⚜ Curious Herbal ⚜

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　-: ✧ :-゜・．

Despite it having been brewed two hours ago, the cup of tea on the bedside table wasn’t nearly as cold as the hacker sitting before you.

Though you’ve had your fair share of tumultuous events in your upbringing, the past couple hours spent in a dead girl’s apartment surely took the cake for being the most dramatic of the bunch.

One minute you were attempting to fix yourself a mug cake, and the next your phone was suddenly being virtually accosted with increasingly frantic calls and texts.

A sudden crash of breaking glass—

You, whipping your head to gaze incredulously at the broken window of the 14th floor apartment.

A pale, shaky hand with slender knob-knuckled fingers clamping over your mouth.

Erratic, moist breath hissing into your ear.

Bleached white hair tickling your neck.

A flash of ginger and widening honey coloured eyes.

And just like that, your hacker in shining black hoodie had arrived, saving you in the nick of time – as if the entire situation couldn’t get more movie-type cliché than it had already been.

But despite the whirlwind progression of the past 7 days’ events, your fairytale seemed to reach a premature climax.

The cause of your current grief sat on the cold, hardwood floor just meters before you. His headphones were clamped firmly over his ears, his eyes carefully downcast, silently refusing to put you at ease with even the slightest glance.

Not even temptations of steaming Earl Grey nor calming scents of chamomile could entice him.

You turned your cheek to rest it upon your knee, your eyes making vacant sweeps, circling the bright yellow rings on his hoodie.

No, your fated meeting with Seven was anything but what you had hoped it would be.

Seven was…. mean.

Seven was… unyielding.

Seven was… incapable of love??

You shook your head, desperately trying to stifle the telltale warning of tears that pricked at the corners of your eyes. I knew him for what?? 7 days? Stop being so pathetic.

But even so, it would be futile to ignore the hurt that now permeated through your core, now plaguing your mind with anxious, restless, relentless thoughts.

You had tried to comfort him after the shock of seeing his long-long, now-tormented, brother:

“Give me some space.”

You expressed an honest desire for mutual expression of your shared emotional traumas:

“Don’t try to get so close to me.”

And, gritting your teeth, you had attempted to take care of him from a purely human-needs perspective:

“Maybe you should just pretend that I’m not here.”

So your tea sat cold. And his tea sat cold. You sat on the bed. And he sat on the floor. You plead silently with your troubled gaze. So he turned his back.

Both of you too stubborn twin stars, chasing the trailing end of one another, but always just slightest out of sync. The alignment of your traveled paths, something as uncertain as the mercurial man in front of you.

And now, here you sat. Your knees cradled to your chest; your arms wrapped loosely around your shins. And you contemplated the possibility that your premature and ill-fated first meeting with Seven had forever knocked you both out of each other’s orbits.

“Seven…”

The click-clack of his fingers over his keyboard persisted.

“Seven.”

Click clack. Click clack.

“I know you’re not ever listening to anything through those expensive headphones.”

His fingers stilled momentarily. A pause.

They resumed.

“You can’t ever listen to anything,” you began as you inhaled a shaky breath, unsure if engaging in conversation with the young man would worsen your already fractured relationship.

“—because you need to be aware of your surroundings. I know you’re purposefully ignoring me. I get it; you need to work, bud.”

Carefully, the hacker gently lifted his headphones off, resting them against his neck. He turned his head slightly to the left, as if to get you in his peripheral vision.

“Did you…. Did you just call me ‘Bud’?”

Your face flushed red.

“An honest mistake, I assure you.” You sniffed airily and turned so that you were lying back down on the bed, your back to him. “You made it quite clear that we aren’t ‘buds’ earlier.”

You waited for a response, hoping he’d dig into your subtle jab as bait, but as the seconds ticked into a full minute, you soon picked up on the faint typing sounds emanating from his corner again.

The pang of hurt realized itself deep within your chest cavity again. The prick of tears resurfaced once more. Your head began to pound.

He doesn’t even care. He doesn’t want to talk to me. He never liked me to begin with.

A cacophonous clatter of conflicting emotions welled within you.

Guilt – for being sad that Seven was neglecting you when he obviously had his own emotional issues with his brother so recently resurfaced.

Shame – for being so openly emotional and weakhearted around a boy you had barely known a full week, and had only just met in person several hours ago.

Embarrassment – for being a vulnerable target for a dignified charity establishment like the RFA.

Fear – the lingering tendrils of distress clawed at your insides, refusing to forget his white hands, his white hair, his empty eyes, the crash of glass shattering, your bruised wrists, your heightened breathing, your—

Oh.

I’m crying.

….

I’m… crying. I’m shaking.

I don’t know why…

A sob stole itself into the vacancy of the night. You curled yourself tightly into a fetal position, desperately trying to stifle the mortifying noise.

Why did I end up here? Why did this happen to me?

Your fingers clutched your aching sides tightly, your nails planting waxing crescents on your easy flesh.

Why don’t I deserve his compassion?

A choked noise betrayed your scratchy throat, dispelling into the room as something nothing more than a soft wheeze.

Why am I so stupid? What young adult female follows a stranger’s text to a foreign apartment?

Who am I to think that I’m important enough to be a part of any of these people’s lives?

I’m crying.

I’m shaking.

…

I’m crying… why does no one help?

I don’t deserve help.

I deserve to cry

I deserve to—

Cool hands cupped your face. Your eyes fluttered open. Your salty tears blurred the already dimly lit room.

I’m shaking.

Two golden irises swam into your field of vision, a rosy pair of lips moving, muttering something below.

I’m crying.

Why does no one help me?

Something cool and fleshy knocked against your forehead. Tears still blinded you from seeing anything intelligible.

Though your ears felt full of gauze, fragments of whispered speech made their way towards you.

“…hhhh… —eathe in…. k?”

Your head pounded. The tears shook your already trembling frame. Your temple felt like it might split from the sheer emotional pressure that you still attempted to conceal. What if Seven sees?? Then I’ll really be a burden…

“No…. it out…. –r me, please.”

The hushed timbre of a voice you were best acquainted with through the tinny speaker of a phone suddenly became recognizable.

You forced your watery eyes to open, the tears still unyielding to a fine focused picture. But the renewed mental clarity was enough. He was enough.

"Seven?" You made a feeble attempt to sit up, to compose yourself, to do anything to hide your mortification that he had caught you crying—

His hands immediately tightened their gentle grip on your weak frame, holding you firmly in place.

“I—" Seven paused when your red-rimmed gaze suddenly met his fully. Though you couldn’t be sure that it wasn’t due to your own waterworks, your eyes widened further when you saw his gaze was returned to you with an unmistakable sheen to them as well.

“Please don’t cry…” Seven’s forehead was placed solidly against yours. His nose brushing the snotty tip of yours. His grip tightened minutely. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.” He whispered hoarsely.

You stilled in his makeshift embrace. Your torrent of emotions building in complexity at this most recent… yet not unwanted – development.

“It’s okay.” You finally decided.

“No, it’s not!” A stricken voice suddenly boomed in front of you, the cool forehead ripped from yours.

You flinched involuntarily, both the sound and the lack of cool pressure allowing your headache to resurface.

“Shit, no, I’m sorry.” Seven brought the corners of his palms to cover his eyes, the sloppy gesture skewing both his glasses and hair in the process. “I’m messing everything up,” he half mumbled to himself.

“…yeah.” You agreed softly without thinking twice.

You both froze.

