ll see,” she whispered. 

Shopping for groceries went by relatively quickly, and they were on the way to IKEA in less than two hours. At IKEA, they ended up purchasing two tables, a TV stand, shelves, bed frames, and some rugs. Most of it will be delivered to their house from tomorrow to the next few days.

When Jennie got home, she changed into black biker shorts and a lightweight, baby blue hoodie due to the temperature rising quite a bit. She decided she would walk around the neighborhood. 

“I’m going on a walk!” She yelled, sliding her shoes back on. 

“Is your phone charged?” Her mom’s head peeked out from the kitchen, brow raised in question. 

“76%,” she responded, waving her phone in the air. 

“Okay, don’t go too far and get lost, and be back by…let’s say six.”

Jennie was out the door shortly. She paused at the end of the driveway, her thoughts conflicted on whether to go in the left or right direction. (She chose left.) Mid-afternoon, the neighborhood was infested with crawling newborns on lawn blankets and buzzing families. It was a cosmopolitan melting plot, inclusive and close-knit all at once. She felt slightly overwhelmed. 

It didn’t go past her that she was on the receiving end of curious onlookers. Did she stand out that much? Nonetheless, she ignored them. 

She mentally noted there was an ice cream shop further down the street she walked, right next to the park. Jennie made her way across the street to another block of the neighborhood, and it was obvious the people living on this street were more well off. The houses were practically mini mansions, and their lawns fenced in.

Jennie heard a shout from behind. “Hey!…Hey, wait up!” 

Jennie glanced behind her and quickly snapped her head back forward. Jogging up to her was (Y/n) again— the tree girl— waving her hand in the air wildly as she willed Jennie to slow her pace. With a groan, she slid the hood over her head and pulled the strings so tight she cut off her air supply till she relented. She began to gradually speed up her pace, almost breaking into a jog. You don’t know me. Go away. The footsteps got closer and Jennie eventually gave up, walking normally again. 

Panting, the girl fell in step with Jennie. “You walk so fast!” You wheezed. Jennie fought back a devilish smile. 

You were wearing something similar to Jennie, except you had on a jacket instead of a hoodie. You had stickers all over your face, however, and Jennie felt slightly offended, being a sticker collector and all. That’s not how you use stickers! 

“How’d you know it was me?” She asked.

“That’s easy; it’s like you have a big target on your back,” you laughed, poking her back to emphasize your point. 

She slapped your hands away. “A target on my back?” Jennie murmured, face scrunched in confusion.

“You’re new, is what I mean, like a shiny new toy.” You elaborated, hands moving animatedly. Then, your voice falled to a low murmur. “Everyone more or less knows each other here.”

“And that’s a good thing? You don’t sound happy about that at all.” 

With the absence of your answer she noticed the weight of snoopy eyes had dissipated since you came, they were no longer burning holes through her. She also noted that the surroundings were quieter, like some of those outside moved to their backyards or went inside. She didn’t dwell on why. 

“So…” You dragged out. “What made you move here?”

“Oh, I’m just visiting for a couple months.”  

“Visiting relatives?”

“Just my mom.”

A sign that had the image of a wave and underneath, directions to the dock was coming closer. The salty smell of the ocean was also more prominent. 

You hummed. “Do you like pengui—” You paused. 

“Do I like what?”

She stopped walking after noticing you had stopped before the sign. “What is it?”

You fidgeted in place. “I can’t go that far.”

“Why?”

You looked nervous— and Jennie thought it was a strange look on you. “I’m forbidden, they don’t want me to find the treasure… they want it for themselves.” 

“Huh?” 

You smiled so bright Jennie had to squint. “Did you know penguins poop every twenty minutes?”

What in the world?

Jennie’s face scrunched up. She was feeling lightheaded from the way you talked. Her head was spinning in circles. Everything you said was completely random— nothing connected. 

She ultimately decided you weren’t worth the headache and continued walking forward. Like she thought, you stayed rooted to your spot, a pout making the corners of your lips fall. 

Before she turned to enter the gate that was a part of the metal fence around the shoreline, separating homes from the sand, she heard you tell her to wave at the ocean for you.  

Good grief.

…

It’s been a few days since Jennie had an encounter with (Y/n), and she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t somewhat curious as to where she was. She refused to dwell on the idea that she missed the loudness that came with her. She didn’t. Why would she? She likes quiet. The peace and calm—

At the sound of loud singing, Jennie practically fell off her bed and scurried to the open window. (Leaving it open is a habit of hers now). Her eyes widened. You were sitting in the tree again, a regular pastime for you apparently, another juice box crushed in your hand. This time, however, you had brought three pillows, and she watched as you threw them down at the base of the tree. 

Safety measures in case you fell again?

She found herself throwing on some sweats and leaving her room. 

From the base of the tree, you blinked down at her, your hair falling around you. Then, comically, you waved wildly at her. “Hi, you!” 

“Hello… You’re looking at the ocean again?” She wondered why you seemed so entranced by it, why you looked at it with such wonder. It was just water. She wondered why she even bothered talking to you; wasn’t she trying to distance herself?

“Yes! Want to see?” 

“I don’t know, I’m good down here. I’m not good at climbing,” she shook her head, recalling the time she injured her ankle after an attempt to climb a tree after her cousin. 

“You’ll be fine! I’ll help you,” you hopped off the branch, landing on the ground next to her. “I’ll be down here to catch you if you fall.”

Jennie bit her lip and looked to the side, imagining the pain she’d go through if she fell. “But…”

“But- you’ll be just fine! C’mon, start climbing up. You can use that wedge there…”

Sitting in the tree, Jennie wondered how she let you coerce her into doing it. The view was pretty nice though. Clear waters stretched out, white sand, and the sun. 

“See, I knew you could do it,” you said when you sat next to her. Jennie merely hummed. You shuffled about before your face brightened up. You turned to her, eyes practically sparkling. “Hey, did you know that…” 

Hey. You. Hey, you. It’s then when she realized you’ve never called her by her name. It was always “you” or “hey” in place of her name. 

Jennie tilted her head at you, cutting your fun fact off. “Wait, do you even know my name?”

You paused, and it was clear you were searching through your (possibly glitter infested) mind for it. The effort was clear on your face and Jennie let out a quiet scoff, a sign of her amusement. She knocked your shoe with her own. “It’s Jennie.”

You gasped. “I totally knew that, you didn’t let me remember.”