𝕕𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕞𝕒𝕟'𝕤 𝕗𝕝𝕠𝕒𝕥

Then Rosa said she liked that Scout was loud, that she stood up for herself, and Scout visibly faltered before recovering with another crooked grin that didn’t quite reach her eyes this time. “Yeah, well,” she muttered, shoulders lifting in a lazy shrug that looked more defensive the longer somebody stared at it. “Somebody had to do the yelling.” Her throat suddenly felt tight in a way she hated. Rosa saying she hoped Scout still stood up for herself landed harder than it should have because the truth was Scout wasn’t even sure anymore if she fought for herself or just fought because it was the only thing she knew how to do. She rubbed awkwardly at the back of her neck before scoffing lightly. “Also, for the record, you’re being way too nice to me right now.” Her eyes narrowed suspiciously, though there was no real venom behind it. “Like, I ghosted you for years and ran away without saying shit, and you’re over here acting like I brought you flowers.” Scout pointed at Rosa accusingly now, almost offended by the kindness. “Call me a bitch or throw something at my head or something, Rosa. You’re making this weird.”

rosa shook her head. "you didn't -- didn't have to do the yelling." that had to sat a little too tightly in rosa's throat, faced with this idea that scout had needed to make up for something rosa lacked, rather than had wanted to. they were opposites. rosa had always thought that simply meant they balanced each other out. now, she worried that she had somehow enforced it. that maybe scout had wanted to live in this quieter space that rosa occupied and hadn't shifted from. as if to make up for this, when scout said call me a bitch, rosa braced herself. she stood a little taller, a little closer to her actual height, a little less slouched, a little more feigned confidence in her pulled-back shoulders. she took this deep breath; it immediately gave away just how unnatural this was to her. "o-okay," rosa said. "you're a bitch." she swallowed down the urge to add a 'did that help?' afterwards.

fran, are you okay?

the words spurred him into action; the hesitant tone, her small frame and the giant dogs behind her, the sentinels that were doing just what they were supposed to. wordlessly, fransisco took her by the shoulders and pushed her inside, kicking the door shut behind him to leave the outside world where it belonged for once. his hands slipped from her shoulders up to cup her cheeks, fingers tracing over the sides of her neck and her jaw as if to make sure no one had tried to draw her life from her throat, too. "are you okay?" his words came out dipping in urgency, dripping with restlessness. "are you okay, fran?"

he was looking at her like that, he was searching for something she couldn't provide. she concluded before he spoke up again what he was asking for. of course she was okay, but she doubted the answer would change anything for him, not when his eyes scanned her so frantically and still didn't seem to be satisfied with the living, breathing result. "f-fran, i'm fine. i'm -- i'm fine, fran--" she never stuttered like this in front of him. something had crumbled in her composure. he could see she was okay, but maybe that wasn't truly the question. it was whether she would still be okay tomorrow. it was whether he'd be the next santoro to be found bloodied and lifeless. "please, can you just -- are you okay?" which wasn't her asking that, truly. because he seemed shaken, but perfectly alive. it was asking if he would be okay.

when she came to a stop—when yujin casually shifted the conversation elsewhere—romy's flat expression cracked with minor amusement. a raise of her brows, a small tilt of her head in his direction. "you have a cat?" she started, then added, "you named your cat princess blueberry sprinkles?" despite her lack of energy, there was no masking her amused surprise. she would've sooner guessed smoky or asmodeus or cigarette.

"yeah, i have a cat. i don't understand why people keep being surprised when i mention this--" so sure, he was playing a bit of a role, but he considered he was just doing his part in giving her a response that was a bit more lively than his usual. as if to make up for it, to make up for how hollow she had seemed before. maybe this was his way of filling the silence. "i call her blue for short," he said, nodded. none of this took away from the fact that his cat was called princess blueberry sprinkles. "look, i didn't name her. she came to me with the name." which was.. sort of true, in that he had asked his daughter to name the cat when it had only been a hypothetical idea, and the name had been established before he'd even found a cat to fit. "it just suits her, is all."