Seven lowered his palms, his glasses still askew. You raised your eyes, meeting his self-deprecating gaze.

And then, miraculously, your star paths were knocked back into alignment.

The corners of his lips upturned in the gentlest amusement. You supplied your own involuntary grin in endearment to his apparent mirth.

Before you could crack another joke (in an unhealthy attempt to avoid talking about the situation at hand), Seven skillfully schooled his features and stood from the uncomfortable crouch that he had assumed at your side.

“Don’t be alarmed,” He walked to the other side of the bed, “I’m coming in.” The bed dipped; the covers shifted, and a warm presence announced itself behind you.

“Seven…”

“Shh.” You heard the click of his glasses folding as he took them off. A sleeved arm reached over your form and placed them on the bedside table closest to you.

“Seven…?”

“You don’t ever listen to me, do you?” He sighed good-naturally and relaxed his tense posture. His breath tickled the back of your neck. “Is this okay?” He finally whispered.

You allowed yourself a small smile, pleased that the young man felt comfortable enough around you to be vulnerable like this. “God yes.” You breathed shakily.

A soft huff. “God 7, yes.”

You rolled your eyes, forgetting that he wouldn’t be able to see the gesture anyway.

A thick silence fell upon the stuffy room. Your headache pounded mercilessly. Your lungs still struggled to fill to full capacity as your crying fit had effectively blocked your sinuses.

You were miserable.

You were also sad.

And you were confused, tired, a tiny bit irate, just a ton bit mortified, and worst of all, your heart still panged longingly in your hollow chest.

Just when you were about to ask Seven what the plan now was, the man broke the silence.

“You…” He nuzzled just the slightest breadth away from the back of your neck, sheer millimetres between his lips and the soft skin of your neck, “You don’t understand it now…”

Your eyes were trained steadily on the wall in front of you, afraid that if you moved or confronted Seven directly, he would be scared off easily like before.

You waited patiently for him to finish his thought.

A nervous hand brushed against the curve of your waist; a touch so gentle you weren’t entirely sure it was actually there. Deft fingers curved over your side, a silent question that you readily answered by releasing a relaxed sigh and turning your hips slightly back in invitation.

The hand snaked softly around your waist and rested on the bed in front of you, the arm it was attached to now effectively holding you in a spooning embrace. A solid, lithe chest pressed gently against your back. Lips finally caressed the back of your neck.

“…but I’m trying to protect you.”

Your breath hitched.

The arm around your waist squeezed tenderly. The bed dipped again and the embrace dissolved.

Padded footsteps made their way to the door, paused, and then left.

You lay motionless on your side as a lagging tear dropped from the corner of your eye and landed on the bridge of your nose.

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　-: ✧ :-゜・．

In all fairness, you had meant to clean up the blood before Seven got home.

But it had been a rather tiring day; a tiring, exhausting, not-so-very-comfortable, bloody day. Oh, how the day had been bloody.

It was also only 2 pm.

But you were on your period, so you were allowed to announce the day as ended before it had even begun. Right?

Usually your monthly flows were relatively well-contained, provided you were provided for of course – that is with “all-night” pads (false – they lasted 3-5 hours max on your heaviest days) and supersized tampons (you rolled your eyes at the arbitrary naming of tampon sizes – I mean what’s so “super” about recreating The Shining every day for a week once a month anyway?).

The silver lining in the sea of red was that, as an adult, you were now fairly adept with dealing with Mother Nature’s gifts, a feat that only took many soiled pants, innumerable ruined bedsheets, and the adolescent trauma of tied sweaters around your hips – to accomplish.

You made a mental note to talk about that last one with your therapist next week…

“Ugh,” you let out a groan as you blearily blinked your eyes open. The sunlight streamed through the window blinds in the bedroom that you and Saeyoung shared.

Well, if he were here.

“Disgusting.” You muttered as you yawned and started to disentangle your sticky legs from the sheets.

Your hacker boyfriend had gotten called away late last night, err – more like early morning. Very early morning, you mentally amended with a displeased grunt. He left in a hurry, promising a quick return as he lobbed this and that into a scuffed duffle bag.

“I’ll be back for dinner, my sweetie!” He ruffled your hair and kissed the corner of your upturned mouth, bouncing on the balls of his feet like it wasn’t 1:46 AM. And like he wasn’t about to leave his sleepy girlfriend alone for the night.

“Really?”

“Why – would the Great 707 ever lie to his darling kitty?” Seven grasped at his chest, a look of mock hurt exaggerated across his naturally goofy features.

Resisting a grin at his silly antics, you made him promise to return safely. And by dinnertime, nonetheless. “I’m going to want ice cream tomorrow evening.” You stated drily with a slight twitch of your eyebrow.

“Ice cream?” Seven had a subtly puzzled expression, which he rapidly exchanged for his charming grin, “Of course! My princess requests!” And with that – a kiss on your hand, and a pat on the head to the robotic cat standing guard at the flat’s entrance – the secret agent had disappeared into the night, the last sign of his leave being that of the revved engine from one of his prized sports cars.

In retrospect, maybe you should have been more explicit when hinting that you were going to be on your period.

But you were on your period, and he was a 20 something year old man, and once again, you were allowed to be however you damn pleased, and he should know that you were about to have that time of the month again. Right? Right.

“FUCK.” You dropped your forearm dramatically across your forehead. “Really? Are we really doing this right now?” You picked up the habit of talking to yourself when Seven was away.

“Fine – guess so…” With a sigh of resignation, you braced yourself for the physical exertion required of one to get out of bed.

Your insides churned a bit; it was the tell-tale feeling that only accompanied that of your body prepared to spew blood the second gravity went against your favour. You felt it. You knew it was going to happen; you just didn’t expect for your period to get so heavy so fast, and only overnight too.

“Well there’s nothing for it, Meowy – we’re just gonna have to make a run for it…” You cocked your head to the side, narrowing your eyes at the feline robot that was now preventing the unassuming Roomba from dutifully trying to gain entrance to your bedroom. “On second thought – maybe I should attempt the Tooty-Ta instead.” You laughed grimly to yourself. I’ll have to show Seven that ridiculous dance when he gets home. Lord knows he’d love it.

Gritting your teeth, you peeled back the sheets and carefully swung your legs over the edge of the bed. Your knees knocked as you clenched your thighs together. A bead of sweat rolled down your temple. “Great, heat flashes too? I’m not that old yet, damn.”

“Mrrrrr?” Meowy rolled over to your side, stiffly upturning her neck to regard you curiously, her programming having sensed that you were in distress.

Taking a deep breath, you braced your clammy palms on either side of your hips and gradually began to rise.

Gravity is an incredible thing. An incredibly, predictable, annoying, but necessary force of nature – much to the chagrin of the uterine force of nature you delicately clutched between your legs at present.

One wobbly step. Two. You rounded the bed post and began to reach for the door frame. So far, so good. Encouraged, you picked up the pace. Maybe I overestimated the amount of blood? You smirked confidently and entered the hallway. The bathroom was at the end of the hall, adjacent to the kitchen. Alright – let’s get this bread. You began your penguin-shuffle down the hardwood hall, leaning against the smooth, eggshell finished walls as you attempted to maintain the delicate balance required of your makeshift dance. Ten steps. Eleven. You reached out for the bathroom door, expecting to latch onto the glass doorknob when –

“Agh!!” You tripped over the Roomba.

The blood gurgled and began to plummet (as liquids, and pretty much anything and everything else, are wont to do) now freed from the desperate clenching of your thighs.

With a cry of despair, you clutched at your abdomen as you felt the large swash of bodily fluids exit your aching genitals, seep through your thoroughly ruined panties – Nooo, these are the cute ones with cats on them that Seven got me! – and splat quite dramatically onto the floor.

If it weren’t for the ruined underwear, the upturned Roomba, and the general resignation of being on one’s period – you would have been rather impressed at the size of the splatter that now decorated your floor in a lovely, concentric pattern.

“This…. Has never happened before.”

And it hadn’t. Usually, your periods started in the evening, not the morning. Usually, they were the heaviest on the second day, not the first. And usually, they weren’t of such a viscous consistency and atrocious metric volume that they glitched right out of your body, through your clothes, and landed in a terrific mess on the floor.

“It’s the Honey Buddha Chips; it must be!” You let out a wail of disgust, blaming the sweet and salty junk food as the reason behind your abnormal flow. “Saeyoung Choi, you WILL be paying for my ice cream tonight!”

You failed to realize that ice cream was also categorized as junk food too.

With nothing left to lose, blood still dribbling down your legs, you pivoted on your feet and marched back to your bedroom. Fine. It’s gonna be that kinda day, huh? You angrily snatched a clean change of clothes from your dresser – this time with your designated Period Panties™ – and made your way back down the hall towards the bathroom. A nice, cold shower will do just fine. You tried to convince yourself it was to counteract the annoying heat flashes you had seemingly picked up as a symptom of your menstrual distress, and not to cool the hot, balmy tears of frustration that now streaked your flushed face.

And if it weren’t for the ruined underwear, the upturned Roomba, and the general resignation of being on one’s period – then maybe you would have noticed how your toes and heels squelched as they made contact with the glob of period blood still lying inanimately on your floor.

❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧

Meowy was stressed.

Well, as stressed as her CPU could be, the mini gears and sensors running vapidly in her plastic and metal cat-shaped vessel.

Her auditory sensors reached warning threshold when her master’s precious one made loud noises of displeasure. Her visual sensors were already busy fighting off that dratted antagonist-of-a-cleaning-robot from earlier. And now her thermal sensors picked up the trace of something biological splatted on the ground. Something biological… and warm. Meowy saw red. But unfortunately, the cat robot couldn’t appreciate the literal nor figurative accuracy of that statement. She just knew she was stressed, even if her insentience didn’t quite allow her to know why, and even if that stress was purely mechanical, rather than emotional.

Master could purrrrobably add that feature in a future update, she surmised. Well, if robots could surmise, that is.

You were being quite a bother. And by bother, well, you were the source of your boyfriend’s cat robot’s overstimulation.

Upon showering, you exited the bathroom in a cloud of steam and clean clothes, fit with a cushy pad to catch the rest of your ebbing flow. Your bloody night clothes littered the cool tiles of the bathroom floor, and the goopy glob of period blood still sat, just as liquids are wont to do, inanimately in the same place as before (albeit, perhaps sporting a rustier hue as oxidation took effect).

It’s nice to be clean, you had thought, though the here-and-there prick of abdominal cramps and sporadic dizzy spells are nothing to long for. You had figured that some food and a glass of water would at least help the latter ailment, so you had proceeded to attempt to make yourself a late, light lunch.

Meowy frantically circled the small kitchen, letting out her programmed mews of concern every 2.35 seconds. During her 3rd or 4th worried lap, she ran right into your left foot, which you were precariously balancing on by habit.

For the second time that day, you yelped out an elegant “agh!” and dropped the knife you had been using to spread your favourite strawberry jam on the toast that you were planning to eat. The red-rimmed knife fell to the floor with a cacophonous clatter. Forgotten.

“Meowy!” You snarled as you towered over the cowering robocat.

Instantly, your rage dissipated to remorse as you felt empathy for the poor creature. Unpleasant images of Seven smashing the cat in a fit of similar rage accosted your brain, and with it, the tremulous and turbulent emotions from that past event too.

“I’m so sorry!” Your despondence flared suddenly and tears formed in the corners of your eyes. Mortified at how you treated your emotional support robot cat, you fled the kitchen in a teary haste. You tore down the hallway, intending to crash back into bed until Saeyoung came back home to make amends with Meowy and yourself –

Only to trip over the Roomba again.

“Oof!” Your knees crashed to the floor abruptly, your palms quickly reaching out to catch yourself from falling face first –

Only for them to slide out from under you after making contact with the slick pool of blood and period gunk that you neglected to clean up earlier.

And for the third time that day, you let out a final “AGH!”

SMACK!

Your face rammed into the ground, the bridge of your nose catching the pool of blood on your way down. Resigned, you didn’t move a muscle for five minutes, wallowing in your despair for yelling at Meowy, a lovely hybrid of self-loathing and disgust for not cleaning up the blood, and lonesomeness that ached every time Seven left on an indeterminable, clandestine trip.

Utterly wretched and still just as exhausted as when you had woken up approximately… you glanced at the clock at the end of the hall… 5 PM already??? … three hours ago, you cautiously raised yourself back to your knees. Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you sighed dejectedly and stood the rest of the way up.

Trudging solemnly back to your bedroom, you froze as you looked at the state of your sheets.

“Are you kidding me?!”

The sheets were rumpled from your hasty wake-up from earlier in the day, yet that wasn’t what caught your eye. No – your eyes lamentably traced the spotting and pools of long-dried blood that stained the center spread of sheets in the dip where you had slept. I must have leaked before I woke up, and I didn’t even notice.

Dehydrated, fatigued, and entirely resigned to end the day, you turned around and walked the short distance across the hall into the guest bedroom that Saeyoung most often used as an office space for work. (Less often, his twin Saeran would camp out in the small room, though recently he refrained from spending the night, too afraid that he’d become further traumatized by the excitable noises that tended to emit from his brother’s room late at night.)

You didn’t care that there was still blood trekked all over your apartment. You didn’t care that you were now just as soiled as before you had showered. You didn’t care that Meowy was short-circuiting in worry. You didn’t care that Seven had yet to return. You didn’t care. All you wanted to do was crash and wake up from this nightmare of a day.

Just a quick power nap, and then I’ll clean it up before Saeyoung gets home.

So, you curled up on the couch beside Seven’s work desk and cocooned yourself in a large comforter. With your back to the room, you entered fetal position and drifted off to sleep almost instantly, the crown of your head just barely visible from between the cushions.

And if Meowy was yowling as if possessed, well, you were too exhausted to notice.

Not that robot cats could be possessed, of course.

❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧

Fresh-faced and lively – Saeyoung was ecstatic.

The agency work turned out to be nothing more than a casual revenge-driven hacking: a harmless ploy orchestrated by a disgruntled employee trying to find some scrap of solace by antagonizing their rich, snobby boss’ computer system. Yes, it had been unfortunate that the job was sudden and required on-location skills, and yes, Saeyoung was rather reluctant to leave his adorably cute girlfriend alone for the night… but the goodhearted jokester couldn’t help but crack a smile as fond memories from just hours earlier accosted his mind…

❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧

“Mrr?” Elizabeth the 3rd let out a perplexed mew as the penthouse front door opened silently.

Seven creeped in, a finger brought to his lips as his eyes widened upon seeing Jumin’s cat. “Elly!” He immediately clasped his hand over his mouth, embarrassed that he let his excitement upon seeing the pure white Persian cat be audible.

“My darling! Uncle Luciel has come for you~~” He playfully whispered as he set his bag down and crouched beside the spoiled feline.