@clwmarks (yujin)

The networking event had been exactly what Asena expected: expensive perfume lingering in the air, polished smiles hiding sharp ambition, and powerful people pretending their conversations were casual when every word was calculated. She had worked the room flawlessly for hours, charming judges, donors, business owners, and city officials alike with the kind of effortless grace she had spent her entire life perfecting. It was exhausting in a way she would never openly admit. Still, Asena thrived on it too much to stop. The praise, the attention, the subtle shift in a room when she entered it. She liked being admired. Maybe a little too much. By the time the event finally started thinning out, Asena slipped onto one of the empty barstools with a quiet exhale, setting her clutch carefully beside her as she rolled one shoulder slightly beneath the structured sleeve of her blazer. “God,” she murmured dryly to herself, “if one more person calls me impressive tonight, I may actually start billing for it.”

Then she looked up and immediately froze for half a second at the sight behind the bar. Yujin. Of course. Because apparently the universe enjoyed testing her patience personally. Internally, Asena could already feel the memory of that awkward morning creeping back in. Her practically having to spell out for him to leave her apartment while he lingered around her kitchen being strangely charming about it. Mortifying, honestly. But if there was one thing Asena Sahin knew how to do, it was recover gracefully. Her expression smoothed almost instantly into something composed and lightly amused as she rested one elbow against the bar. “Well,” she said smoothly, dark eyes meeting his with clear recognition but zero panic, “this feels significantly more professional than the last time I saw you in a kitchen.” The corner of her mouth curved slightly afterward, slightly playful. “Can I get a grapefruit tequila sour?” she asked casually, like running into a former one night stand unexpectedly after practically evicting him from her apartment was a perfectly normal occurrence. Then, after a beat, she tilted her head slightly, gaze flicking over him with quiet amusement. “You clean up nicely for a bartender, by the way. Very unfair advantage for tips.”

he had felt the thinning out of the crowd more than he had seen it. less eyes on him, less scattered noise, a sense of quiet ( whether this was dread or a relief ) returning to the bar area. yujin still had his back turned when he heard someone mutter behind him, and though the voice struck him with an odd sense of alarm, he delayed whatever reveal would unfold when he were to turn back around. "i'd call you impressive, but it seems like such a generic compliment."

then he did turn. then he was faced with asena, this beat passing in which he had noticed it was her, but she hadn't yet noticed him. he blinked twice. a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth until it grew into a grin he could no longer bite back. when she rested an elbow on the bar, he mimicked on the other side, shoulders low, back curved, his chin resting in his palm. it would've felt intimate if there wasn't sufficient space between them, still. "well, you're in my kitchen now, so.." he said, tone laced with amusement, like he'd taken some odd enjoyment out of stumbling upon this scene. "and i genuinely can't make you that. i can just about tell the different wines apart. it's why i need to clean up nicely when i'm behind the bar, otherwise they would've fired me ages ago."

she had noticed his posture, and maybe she was being a little bit rude right now, and having his bend down to her level. to simply address his cut, but it had been a long time. where he didn't always seem like he was waiting for something, or prepared to react if something went wrong. There was no reason for him to feel on edge in the moment, he was at her apartment. safe.

"you never voiced that out." he never told her his concerns, or his fears. why did he keep that all to himself? she had told him about her past, what she was afraid of. He was afraid to lose her. That much he made clear. His voice was raw, like even revealing this information to her was costing everything in him. yet, he was talking anyway, as if he'd lose the very breath he was breathing just to release the words. it would've been you. it was always you. he had known her well enough. her heart was big, and would have found a way for them to make it work. he knew that. her expression had shown surprise for a brief moment, because he was right. she would have been right there by his side. but also, because he didn't want to have put up with it. there was a moment of deep thought. like she was trying to figure out her own emotions at this moment. "you didn't want me to go through that, so you chose to carry it alone?"

I liked that I could pretend to be someone normal. that is what she wanted, a normal relationship . couples doing normal things, having fun, sharing life. "so normal it got this far." to the point of something more, of being something more. parents. she found herself reflecting on what he was saying. there wasn't ever going to be a normal now right? he....works for the mafia. That was a different world entirely. That didn't leave space for them. was it ever going to work? "and now it's not." she stated keeping her eyes on him, the reality settling in, the weight of it all, the veil now being lifted. "Nothing is normal anymore." she paused, she wanted stability, but where they were standing, she wasn't sure that would ever be the case. "now it's a risk."