Elizabeth sauntered up to the intruder, presenting her lushly furred back for caresses.

“Don’t tell Mr. CEO, but I’m working here tonight. I need to access his Wi-Fi network directly.” Seven ran his fingers up and down the cat’s back, encouraged by her accelerated purring. “Don’t worry, ‘tis nothing nasty my friend – he’ll just be forced to do all of his work by hand tomorrow. I think his computer deserves a bit of break, no?” With a conniving twinkle in his eye, Seven began unpacking his equipment, settling cross-legged with his computer on his lap and Elizabeth sprawled out at his side, butting her head against his thighs periodically as his hands flew rapidly over his keyboard.

A large snore startled the mischievous hacker.

“Pshhsh!” Agent 707 brought up a hand to conceal his mirth, desperately trying to muffle the delirious laughter that threatened to escape his throat. Elizabeth glared at him, displeased that the large hand had ceased massaging her backside.

“I’m sorry, my kitty-love, I just didn’t expect Jumin to sleep so soundly!” Seven cooed lovingly.

Within the next few hours, Saeyoung finished up his early-morning hacking endeavors as instructed and deftly returned his equipment back to his bag without making a sound. He stood up and adorned a wistful expression, sad to be leaving his Elly all too soon.

“Meow~”

“Oh, my dear – we mustn’t!” Seven scooped up the cat and swung her around, crushing her flat face against his sharp nose. “You know not the extent that this sweet parting brings me pain, but alas, our love is forbidden!”

“Mrrrrr…”

Seven gently placed the cat back down. She immediately began grooming her mused fur, unimpressed with Seven’s soliloquy.

“Always the lady.” Saeyoung bowed reverently, a hand on the door to leave. “Wait!” Digging excitedly in his duffle, the young man pulled out a thin, red, satin ribbon. A small pawprint locket charm clinked on the ribbon.

Gently fondling the jewelry, Seven clicked open the locket and gazed adoringly at the image within. “Ah, it’s perfect. A representation of our love, my Elly!” With one final glance, Seven clicked the locket shut and bent down to tie the ribbon loosely around Elizabeth’s neck, covering up the collar Jumin had gifted to her prior.

Elizabeth, none the wiser, mewled an unbothered farewell as Saeyoung patted her once more affectionately and made his departure with a cheeky air-blown kiss.

The hacker disappeared from the CEO’s penthouse, slipped past the guards once more, and vanished into the early morning – having one or two more things left to accomplish for the agency before he could return home.

What those tasks were? Well, perhaps it’s best that only special Agent 707 would ever know for sure.

❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧        

This will pay the bills all for next month! Saeyoung thought with a grin, drawn back to the present as he lovingly slid his palm over the curve of the leather steering wheel. Plus, maybe this will teach Jumin not to overwork his minions. The young hacker smirked. He could already sense Jaehee’s displeasure when she would find out that RFA’s very own security hacked her boss for entertainment. And a bit of cash.

Seven wound his way through the hilly countryside, enjoying the dip and curve of the roads. He glanced at the car’s clock: 5:36 PM.

It was approaching dusk, and he was eager to return home. He moved his free hand over to his baby car’s console and pressed down on the window switch.

“Yahoo!” Seven stuck his head out of the window and let the wind ruffle his untamable ginger hair. His striped glasses pushed comfortingly against the bridge of his nose, as the golden hues of the setting sun reflected in his mutually golden irises.

A sudden pang of yearning overtook the young man, thinking about his princess at home. Though it happened without fault every evening, Saeyoung couldn’t help but feel anxious about missing the sunset. He wanted to watch every sunset with you; this would be the first one that you both had missed since you started living together.

A reversed flick of the window toggle and a harder stomp on the gas pedal later, Saeyoung sped back home with renewed urgency. We can catch the tail end of the evening together if I hurry.

Unbeknownst to him, the red, rosy fingers of sunlight that stretched linearly across the horizon were complementary towards the organic drops of red that currently decorated your shared home.

❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧

It was a quarter past 6 when the door to your shared apartment finally received its missing tenant. The last of the sundry locks popped open, the metal restraints finally allowing the port of entrance to swing on its hinges.

“Honeyyyyyyy~ I’m hooOOOMMMEEE!” Saeyoung sang loudly as he shouldered his way through the frame. Closing the door behind him, the totally-averagely-paranoid hacker wasted no time in redoing all of the locks. Turning around with a relieved exhale, Seven carelessly dropped his duffle on the floor and toed off his shoes impatiently.

No less than two steps deeper into the flat, Saeyoung was just starting to acquire a sense of strange foreboding when a white blur came barreling around the corner of the hallway –

“Master! Master! Your precious one!” Meowy, hysterically wheeling herself towards her creator, belted as loudly as her speakers permitted.

“What the hell?” Startled, Seven eyed his rambunctious robot, unable to fathom what in the world could trigger his creation to act so frenzied.

“Master! Your precious one! Blood! Bleeding! Help!” Meowy shrieked, her pitch increasing steadily and becoming disconcertingly garbled, her processors unable to cope with the sensory overload.

Saeyoung froze.

Time stopped.

Her… blood?

…

…

BLEEDING?!

“What?! Where? Meowy what happened?!” Seven pushed past the yowling cat, crying your name as he further entered the apartment.

Seven frantically rounded the corner, his panic only increasing with every second that you neglected to greet him at the door. You always greet me when I come home! Where are you!?!  He shouted your name a second time, his heart hammering in his chest, muscles constricting painfully as his mind began to whirr with confusion and pain. You can’t be taken… not again… We just got this together... us.

“Honey?? This isn’t funny!” Saeyoung quickly glanced to his left as he passed the kitchen.

He froze.

There. On the ground.

A knife.

It’s red.

Clumps of something that was equally red and sticky looking surrounded the knife. The knife that should not be laying carelessly on the floor. The knife that very obviously fell on the ground in a struggle and was currently tainted red.

His airway felt constricted. His sense of hearing muffled, despite Meowy still shrieking incoherently at his feet.

As if in his own personal horror movie, Saeyoung pivoted his head to his right, now looking in to the bathroom. Terrified eyes locked onto small, red footprints that graced the floor. They traveled from the hallway onto the cold tiles. He assessed the criminal scene with widening eyes: blood stained clothes were thrown haphazardly before the shower. Your nightclothes. Your nightclothes that you had definitely been wearing. His own t-shirt that you so adorably asked to wear at night, citing that it smelled just like him. The large shirt that he gave you in mock exasperation, secretly fawning over your cuteness when you slid it on.

Look Seven, it’s like a dress on me!

With another frantic gasp, Saeyoung wailed your name brokenly. Once again compelled to action, he tore his gaze from the bathroom and began to sprint anxiously down the adjacent hallway. He needed to find you. Now. It was dark. The air was stale. His nose twitched in distaste as he sensed the twinge of iron that faintly permeated the hall before him. It felt like there had been little movement in your apartment today. He fumbled for the light switch on the wall. His trembling fingers just missed it. His body was already surging forward, so he continued his aching search into the hall blindly, his feet shuffling against each other lamely –

Why is there blood why why why this can’t be happening

Saeran and I… we got rid of Mint Eye, we survived, we did we DID!

but what if they came back

Why did they take her clothes off??

unless…

Seven’s stomach sank nauseously.

what if they took her what if – no no no nononono NO!

There was a sign of a struggle; she’s bleeding, she’s hurt!

She’s …. Dying.

…

NO please God no–!

Saeyoung suddenly tripped over something heavy. He crashed to the ground, blinking away the tears in his eyes despite not being able to see anything in the dark.

His scuffed palms instinctively reached out to catch him. Angry at his own clumsiness, he fumbled for his phone in his back pocket, swiping up to access his flashlight.

“AGH!” He sprang back in a shocked stupor.

A worryingly large pool of dried blood stood out conspicuously where he had just fell. Darker red, nearly black, glossy clumps of something sat atop the dried blood, having congealed to the consistency of rancid jelly.

Without turning back to see what he had tripped on, Seven screamed your name in utter despair, propelling himself upwards as he desperately searched the last two places you could be. Not wanting to confront the bedroom just yet, he yanked open the door to his office space, quickly glancing around in a fretful daze. Not being able to locate you immediately, he finally turned to your shared bedroom. His phone’s flashlight zeroed in on the bed. The empty bed. The empty bed that was speckled with the same blood that stippled the hallway. And the bathroom. And the kitchen.

You weren’t here.

You were taken.

You were injured.

You were gone–

“No!” Saeyoung collapsed to his knees, struggling to dial the keypad on his phone. He wasn’t even sure whom he was calling when a meek voice sounded out behind him.

“… Seven?”

Dropping his phone in alarm, Saeyoung spun around, ignoring how the carpet burned his knees as he pivoted.

You. You were there.

You were clutching at the bedroom door frame, highlighted only by the last surviving streaks of sunlight creeping through the blinds. You looked… fine. Maybe tired at worst.

Saeyoung choked out your name, his eyes instantly filling with tears. Both of you were frozen for several moments, him out of complete bewilderment, and you, cranky but concerned, having finally been woken from your deep sleep by wails of despair. And then –

Seven rushed to his feet and crushed you against his chest. You could hear and feel his heart thumping erratically in his chest. His breath came out hot and moist as he pressed his lips to the top of your messy hair. His lanky arms wrapped tightly around your startled frame, his fingers finding their desperate purchase around your waist and the small of your back. His taller frame shook, and you soon felt something wet streak down your temple. “I thought I lost you.”

Still utterly confused as to what exactly was happening, you just returned his terrified embrace, perplexed as to why your eyes suddenly filled with tears too.

“Seven… Saeyoung…”

He clutched you even tighter, the symptoms of a full-blown panic attack likely to ensue.

“Luciel.”

Alarmed, you leaned your face back and looked deeply into his blown eyes. You placed shaking yet comforting palms against either side of his sharp cheeks. Fighting past the cotton in your throat, you sought answers for his critical state.

“What do you think happened?”

He let out a wobbly sniffle and returned your intense gaze, gathering the courage needed to answer you coherently.

“Your… your blood. Why is it all over the apartment?” He croaked painfully. As if spooked again, his eyes widened almost comically once more: “You’re not hurt, are you?? Oh God, I didn’t even think to check first. Of course you’re hurt; your BLOOD is all over the place. Oh fuck, it’s on your face too. oh my god. Don’t move, I’m taking you to the hospital oh God…” Saeyoung began to stoop as if to pick you up but you hurriedly made to halt him.

“What – no Saeyoung, stop. I’m fine. See? Why ever would you think that… oh.” You gulped nervously, the hot flush from earlier now creeping up your neck and overtaking your face in shame. Well… fuck.

“Please don’t be mad… um,” you nervously averted your gaze, your hands dropping to pull his wrists out from your sides. You laced your fingers together. “Let’s sit down, yeah?” You guided the shaken man to the end of the bed and then turned away.

Thin fingers suddenly encircled your wrist.

“My sweet, I’m just turning on the lamp. It’s dark now.”

“Oh… right. Of course.”

You padded over to the wall, flicking the switch so that the yellow overhead fluorescent bathed everything in a sad hue.

“Okay so…” You took a shallow breath and eased yourself down onto your boyfriend’s lap, his arms wrapping around your waist once more. You began to card your fingers through his hair. It was a position that brought you both immense comfort and security. “Don’t laugh, but… uh, and I’m really sorry for causing you so much distress, but ahh I guess maybe my body was just so surprised that you got called away real early this morning, remember? Oh of course you remember, you just got back... And so – oh Seven, it must have been the chips! I’m so sorry! I’m a terrible person; I yelled at Meowy and – the underwear! With cats! Saeyoung dear, please understand I didn’t mean to! We can get another pair. But I really blame that stupid Roomba for all of it.” You trailed off pitifully, averting your embarrassed eyes in favour of studying the corner of the bedroom instead.

Silence settled in wake of your rambling statement.

“You… what?” Seven loosened his grip and stared up at your fretful eyes with utter confusion. “Babe,” he took a shaky breath alike to yours, “you know I love you, always, and I mean this in the nicest way possible, but – what the fuck are you talking about?”

Unable to hold back your torrent of hormone-induced emotions, you blurted, “I’m on my period!”

“You…”

“It happens every month, Saeyoung.”

“Yes, but… it’s not supposed to get all over the floors! And the walls! And the bed – Babe! The knife! There are clumps of FLESH in the hall!” Seven held your arms in a tight grip, forcing you to look right at him.

“I know! I… it was a heavy flow.” Your eyes cast downwards pathetically. Oh man, do I wanna curl up in a ball and die…

Abruptly, a chuckle resounded off the walls. The chuckle grew into giggling, which then grew into bellowing laughter. You joined in with your boyfriend’s mirth, both of you laughing to expel any of the remaining insecurity and fear you both felt. For every laugh, a tear was shed, and for every hysterical giggle, your interlocked hands squeezed the other.

Growing pains and period pains, your relationship had both.

❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧

You didn’t get to watch the rest of the dwindling sunset together.

After calmly and patiently explaining your abnormal and premature flow, accompanied by the resulting afternoon fiasco via Meowy’s unfortunate presence, you had gotten Seven back to a stable mental state. He blushed furiously, embarrassed that he reacted so dramatically to something as old-hat as your menstrual cycle. But you shushed him, gave him gentle, chaste kisses, and assured him that his reaction wasn’t unfounded. It had been… upsetting for you too, even if your feelings were rooted in annoyance and crankiness more so than fear.

Still shaken by the sight of your blood, Saeyoung insisted that you both cleaned up the flat together. He didn’t want to leave your side, after all. With a light smile, he suggested maybe a game to make the task less grisly. An unassuming pair of handcuffs (which were actually the tipping point for Saeran moving out the day he saw them), a large sponge, and some soapy water later, you and Saeyoung were racing down the hallways nearly on all fours, jointed at the wrists, challenging yourselves to stay upright as you both pushed the same waterlogged sponge across the hardwood floors.

You were both giggling loudly, which only became amplified when you realized that you both still hadn’t up-righted the miserable Roomba.

“Left! Left!” Saeyoung shouldered your direction leftwards, and you both were able to – finally – avoid a third collision with the sad robot.

When you both released yourselves from your metal confines and entered the bathroom, you sadly presented your soiled cat panties to Seven. He wasn’t quite quick enough to hide his grimace. The little cats sure do look hellish with all the blood splatters… You cringed in agreement. The footprints were scrubbed off the tile, and you gathered your discarded clothes to put in the hamper.

“See, my lovey, it’s just the underwear that are bloody.” You held up his t-shirt that you had taken to sleeping in. Seven blushed harder and stammered an apology. “Don’t apologize, everything else was pretty much covered in blood… it’s natural to think that the shirt was too.” You offered an easy, albeit still concerned, smile. He gratefully returned it.