to say that she's ever seen Yujin like this, she hadn't. not in the way he was staring at her as he let the walls of vulnerability crumble down. He was always so careful, composed, if he wanted to show any kind of emotion, it would only be because he had allowed it. She liked to believe she pulled that out of him naturally. yet, here she was holding his face in her hands, and he was--doing his best not to fall apart. She brushed the strand of hair that fell on his face to the side. There was a braveness that seemed to ignite inside her--or fierceness. Since she became a mom, subtle hints of her sweet personality also gained a protective nature. Not just for her daughter. His hand reached up again, like he was afraid to make contact with her, like he didn't know if he should. was this what she had waited for? the vulnerability in him, to reveal the truth. about his own feelings.

but what?

she tilted her head, she hadn't let him go, but kept him in place. Arisa’s attention lingered on Yujin longer than she probably intended. Her eyes meeting his for a brief moment before drifting downward toward his lips as he spoke, only to return back to his eyes again. A quiet rhythm. Subtle enough that most people would not notice it unless they were paying close attention. The kind of gaze that unconsciously traced a triangle between his eyes and mouth before repeating the motion all over again.

don't be stupid.

"i'm sure you can understand why i didn't want to put that on you. it's not a particularly nice weight to carry," he said, something in his tone detaching from the conversation then. like there was a man that stood in arisa's kitchen, and there was a man that always lived somewhere beyond it.

and for her, all of this had shifted. it wasn't normal anymore, now it was a risk. for him, it had always been a risk. this was the choice he had made, more than any choice to confess -- he had always known it was a bad idea to get too closely involved. and he'd chosen to, anyway. he had stuck it out with her through years, through luna, whatever capacity their relationship took. to him, it had never been normal, he was just forced to confront it now. "it's not normal," yujin affirmed, though he couldn't look her in the eye as he said it. "but it's not a risk. not more than before. do you think i'd ever risk your safety? or luna's?"

he noticed how her gaze shifted, how it flickered between his eyes and his lips. for a moment, that felt unfamiliar. it felt like being examined. and then it didn't. then it made sense to him -- he felt like he had reached an understanding just as her hands dropped, and the moment passed.

and he wanted to fix it. he always wanted to fix things. he showed up empty-handed and incapable, but they could never catch yujin being out of desperately well-intentioned drive to action. he was about to say something, jaw slack, lips dry. he had wanted to say something to fix all of this, to make sense of it, to resolve it as easily and quickly as he had torn everything apart.

but arisa wrapped her arms around herself, and yujin had to conclude that he couldn't move closer then, couldn't say whatever soothing words would've made this right. he leaned back, straightened his spine, more distance between them now as he stood tall once more. he brushed a hand through the stray hairs that had fallen into his face, he exhaled this long, tired breath.

you haven't done anything. except she had. maybe not now, but many years ago. he didn't have to blame her, she did that all on her own. she couldn't remember how many nights she spent awake, going over the events that lead to their lives falling apart and changing so much. that's why she tried to avoid him as much as possible. out of sight, out of mind. or at least, she wished it were true. "no, we're not. I guess we're the people who avoid each other at all cost now. even if our lives will never not be intertwined one way or another."

at her words, a sickening nostalgia grew in his chest. this mix between an ever-present panic, and the benefit of years of hindsight. like tracing fingers over scars and praying the wounds don't split open again, but refusing to give up on that tracing. "isn't that the case for most people that know each other as kids? of course we're intertwined," yujin said, though the oddness of we stuck on his tongue far beyond the sentence. "i'm just surprised you're here at all. you've had plenty of chances to leave."

but then he caught the look in yujin’s eyes again, thoughtful in that observant way of his, and nico’s grin returned quicker this time, lighter on purpose. “alright, c’mon then,” he said, nudging his shoulder gently as he started leading him through the apartment. “welcome to the grand tour of my extremely glamorous estate. if i had any inkling you'd be over i would have had boas out for us to wear throughout the tour. ah well." he pointed things out dramatically as they went—the tiny kitchen he claimed was “for decoration only" (despite actually being a decent cook), the bathroom with a candle collection that had gotten slightly out of hand (because he had a small candle obsession), the little corner near the window where camera equipment and half-developed photos sat stacked together. pieces of him everywhere, scattered through the apartment in messy little bursts. because who nico cole was just a messy little burst of energy.

but it wasn’t until he pushed open the door to his bedroom that the place really shifted into something unmistakably nico. his room looked lived in in the best way. warm lighting cast soft amber tones across the walls, records stacked neatly beside a vintage player in the corner with sleeves spread out like art pieces all on their own. boas—pink, teal, glittery blue—hung off the side of a tall standing mirror, mixed in with necklaces and rings tossed carelessly onto the tray beneath it. the bed was surprisingly neat, dark blankets smoothed out beneath a pile of mismatched pillows, while polaroids and tiny prints were taped around the mirror frame and pinned haphazardly along one wall. there were books half-stacked on the floor, books he never intended to return to the library, sketchpads left open on the desk, little bursts of color and personality everywhere you looked.

it felt creative, alive, comforting. like stepping into the part of nico he didn’t hand out as easily to everyone else. he paused in the middle of his room for a second before glancing back at yujin, suddenly looking a little bashful. "do you like it?"

he watched the grin return to nico's features, and though yujin mimicked, it wasn't as convincing as it could've been. like they were both operating on a certain level of pretense, and yujin was far more ready to drop that act at any given time. "i'm honestly surprised there's not a full welcome committee wearing nothing but boas, i'd expected better from you," yujin remarked, the dryness of his tone carried by his completely neutral expression. watching the place unfold before him was like finding puzzle pieces to a bigger picture he hadn't truly seen before. it started with little parts that simply made sense, the kitchen, the clutter that could've only been acquired by nico specifically, the candles.

nico's bedroom looked like an aftermath of sorts. not of disaster, but simply of all these parts that made sense, had come together, now lay vaguely separated, scattered across the room. the rings, the books on the floor, the sketchpads. somewhere in his mind, yujin thought of this as the sort of place where people got ready for a big night out ( it might've been the boas ). like the excitement, the energy lingered, was only softened by the sunlight streaming into the room. it was something yujin didn't relate to, but recognised with an odd kind of nostalgia, like it was something he had missed out on, was still missing out on.

"yeah, i like it," he said. something in his smile was more genuine then, if only for the fact that it faltered a little, that it softened. he only took one step across the threshold into the room. he was far too conscious of how he normally entered spaces to do anything but linger near the door.

Nevin nodded understanding perfectly, and slightly with agreement. She had once known love that was genuine. A very long time ago, while she threaded through the hallways of high school and adolescence. His image never faded from her mind, and though she grew to love her husband, Nevin treasured the memories of him. At times she wondered if Theo did too. “  I think love can be unique for us all. My husband and I…  ” Nevin paused, unsure of how to approach the topic when her feelings had recently become so conflicted. Rhett wasn’t the man she grew to know and love. “  Well, let’s just say we weren’t very conventional. We sought each other out and found exactly what we were looking for. We then put pen to paper that we’d be wed.  ” It wasn’t as perfect to her now as it had once appeared. He’d been everything she wanted and as far as she had been aware then, so had she. But the years had stripped away those rose lenses. “  Once we set our expectations we moved onto the falling in love part.  ” She turned to distract herself with her drink once more. Desperately urging the emptiness in her stomach to retract. There was no place for it presently. A grin replaced the furrowing of her eyebrows, returning joy to her features. “  I mean, it is outdoors. In the thickness of summer at that. Nothing but predatory bugs ready to feast. It’ll be your job to protect us. You got the muscles.  ”

but he did notice how quick she was to turn to her drink, to end that sentence, that it took her a beat to gather a grin. he quirked a brow, but left any remark to die on his tongue. instead, he mirrored, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he lifted an arm and ridiculously flexed it. "i think you're capable of taking those bugs out on your own, but i'm more than happy to be of service," he said, a chuckle laced through his tone.

the   cryptic   message   had   been   received   upon   paper   that   had   seen   better   days   ,   frayed   ,   stained   with   god   knows   what.   this   self   proclaimed   ripper   certainly   had   the   theatrics   down   ,   yet   no   care   for   decorum.   cruz   almost   debated   on   not   attending   for   the   simple   fact   of   appearances.   how   would   he   endure   such   a   grotesque   aesthetic   for   an   evening   ?

"you know what," yujin hummed. he leaned over the bar, tried to get a better look at the message. "i bet it's tea. the weird stains. did you ever do that in school? dip paper in tea to make it look older, yada yada." he had once again abandoned his job of bartending in favour of literally anything else, he still held an empty glass in his hand, a cloth was draped over his shoulder.