Saeyoung stammered the most upon seeing the knife in the kitchen. “I uh –, “ he cupped the back of his neck, “I didn’t really inspect it earlier. I just saw… hehe… red.” His face turned the colour of his hair. Meowy let out a mewl of approval.

Cracking a grin to yourself, you shook your head. “I know.”

❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧

It wasn’t until an hour or two later that you both had finally cleaned your flat of the remaining incriminating evidence. Both tired, you were entirely resigned to spending the rest of this nightmarish day cuddled with your boyfriend in bed. It seemed this was Seven’s train of thought too, until his eyes suddenly lit up with excitement.

“Babe!” He twirled you around the kitchen, picking you up and settling you down on the counter. He wedged himself between your legs as you were winding your arms around his neck. “I didn’t forget.”

“Hmm?” You offered him a dazed expression.

“You scream~” He began to improvise one of his many cutesy melodies, “I scream~~”

Your eyes brightened with sudden realization: “We all scream for ice cream!”

“Yes! My princess requests! And so, I shall deliver!” He kissed both of your cheeks, helped you down, and then shucked off his coat. Wrapping it tightly around your shoulders, he tilted your chin up, “Cute.” Wink.

“Allons-y!”

❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧

Jumin had had a terribly frustrating, annoying, absolutely baffling day.

Upon arriving at work, he was met with a flustered Jaehee.

“Sir, something’s wrong with the network,” she glanced down at her clipboard, “And, ahem, well your technologies, sir.”

An arched brow. “My technologies?”

“It appears everything fed through your devices ends up not going through. I’m afraid we’ll have to complete all documents the old-fashioned way today.”

The other arched brow. “The old-fashioned way?”

“Handwritten, Mr. Han. Everything will have to be done by hand.”

Assistant Kang’s words sealed Han Jumin’s fate. His hands cramped. He had ink smears over his pinstriped dress shirt. And his hair now sported commoner cowlicks.

Jumin returned home around 9 PM, exhausted and bleary beyond belief. “Elizabeth, my love – come and comfort your father.” Jumin stumbled into his penthouse, intent on cuddling his cat since she somehow eluded him earlier that morning.

“Meow~” The stunning Persian vocalized lazily as she sauntered up to her master.

“Ah, what a fine lady you are.” Jumin scooped her up and nosed her long fur. Something round and cool brushed against his skin. Curious, Jumin fondled the delicate metal lock attached to an imposter satin ribbon looped around Elizabeth’s neck.

“What is this?” He scoffed, irritated that one of the guards must have thought to play dress up with his cat.

Jumin set Elizabeth down and removed the ribbon. He clicked the locket open. Inside, there was a photoshopped photo of Saeyoung and his Elizabeth recreating American Gothic, but with childish doodled hearts and horrendous text in Comic Sans font:

707 x Elly forever!!!

“Luciel… I expected no less.” Jumin rolled his eyes. “Well done I suppose, though I’ll have next draw, of course.” The tall man smirked enigmatically to himself and went to bed.

❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧

But for now, somewhere in Seoul, you shared an ice cream sundae with Seven.

❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧

Notes:

Jumin had large hands. He was a tall man, of course.

And you know what they say about having large hands, right?

ZEN: come on jagiya, don’t make me ask again..

You quirked a small, side smile to yourself. The chat had been active all morning and afternoon. Everyone must be in a good mood. Your most recent RFA party had only been two nights ago, and it was arguably one of the most successful ones to date. It was exhausting, yet rewarding, and you hypothesized that everyone’s lighthearted temper was a direct effect of being relieved that all of the extensive preparations and tedious social engagements had come to fruition, and quite smoothly at that.

707: ooohhh eager are we? did someone get a new role>> B)

ZEN:

ZEN: how’d u know??

Always happy to seize the opportunity to play off Seven’s bouts of humor, your fingers scrambled to reply, rapidly flying over your phone’s keyboard:

You: Telekinesis!

707: Ah! My lady doth speak after all!

ZEN: Your lady?

707: But Zen

ZEN: Yes??? What??

707: You’re playing the part really well

707: I’m impressed!

707:

Yoosung✰: Huh? I thought Zen was just acting like himself?

ZEN: yeah Seven, are you on drugs or something?

707: Mis-ta Steal Yo Girl! You’re playing the role real well!

707: I’d be wary of the fearsome iceman though…

Yoosung✰:

Yoosung✰: I’m so confused…

Oh no. Panicking, you hurriedly went to turn down the speaker volume on your phone –

Yoosung✰:

Satisfied that you managed to avoid Yoosung’s … disturbingly bawdy bawling, you tucked your feet beneath your legs as you adjusted your position on Jumin’s bed.

Our bed.

It was still something that you had to get used to. Your relationship with Jumin was something that was intense; it accelerated at a rate which had everyone surprised. But you were happy. And Jumin was finally freed from the tendrils of loneliness that had haunted him all of his life.

You finally had someone that not only treated you like the princess that you were, but someone that was mature, responsible, and respected you as not just as a woman or lover – but as a human being.

He was your best friend. Your best friend that shared a mutual love for cats.

And if you were being completely honest, his handsome visage and comfortable living arrangements were nothing to complain about either.

Jumin Han has entered the chatroom

Your face flushed red. Your fiancé was currently at work. He must have just gotten on his lunch break to log into the chatroom. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t at least somewhat apprehensive of how Jumin would proceed. He has always been just a bit too protective…

707: AHHH! Yoosung run!!

Yoosung✰: WHAT WHY

Yoosung✰:

707: THE

707: I

707: C

707: E

707:  O          /|\          / \

Yoosung✰ has left the chatroom

Your head fell back with bellowing laughter that reached the high ceiling of the penthouse. Poor Yoosung.

Unphased, your fiancé made his presence known in chat:

Jumin: Ah, ma chérie. How lovely it is to see you here. I take it you’ve had lunch?

Jumin: …

Jumin: Zen, it is truly regrettable that I cannot say the same to you.

ZEN:

ZEN: DUDE

ZEN: What’s wrong with you??

707: Yeah!

707: No greeting for me?? What am I, chopped liver??

Jumin: My sincerest apologies, Luciel. How are you?

707: Doing just dandy, thx thx (♥ω♥ ) ~♪

ZEN: blegh, gross. Don’t flirt with that man, Seven.

707: whattttt

Like a well-oiled machine, you and Seven both responded at the same time:

You: but he flirts with everyone!

707: hey I flirt with everyone!

Your eyes widened and you couldn’t help but shake with laughter. You and Seven were like two sides of the same coin, finishing each other’s sentences whilst copying each other’s mannerisms and phrases.

707: JINX!!!

You: OMG

Jumin: Love, I’m happy to see you enjoying yourself.

Feeling slightly guilty at having delayed answering Jumin’s question, you blushed and gave your lover a reply:

You: Darling! Yes – I am well. <3 I hope work has been going well. <<33

You: And no – I haven’t yet. Zen was just trying to convince me to go get lunch with him lol

707: lolol

707: gonna go get popcorn 4 this lololol

Jumin:

Jumin: Zen, is that true?

ZEN: So what if it is! You don’t own her! She can make her own decisions

Jumin: Of course she can. And of course I don’t. Are you, by chance, projecting?

ZEN: Are you being smart with me?

Jumin: Just curious. I find it interesting how you are defaulting to assuming the worst in me. Perhaps you are subconsciously ashamed of your own beastly tendencies, no?

ZEN:

ZEN: Jagiya, can you believe this guy??

Sensing the growing tension, you decided that it would be best to windmill the conversation. Usually Zen’s and Jumin’s bickering was fairly harmless, but you didn’t want to take any chances in ruining the positive atmosphere that graced the RFA recently.

You: Zen, I appreciate your concern for me.

You: But we are kind of engaged, lol

Jumin: Correct.

707: Affirmative.

You: Glad that’s settled then, boys!

ZEN: Hey I wasn’t done –

You: I’ll meet you at the Parisian café halfway between yours and mine Zen 😊 15 minutes?

707: Oh la la, French cuisine ? How romantic~

707:

You grimaced slightly. You hadn’t meant for it to be romantic. You were just really craving an egg and cheese croissant, that’s all!

ZEN: Sounds picture perfect, princess.

ZEN: And I should know, since I take the best selfies haha

ZEN:

ZEN: I’ll see you there.

ZEN has left the chatroom

You rolled your eyes at the 180° change in Zen’s mood. He’s too easily pleased when he gets what he wants. Despite his mercurial tendencies, you did genuinely like Zen. You just couldn’t imagine being in a relationship with him; your nose crinkled slightly at the thought. The actor was too much like an older brother to you. Which is why I have Jumin. Your heart fluttered at the mere thought of the dark businessman. Many and most regarded him as cold, aloof. But you knew better, and he knew you knew. And that was all you both needed to be happy.

Jumin: Please be safe on your way, sweets. I will call Driver Kim to assist you there.

You: Thank you my love! I will be waiting for you when you get home this evening~~

707: Awhh how cute

You: You’re welcome to come too, Sevs

707: unfortunately I got a lotta work to do

707:

707: I am but a hacking slave

You: haha okay. Well you’re welcome anytime. I’ll get going then

You: Love you, Ju xx

Jumin: Enjoy your afternoon. I expect to see you later.

You have left the chatroom

Not wanting to be the last one out, you left before Seven or Jumin did. You briefly wondered if they’d talk any to each other, but you supposed you could always log back in later and see for yourself.

As you started getting ready to leave the penthouse, you couldn’t help but worry your bottom lip between your teeth as you thought about your fiancé’s parting wishes. No emoji. No kisses. No pet names.

You sighed.

Jumin had made leaps and bounds regarding his borderline obsessive nature over you, but he still could be quite moody. It was obvious that he wasn’t pleased with you having a lunch date with Zen, no matter how strictly platonic it was in your eyes. The tight-lipped business heir was making an effort to put on a cool, calm façade in the chatroom so as not to upset you. You appreciated his efforts, you truly did. It was all you could ask for – that he make an effort, that is.

You slipped on your sneakers and slung your crossbody bag over your shoulder. Giving the flat a onceover to ensure Elizabeth was comfortable and the windows locked, you exited the penthouse.

Surprisingly, Driver Kim was already waiting obediently in the hallway outside of the door.

He gave a polite bow. “Are you ready, Miss?”

With a smile and warm thanks, you exited the building and slid onto the cool, leather backseat of the car.

I’m on my way! 😊 You pocketed your phone after texting Zen, your stomach growling in anticipation.

❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧

Jumin Han arrived home precisely at 5:15 PM. Less than ten seconds upon entering his penthouse, he could already tell from the dark hallways that you had yet to return from your afternoon rendezvous with a certain musical theatre actor.

Jumin’s lip curled in distaste.

Peeling off his suit jacket, Jumin made his way to his bedroom.

Our bedroom.

His heart gave a sudden pang in his chest, and Jumin sat gingerly on the bed. He undid the buttons to his waistcoat and exhaled. He laid back on the bed, his legs still bent at a right angle over the edge. He settled his large, slender hands atop his flat stomach.

He sensed the soft pitter-pat of Elizabeth stealthily slipping into the room. His senses were proved right when he felt her rub herself against his calves, her lithe body weaving in and out of the man’s lanky legs.

He sighed once more. One lethargic hand reached down, just barely nosing at the soft tips of Elizabeth’s dainty ears.

Jumin was annoyed. In truth, he was jealous, but he had been working hard to remedy that feeling specifically, especially when it concerned you.

Oh, how he hated to disappoint his love.

He turned his head, his left cheek now resting against the cool top of the comforter. His stomach growled hungrily.

He hated to disappoint you, but… I cannot control myself any longer… he suddenly thought hazily with a loose and smug smile: I am going to punish you when you get home.

The lonely man wove his fingers together, stretched them, and rested them against the back of his head.

Yes, he knew just the appropriate punishment for you.

❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧

It was half past 5 when you finally unlocked the door to your shared penthouse. Zen had insisted that you watch part of his rehearsal right after lunch. Not having anything else to do, and not looking forward to returning to an empty nest, you agreed easily.

You hadn’t meant to extend your lunch date several hours; it just so happened that way.

And you hadn’t meant to spend essentially the entire day with your handsome, celebrity actor friend whom your fiancé didn’t entirely fancy – it just so happened that way. Or so, you told yourself.

To be honest, you were feeling apprehensive. Jumin had most likely already returned home, and you were unsure what state of mind or being he would be in when he discovered you not there.

The man was desperately concerned for your safety and whereabouts. More so than he needed to be.

The door swung open on its smooth hinges, you toed off your sneakers, and draped your jacket on the minimalistic coat rack that stood plainly by your front door. You took note of Jumin’s briefcase and loafers sitting idly by. I was right. Another sigh. He beat me home.

“Jumin?” You called for your lover softly into the open space. “I’m home. I’m sorry that I took so long – I just didn’t have anything else to do.”

You walked through the penthouse and into your bedroom; you surveyed the California King sized bed, only to find –

Nothing.

Well, nothing – excluding the spoiled white ball of fur that currently lay curled up in the center of the bed.

“Jumin?”

How could your 6 ft something Mr. CEO rich business heir fiancé disappear?

Did he go out again after dropping off his work stuff?

No – he always wears his loafers, and they’re still here…

Perplexed, you spun on your heel and began to walk back towards the hallway.

Maybe he was lounging on the couch –

CLICK

Bright light suddenly filled the bedroom.

A tall, dark figure dashed out from the space behind the open door and ensnared you with its long arms. Large hands spread their spindly fingers over your stomach, interlocking with one another. A pointed chin dug into your shoulder. An angular nose pressed against the right side of your face. Black, glossy hair tickled your neck.

“My love.”

The silky baritone rumbled from the large chest currently pressed up against your back. “You’re home.”

“Ju-Jumin…” You reached a hand up to cup your lover’s cheek, trying to pivot in his embrace so that you could properly greet him.

“I think not.”

Your eyes widened in bewilderment. “What?” You breathed out airily, not sure what was happening.

“You’re late.” Jumin pressed a single, deliberate kiss to the pulse point on your bare neck.

You shivered, not expecting this development, but not exactly displeased either. “In my defense,” you felt him press another delicate kiss to your skin, “I never said what time I’d be home.”

The large hands abruptly spun you around.

Suddenly, your back was to the wall. Jumin towered above you, his palms resting on either side of your head.

“You see, my love,” he leaned in closer, inhaling your gardenia perfume that you applied earlier; his stomach curdled at the thought of you putting it on for anyone other than himself, “That is where you are wrong.”

You were being kissed. Passionately. With lots of pressure.

“You said you’d be waiting for me at home, did you not?”

Fuck.

The hairs stood up on the back of your neck as you stumbled out a lame “Ah, yeah – you’re right.” You licked your bruised lips and made eye contact with his dark irises, only an inch or two away from your face. You gulped. “I’m sorry.”

Jumin let out a dark chuckle.

“You know, my dear… I’ve been working so hard to please you these past several months. I’ve been attempting to tame the beast as Zen so likes to call it. Exterminate my unhealthy feelings of obsession. Possession.” He slipped a knee between your legs. “Even… aggression.” He nipped at your neck. You closed your eyes. He leaned back. “But when you don’t make similar efforts to help me out,” He brought up a large hand to cup your face, you opened your eyes again at the touch, were his hands always so huge??, “it is rather difficult for me to not stray course.”

You blinked before voicing meekly, “is it?”

Jumin gave a curt nod, placing his other hand at the curve of your waist. He breathed your name softly, followed by an inquest: “…do you know what they say about having large hands?”

Your face went beet red. Is he really asking that? So much for maturity…

“Uh… um...”

“Hmmm?” He patiently waited for your answer.

You couldn’t bring yourself to say it.

“Would you prefer I show you in a more… direct manner, then?” Jumin arched a perfect eyebrow, studying your flustered expression, challenging it with his unbothered one.

Still not able to form words or sounds, you gave a single, timid nod.

And then: “Ahahahahah!” Your raucous laughter burst from your chest suddenly, your body reacting before your mind had even processed what had just happened.

That’s when you felt it – those large hands… on your body…

Tickling you. Hard. Frenzied. Up and down your sides.

“AHH hahaha, Jumin!” You shrank down trying to bat away his persistent palms. “Jum- hahaha! Oh my god hahahha,” you craftily pulled yourself from his embrace and ran from the room, still giggling, clutching your tickled sides.

“Oh, you think you can escape that easily ma chérie? This is your punishment!” Jumin shouted heartily at you, laughing himself as he gave chase to your retreating figure.

You rounded the couch, clutching at its backside, panting playfully, not entirely sure what your next plan of action should be to escape your fiancé-turned-tickle-monster.

“Oh? Have you gone into hiding my love?” Jumin loftily proposed to his living room, taking slow steps in a circle as he surveyed the room. “You know that for every second you delay your punishment, the reprimand gets extended twice as long.”

Oh fuck. There was nothing for it. You had to give in now. You weren’t sure how much longer you could endure his tickling once he inevitably trapped you.

“Gotcha!” Jumin appeared at your side suddenly, circling your wrist with his deft fingers. He crouched beside you behind the couch.

“Ah!”

“Oh, did I scare you?” He pouted petulantly, his eyes giving away the merit that he actually felt.

“Yes, how did you even sneak up on me like that?”

Jumin jerked his head to his left, pointing out a certain feline that was staring directly at you, her tail flicking to and fro. Leave it to the cat to give away your position.

“Elizabeth!” You brought a palm to your chest. “I am betrayed!”

The next thing you knew, strong arms had scooped you up bridal style, and you were cradled against an equally solid chest, clothed only in a thin, dress shirt that was unbuttoned at the top.

“Just because you’re cute doesn’t mean that you can escape your fate so easily,” Jumin chastised with a gentle breath of your name.

You looked up at his dark eyes. They peered down at you. Despite his pedantic words, nothing could erase the genuine tenderness that his irises beheld when regarding you.

They narrowed. A smirk overtook his features. His eyes glinted with mischief.

Well, it was a nice thought while it lasted…

Jumin suddenly dropped you.

“Ah!” You landed gracefully onto your bed, bouncing a bit as the mattress dipped to accommodate your form.

Jumin straddled you, pinning your elbows by your sides with his knees.

“Oh, it looks like I’ve trapped my little songbird,” Jumin sighed in contrived melancholy, “There’s nothing for it – she looks so sad. I must give her what is due.”

Your eyes widened in alarm – “wait Jum—!”

He was upon you like a ravenous wolf. His large hands flew over your body once again, surrendering you to his ticklish torment. You let loose uncontrolled giggles, your own small hands desperately trying to prevent his large ones from continuing their delighted assault. Your body responded in involuntary spasms, your breath hitching and releasing peals of laughter. You pounded your fists weakly against his chest as he heightened his tickling by nuzzling his nose into your neck.

The overstimulation, the excess of sensation, it was all too much. Pain mixed with pleasure, your mind and body interpreting the experience in two completely different ways. It was pleasurable. It was torture. It was pure nonsense. It was stinging. It was true gaiety.

“Jumin—!” You wheezed, fighting to string together a coherent sentence despite the hellish delight he continued to inflict upon your vulnerable form, “ahah Jum—aha –in! St—op!”

Out of ideas, and incredibly overstimulated, you decided you had no choice but to play dirty:

“You’re hurting me!”

Immediately, he stopped.

Gone were the conniving eyebrows, replaced with ones knit in concern instead. His open-mouthed smile was instantly exchanged for a downturned frown. He eased his pressure on you, his hands stilling as they now hovered over your body in hesitation, as if afraid you would break at his slightest touch.

Oh no. No no no.

“Jumin, I didn’t actually mean – “

“Darling, why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Oh Lord, he sounded miserable.

Your heart leapt in your throat at the anxious tone in his voice.

“It was just a lot, love. I enjoyed it; I really did. You didn’t do anything wrong, please don’t be sad.” You suddenly felt very guilty as you looked at the fretful expression on your lover’s face.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me…” Jumin averted his eyes.

Oh no he doesn’t.

“Jumin,” you placed your hands on either side of his face, forcing him to look at you, “I like this side of you. The playful side. The lighthearted side. The affectionate and silly side. I love every side of you. Never apologize for coming out of your shell. Especially to me. I’m your best friend before your lover.” You smiled invitingly. “I shouldn’t have said you were hurting me… I’m sorry. But, we should maybe establish a safe word next time, yeah?”

Jumin’s face morphed into one of gentle bliss, his mouth turning slightly to kiss your palm.

“Deal.” He acquiesced easily. “You know, you’d naturally make quite the good business negotiator with rhetoric like that.”

“Oh?” You liked the sudden vitality in his eyes.

“Would you like me to prove it in a more…” He swallowed thickly, his gaze now hooded by lust and love, “ahh… direct manner, then?”

“God yes.”

❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧

ZEN has entered the chatroom

ZEN: Hey Ms. Party Planner, did you get home safely??

You were lying on Jumin’s bare chest, both of you long exhausted from the sheer physicality of the day’s events.

You: Yup yup! Thx for asking 😊

Jumin was also on his phone, his arms long enough to wrap around your shoulders and text with both hands at the same time. He gave you a quick peck on the crown of your head. You looked up at him briefly and grinned lovingly.

Jumin: Thank you for entertaining my fiancé today, Zen. I would have hated for her to be lonely.

ZEN: Humph! Yeah yeah. I don’t hang out with her for your gratification.

ZEN: She’s my friend too.

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly at the young man’s characteristic defensiveness. Even Jumin chuckled slightly above you. Ever the mediator, you sought to cool things down again for the evening.

You: you know, I can never tell when you two are actually arguing vs. just bantering

ZEN: I’d hate to distress you princess...

ZEN: We can’t have you developing worry lines in your precious skin!

ZEN: perhaps we should come up with a sign that let’s you know what’s up lol

Yoosung has entered the chatroom

Jumin: Oh, you mean like a safe word?

Jumin: Sounds easy enough. Her and I established our own just an hour or two ago.

Jumin:

ZEN: Safe word…….

ZEN:

Yoosung has left the chatroom

Notes: