Nice to SEA you ☆

a smattering of rain hits against the arched window pane of the library, filling the room with a soft pitter-patter. usually, from where you are seated, you can look directly into the well-kept and always blossoming garden. now, it’s too dark for you to make out anything but the slightest silhouette of your father’s treasured magnolia tree.

“miss ln?”

you direct your attention away from the book in your hands, and towards the library entrance that you had your back to.

“your father would like to speak with you.”

this late? you thought.

“thank you, priscilla,” you smile and your housemaid dismisses herself with a gentle nod. you glide your extended legs off of the couch and set down your book next to you on the velvet material of the sofa. sliding on your slippers, you make your way out of the library, softly close the door behind you, and amble along the long hallways and down the staircase leading to your father’s office.

you knock twice on the thick wooden doors painted in a pristine white. "come in," your father calls out. you apply pressure to the metal handle, cold to the touch, and the hinges creak slightly.

you greet your father, sat in his usual spot in the middle of the office with a floor-to-ceiling window to his back. then, something else catches your attention. a tall, backlit figure stands broadly next to your father. the room is illuminated by the moonlight and a gold accented lamp in the far corner, barely enough light to see 3 feet out in front of you clearly.

“yn,” your father addresses you faintly. you instinctively go to pull out one of the two leather seats tucked under the large, hand-carved wooden desk, its’ surface littered with documents and fountain pens. as you take a seat, your father begins, “as you know, your succession is planned for a little over a week, if all goes well. taking into account the latest incident, i have decided to take preventative measures to ensure no more dangers come to you during the lead-up.” your father pauses, his palm opens to gesture towards the man standing beside him. “this will be your new personal guard,” the man steps forward, “dong sicheng.”

confusion evidently sits upon your face. you want to flat out ask, ‘why do i need a bodyguard?’ but you bite back your tongue, trying to come up with a more eloquent and precise prod.

the man doesn’t reach his hand out, as you would expect, to introduce himself. he simply voices, “miss ln,” with a curt nod of his head.

you pull your eyes away from your new bodyguard, you still can’t make out too much of what he looks like. “father, i already have personal guards,” you state matter of factly.

“of course,” your father leans back into his chair. “but none of them are with you 24/7. sicheng will be, ensuring no harm comes your way.”

unbelievable. on the surface, it seems like he truly wants you under protection, but you understand your father’s schemes; you understand your father more than anyone else. what he’s really saying is that he has hired this man—dong sicheng—so that you will be put on his watchlist.

your father smiles a gentle smile. “but,” at the very first sound of a protest, the corners of his mouth begins to droop, “if this is about last time—”

with a firm shake of his head, your father cuts you off. “this isn’t negotiable, yn.”

normally, when you would argue things to be your way, your father would at least hear what you have to say. so, to be cut off so bluntly... a pang of helplessness strikes you square in the chest, and your eyes divert towards your new guard.

“i recommend you use your time to get adjusted to this change,” with that, your father dismisses the both of you out of his office.

you shuffle out into the cold, sterile hallways. marble pillars line the walls with ornate sconces attached upon them, each bearing a flickering candle. besides just hearing the firm footsteps of someone else tailing right behind you, you can also feel an almost omniscient presence shadowing you. swiftly, you spin around on your heels only to be met eye level with someone's chest. your guard's. you have to angle your head upwards so that you can look into his eyes; he seems to purposefully ignore your gaze, staring straight at one of the pillars opposite him.

he's undeniably gorgeous. the hallways are more lit up than your father's study, allowing you to examine every detail of your guard's face.

you wait a few seconds before breaking the silence, "are you not going to say anything?"

he drops his focus onto you. coldly, he replies, "that's not what i'm paid to do, miss." he lets his eyes linger on you for a moment longer, before returning to look at nothing.

he can tell that you're clearly annoyed by his response, but he makes no show of it. you continue, "if you're not even going to look at me, how are you going to protect me?"

"is there something i need to protect you from in your own home, miss ln?"

he knows. at least he's alluding to knowing about your last little incident. you curse yourself for being careless in your head. if you hadn't caused a ruckus when you snuck home a few nights ago, you wouldn't have this bizarrely handsome, yet callous man looming over you until your father sees a reason to think otherwise.

"no, i suppose not."

you turn around once more, facing the rest of the hallway. an archway leads to a stately staircase at the end of the corridor. you walk down the hall, trying to dismiss the delayed footsteps behind you, and enter through the archway. the staircase spirals upwards into the corridor connecting the bedrooms; yours and your father's. of course, there are other rooms upstairs, such as the library, the games room, other rooms that you don't concern yourself with too much. a grand piano sits in the centre of the spiralling staircase, its' glossy surface lit up by the moonshine flooding inside through the domed skylight.

you proceed up the stairs, not expecting your bodyguard to follow you up, but he does.

you pause, and look back around for the second time now in the span of less than 10 minutes.

"there aren't guest rooms upstairs," you point out flatly.

he responds, meeting your coldness with his own but only 10 times more intensified, "i won't be requiring one."

puzzled, you ask, "you're not going to be sleeping in my room, are you?" half jokingly, half serious.

"miss ln," he takes one step up on the staircase so that he's at the same level as you, forcing you to tilt your head upwards at him. the heels of his shoes echo loudly on impact against the quartz steps. "there are boundaries i must follow in my duties. so whilst i won't be requiring my own room, i also know not to overstep into your privacy." he scans your face, looking for any hint of understanding. then, he adds plainly, "i will be guarding your bedroom door outside. you can rest assured."

you can feel a sly smirk creeping up onto your face, "shame. here i was thinking that you would follow me everywhere. speaking of," you make an exaggerated movement out of looking down at the watch on your wrist. "i should better shower; it's getting late."

sicheng's face is unfazed but still, you simper, looking pleased with yourself.

he stalks behind you wordlessly as you make the rest of your way up to your bedroom. and sure enough, he stops and stands outside to the right of your door.

"you can't be serious," the thought in your head slips out through your lips.

he doesn't look back. "i'm afraid your father is a vey serious man, miss ln."

how does father expect this man to stand outside of your room all night long? assuming he doesn't sleep, given the 24/7 hour-ness as mentioned in your father's spiel, how will he even have to energy to do his job?

you study the profile of his back for a few seconds before pushing your door closer to the frame, not completely shutting it.

your bedroom connects to an en suite bathroom. to say it's grand is underplaying the extent of luxury which you live in. the room is unnecessarily spacious with marble counters and a tall ceiling with intricately moulded details. a round bathtub sits in the centre, integrated directly into a gazebo-like fixture. a golden chandelier hangs overhead the bathtub, softly lighting up the room, creating a warm atmosphere. to the right side of the tub, facing across from the mirror and the sink, stands a shower area enclosed by frosted glass doors.

you reach for your zipper on the nape of your neck. you slide your thumb underneath the metal tab and begin to pull it down between your fingers. it budges an inch or two before it gets caught onto the fabric of your dress. "ugh," you vocalise. forcibly, you attempt to get the zipper unstuck, tugging and tugging but it won't shift.

you can only think of one solution.

"uh," you call out loud enough so that your bodyguard outside is sure to hear you. you're not quite sure how you should address him; calling him by his name feels weirdly a bit too intimate.

putting you out of your misery, he responds, "yes?" from outside in the halls.

"could you... come in?"

there's a break before he answers back to you. "i'm afraid that's unbecoming of me unless there's an emergency, miss ln."

you roll your eyes, despite knowing he's not there to see. "there is an emergency. will you come in now?"

"...are you decent?" he seems to contemplate his words carefully.

"god, you're frustrating," you blurt out, "yes, i'm decent- who do you think i am?"

there's a brief pause in time before you hear footsteps step into your bedroom. you can see him stop in front of your bathroom doorway in your peripheral.

you look over at him, standing tall and poised with his hands clasped in front of him. "what's the emergency, miss?"

turning your back against him, you sweep your hair over your shoulders, baring your zipper. "i can't get this unstuck."

he doesn't take any steps towards you, "and you needed me to come in for this?"

your patience grows thinner and thinner by the second. "if i could've got it myself, i wouldn't have called for you, would i?"

with this, he takes one... two... and three steps. just three steps before he's in reach of you. you can feel a warmth draw closer to you. turning your head towards your shoulder, you can see him standing behind you in the mirror. without knowing, you hold your breath. he goes to pull gingerly with one hand on the back neckline of your dress, the other trying to unwedge the fabric jammed underneath the zipper. he frees the tab and smoothly, he unzips you down to the middle of your back, stopping himself from releasing the zip all the way down. immediately, he drops his head and removes his hands from your dress while simultaneously taking a large step back from you.

"if that's all, i will leave you to rest for tonight, miss ln." his head is still angled downwards, eyes glued to the bathroom tiling.

you mutter, "thank you," finally taking in a breath again.

he nods, and begins to step backwards out of the bathroom. before he disappears completely from your field of vision, he is stopped by your expulsion of an 'um.'

without a word, he waits for what you have next to say. turning around to face him, he lifts his head and meets your eyes, still as emotionless as they were when you two were on the stairs.

"goodnight, sicheng."

you can see his chest rise, and fall before he speaks again. "goodnight, miss ln."

there's gentle thumping at the door but you can't be sure. your head and senses are foggy from sleep. your eyelids remain shut, trying to phase out the knocking.

"miss ln?"

for a brief moment, you don't recognise the voice calling out for your name. it is much deeper than the normal voice of your housemaid. your eyes open to a squint to see the morning sun rays surging into your room through the mesh veil of your curtains. another part of the garden can be seen through the windows to the right of your bed.

"miss ln?" sicheng calls out again.

"yes?" groggily, you answer as you push yourself up, propping your back against the cushioned headboard.

"your housemaid informs me that you have errands to run today."

your head snaps, remembering what today is. the gala.

he continues speaking, "i tried to send some of my men to help carry out your errands for you instead, but i was told to get your permission."

you manoeuvre out of your bed, tossing the throw blanket off of you. heading directly for the double doors, you swing them open to find dong sicheng standing right outside with his arms behind him, his head bowed. the sudden movement causes him to jolt his head upwards.

"no, i'll go," you scan him quickly up and down. he's dressed in the exact same outfit as last night, hair still combed over only a bit more disheveled. you want to ask if he really stood outside of your room while you slept throughout the whole night, but you know what he will say. your father never made promises he can't follow up on, mainly because it was never him personally who fulfilled his promises.

sicheng, looking caught offguard for the first time quickly steels his face back again into his trademark stoicness. "then, i shall accompany you." he gives your get-up one swift look down, then back up. "i'm ready whenever you are."

feeling only slightly annoyed at his gesture, you close the door on him and go to get dressed.

...

sicheng sits next to you in the car. the driver in front seems to pay no attention to his presence. you glance over, trying to make your staring not as conspicuous, but to no avail. his posture is perfectly upright and his hair looks more groomed than when he was stood outside your bedroom door.

"do i look to your standard, miss ln?" it's only when he finishes asking his question that he meets your gaze. it's clear in that moment that he didn't expect an answer to his rhetorical question.

feeling only slightly embarrassed, you lower you eyebrows at him, "do you remember last night when you said you don't get paid to talk?" feigning curiosity with your head tilted to the side.

the slightest smile breaks on his face. "very well," eyes diverting away from you and onto the road out in front through the windshield.

the rest of the ride is silent, which your chauffeur took as a sign to turn on the radio. the first piece that blares out ever so softly is liebestraum no. 3.

the car then comes to a halt in front of a private wine bar. sicheng opens his door and holds onto the handle as he waits for you to shuffle out behind him. then, he shuts it and waves the driver off to a direction. you readjust your outfit from having been sat down.

carefully, you traipse your way towards the entrance of the wine bar, being deliberate to not place a heel down in between the crevices of the cobblestone that lined the courtyard.

"i'm surprised you haven't voiced your displeasure for me going out of the house, yet," you remark, "surely, my father told you i was not to be let out."

for having been against the idea of having a bodyguard just yesterday, you seem to have grown rather used to having sicheng around you rather quickly. you can only hope that he doesn't pick up on this.

"not to be let out without protection, yes."

he's quick on the draw. you pause right in front of the heavy mahogany door, the top of it curved inwards to a sharp point. your eyes gloss over the coffee brown grain pattern before you place a palm onto it and push inwards.

...

it's been a few hours since you've arrived back home from the wine bar, having picked out the perfect gift for the gala host tonight. sunset falls upon the horizon and that's your cue to start getting ready.

you've always had a habit of putting on your makeup by yourself as opposed to having someone else do it for you. however, that habit doesn't carry over to styling your hair.

you're sat in front of a full length mirror, a baroque style detailing frames the entirety of it. priscilla, one of the housemaids who's similar in age to you, stands behind you, attentively pinning the hair in the back of your head into a detailed updo. you look at your dress in the mirror. the square neckline makes space for your freshwater pearl necklace that glows softly against your skin.

"and... all done," priscilla announces.

you turn your head in the mirror to get a better view of her work, "it's a beautiful job." you stand from your seat, catching her eyes in the reflection, "thank you."

she smiles brightly, her youth glints in her eyes. "here," she looks to the side to grab a pair of long silk gloves, holding it out to you. you pull them over your left hand all the way up to your elbow, then your right, struggling a little over the bandage wrapped around your palm.

after tucking your purse in between your arm and your ribs, you're ready to head out.

sicheng is already in the foyer, waiting for you. when your heels first click against the quartz stairs, his eyes darts toward you at the top of the spiralled staircase. you delicately place a hand on the iron banister and as you make your way down the steps, you glide your gloved palm along the railing.

sicheng watches your every action.

when you reach the bottom of the staircase, you shake your head gently to push back the strands of hairs that had fell in front of your face.

"how do i look?" you ask with a teasing smile.

you can see sicheng's lips part faintly, only for him to clear his throat right after. "as you do normally, miss ln." he subtly straightens his posture and pushes his shoulders back. "after you," he gestures towards the front door.

...

sicheng pulls open the door closest to you. he extends his palm towards you, with his other hand cradling a small, rectangular wooden box. you take his hand as you lift one foot out of the vehicle and onto the tiled courtyard of the xiao family house.

the butler comes to greet you. you've known him and the family that he works for for as long as you can remember, and seeing him again tonight struck a chord within you. a certain spark of gloom settles inside your stomach when you see him smile, his wrinkles deeper and his hair greyer than you remember.

the butler leads you down the main entrance hall towards the gala that's already well under way behind the closed doors. you've been down these halls more than a handful of time, the same paintings have been hung up on the walls for at least a decade, but the air of elegance and grandeur that the xiao family home exudes never fails to knock your breath out of you.

sicheng notices you seemingly lost in a thought, and before the trio of you reaches the superfluously tall double doors, he quietly utters, "is everything alright?" being mindful and not wanting the butler to overhear if something was amiss.

you glance over your shoulder, out of your trance, "yes."

he doesn't press, anymore. even if he did want to ask more, ask if you were sure, he knew his place, and so he didn't pry further.

the butler pushes open the double doors and a gentle puff of wind blows against you, travelling along with the music to your ears. "enjoy the gala," he smiles, and you return his display of friendliness.

as he walks back down the other direction, sicheng inches ever so slightly closer to you.

the cold and eerily too refined hallway is starkly contrasted by the lively atmosphere of the gala ballroom. attendees are chatting, networking, dancing. they all look extremely distinguished; pearls and diamonds and crystals draped all over them. the chandelier hanging in the middle of the ballroom is glistening, and a small orchestra is performing at one end of the hall.

you pause on top of the stairs for a moment, taking in the scene in front of you, and simultaneously searching for a face. then, you find it.

you begin to make your way down to where everyone else was on the dance floor, and sicheng follows closely behind you. as you weave your way in between the attendees, your senses are hit and overwhelmed with notes upon notes of fragrances. it transitions from roses to vanilla, cedarwood to bergamot. individually, these aromas would typically be more than pleasant, but combined together along with the heat emanating off everyone, it muddled your senses so much that a headache began to creep its way into your temples. it's clear as you manoeuvre your way across the dance floor, that sicheng stood out to everyone as an unusual date of yours. they would flash a faint smile at you then take one, or two glances at the man trailing behind you. guards weren't uncommon, yes, but to bring a personal guard to a gala hosted by a well respected member of the upper echelon? that was uncommon.

finally, you're face to face with the person you've been looking for: the host.

"mrs. xiao."

"yn!" she enthusiastically greets you, a beaming smile on her face. her arms open up and pull you into a warm embrace. "goodness, i haven't seen you in so long!" she expresses as she begins to pull away.

"i know, it's been way too long," you politely respond.

if you were talking to anyone else in this room, you'd be dead before you were caught speaking so casually to them. but you grew up next to mrs. xiao and her family. her son, dejun, was practically your childhood best friend. well, it's hard to tell if a best friend really is a best friend when that was your only option, but nonetheless, your two families were close.

"oh!" you voice as you turn around to sicheng. you stretch your hands towards the wooden box that he was carrying and he places it gently into your palms. "here, i got you some merlot," you turn back around, "i asked barnie at the winery to give me your favourite," a curl stretched your lips taut.

a wave of gratitude washes over mrs. xiao's face. "you're still as thoughtful as ever, yn." she takes the box into her arms, and as if on cue, someone dressed in a neat uniform comes towards mrs. xiao and takes the box away so that she doesn't have to carry it herself for more than a couple of seconds.

and right at the moment, dejun approaches where you are stood in the centre of the ballroom, walking alongside some other guests, one you know, the other you don't.

mrs. xiao turns to him, trying to contain some of her agitation as she mutters, "where have you been this whole night?"

"i've been in here, ma," he responds equally as quiet, but more passive aggressively, disguised with that bright smile of his.

mrs. xiao turns her head away from him with her nose up, trying to swallow down her irritation. "anyway," she breathes out. "dejun, aren't you going to introduce your friends?"

he took that as a sign to do as his mother asked, but not before sighing a shallow breath first. in an instant, he puts on a charming smile. you know he's not doing it for you, he couldn't care less about being charming towards you; both of you knew you would see right through it anyway. "yn, this is rin. rin, yn. and hendery's here as well, i guess," he mutters the last part of his sentence.

you stifle back a smirk at dejun's attempt at humour and extend your palm for a handshake with rin. "it's a pleasure to meet you." she doesn't say anything but shakes your hand gently and mirrors your smile back to you, except hers looks very practiced and unnatural.

mrs. xiao tuts her teeth, so subtly that it's barely audible. she turns her body into you ever so slightly, leaning forward and muttering under her breath into your ear, "i really wish you were here to stop my jun兒 from falling into these circles. look at them, no manners at all."

dejun watches almost awkwardly, then he switches the attention onto you. "what about you, yn? aren't you going to introduce us to your little armpiece?" he cocks his head in sicheng's direction.

mrs. xiao shoots dejun a stern look, one that carries the weight of a thousand words. but in front of such a crowd, the extent of her reprimanding ends at, "don't speak so crass."

dejun only shoots up his eyebrows in response, and sucks in a quiet breath.

"this is dong sicheng," on instinct, your hand sweeps out to the side of you and sicheng nods. "he's the... bodyguard, that my father hired."

"bodyguard, huh?"

"don't start, xiaojun," you try your best to make it seem subtle enough, but dejun chuckles at the sight of you rolling your eyes.

mrs. xiao cuts through the brief pause in conversation, "well, we would love to stay and chat more but i should go greet some of my other guests. you don't mind, yn?"

"no, of course, not."

mrs. xiao gives you one last squeeze before she's off again waving halfway across the room to somebody else, and dejun and his friends trail behind her.

you're about to turn around when a waiter passes by you and sicheng, one hand balancing a tray full of glasses of champagne.

"a drink, miss?"

you pinch the stem of the glass in between your fingers and your thumb. when the waiter offers one to sicheng, he declines.

as you bring your champagne up to your lips, sicheng slips his fingers around the bowl of your glass and forcibly pulls it away from you. "he offered you one," you look at him in disbelief, but he acts as if you didn't say anything.

he hovers the rim of the glass under his nose, swirling the champagne around as he does so. you watch, still half incredulous and half in puzzlement. he brings the rim up against his lips, tipping the glass towards him as he takes the tiniest sip of champagne that you’ve ever seen. as he swallows, he smacks his lips together lightly, then he passes the glass back to you.

“what was that for?” hesitantly, you sit the bowl of the glass back into your palm. you’re not sure if you should sip from the same cup as he did—is that even appropriate in this setting?

“not laced,” he states nonchalantly, eyes darting around the room.

it takes your brain a few seconds to fully process what he just did, and said. “and why would it be laced?” a confusion intertwined with your voice.

sicheng stares at you, not blankly, but not aggressively either. it’s like you can read what he’s doing in his head, going down winding paths to find you an answer, but you can’t read exactly what it is that he’s thinking.

he finally responds after a good few moments of him turning your question over in his head. “you are my responsibility,” he can sense that you are about to object this statement, so he quickly continues. “regardless of what you may think, you are. whatever i do, i do in your best interest. do you understand now?”

truthfully, you want to reply, ‘not quite.’ how does that explain why your drink at a gala held by people you know, people you trust, would be laced?

sicheng leans in close enough so that you can hear him at a whisper, but not so close that people will see and start to speculate. "miss ln, may i remind you you're a successor. i know you've already lived through some threats, but if they were willing to threaten you when you arguably held no power, imagine what they would do if they knew you were taking over your father's position as mayor."

he backs away; face still as cold as steel, not letting anything that he's thinking or feeling show. you can't help but feel a bit shaken at his words. yes, you've received threats before, but they were mostly empty-handed words scribbled on a note. you never thought anything of them, until sicheng said something just now.

"there's no reason people here of all places would want to do anything to me; you're too paranoid." as the words leave your mouth, you can feel your doubt coating your tongue, but you wash it down with some sparkling wine. just a little bit.

sicheng studies your expression for a second, his head tilting slightly to the side. "have you ever heard of a wolf in sheep's clothing, miss ln? maybe you're not paranoid enough," his last word drags off and almost becomes inaudible.

you blink your lashes a couple of times looking up at him, and then an echoing voice pierces right through the ballroom.

"hello everyone! thank you all for attending my little gathering."

both you and sicheng turn your heads to the origin of the sound. mrs. xiao is stood on the little stage that the orchestra has been performing on.

a pleasant smile drawing on her face as she addresses her guests, "it is so great to see so many of you. as you all know, my husband and i-"

the lights cut. the chandelier that was hanging above the dance floor flickers off.

mrs. xiao's voice can be heard again, but this time loudly proclaiming without the help of her microphone over the gasps and murmurs of confusion. "everyone please remain calm—i'm sure the lights will be back on soon."

a sudden pang of fear hits you. your heart thumps faster in your chest, and your breathing becomes shallower and shallower. there's darkness all around you. you try your best to look for, or rather, feel around for sicheng but you remain quiet, knowing it will only add to the chaos. people all around you are shuffling, nudging everyone else. whispers and mumbles all fade into a singular stream of white noise around you. then, you feel a hand grasp on your upper arm. a sense of relief washes over your mind, sicheng. but then, the grasp feels begins to dig deeper and deeper into you, and it becomes clear to you that whatever grasping you isn't a hand. at least, it's not a hand coming into direct contact with you. the fingers digging into your arm are clothed by a silk or sorts; sicheng didn't wear gloves.

you try to free your arm by wrangling it away from whoever it is that has a hold on you. then, in an instant, you feel the hand drop from you so forcibly that it tugged your arm downwards along with it. a new hand has made its way onto you, this time just slightly below your shoulder. you hear a whisper in your ear, "come on, let's go," and the relief you felt earlier resurfaces. this time, it's definitely sicheng's voice.

he takes hold of your wrist, not too tight but just enough to guide you to the exit. as you two are about to head up the stairs to the double doors, the lights flicker back on and mrs. xiao is on stage again.

"there we are. i apologise profusely for that disruption," her hands grip onto the mic stand tightly.

sicheng leads you up the stairs and out the doors without second guessing; everyone else seemed too caught up in the middle of the chaos to notice.

...

back at your home, you and sicheng enter through your foyer and he's spluttering out orders and demands over the phone. as you pass by the large circular mirror hanging in one of the walls of the foyer, you catch a glimpse of your reflection. you double take. one of your ears are still adorned by the beautiful pearl earring that your father had got you, but your other one is missing.

sicheng gets off of the phone that he's been on since the beginning of the car ride home. then, he notices you staring at your reflection in the mirror. "what's the matter?"

you give a gentle shake of your head, fingers drawing at your bare earlobe, "nothing, just one of my earrings is gone."

"i'll have my men try to find it for you," he responds without missing a beat. "miss ln, are you sure that nothing else happened whilst the lights went out?" his eyebrows curve in a slight s-shape.

"yes, i already told you. someone grabbed me by the arm, but that was it. maybe they just thought i was someone they knew."

sicheng shows no reaction to your theory, "i will have this investigated, miss ln. i advise you to get some rest," he says with a bow of his head.

your nightly routine goes by like a blur. priscilla has been dismissed for the night, so you undo your hair, your gown, and clean off your makeup all by yourself, but your mind isn't fully in the present.

sicheng went off after telling you to get some rest, presumably to inform your father about what'd happened. you don't know for certain if he's still speaking to your father, or if he's standing outside your door right now.

it's not that your mind is dwelling on what happened; in fact, you are precisely thinking of nothing. everything in your vision passes by you like you're watching someone else lead their life. even as you get changed, crawl into bed, and try to drift to sleep.

suddenly, you hear a creak from outside your window. your eyes shoot open. trying your best to calm yourself, you reason that it's probably just mice who'd made their way into your garden. a strong gust of wind blows past. then, silence.

and another creak. all logic and rationale flys out of your mind. the only thing you can think of to do is...

"sicheng!"

you tried your best to hold your own earlier, down in the foyer, but right now the sense of urgency in your voice betrays you. sicheng bursts into your room, the buttons of the collar of his shirt undone.

"yes, miss ln?"

his eyes are solely focused on you, despite you looking out towards the windows.

"there's... i heard some weird noises," you gesture with your head pointing at the garden.

sicheng follows your gaze, then he looks back at you. he could tell you that you're in your own home, that you're safe, but instead, he walks over to your windows and draws open your curtains. "there's nothing here, miss ln." hoping that he can provide you with some reassurance, he looks back at you, "we've already done a perimeter check, you're safe here, i assure you."

you drop your eyes, responding with a gentle nod of the head.

"i'll be outside," he says as he begins to make his way back to the door.

before he can reach the handle, you stop him, "wait." he looks at you with an expectant expression. "can't you just stay here?"

even though he's a distance away, you notice a flinch in his brows as he registered your words. "i'm afraid that's not appropriate, miss ln." he says this, but he doesn't take another step.

"there," you point towards the sofa chair to the right side of your bed, "at least just stay there." you wanted to add a 'please,' maybe plead with him, but your dignity had to be kept even if you were fearful.

he doesn't protest as much as you thought he would. quietly, he shuts your door and makes his way to the chair.

your fingers hop from one note to another, pressing down with force and lifting again at the flick of your wrist. a familiar tune emanates throughout the room, rising up to the skylight, then sinking back down again.

your hands dance along the keys of the grand piano at the bottom of your staircase. a bittersweet melody fills your ears, and as you come to a decrescendo in the piece, the faint sound of footsteps through the marble halls overtake your playing. you swiftly turn your head around.

sicheng is stood behind you. under the bright morning light, his cheekbones stand out prominently. "i've been looking for you, miss ln," his chest falls as he says this.

"you dozed off," you turn your attention back to the piano, "i didn't want to wake you."

"i apologise; it won't happen again."

"you need to rest, too," you raise your hands and gently set them on top of the keys, "do you even sleep?"

there's a slight break in between your asking of the question and his answer. "occasionally, but not when i'm supposed to be on duty."

you turn back around, "well, like you said: i'm safe here." you scan him up and down, he's changed out of the outfit he wore to the gala last night, but all his outfits resemble each other. a black button up shirt, a fitted black blazer, black suit paints, a black tie, and a small white brooch on the lapels of his blazer. "do you play?"

he looks to be slightly caught offguard, "no. well, yes but-"

"play something for me."

you shuffle yourself to one side of the bench, making room for sicheng next to you. he slowly walks around and slides into the spot you've made for him. for the first time, you can visibly see that every one of his actions are carried out with hesitation.

his posture is perfect, head slightly tilted downwards and a curve at his wrist as his fingertips lay upon the whites of the piano keys. he clears his throat. then, a single note as he presses down with his index finger. the beginning is slow, slower than the piece was intended to be, but you know what he's playing regardless. nocturne op. 9 no. 1. there's a certain silent agony in the way he punctuates the flow of the melody. the second of the set of nocturnes that chopin had composed has always been regarded as chopin's more famous piece of work over this one. yet, the manner in which sicheng plays this piece makes you wonder why.

the stiffness that was prevalent in his body is now gone, fully immersed in the rhythm. the crescendo comes devastatingly, he leans forward into it, the melody tugging at your chest despite it sounding a bit brighter than the introduction of the piece. you watch in silence as his fingers glide and cross over each other masterfully, a sonorous tone emitting from his movements.

he doesn't finish the piece, but he finds a place to stop after a minute or so of playing.

his fingers linger on the notes as the melody fades out gradually.

"you play beautifully," softly, you remark, "where did you learn?"

he lifts his hands from the keys, clasping them together on his lap. "thank you—my mother taught me."

you watch as he swallows, his adam’s apple dipping slightly. a thought occurs to you. you barely know anything about this man who’s supposed to protect you. maybe that’s for privacy, confidentiality, or security reasons but, there’s a certain yearning in you that wants to find out more about him. after all, trust can’t be built without a foundation. you just don’t know where to prod.

“…and what about your dad?”

sicheng glances over at you, slightly confused at your sudden interest in him. his eyebrows flinch again. “he, uh, used to work for your father. that’s why i’m here. my family owes a lot to your father.”

he gulps again.

you’re not completely sure how to navigate through this conversation. do you ask where his father is now? what if it’s a sensitive spot, why else would sicheng be acting this uncharacteristically. his cold and cool demeanor seemingly melted away. “your father… is he…”

you don’t finish your sentence, but sicheng knows what you’re hinting at. “no, no. he’s just retired. too many injuries on the job.” he clears his throat and stands up from the bench. “sorry, i didn’t mean to intrude on your space, miss ln.” he begins to walk back around the bench.

you can’t help but let out a faint chuckle. “drop the title already. it’s just yn.”

he’s standing tall, hands clasped in front of him, and he purses his lips together. he dips his head rather jerkily, “as you wish.”

then, a ping sounds out.

you pick up your phone that was laid out on the top cover of the piano, and sicheng fishes for his in the inside pockets of his blazer. as he brings out his phone, you begin to hear a vibration sounding out. he holds it in his hand and flashes a quick glance at you, “excuse me,” then he accepts the call. as he brings it up to his ear, he spins on his heel and start to walk off into a distant hallway.

you divert your attention back onto your screen and begin to see messages popping up at the bottom. ones from dejun that read:

"my mum would like to apologise to everyone here about what happened yesterday."

it's sent to the group chat thread that you rarely respond to, though, you do keep up with its messages.

then, another:

"i don't believe in apologies without actions, so you're all cordially invited to come to dreamers' oasis in d119 tomorrow night."

"on me."

the last message was an important detail. you click on the notification bubble and already see others typing in the group chat.

hendery writes, "you are so gonna regret saying that."

a tiny smile creeps its' way onto your face. your thumbs begin moving on the keyboard; hitting send on a message that says, "hendery's going to bankrupt you," which earned you a dislike from dejun.

he ignores your comment, "will you finally be joining us yn? you know, seeing as it's your last week as a free woman."

the last part of his sentence hits you; maybe not to that extreme but it is your last week before you have to take on your father's responsibilities.

every time dejun invites you to a night out, it's most of the time a no brainer and not in a positive way. all the clubs and bars that your friends choose are out of your district's boundaries. and it's not like you didn't have clubs and bars in this district, but the fun ones—as dejun puts it—are only in district 119. you've only taken the risk a couple of times, but now, with especially an extra pair of eagle eyes on you, the possibility of sneaking out is practically 0.

before you can respond, hendery already sent out a message in your place, "have you seen her little boyfriend yesterday? there's no way man."

as much as you want to disagree, you can't. there is no way.

"not my boyfriend," you finally type out.

messages keep popping up on screen, a plan coming together with the people that can go. before you exit out of the thread, you type in "i'll see what i can do," but you stop short of pressing send.

quietly, you head off in the same direction as sicheng, scanning the halls for any sign of him. you're not quite sure what you'll do once you see him. beg him? please let me go out with my friends and get wasted? no. you haven't reached that point, yet; you still have some decorum within you.

you spot him still talking over the phone behind a marble pillar. as silently as possible, you sidle over to where he is, not wanting to disrupt him. once you're close enough, you catch glimpses of his conversation that he's having: "do you understand? whatever you do... we can't let her find out what happened."

your brain made the connect pretty quickly, the 'her' in question had to be you—who else? and what is he keeping from you? he continues speaking but nothing is going through you. all you can think about is, what is he not telling me? as quietly as you came, you retrace your steps back into the piano room.

you'd be lying if you said there wasn't a spark of fury beginning to catch within you. if you are to trust sicheng, why would he purposefully keep something from you? the more you think about it, the more agitated you grew. the fact that he seemed to treat you like a child needing protection every step along the way annoyed you—and what if his intention wasn't to protect you? your head can only spin with theories and speculations.

you unlock your phone again, and hit send on the last message you typed out.

...

your father wanted to have dinner with you tonight, alongside sicheng, of course. and you know now after sitting down to begin your meal, he really wanted to have dinner with sicheng tonight.

"any updates?" your father directed the inquiry towards your bodyguard.

the three of you are sat on a long, oval table. your father sitting at one end, and you and sicheng sitting across from him, sharing the other end. the candelabra stands in between you and your father in the middle.

"no, not yet, sir. we're still trying to investigate the intent behind yesterday's actions."

he finishes his sentence before continuing to cut into his ribeye. you sit adjacent to him, observing every movement he takes. as he stabs into the meat with his fork and brings it up into his mouth. he sets his fork down on the edge of the plate, bringing the napkin laid flat on his lap up as he chews.

"yn, you're not hungry?" your father's voice booms from across the room, breaking your attention away from sicheng.

you look down at your plate, barely touched aside from you swirling the sauce around. "no, i'm afraid not." you set down the fork that you have been toying with flat on the tablecloth. you pull the napkin from your lap and place it on the other side of your plate. standing up, you voice, "i'm a bit weary tonight." you spot sicheng shifting to get up from his seat in your peripheral, "no, no, please finish dinner. father, would you excuse me?"

"well... of course," with your father's approval, sicheng sits back down. you turn around, the heels you're wearing click at a steady pace as you're headed for the doors.

you haven't spoken directly to sicheng since dinner last night. the whole of today you spent cooped up in the library. that's not to say that you were being passive, though.

you haven't forgotten about dejun's invitation for drinks tonight—you just needed the perfect cover.

it's around 8pm, your maids have come and gone bringing you food and tea from time to time. you glance at the grandfather clock propped up against the wall in between all the bookshelves.

you slide the book that you've held in your hands back into its spot on the shelf. rather than actually reading it, your eyes have been skimming the pages and the words scattered throughout absent-mindedly. you turn your plan over around in your mind as you did so, and you have been for the past few hours, at least.

you drag your feet over the wooden floorboards of the library and crack open the doors. you peak your head out into the crack, then the rest of your body follows. oddly enough, sicheng isn't standing right in front of the room.

like a stereotypical action movie, you give the hallways a quick glance in one direction, then the other. you've never felt as much like a thief in your own home. sneaking, tiptoeing around the hallways, caution bubbling in every part of you.

when you reach your bedroom doors, footsteps sound behind you.

the looming presence of someone else doesn't speak, the only indication of them even being there is the shadow of them casted over your own feet.

you turn around, and you're met with the face that you've come to expect these past few days. "i'm... having an early night in."

sicheng's expression is unfaltering. the return of his stoicism makes you feel like a schoolchild being reprimanded by some vague authority figure; desperate to give more and more answers, to keep speaking and reasoning.

he watches your frozen body, as if you'd been caught doing something you're not supposed to, when in reality you're just stood outside of the doors to your own bedroom. "just thought i'd tell you," you add.

"well, don't let me stop you." his torso leans forward ever so slightly, the tone of his voice catching on the edge of a faint whisper.

the handle of the door clicks as you push onto it. when you look back to shut it, sicheng repositions himself with his back to the wall that lines the outside of your room.

once you're completely alone, you strip yourself of the sleeping clothes that you'd been wearing for entirety of today immediately and go over to your closet where you'd already hung up an outfit that you picked out last night.

you slip it on hastily: a tight fitting camisole top with a miniskirt, paired with some knee high leather boots and an oversized jacket for warmth. most of this outfit doesn't even look like it belongs to you. the people in your life knows you for wearing pretty dresses and skirts that reach your knees at least, but if tonight's going to be anything close to fun, then you need to look the part. you can't afford sticking out like a sore thumb, especially in district 119.

you'd texted your friends—or rather xiaojun, and his friends—earlier, asking if they could park right outside the gazebo at the far end of the garden, waiting for you to show up. this plan has worked precisely 2 times before with a 100% success rate, and you're counting on it working for a third time.

you would open the doors to your balcony, climb over the balustrade and scale your way downwards on the water pipe right next to your balcony landing. the garden wasn't fenced in like the front of the house. after all, this house was on private land belonging to your father; anyone who tried to trespass would've been seen by at least one person working on the property. so, it was an easy enough escape from the garden compared to your exit route down from your room.

you walk through the gazebo, hands tucked into the pockets of your jacket as you try to shake the cold of the night off of you. dejun's suv is there, headlights off.

they must've seen you even in the dark, because once you're about a step or two away, the passenger door to the suv swings open—dejun himself in the driver's seat.

...

after finding a quick place to park, you and the group walk a block to where the club is, having had a drink or two on the way here.

the streets are anything but quiet. the heavy void of the sky sits atop the city like a dome, the neon signs colouring the deep blue like a palette of dulled paint. the closer and closer you get to the club, the music already begins to boom from within. laughter erupts from the rest of the group from a joke that you missed.

a pair stands right outside the entrance of the club, one of them leaning against the brick wall whilst the other squats; cigarettes in both their hands. you hold your breath as you walk right into a fresh cloud of smoke, courtesy of the man standing up.

on one hand, you want to let loose tonight; have fun. but on the other, you can't help but wonder if you were meticulous enough, or even at all. there's no guarantee that sicheng wouldn't just open your door and find that you are nowhere within the vicinity. but he wouldn't for no reason, you try to calm your racing mind.

you find yourself at the back of the pack, watching everyone in front of you filter into the entrance, disappearing into the darkness surrounded by a rectangular frame.

dejun is right in front of you, he takes note of your hesitation. he comes back down from the steps leading to the entrance stopping right next to you.

lowering his head, he looks at you through his brows, "don't tell me you're gonna pussy out when you're right outside."

you try to dismiss the doubts flaring around in your head. "you wish. drinks still on you, right?" you shoot him a quick wink, then stride up the steps and like others before you, submerge into the darkness.

and immediately, flashing lights take over the darkness. a neon green fog floats just above the floor. a circular platform stands in the middle of the club with a metal pole going through the centre of it. the club itself is a lot bigger than you'd imagined, given what the exterior of it looked like. circle booths surround the platform and smaller ones are peppered all throughout. the ceiling is tall with decorative vines and ivies hanging from it, not low enough for anyone to reach. 2 bartenders stand behind the bar, busying themselves with orders upon orders for a room of, what looks to be about 200 people. a small, spiralled staircase stands to the right of the bar, leading to what resembles a loft platform with people drinking and laughing up on it.

it's as if your feet are stuck to the ground as you take in the scene before you. dejun places a hand on the small of your back. he utters right by your ear, "come on, that way," as he guides you towards one of the bigger booths right in front of the platform.

you plop down on the red leather couch, warmed against the back of your thigh.

remixes of popular songs blast unapologetically out of the speakers that lined every few inches of the walls. you can hardly hear the people in front of you speaking, debating what drinks to get first. you lean forward, wanting to get an in on what they're discussing. shots, shots, shots. after a word or two from dejun, everyone agrees that they should do shots first. melon flavoured, to be exact.

dejun vanishes into the group of people crowding around the bar.

"so, yn, how's leaving your house for the first time ever?" one of dejun's friends sprouts up.

you can feel your breathing pick up its pace. you weren't expecting much conversation seeing as 'friends' isn't exactly the label you'd put on these people, with the exception being dejun, and maybe hendery.

"great actually, thanks." you slide back into your spot on the booth, only slightly cramped with the amount of people sharing one area.

hendery lands a punch on the guy's arm, "watch how you speak to our princess." a smirk picks up on the guy's lips as hendery finishes his sentence, his tongue poking into the crevice of his cheek.

and just as quickly as the attention turned to you, it leaves you even faster. comments are thrown around about the female bartender.

"hendery, i'll give you £100 if you don't ask for her number tonight," someone chimed.

hendery quickly steals a glance at his phone before returning his eyes to the bettor, "i guess we're not leaving until after midnight, then." he sits back, throwing an arm around the girl next to him.

dejun makes his way back, hands holding as many shots as he could—which was 8. not all of them were filled equally, which you can only assume was attributed to dejun's bumping into people as he was on his way back. the small glasses were filled with a somewhat cloudy liquid. everyone picked up a shot as he set them down on the glass table, including you.

"to xiaojun bankrolling us!" a voice chirped up with a glass in the air. everyone else followed with a chorus of cheers, clinking the shots together before tipping their heads back and downing it.

as you swallow, there's a hint of sweetness from the melon flavour but the vodka is inescapable. you can feel it travel all the way with a burn down your oesophagus until it settles in your stomach, a heat spreading from it.

...

the overwhelming boom of the music does not phase you anymore. you are past the point of hazy where the only thing you can comprehend is what is immediately happening in front of you. object permanence? gone.

for the past few hours, you and the rest of the group you came here with downed shot after shot, drank beer after beer. no matter how high your tolerance was, tonight definitely pushed you over that line.

"xiaojun!" you shout across to your friend at the bar. he acknowledges you with a quick wave of his hand.

the others have their arms around each other's shoulders, foundering as they approach the exit. you lean against one of the walls right in front of the fog machine, waiting for dejun.

"come on, yn!" one of the girls shout, grabbing your wrist in her hands and linking you to the rest of the group. dejun finally makes his way back over, and instinctually you fling an arm around him, too.

the bunch of you look ridiculous; grown adults stumbling their way out of a club in the dark. half present smiles seemingly glued onto your faces. all of you count together as one by one, you take the couple of steps down onto the pavement.

once back on the street, you open your eyes to more than just a squint. the road looks the same as before. time has no effect on this district, neon signs still alight with strangers roaming the streets at any hour of the day. you bask in the warm orange glow of the lamp post directly above you, and you scan around for dejun's suv.

and that's when you see something across the road.

a tall, lean figure slanted against the hood of a car. you recognise his posture all too well.

oh shit. shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

you'd gotten so carried away tonight that you completely forgot that you weren't even supposed to be here. the drinks flushed every doubt, every worry out of your mind. it is only when your eyes see sicheng standing right across the road from you, and your mind consciously registers that, that every thing you tried to forget comes rushing back to you.

"xiaojun," you mutter under your breath, but he's not entirely in it, either.

sicheng spots the group of you, head tilted, and that's the moment he recognises you, in an outfit he'd never seen you in before, around people that he has seen before. he pushes himself off of the hood and crosses the road. you have exactly 3 seconds before you're done for.

the night is blustery, gentle, but breezy nonetheless. he's wearing a white button up with his sleeves rolled up and the top few buttons undone. as he's making his way towards you, his hands are tucked into the pockets of his trousers.

sicheng takes 3 steps onto the pavement that you're on, and you are met face to face with the guard that you attempted to escape tonight. he quickly eyes the rest of your group, too drunk to even comprehend what is happening and who he is. a misstep happens and three of them stumble, fall, and stack on top of one another. they laugh it off.

he returns his gaze to you. "miss ln."

it's magical the way you suddenly feel sober. confrontation is one hell of an antidote. "listen," you breathe out. but it's no use, even you know it.

sicheng spares you no pity. "shall we head home?"

you don't know what you prefer: him still being cool and calm and collected, or have him be so seethingly furious with you like your father would be. in that moment, you decide that his reaction is much worse. how can he stand there with the state of you like this and still ask such a question with a steeled face? does he not care?

you look over to dejun, who has now walked around you to help his other friends get up.

trying to make up your mind whether to plead your case in that moment, there is something else that you can decide easier. going home with sicheng. there's no use fighting it, and frankly, you didn't want to. so, you take a step, passing by where sicheng stood in front of you, and then another, and until you're across the road about to get into the car. your friends left on the curb—they'll manage, you figured.

your body can't help but shake as you step into the passenger seat. a jittery feeling overtakes you. do you explain? do you not? what even is the explanation?

sicheng gets into the driver seat. he turns on the engine, back up from the parking spot, and begins to drive off, doing this all without a word.

you steal a glance over at him, not wanting to appear too sheepish. a sudden apologetic sentiment freezes your body, but that same feeling quickly turns sour. you open your mouth to speak, but no noise leaves you. quickly, you snap your head back around and lean against the window. the quietness of the car ride has you feeling all the effects of the events tonight.

"you didn't think i'd know?"

your eyes shift over. sicheng's focus is entirely on the road, hands gripping the steering wheel so hard that the veins on his arms are prominent under the moonlight. he might not sound angry, but his body language gives it away.

"no, i thought..." you take a deep breath in. "i don't know what i thought," you finally admit.

if he'd heard your answer, he gave no indication of it. he continues driving, fingers still clenched tightly around the wheel. his silence lingers around for a good few minutes. no music, nothing; just the sound of the friction of the tyres speeding against tarmac.

"if something had happened to you, do you know what that means? for all of us?" he asks, in a tone that's more or less condescending.

you stay quiet—you didn't see a point in arguing your case. or maybe it was just the alcohol taking the fight out of you, the steady rocking of the ride seem to begin to lull you to sleep.

the rest of the car ride home was silent. sicheng's grip never loosened. and you can tell none of his frustration dissipated by the way he slammed the car door shut.

as noiselessly as possible, the two of you slide in through the main doors into the foyer. you pull on the heels of your boots to take them off, struggling with your balance slightly. as you're about to make your way up to your room with your boots in your hands, sicheng stops you with one statement.

"i won't tell your father."

you turn, feeling a disjointed mix of emotions. you're relieved, but confused...? and grateful, but suspicious. "why?" you bluntly ask, questioning his ulterior motives if he has any.

sicheng takes a deep breath in and rolls his head to his left side. he takes a single step towards you. the rest of the house is dark, the only light being from the two sconces on either sides of the foyer. as he looks into your eyes, his irises are two swirling rings of mystery. you can never guess what he's thinking.

"because it won't look good on either one of us," he whispers. "if you wanted to go out, you could've just told me and i would've helped you," he added, now with a certain softness breaking into his gaze.

your focus shifts from one eye to the other. sicheng can read every wrinkle in your brow and every glint of confusion in your stare. what are you supposed to make of the fact that the man your father hired to watch you like a hawk is willing to help you get up to things your father will never approve of?

"but why?"

it's as if the drinks had broken down your every guard, every filter that you're so used to imposing on yourself. the bluntness in your tone is something even you didn't recognise.

"tonight proved that you would sneak out regardless of circumstances. so, why not tell me so i can at least keep you as safe as i can?"

sicheng finds himself exploring every inch of your face with his gaze, studying the smudged eyeliner and lipstick on you, before meeting your eyes again. he continues, "i have a job to do, you know?"

it seems as though you're not the only one with a broken down barrier. the formality in which he normally speaks with is nowhere to be heard.

"and why should i trust you?" there's an edge in your voice that makes the question come out as offensive. "i can't," you quickly add before he even has a chance to reply.

and now it's his turn to be stumped. your sudden change in attitude evokes a return of the wince in his eyebrows. "what do you mean?" he falters.

"i heard you yesterday." your head shakes, the clear of your eyes glisten with a lack of faith. "what am i supposed to think of you when you're actively hiding something from me?"

it's like a wave of realisation hits sicheng. he recalls the phone call that he took yesterday, and realises what you must've overheard. it takes him a few seconds to collect his thoughts together.

"you can't possibly think that i would want to harm you."

"i don't know you!" you exclaim, maybe a bit too loud for this hour. "you waltz into my life and tell me that you're trying to save me, but i don't know you."

sicheng exhales and drops his head. his chest rises slowly as he takes in a deep lungful of air. "i didn't want to tell you because i didn't want you to feel... betrayed."

your body language communicates all there is to say. you urge him to go on with a shake of your head and a furrowing in your eyebrows.

"we have reason to believe that..." his voice is small, and soft, as if he's laying down cushioning for telling a child that santa claus isn't real. "the person threatening you runs in your immediate coterie."

your friends. that's what he's hinting at, that's what he's explicitly telling you right now. that possibly someone you went out with tonight have reason to threaten you. sicheng thought that telling you now would diffuse the situation, but in fact, it does the opposite.

"isn't that all the more reason for me to know? and you hid it from me for w-"

"yn," he corrects his slip of words, "miss ln." he cuts you off ever so calmly, "i understand that emotions are heightened right now. i think it's best we talk in the morning."

a knot works its way up into your own chest. your frustration is fuelled even more by his coolness. you stare at his ridiculously poised expression, and in that moment, you give up trying to argue.

you finally begin to walk up the stairs, with your boots still in your hands, ready to crash and give out onto your bed.

you wake up the next morning, or rather the same morning, with a throbbing pain in your head. one of your ears feels blocked and no matter what you do to try and make it so that noise isn't muffled as it filters into your ear, it doesn't work.

in the bathroom, you stare at your reflection and are in shock over how badly you removed your makeup last night. eyeliner stains the corners of your eyelids, patches of concealer are still on the sides of your face. you turn on the faucet, wait for it to become warmer, and scrub the remainder of the products off of your face.

in the midst of washing your face, you realise that you haven't had a proper meal since yesterday afternoon, as signalled by a grumbling in your stomach.

as discreetly as possible, you try to get out of your room, taking a gentle step out onto the hallway. you're not entirely sure why you needed to be stealthy, perhaps it's just the aftereffects of last night.

however, your plan to be concealed quickly falls to shambles as sicheng is, as always, guarding your door outside and your father is walking down the hallway heading in your direction. your heart starts to beat faster and faster; if sicheng didn't stick by his words last night then you are dead for all you know. that conversation you had in the foyer didn't leave your mind even for a second when you tried to fall asleep earlier, and you plan on following up on that talk he offered you.

your father reaches your room and stops to take one look at you.

"goodmorning, father." you utter. a tinge of sheepishness can't help but crawl onto the apples of your cheeks.

"goodmorning, dear," he stretches a warm smile directed towards you, and gives a simple nod of the head to sicheng.

so he didn't lie. that's the first thought following your relief that your father isn't absolutely furious with you. you glance at sicheng as your father walks past you continuing his way down the hallway. he flashes you an expression, one that says, 'what did i tell you?'

sicheng keeps his eyes on your father and as soon as he's out of earshot, he mutters, "surprised?"

a look of almost disbelief takes over you. the nerve on this guy. your heart almost jumped out of your chest and he has the cockiness to make a remark like that.

"stop fucking with me. you still owe me an explanation."

sicheng says with a simple shrug, "i've told you everything i know."

before you can speak back and challenge him, one of your housemaids yell out your name from the foyer.

you quickly make your way downstairs with sicheng following right behind you.

you spot priscilla kneeling down to pick up a package left right in front of the doors to the house. "what is it, priscilla?" you ask, as she begins to stand up again.

"i'm not sure—but it's addressed to you, miss," she responds, reading the tag tied to the parcel with a thin ribbon.

it's odd enough that a package made its way directly onto your doorsteps since the mail that you and your father receive are usually intercepted and collected at the mail room, or placed into your father's study. it's even more strange that it's directly addressed to you with your name typed and printed out in a sans-serif font.

you hold the box in one hand as your other goes to unravel the ribbon. you pull the knot through, and the box undoes itself. the 4 walls fall down revealing another note with your name on it, this time handwritten in a sparkly, gold paint.

you pick the note up and twirl it around with your fingers. sure enough, there's a message for you on the back. it looks like it was typed out on a traditional typewriter, it reads: "next time, i'll have your pretty head along with it" signed with kisses.

you suck in a sharp breath, a shock dawning on you. you look down at the opened box, under the note was a cushioning of tissue paper along with one earring. it took you a few seconds to study the singular earring, then it hits you: the pearl earring that you lost at the gala. your fingers begin to tremble, and sicheng watches as you're overcome with theories and conclusions.

he snatches the note from your hands, eyes scanning every word hastily and sees the earring in the box. it doesn't take him time to put two and two together.

immediately, he voices, "priscilla, did you see who left this outside?"

"no, uh, i opened the door because there was a knock and as soon as i saw the parcel with miss ln's name on it, i called for her." priscilla is evidently taken aback by the sharpness of sicheng's voice. her gestures are overt as she explains the situation.

sicheng pulls his phone out and his thumbs slide over the bottom part of his screen as he swiftly sends out a message.

he turns to you, "i'll go look over security footage right now. yn, go back up to your room." he motions over at priscilla as if to tell her that you needed to be escorted upstairs.

usually, you wouldn't just blindly listen to what anyone tells you, but your mind is running at 100 miles per hour. you recognise that gold paint, the writing, the flicks and hairline strokes that stylised your name. you've received a note from the same person before. only that last time, it wasn't as explicit a threat as it is this time.

...

you haven't stepped foot out of your room since sicheng told you to go back this morning. your maids have come up with breakfast and lunch earlier, but now it's well past dinner time, and the food outside your door remains untouched. the sky outside is darkening, with some rogue streaks of orange and pink as the sun dips below the horizon.

nonstop, you've been thinking it over and over in your head. putting together what sicheng told you and what you know yourself. someone close enough to you is threatening your life—but why? sure, there's the obvious reason that in a matter of days, you may possibly take over your father's title of mayor, but who would risk so much to send you a petty note? and everyone in your circle has a good enough status; what would they have to gain from this? surely, there's a blind spot that you must be missing.

your train of thoughts are suddenly interrupted by a knock at your door.

"come in!"

sicheng walks in to find you curled up in bed, knees tucked against your chest. he glances backwards briefly before closing the door behind him, "you didn't eat?"

"i'm not hungry."

you notice that he's not wearing his usual attire. a thin t-shirt covers his torso, and his regular slack pants are replaced by loose-fitting joggers. his footsteps are muted as he approaches you. there seems to be a debate in his mind whether or not he should be approaching you as he stops with at least 10 feet of space in between you and him.

"did you need me for something?" you mutter, patience thinning out on the edge of your voice.

you watch as he opens his mouth, but a response fails to be conjured up without a pause. "no, i just wanted to check on you."

you throw your blanket off of your feet and push yourself off the bed. the distance that sicheng left between the two of you disappears as you draw nearer to him.

you're not entirely sure what to do, or what to say. you look up at him and he returns your gaze. a breath hitches within you that you try your best to stifle. a knot forms in your throat and you swallow hard, dropping your eyes from sicheng.

"hey," he murmurs airily, bringing his hand up to your face. sicheng stops just short of cupping your face in his palms. you reach for his hand, taking it into your own, and he takes that as a sign to delicately graze your cheek with the side of his thumb. the lightness of his touch floats over your skin. "you're okay," he reassures you with a whisper.

it's hard to pinpoint what it is that you're feeling. there were books and lessons when you were growing up on how to be well-mannered, how to hone in your etiquettes, but there were never any rulebooks to teach you how to feel. especially, in a situation like this. how do we know if there's a right way to process our complexities?

you lean into sicheng's touch. "what can i do for you right now?" his tone coming off as a genuine offer of comfort, rather than him sounding like he is indebted to you.

finally, you lift your head, eyes running up against sicheng until it lands onto his again. "just stay with me tonight," though you meant it as a statement, bordering on an order, it ekes out of you with an uncertainty.

he nods, mouthing a soft 'okay.'

with his hand in your grip, you lead him to the edge of your bed. you can feel the hesitance in him, but he doesn't outright stop in his tracks. sliding into your covers, you shuffle over to make room for sicheng. admittedly, he didn't think this was what you meant when you asked him to stay with you tonight. he thought that he would just spend another night in the chair next to your bed, like he did before, but no.

you sit up against the headboard.

"you're... comfortable with this?" his voice is softer than dusk.

you nod, and with that, he slowly slides into your bed, a respectable distance between the two of you.

sicheng lays on his back, one hand behind his hand as you shift closer to him. though he tries his best to hide it on his face, the beating of his heart gives him away when you lay a hand over on his chest.

he rolls onto the arm closer to you, now face to face with you on the bed, leaving your hand in front of his chest on the mattress. he looks at you with a lustre in his eyes, the strong arches of his brows soften and his eyelids flutter.

you're close enough that you can hear the rhythm of his breathing and feel the warmth of his body against you. your fingers inch back onto his chest, running over the fabric of his shirt delicately, and onto his jawline. the tips of your index finger skim the contour of his chin, and up along his cheekbone. your eyes follow your fleeting touch against his face when it runs back down to the corner of his lips.

there's a few seconds in between you inching closer and closer to sicheng, and him whispering.

"we can't."

you stop—your breathing stops as well.

though you don't voice it out loud, the look in your eyes expresses every ounce of regret that you feel. your hand stiffens on sicheng's face, your fingers resting on the edge of his jaw.

his gaze flickers in between your eyes and your lips. it stays on your lips for a moment longer.

"i can't kiss you like we're lovers, when we're not."

the last three words slip out from his lips breathier than the rest.

you draw your body even closer to sicheng's, until there's only a sliver of empty space in between you.

"then, don't kiss me."

you plant a soft peck on his bare neck, and he can't bite back the tiny hum he lets slip. your lips stick to the warmth of his skin, a saltiness to it mixed with the clean scent of his cologne. simultaneously, he tucks your hair behind your ear, fingers laid flat on the nape of your neck as he pulls you in closer.

his hand runs down the side of you, finding a spot on your waist which he grips onto tighter. your teeth grazes against a vein in his neck and a groan catches in his throat.

your hips seem to have a mind of their own as they start swaying forwards, colliding with sicheng's thighs. "what are you doing to me?" he mumbles under his breath, so faintly that you nearly couldn't make it out over your own humming against his neck.

sicheng is overtaken by instinct. his hand find its way between your thighs, sliding up and down over the softness of your skin. you can't help the purrs of approval that tumble out of you involuntarily.

his fingers trace soft, soft rings on the inside of your thighs, stopping just an inch below the hem of your shorts. whatever you've started, you needed to have more of it. you pull your lips away from him and wrap your fingers around his wrist that hovered so close to the heat pooling underneath you. if he wasn't going to touch you, you'd rather have him not tease you at all.

sicheng looks at you through half-lidded eyes with a faint tug on his lips, "put my hand where you want it."

you drag his hand an inch upwards, and almost naturally, sicheng finds his fingers slipping under the fabric of your shorts. "fuck," he breathes out. "you're not wearing anything underneath?" you smirk, unable to say anything because if you did, he would know how insane the raspiness in his voice drove you.

the tips of his fingers trace along the folds of your cunt, smearing your wetness all over. your breath escapes you shakily, and he revels at the sight of you. god. he knew you were pretty but you've never looked prettier than when you're squirming under his touch.

he rubs a loose circle around your clit with his middle finger, eyes steadily watching your every expression. your whole body is electrified. you feel as though you've come alive just from his touch. then, he draws another. you sink your teeth down into your bottom lip, trying to keep your breathing at a constant. the hand that you have wrapped around his wrist untightens itself and it runs up sicheng's arm, nails digging themselves into his bicep as his fingers move faster and faster on you.

then, they slow right back down. your eyelids shutter open fully, looking at him watching you with a gentleness.

he eases one finger inside of you, engulfed into your warmth. a gasp falls upon you quickly followed by a moan, which sicheng muffles with his other hand. he shushes, "you can hold it in, can't you?" you nod your head against his hand covering your lips. so badly, you want to just scream out his name, but you can't.

then, he slides another finger inside. the two of them drag up and down your heated walls, coated in a slickness. you struggle to keep from sounding out noises that ultimately gets caught in your throat. you pull his hand down from your mouth, managing a breathy, "fuck, sicheng."

he continues shushing you, balanced out with a subdued, "i know, i know." the length of his fingers carries on diving deeper and deeper into you, his thumb working small loops on your clit. you can't help but grind down against his hand, meeting him halfway with every stroke. your own fingers replaces his thumb, rubbing so relentlessly that it makes you throw your head back.

you begin to feel a tightening in your core. each moan that comes out of you is strained and muffled, your sealed lips pressing together so hard that it starts to become numb. "i'm so close," you try to voice out but a broken string of whimpers fall out instead.

your knees impulsively push themselves together, trapping sicheng's hand in between your thighs. "yeah, like that, baby. just like that," he picks up the pace in which he plunges his fingers in and out of you, "keep it quiet, though, okay?"

at this point, you've lost focus on what he's saying. the only thing on your mind is how good his fingers feel inside of you, and the violent pressure that your own fingers are exerting isn't helping. your arm is starting to ache when you finally begin to feel the release in your core. the knot tied in your stomach falls apart and so do you. your hand stops and grabs onto sicheng's wrist again. each moan that's knocked out of you quickly transitions into you panting for air. all sicheng can do is caress your cheek as you slowly come down and steady yourself again against his embrace.

you lay there next to him as you're catching your breath. sicheng comforts you with words that you can't quite hear. you take his hand up to your face, fully shutting your legs together, and lick the slickness off of his fingers. he watches you with a groan as you take his fingers into the hollows of your cheeks. you pull his hand away slowly, and when your lips close together, he lets go of a deep sigh.

sicheng looks deeply into your eyes, the faintest trace of satisfaction visible on his face. "get some rest now, okay?"

a part of you doesn't want to just stop now, but the other part of you is worn out beyond repair, not just from this. your post-orgasm crash wears over you like a spell putting you to sleep, and you have no will left to fight it. so, before you know it, you drift off to sleep with sicheng's arms wrapped tightly around you and your face pressed up against his chest.

he wasn't supposed to and he wasn't planning to, but sicheng dozed off last night with you cuddled up against him. the only thought running through his head this morning: i fucked up. and that's only taking into account that he literally slept with you next to him.

the chorus of bird chirps sounds aloud from out in the garden. the bright symphonies fill the morning air.

as slowly as he can, he pulls his arm back from underneath you, a tingling feeling spreading from where your head laid upon it. hushedly, he slides his legs off of the edge of the bed, trying not to wake you. he stands up, and his movements are halted by a hum from you.

your eyes peer open, and sicheng is glancing back at you. "morning," he clears his throat, "i didn't want to wake you."

"it's alright," your voice scratches. you push yourself onto your palms and sit up, straightening your back. "um," you stutter out, looking around your bed to avoid any eye contact. there's an unspoken tension between you and sicheng that you can sense right away.

sicheng presses his thumb into the palm of his opposite hand and echoes your filler words.

you want to ask out loud, 'why is it so awkward?' but that will probably do nothing to help ease the atmosphere.

sicheng breaks the silence, "i shouldn't have... came in last night."

your eyes dart towards him, but he's looking down at your sheets. is it bad that you felt a sinking in your chest right as he said that? you didn't think you regretted what happened, but maybe you should given what sicheng's stance on it is.

"i don't..." you trail off, unable to finish the rest of your thought.

"it was my mistake. we don't... have to talk about it."

"is that what it was to you? a mistake?" words take over you before your rational thinking can catch up. if you really slowed down and thought it over, his words probably didn't warrant as much of a reaction, but in the moment, you're hurt and that's all you can focus on.

"no, i mean," sicheng struggles to find the proper words to expand on his point. as he opens his mouth again to speak, he's interrupted by someone else knocking at your door.

the knock is closely followed by a call out of your name, "miss ln!"

it distracts you from the conversation, but sicheng's comment is actively sitting on the back burner of your mind. "yes?" you return.

"your father has arranged some prior engagements for you. your chauffeur is waiting for whenever you're ready."

you can't help but let out your frustration in the form of a quiet 'ugh,' before going back and thanking the messenger, which they then dismiss themselves.

you're not in the mood for whatever errand your father has arranged for you. one, because your body is so physically tired out for some reason that even getting up out of bed will take a substantial amount of effort, and two, sicheng will follow you to whatever activity and there won't be a conclusion to this conversation you're having because there's no way you're willing to discuss this in public.

sicheng speaks up after the footsteps travel away from outside your bedroom door, "i'll leave you to get ready."

"don't-"

but sicheng completely disregards you, and leaves you alone in your room.

...

turns out that the 'errand' your father has planned for you was to pick out a few outfits from the atelier. this past week you've been so preoccupied busying yourself with activities that you haven't fully recognised that your father will officially announce you as his successor in a couple days' time. that means more responsibilities, more problems. you don't know if you're fully prepared for it, but it was never up to you; it never has been.

you posed like a mannequin for the seamstress for a good couple of hours. every blazer and every skirt being tailored to fit you perfectly. sicheng sat in the beige couch in the corner watching patiently as she took in your measurements, held up garment after garment up to you in the mirror, and finally was content with what she had created for you.

by the time you were done, you had a handful of bags in each hand, each containing a new bespoke outfit made just for you.

you're walking out of the studio with your new belongings in your hands, sicheng opening the door for you. the designer bids you an affectionate goodbye and you step out onto the concrete, heading for your ride parked in the middle of the lot.

during the whole of this visit, sicheng hasn't said a word to you. and vice versa. so when he's the first to say something, you try to look at him with an indifference in your expression.

"let me carry the bags," he offers.

"i'm alright, thank you."

you'd be lying if you said you weren't at least a little bit upset with him. although you knew there's nothing to be achieved from petty displays of stubbornness, you wanted him to have a taste of his own medicine: his nonchalance, and frankly apathetic attitude.

he doesn't challenge you, perhaps he knows better than to do exactly that. his footsteps trail behind you as you approach the car. your chauffeur pulls open the door to the backseats for you before returning to the driver's seat. sicheng simply observes as you begin to load in the bags, not wanting to tick you off even more by helping.

he catches a flare in the mirror image of the window panes all the way up on the rooftop of a nearby building. he swivels his head around, looking directly at where the spark was in the reflection. his throat tightens.

"yn, get in the car." the calmness in his voice wasn't something you weren't used to, but as you turn and find him fixated at a spot up on a roof, an alarm starts ringing in your head. "now."

you jump up onto the ledge of the footboard and hop inside with a slight panic. sicheng grabs all the remaining bags and throws it in with you. he hastily slams the back door shut and turns his focus towards that same spot again. you can barely see out of the tinted panes, but you think you hear a distant pop and sicheng's body jerks, curving his spine inwards. he clambers into the front seat, a hint of franticness in his movements. the passenger door shuts with a crash and sicheng flings his head back against the headrest.

"drive. go, now." he tells the chauffeur, clearly in a state of confusion, but he listens to sicheng. his voice is weak and breathy, like he just ran a marathon.

you push your way up to the space in between the front seats. "sicheng... what happened?" apprehension sounding out in your words.

he gives a faint shake of the head, his hand gripping tightly onto the fabric over his shoulder as he swallows a lump in his throat. you mutter a faint, 'oh my god,' under your breath as you go to pull his hand away.

sicheng breathes deeper and deeper. you uncover a small hole in his shirt, the edges splayed out with raw threads hanging off of it.

"sicheng-"

"i'm okay," he exhales. does he know how ridiculous he sounds?

a wave of distress suddenly overtakes you. "you're-"

"don't worry, i'm okay."

half of your mind has gone blank, and the other half is still stuck in 5 minutes ago before whatever happened, happened. words tumble out of you, laced with confusion and unease.

...

as soon as you arrive home, you barge in telling your housemaids to call over your doctor. sicheng has one arm wrapped around the chauffeur as he inches in with his help, his other arm limp by his side.

everything blurs past you.

sicheng is set down on the long leather couch, laying against the arm as he holds his shoulder. someone pushes past you to tend to sicheng's injuries, and all you can do is stand and stare.

...

you sit on the other end of the couch watching as the nurse is wrapping bandage around sicheng's shoulder, his torso completely bare. he grunts as she pulls tighter on the strip looping underneath his arm.

"you're lucky it didn't hit you in the ribs, or it'd be a lot worse."

sicheng mutters a soft, 'i know,' sucking in a steady breath.

the bullet sits in a tray next to the couch, completely clean, the light ricochets off of it and it gleams.

you look back over to sicheng, a deep burgundy already seeping its way underneath his skin. if it weren't for the bulletproof undershirt he was wearing, you'd be looking at admitting him into the ER. still, he's not completely devoid of any injuries.

the nurse said that aside from bruising, he had a fracture to his collarbone. "it should heal on its own anywhere in between 6 to 12 weeks."

you nod, and she gives you a brief smile before she helps fasten the sling around sicheng's neck and begins packing up her kit.

several sets of footsteps approach the doorway to the guest room that sicheng was set down in. you don't look over, eyes fixated on sicheng as he winces at any slight movement that he does affecting his injured collarbone.

the footsteps move in closer and closer to you. sicheng hears them as well and opens his eyes. "sir," he manages gravelly.

you and the nurse simultaneously look up, and there you see your father with his assistant a few steps behind him. he nods towards the nurse.

"the doctor couldn't make it on such short notice, but mr. dong's injuries are mild. i've already informed miss ln of mr. dong's condition," the nurse explains to your father.

"thank you for your help," your father tells the nurse. she picks up the kit that she brought with her and bows her head before leaving the room.

the expression on your father's face is ambiguous to say the least.

sicheng takes your father's silence as an opportunity, "i should've been more careful. i'm sorry..."

your father inhales shakily, "it was too close, yes." he looks over at you sitting on the couch, then back at sicheng, "but yn wasn't injured, and i have you to thank for that."

"it's my duty," sicheng simply responds.

your father gives him a satisfied smile. "take some time to rest, i'll have someone else look over your responsibilities for now."

with that, your father and his assistant leaves you and sicheng alone in the guest room, now allocated for his recovery.

you haven't said a word to him since the car ride back.

you sit on the edge of the couch, palms planted flat on either side of you. "does it hurt?" you look over, and sicheng leans on the sofa back, his injured arm suspended in a black mesh sling. his eyes are closed as he takes in a heavy breath after another.

he opens his eyes up to a squint, glancing over at you. "a bit," you think he's gone insane when you see a slight tug at the corner of his mouth.

you shift over towards sicheng, his unwounded shoulder being closer to you. the bandages the nurse had wrapped him up in doesn't entirely cover up his bruising. a gradient of pink, red, and purple spreads over atop his pecs. your fingers trace over his abdomen, hovering when you draw near his injury. "you scared me," you whisper.

"i know," sicheng says, "i'm sorry."

"why would you do that?"

he looks at you, a dazedness in his eyes, "do what?"

"take a bullet like that." you gulp, feeling the coarseness in your throat.

sicheng expels a weak chuckle. "to be honest, i didn't think i would." you peer at him with a tilt of your head. "i was so focused on you not getting hurt, but now that i think about it..."

he trails off.

"what?" you prompt gently.

"i don't think they were aiming at you."

your eyebrows raise themselves gingerly.

"i mean, they had every opportunity to... shoot you, but they didn't. with the time it took me to even notice them, they could've gotten the job done and vanished."

you realise what sicheng's implying. and you suppose he is right. thinking it over in your head, your reaction wasn't the fastest, given the state of shock and confusion that you were in. so, that means they were gunning for sicheng. but why?

he carries on, "and with where the bullet hit me—it was nowhere even near where you were stood." he shakes his head, "it just doesn't make sense."

"so, why?"

"i mean, i don't-"

"no. why would you ever risk yourself like this? a job like this; it surely isn't the first time you got injured."

sicheng looks at your face, so painstakingly close to his. he runs his good hand through your hair, twirling the ends of a strand in between his fingers. "it's not," he smiles weakly, but falls short of an answer to give to you.

you swallow hard. "you know, you've made it clear to me countless times that you're supposed to keep me safe... but who looks after you?"

"i can manage myself."

"i know—you're more than capable. but..." the words you're speaking has to be dragged out of you, a broken intonation. "that's not the same as looking after yourself."

he drops his gaze from yours, fingers now fidgeting and cracking his knuckles as a means of escape from this conversation.

"you don't let me kiss you, you want to forget whatever we did and dismiss it as a mistake. that's fine, but is that what you want, or is it just your guard?"

he turns his head towards yours, but still avoiding eye contact with you. for a moment, you thought he would say something, but he doesn't.

you sigh.

"just let me take care of you while your shoulder heals, okay? i'm here."

you're about to push yourself off of the couch, you lean back, but sicheng holds onto your hand. he draws you in to the spot you were at before. your faces inches apart from each other.

he whispers, his breath warm against your skin, "kiss me."

your heartbeat drums against your lungs. you slide your fingers up onto his face, pulling him in closer. and gently, you oblige.

his lips fit yours perfectly, as if you were both individually sculpted for each other. you try not to lean onto sicheng given his injury, so the most pressure you put on him is through your hands pulling him closer into you. you press your mouth against the softness of his lips, a tenderness to his movements. he breathes your scent in, and it's like it completely soothes the sharpness in his shoulder. you take him in deeper and deeper. his lips had a hint of peppermint to them, but sweeter. he let you utterly devour him against your own lips, fuelling a desire you didn't know you had in you. god, you didn't want to pull away, but your stupid, stupid lungs had to regather some air within them. and you part from him with a gentle smack.

sicheng's eyelids flutter open, like you'd just woken him from a dream. "if your father ever finds out-"

you shush him with a finger up to his mouth. and you attach your lips onto his again.

you're deep into your sleep when you hear alerts coming in nonstop on your phone. you stayed in sicheng's room with him; he's asleep on the bed and you've decided to give him more room by taking the couch. you open your eyes groggily, the sky outside doesn't make it clear to you what time it is. reaching out onto the coffee table, your phone doesn't stop buzzing in your hand.

the brightness of the screen causes you to squint. messages roll in, from dejun. without reading the notifications first, you click onto the grey bubbles. a litter of text threads open up on your phone. ones reading, "are you okay?" and "i heard what happened," and of the like.

stiffly, you go to type in a response. you tell dejun that you're fine, briefly glossing over the situation.

...

the second time you wake up this morning is when you hear sicheng talking to someone just outside of his room, the conversation muffled. he shuffles back in and you're more or less glaring at him, unintentionally.

"who was that?" you strain.

"um," he lightly massages the back of his neck. "they... found the shooter. and he talked."

that instantly catches your attention. you sit up straight, and signal to sicheng to take a seat next to you on the couch.

he slowly paces himself over, his back kept upright the entire time as he sits down next to you.

"the shooter is no one special, but," he begins, an almost sheepish look on him, "he told us who sent him. and we think that it's the same person who sent you that note, with your earring."

"who?" you jump in, impatient for him to tell you.

sicheng looks into your eyes for a split second. the sky outside is still dark. half of your face is lit by the orange ember that glows out from the fireplace.

"who?" you repeated, this time a little bit louder.

"i don't know how close you are to her. rin? full name, rina lee. her dad... owed some debts to your father."

your brows furrow. rin? you've only met her once, and that was at mrs. xiao's gala. what would prompt her to threaten you to such an extreme?

"i'm sorry, it must be-"

"no- what else do you know?"

sicheng sucks in a quick breath. "well, it's rumoured that her father, mr. lee, took a loan from your father. it was never paid back... and let's say your father didn't like that."

you didn't know what to make of your emotions—what to make of yourself. did you deserve this?

subconsciously, you start shaking your head lightly. you were in denial, but of what, you didn't know.

"i'm sorry," is all sicheng can say to provide you with some semblance of solace.

"i just..." you breathe out a heavy breath, "i can't believe it."

"i know, but it'll be over, soon. you'll take on your father's role tomorrow, isn't that something to look forward to?" sicheng tries his best to divert your focus away from the news.

you scoff. and then a sigh.

"i guess."

sicheng runs a hand over your head, smoothing over your hair, "let's go back to sleep, it's still early."

the whole of yesterday you spent getting ready, signing agreements, and attending meeting after meeting with your father. you'd spent the night before tossing and turning, unsure of if you'd be happy with this route that you're headed in.

last night, you were doing the same. tossing, turning, thinking. you never really had a choice, and it's weird how you feel apathetic towards that.

you've always lived comfortably and maybe you're just not ready for that to change yet, that's what you thought to yourself.

you woke up this morning, still a bit shaken up, mind still fuzzied from how your life has spiralled seemingly out of your control over the last week.

and now you're standing behind the drawn back curtain to the balcony, where your father's speech is being broadcasted live.

"serving as mayor to this beautiful district has been one of my greatest prides. but i'm afraid people grow old, and i am experiencing that for myself first hand."

your father's voice wavers, and it stings your cheeks a little.

"nonetheless, i know there has been rumours going around surrounding my retirement. i would like to keep this concise. today, i am officially stepping down as the mayor of district V, and appointing my daughter to serve the rest of my term." he turns towards you, hand stretching out in your direction, and you step out onto the landing.

your father steps aside to grant you some space on the podium. you take a deep breath in, before crouching down slightly to speak into the microphone.

"it is my honour to be appointed the role of mayor for a district as notable and celebrated as district V." you recite the script that your father's assistant had written for you, the syllables drilled into your brain throughout all the practices yesterday.

you remember the words that the assistant had said to you, 'this district's citizens don't care much for politics. they just want to know if they can continue living in their merry way as they did before.'

"i will see to it that this transition is as seamless as possible, and i will do my best to humbly serve each and every citizen to the best of my ability. thank you."

you back away from the podium and disappear off where it is visible on the landing. your father continues on delivering the rest of his spiel.

it's been less than a minute since you've officially accepted your new position, but you can already feel a tightening around your chest. you plop down on a chair all the way on the opposite end of the balcony, thinking it over again. is this what you want?

that's when you catch sicheng peering into the room from the hallway.

"what are you doing here? you should be resting," you jump up onto your feet.

"i didn't get to see you yesterday, so i thought i should at least congratulate you today."

you sigh, and plaster a grin onto your face, "thank you."

sicheng takes one step closer to you. "so, miss mayor, i suppose i'm no longer at your service?"

slowly, you can feel a genuine smile twinging at your lips, "you wish." you swiftly glance over at where your father is, back still facing you. you steal a quick peck from sicheng. he looks at you with his eyes wild.

"what?" you tease.

even though you're not sure the path given to you is what you want, you know that as long as sicheng is by your side, you'll manage to find joy in the little moments. the stolen kisses. and the fleeting glances.

and it's not for ever, anyway. just until this term ends.

"you are now under me," you whisper with a smirk.

humming, he raises his eyebrows with interest. "so, what's the first order of business?"

you roll your eyes. "focus on healing your shoulder up, and then we'll talk."

he leans in closer to your face, a cheeky spark in his eyes. "yes, ma'am."

© misted-dream 2024

You hate to be thrown out. You really do, your current boyfriend, well who was your current boyfriend broke up with you.

You’re simply not over him, you don’t understand why he broke up with you either, it’s not like he explained himself he just stated over a phone call “Let’s break up” and expected you to smoothly go with it. But no you tried your best to get an answer out of his mouth but all you got was a ring tone hanging up on you.

You thought things were going well in your relationship with Yohan but that all came crashing down on you. You’re determined to get him back however you don’t believe he can just break up with you — I mean things were going so well for you both.

Without thinking you ring up another caller. The caller ID that you told yourself you wouldn’t ever call again but you don’t look like you have a choice with what plan you’re going to make and do to get your ex boyfriend Yohan’s attention; what better way to grab his eye sight when going back to your another ex…

Kim Doyoung and you dated for a while, probably the longest time you both ever kept a relationship. Problem between you was that Doyoung was too perfect; quite literally. He was the perfect ideal man that you couldn’t keep up with him. You felt strain in that relationship and therefore you left him. It took a while for the man to accept this but few months go back and those months turn into a year, he seems to be doing better now.

You and Doyoung kept contact all these time despite no longer being together too. If anything he’s the one who knows all your gossip and problems in life and gives you advice.

What you don’t know is Doyoung always waits for you. He always wants to believe you’ll come back to him once again.

“Hello Kim Doyoung speaking?”

The deep voice caught you off guard. It’s been a while since you heard his morning voice and your ears found a strange comforting nostalgia of it.

You trail. “Doyoung Hey I need your help.” You we’re sounding half sniffing mess and half trying not to sob breaking down. It would be embarrassing to know that you’ve got broken up with now.

Heck, you expect Doyoung to say ‘That’s karma for you bitch.’ But instead you heard something more shocking.

“Why are you crying, hey what happened?”

‘Why are you so kind and asking me.’ You thought in disbelief but you bury your thoughts away for a large minute as you clear your throat on the call keeping it close to your ears. “I’m fine I just need your help Doyoung.” You we’re desperate.

Desperate for something to feel again. You want to make Yohan come crawling back and beg you to take him and what not.

You won’t stop till you get that.

Doyoung didn’t quite understand what you need him for but he would never abandon you when you’re crying this hard, he doesn’t like seeing you upset. If anything he always hated it. Doyoung wasn’t sure why you’re crying either, because usually you’re pretty good with your emotions.

You don’t cry unless you’re very very sad. Doyoung never misses when he could tell your emotions by the sound of your voice.

And right now you sound broken and beaten down. “Okay tell me then. I’ll do whatever I can to help you.” And you wanted to hear this so badly. You shift on your bed sheets rubbing your eyes with a sigh.

“Yohan broke up with me.” Doyoung heard you say as his eyebrows rose up in surprise. He thought you might of found the one in that man that you had. Not because he was perfect for you, but because you tolerated his ass for more than a month.

You ended up dating that asshole for about six months.

He tried to sound sad for you, but you could definitely tell a bit of happiness in them. But he most certainly wasn’t happy you’re crying your eyes off for a man who hurt you.

Just when he thought you were here to complain and vent about what happened between your relationship with Yohan he felt like a fever dream has kicked in.

“And I really need your help in getting him back.”

‘My help?’ Doyoung exclaims. How can he possibly help you get back with a man that is an asshole? And he couldn’t for once understand what’s going inside your head, you shock him more you speak.

“Yes your help Doyoung, become my rent a boyfriend.”

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You see you weren’t expecting your ex especially to agree to become your rented boyfriend until you make your recent another ex come back to you. It’s a very strange situation thing, most people wouldn’t even let you speak if you were their ex.

But then again you and Doyoung are a strange couple.

Many people saw you and Doyoung as the ideal relationship when you went to university together last year. They claimed you to be long lasting and honestly it would’ve been if you stayed. But you found it to be straining and you wanted to experience more things.

Doyoung wanted commitment and you couldn’t give him that when you’re young wanting to date more people.

But he never once judged you. He understands you want to live a little more. Unlike Doyoung who’s slightly older but not that much. He’s a 96’ liner meanwhile you’re a 98’ liner.

You both decided to meet up and make yourself coming out with Doyoung which would shock anyone. You both were invited to a class reunion from your university campus and it was today so what perfect timing right?

Yohan was in your class together which makes it perfect at the same time because he did say he would come before he broke up with you.

You’re now at the party area wearing your black slim dress hugging your perfect curves as in your one free hand was a champagne drink and the other held a purse. Your hair was in a beat up bun but your side bangs were neatly curled on the side resting above your eyebrows.

You were a star of the attraction definitely, because when Doyoung arrived he was in a formal gathering suit and tie. It was a formal attire so everyone was told to dress up. But you certainly took it to another level. He couldn’t get his eyes off you and neither did anyone else you were attracting everything without a pause.

A hand slid like a grenade around your hips pulling you towards the silhouette and your eyes rose up against a familiar face you haven’t been close like this for a while.

It felt familiar yet it leaves unfamiliar feelings to pop up inside your stomach once more.

“Oh Doyoung.” You retort.

Doyoung stares at you. “We were meant to go in together Y’know— you told me to make it look real.” He was assuming you’d want to walk in together but you forgetting your own plan you walked in without him.

You look away. He was right you have to make it look real to make people believe you. He plops his hands in front of you and your eyes watch it knowing exactly what he wanted.

He wanted you to hold hands.

Your fingers reach his own skin folding your hands together and you both walk together to the round table where the rest of your classmates from last year semester were. Everyone graduated now and they’re probably working their lives away.

Who knows but you were interested in what people got up to ever since graduation.

“You look beautiful by the way.” Doyoung said gently whispering and you look back at him smiling. “You don’t look so bad yourself Kim Doyoung.”

He smirks. “I never look bad and you know it.”

It’s the honest truth Doyoung has amazing fashion dress sense and it always left you drooling. You might be trying not to drool at him now but your mind was set on someone else.

The minute your eyes met Yohan’s he was speaking to another girl that was in your class last year. Kim Jisoo. Your eyebrows furrow squeezing Doyoung’s hand unintentionally you felt jealousy rise in the pit of your stomach and he looks at you.

His side eyes was tugging on your hand back and he clears his head before tugging again. “Y/n you might blow a bullet in them if you keep staring at them like that.” You weren’t aware you were staring them down so harshly until he pulls you back to reality and you murmur. “He brought Jisoo as his plus one.”

Doyoung rolls his eyes at your sadden tone to your face and voice he really doesn’t understand what you saw in Yohan. What he saw was a bunch of negative things and he even tried to be unbiased he still saw nothing but rotten apples in him.

He was everything Doyoung wasn’t. The bad version of him if anything.

Sometimes Doyoung wonders if you got with a bad guy because you were grieving how good your relationship with him was but why would you put yourself through such an asshole? Only God knows an answer to that he’s afraid.

“Look he’s already staring at you because you’re holding my hand so just — do the things you did when we were together.”

When we were together. You couldn’t help but nod following the idea of Doyoung and you acting like when you were actually together.

It wasn’t a bad shoutout but you couldn’t help but feel instantly shy when Doyoung pulled you towards the crowd and now everyone was watching you and him walking in with your hands holdings

The first one to shout out your names was Kim Jungwoo: a close friend of yours as well as Doyoungs. He was also your age so you found it quite easy to bond with someone like Jungwoo when you were put in that class in the semester.

“Doyoung! Y/n! Whoa I didn’t expect you guys to come together.” Jungwoo was left shaking in the boots wondering what’s been happening with you two.

When you broke up with Doyoung everyone found out but nonetheless it was easier to believe you’re back together because of how perfect you were made for one another.

Jungwoo wiggles his eyebrows. “So what’s this huh? Back together already?”

Doyoung glares pushing Jungwoo aside. “Stop being so nosey Jungwoo, what about your plus one?” He started and Jungwoo whistles.

“Judging by your reaction I think I’m right.” He smirks knowing his friend was irritated because it’s true. “Oh my plus one? I brought Giselle.”

You eye Jungwoo momentarily before grinning. “Giselle? Isn’t she like a freshmen at our university?”

He nods. “She’s dating my step brother Shotaro and she really wanted to come with me.” He sighs. “If I didn’t she would’ve made Shotaro ask me to take her.”

You laugh a little. It was a cute scenario to imagine on the other hand Giselle was freaking beautiful you couldn’t help but jerk your face and wow everytime you saw her outfit.

Doyoung could see your eyes sparkle and widen everytime you saw a pretty women around and he found it honestly, a really good reaction. He loved seeing you hype other people around you.

You never once were jealous of someone and he found that a good quality considering you never lacked trust in Doyoung. He never gave you a reason to lack trust too.

“Whoa is that Doyoung and Y/n together?” Someone on the side blurts out and your gaze saw a hundred faces watching you.

You link your arms further with Doyoung smiling. “Heya long time no see huh?”

Taeyong laughs out coming towards Doyoung’s side. “It really was. So what’s this occasion huh? You guys came together and have your hands holding.”

“We’re together.” You smile through saying.

As you could tell everyone was curious of your status with Doyoung now. Johnny on the other hand brings a toast on the table catching everyone’s attention on to him to raise their glasses up too.

You raise your champagne glass and Doyoung grabs a whiskey in a glass up to your arm length.

“To the ideal couple getting back together, Kim Doyoung and Y/n. I always knew you guys would find each other once again.”

Everyone toasts drinking from their glasses but what you saw was only Yohan’s eyes burning through you and Doyoung especially;

You can finally tell that this was getting to him. And it’s only the start of the long young night.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The people sat down at the table dining together. Jungwoo and Giselle were sat together bickering at what they should get to eat because he certainly wasn’t buying multiple different dishes at once. Meanwhile Doyoung and Taeyong were at it again: the real Tom and Jerry.

You couldn’t help but find yourself speaking with Johnny on the side smiling ear to ear only pissed more Yohan off despite him coming with Jisoo.

Johnny exclaims. “So what how did you guys get back together?”

You chuckle. “We just sat down and talked our feelings out. Y’know how it goes.”

The older man whoas. “As expected from the campus ideal couple. You don’t need any fancy confessions. You only needed a long talk.”

Doyoung rolls his eyes. “Taeyong I didn’t come here to argue about this once again. I will not be modelling with you.”

The older man stood up suddenly doing a pose (the cursed doyoung pose) making Johnny and you burst out laughing from the sudden realisation a travel back down the memory lane.

When Taeyong and Doyoung did modelling together he asked the boy to come with him on the side and when he did the first pose was this. A very unique looking pose that’s been haunting him forever and to this day still does.

He learned to expect him through nervous and embarrassing tears and laughter.

But Taeyong always has to get him back and as long as you found it hilarious he didn’t mean it.

“You know this is going down history babe.” You seethe with a smile and Doyoung turns to you going slightly red.

Whenever you’re both natural like this you always call him Babe or Love maybe even Darling. But you weren’t think at the time which caught you and him surprisingly off.

But Doyoung smiles holding your hand underneath the table caressing it with his thumb. You found it somehow very comforting to know he was okay with it even though it was a natural slip up.

It truly felt like you were back together for a hot minute.

“It’s nice to see the old couple come back. I knew you guys wouldn’t break up so easily.” Jungwoo said with a proud smile.

If only it were true, Doyoung would think. He would love to have you back in his life.

Maybe he agreed too easily for this knowing damn well he wants to be with you again so all it took for him to agree was to fake date you until your recent ex you’re so mad that dumped you shows the lightest of attention to you.

“Doyoung’s an amazing guy. It would be a shame to lose him because he’s always been there for me. He never once took it against me. He was just there whenever I needed someone to help me.”

The most sincere he’s ever seen you speak about him, it would make him think that you’re cherishing him so much behind close doors and sometimes you cry wondering what would you be without Doyoung? But other times you’re just blessed to have him and grateful for his existence.

He never once left you alone and he knew you wouldn’t want to be left alone either. Doyoung was just as much good for you than anything.

He leans closer stroking your hair away from your face smiling down at you. He whispers into your ears when the other people were busy eating and chatting away since the food came.

“I think that’s the most genuine thing you’ve said to me.” He would quietly say to you and you smile resting your head against his forehead for a moment closing your eyes.

This was always your thing. You resting your head on his own whenever you spoke about something real and raw from your own thoughts.

Doyoung missed you being this way with him, just honestly truthful and speaking with him. He always remembers your smile and it never once erased from his head. It was engraved in to his thoughts.

“I’m going to use the toilet alright?” You whisper standing up and leaving the table. Doyoung nods letting you go as he would focus on drinking and now eating.

Taeyong was going to bother him any minute he knew it would be the second you left.

As you’ve left you come out of the toilet when you’re done using it drying the hands into the pieces of paper to get rid of the water after washing your hands. You walk to the bin in the hallway and then you meet a figure standing there waiting for you.

You turn around raising an eyebrow. “What are you doing here?”

Yohan stares you down. “We need to talk.”

‘Oh yeah we definitely do.’ You thought clenching your jaw.

“You and Doyoung are back together so quickly?” He trails crossing his arms together wondering where and why you got so quickly back to another ex that he’s always been questioning if anything was happening behind you and him when you were together.

But he never once believed you and always wanted to sabotage your relationship with Doyoung and you.

Even if he found no evidence. You weren’t cheating on him ever.

Doyoung was the reason you managed to stay with him anyways. He gave you such good advice whenever Yohan made an argument or a problem.

You reply back bluntly. “You have a problem with that?” Yohan stares at you as if it wasn’t an obvious problem.

“Yes Y/n what the fuck? How can you get back with him right after we broke up.”

You roll your eyes. “No we didn’t break up, YOU broke up with me. Furthermore you didn’t give me a reasoning so if you won’t give me a reason I’ll just make one up.”

He stands there going quiet. You can’t believe his utter silence now as you shot back at him and you walk away to return back to the table but he grabs your wrist pulling you back and stopping you from leaving him.

“I’m sorry I broke up with you. I just found you boring but I don’t know what I was thinking.” He said making you watch him. “Let’s get back together.”

Your eyebrows scrunch up. “You broke up with me because I was… boring?” You repeated in confusion. What kind of breakup excuse is that?

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You reclaim pushing him off your wrist taking it back to your chest. “Nahuh, Nahuh. I don’t need you anymore.”

Sure your plan worked but now you are realising how stupid this whole plan was and the fact he found you boring enough to throw you out? You weren’t sure how that makes sense but now you’re realising the true colours of your ex.

He wasn’t the one. He definitely wasn’t the one.

Yohan shouts your name as you left but you didn’t turn back this time you were the one doing the walking away and when you returned to the table Doyoung was the first one to ask you what was wrong when he saw your indifferent expression.

Doyoung whispers. “Y/n what’s wrong?”

You shake your head grabbing your dress edge on the thighs tightly. “Nothing i’m an idiot that’s all.”

He puts down his fork and knife grabbing your hands and standing up suddenly causing the table to look where you both are going.

“Y/n isn’t feeling well so we are leaving. It was nice to catch up and all but I’m sure you understand right?”

Doyoung always knew how to get away when it comes to you. You were his first priority and still are even if this was just a whole fake situation he would never put you through a place and time where you can’t handle being.

Taeyong nods seeing everyone come to a mutual understanding. “Yeah of course take her away. It was nice seeing you and Y/n!”

Johnny smiles. “Let’s meet up for drinks later on alright?”

You nod at Johnny smiling a little but even so you couldn’t help and not firm a genuine smile because all you could say was that you’re feeling like absolute shit and insecure now, Yohan really made you feel like you were a recycled bottle easy to throw away and disused of instantly.

‘Am I really that easy to replace?’

You were tucked into the car passenger seat putting on the seatbelt as Doyoung sits in the driver seat starting the car engine letting it roar a while before fully driving off.

You look out the window trailing softly, letting your mind overtake your consciousness.

“He was bored.” You state out like a lifeless child.

At first the man driving the car couldn’t understand what you meant by ‘he was bored’ because it wasn’t a freaking excuse to break up. Doyoung driving clenches the stirring wheel as he drove but kept the eyes on the road.

He firmly tells you in a deep voice enough to think he was going to lose his shit when you told him the reasoning. “Y/n move on from that piece of shit already. He didn’t even give you one bit if happiness.”

He was right but somehow his words stuck to you more than they should’ve.

“I know. I’m aware of the stuff he put me through but seriously.” You pause feeling your eyes begin to sting out as you felt water in them rise like sea levels. “He really said it like I’m something that can get replaced.”

He scoffs. “Well you’re not okay? Y/n you are the hardest thing to replace and forget.” He slings out one of his hands onto your thighs squeezing them but this time you felt your face look at him with a slight blush on your cheeks.

“Look at me for an example.” He slowly says feeling himself loose a bit of his logical mind screaming at him not to confess but he couldn’t help but shoot the opportunity to let you know the truth of how much he’s still in love with you. “I’m still here missing you when we were together. I still have a lingering hope in me even if you want us to be friends, I’m happy with any status as long as I’m there in your life. But I can’t replace you no matter what people I date.”

“So that asshole yeah? He won’t be replacing you anytime soon trust me.” Doyoung said nodding at the road as he kept them on driving with one hand on the wheel while the other was squeezing your thighs comfortingly.

You found comfort in his honesty the most and you smile finding yourself having butterflies in your stomach.

This feeling… this feeling you’ve felt before.

“Please don’t waste your tears on a scum like that.” Doyoung would slowly tell you as he could see a little of your eyes watering before he refocused his eyes on the road once again.

You muffle. “I won’t.”

“Promise me?” Doyoung asked you and you reply back “I promise you.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You sat down curled up on the bed as Doyoung walks in bringing you a glass of water on your nightstand. He sat on the edge of your bed looking around the room.

“This room hasn’t changed at all.” He beams somehow finding this good because this room held many memories with you together with him.

You roll on your bed sighing. “I can’t bring myself to change it. It has too many…”

“Memories?” He finished your sentence and you give him a nod exactly what it was. “Memories with you.”

You’re laying there in the comforting silence as you remember laughing a little pointing at the wall that has a painted bunny on it drawn. When you got this place for the first time it was your first owned property and you wanted to decorate this room and for a while Doyoung helped you.

But you came to the terms that you wanted an animal drawn and Doyoung suggested a bunny because your contact name back then was the bunny emoji on your phone — actually it’s still the same contact name. You’ve never changed his name in your contacts.

“I still have the bunny you wanted on the wall. Remember how we drew it together?”

Doyoung turns around the minute he saw it he softly smiled finding it alarming how he was remembering so many moments in the space of a minute. When you painted this with him you and Doyoung came out with dirty clothes because you both decided to be mischievous and get the one covered in full paint.

It was a white bunny with a pink nose and folded bunny ears up. It was a beautiful drawing honestly, you can draw. Doyoung made sure to colour it for you but you’ve done the sketching mostly.

He helped you decorate this house entirely. He helped you move into this house entirely. Heck he even second lived here with you because whenever he would stay over he left a bunch of homebody clothes to wear if he ever does.

And you think it’s still in that singular drawer still. You haven’t taken it out and you sometimes wear the shirts and sweatpants.

You found it comforting because it’s oversized on you. It’s very comfortable and nice to sleep in it. Plus when you broke up you found comfort in them because it sort of made you feel like he was still there.

“You know, I like that you didn’t change this room.” He said honestly looking back at you.

You smile. “Me too. It’s iconic at this point. Oh and…” you pause seeing him still wear the formal clothing attire and you point at his clothing.

He looks down as you motion. “I have your clothes still here you want them? You can stay over if you want honestly.”

Doyoung’s face forms a smile as you get off your bed walking to the drawer and getting out a pair of shirt and pants for him throwing it where Doyoung catches it in the air he stands up humming.

“Didn’t think you’d have kept my clothes still.”

You shrug a little smirking. “They’re comfortable. I sometimes wear them still.”

‘You can’t move on either it seems.’ Doyoung thought before walking to the bathroom to get changed and meanwhile you would go into the cupboard getting out a sudden memory boom that fell on the floor. You raise your eyebrows as you lift it up.

It was a memory book from the university and some pictures were when you were a baby. You sit back on the bed flipping through them.

You were a cute child you had to admit looking back you were a fashionista to the highest grounds. Doyoung comes back from the bathroom walking inside your bedroom again and he folds his clothes neatly somewhere.

He eyes down the memory boom. “Is that the memory book we made together?” He beams sitting back down and you smile.

“I forgot I had this.” You flip the page to when you and Doyoung started your relationship. It was a picture of you and him at a beach.

Then a picture of you and him on your first Christmas Day. Another one would be on holiday in Italy. You spent so many days with him doing absolute anything to enjoy together.

He softly brushed on the picture of you and him on the Christmas Day sitting on the couch, him kissing your cheek in the picture. His eyes softens and you felt him becoming slightly nostalgic and emotional. It was a rare sight to see him become soft when going back down the memory lane with you.

You bite your bottom cheek as your fingers brush over his hands caressing the picture in the memory book.

He looks at you as you made contact with him. “You know…I’m still being rented by you.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the sudden change in his voice becoming slightly playful at the same time he was being cautious because he wouldn’t know how you’re going to react but to his surprise you softly laugh leaning closer giving him a soft peck on the lips.

“I don’t want this to become a single thing.” You admit leaning closer. “I’ve come to a realisation that I only needed you…”

Doyoung’s eyes risen up from the dead. They lit up so much brighter than they were before when he was normally watching you. “Really?…”

You give him a reassuring nod. “So… how about we make this rent a boyfriend a real thing once again. But this time I’ll be serious about you.”

“God I waited so long to hear this from you.” Doyoung gasps going in for a long passionate kiss with you and you entitled yourself to return it missing the longing lips on yours so bad.

You weren’t even sure of it because you were deprived of him, of Doyoung.

“It used to be “I miss her” for the longest time, but now she misses me.” Doyoung thought all along it was you at the end who was coming to terms of how much you need him back in your life.

And that maybe it’s real. That the world was putting you back together and you always found each other to be each other’s safe zones.

You found each other finally.

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when he pulled the contraption out of his bottom drawer, you were certain it was some kind of spray or disinfectant. it’s a cylindrical tube separated into two halves. liquid sloshes around inside of it. there’s a tube that protrudes from the top of it, which you’ve come to gather is where your mouth is supposed to go. the funnel, at the top, is attached to a long straw that reaches down to the bottom of the cylinder. 

you told him you wanted to try getting high with him. you didn’t think it’d have this many steps.

“can’t i just start with an edible?” you ask. he laughs, mirthfully.

“edibles’ll fuck you up, babe,” he responds, sitting up from his spot. “a bubbler’ll hit faster and better than a joint or a gummy.”

you simply nod. he grabs a lighter from his bedside.

“you’re gonna put the tube thing in your mouth, and the second the leaves start smokin’ i want you to take a long pull. i’ll pull the funnel out for ya,” he explains. his knowledge of this kind of stuff that you’d long considered taboo has always been a bit of a turn on.

“mkay,” is all you respond with. he holds the bubbler up, and you carefully wrap your lips around the tip of the pipe. you swear donghyuck mutters a curse to himself at the sight of you.

he flicks at the lighter a few times before it sets aflame, and he lowers it onto the funnel. “alright, start pulling,” he instructs, and you do, until the liquid starts erupting in bubbles. smoke and the scent of weed fills your senses. once the leaves are burnt to ash, he tugs at the funnel and tells you, “breathe it in, baby.”

you do, keeping your mouth shut and inhaling through your nose. once you can’t inhale much more, you huff out the remainder of the smoke from your lungs.

“not a cougher,” he remarks, starting to pack weed into the funnel again. he brings the bubbler to his lips now, and he does the exact same thing you’d just done, except in a much more expert manner. he coughs a bit as the smoke escapes him. “not what i expected.”

he lays down next to you. “how you feelin’?” he asks, noticing your silence.

“you’re hot,” you say dreamily. fuck, he wasn’t wrong about it hitting. 

he laughs. “so are you. you’re so fucking cute and innocent sometimes. it almost makes me feel bad.”

“for what?” you ask, furthering his point when you gaze up at him with expectant, glinting eyes, which will no doubt begin to fatten up as the weed slinks into your system.

“for thinkin’ about all of the bad things i would do to you if you’d let me.”

you bat your eyelashes at him, slowly. the words don’t process quickly enough in your head, leading him to laugh softly again.

“’s nothing. don’t worry about it.” he follows after seeing a dumbfounded look on your face. do you really not get the memo? 

“hm?” you hum. he turns to look at you. he raises his eyebrows, waiting for you to continue. “what did you mean?”

“by what?” he says, in practically a whisper. is he greening out, or did your eyes glance over to his lips as used his tongue to wet them?

you take a few deep breaths, letting your staggering thoughts piece together into one coherent sentence. “by… by the bad things. you said that, right? that — that there were bad things you wanna do to me?”

donghyuck feels cornered. he didn’t mean to let the words slip. but as he tries to listen for any fear or disgust in your voice, he finds there is none. only curiosity. 

he tries to reply as best he can. “maybe.”

“what do you mean, ‘maybe’?” you laugh, rolling over onto your stomach, inching closer towards him.

you’re looking him dead in the eyes now, finding that his are growing redder and heavier by the minute. so are yours, you feel it—your head is vibrating at a different frequency from your body, and each beat echoes against your flesh like a distant, constant drum.

donghyuck only hopes that your eyes stay on his, and that they don’t travel further down his waist to spot the hard-on growing in his sweatpants. 

“i mean,” he starts. but he can’t bring himself to continue. “it’s too hard to explain.”

“well,” you say. you walk your index and middle fingers against the small expanse of the mattress between your body and his, up to his arm. “if you can’t say it,” you lean against your free arm, squishing your face against his bed. your index finger runs a line over the length of his nose, tracing the soft curve. he goes cross-eyed trying to follow your movements. “can’t you just show me?”

his eyes snap to yours when you finally finish your sentence. it makes you giggle, for reasons unbeknownst to you. 

lithe fingers wrap tightly around your wrist, holding your hand away from his face. he’s got a slight smile tugging at his lips, at how freely you’re letting him hold you, pull you around. 

holy shit, the two of you are high out of your minds. 

“you really want me to show you?” he asks, raising his eyebrows in question. you try to tug your hand out of his grasp, but even intoxicated is he leagues stronger than you could likely ever be. 

made shy by his tone, you try to hide your face in your arm. you still nod, though. why wouldn’t you?

dragging your wrist away from his face, he brings it down, lazily dragging it across his firm abdomen. using his hand, he flattens yours atop the bulge in his pants. you gasp, slowly. he smiles when you rub your thighs together unconsciously. 

“there,” he says, hissing through his teeth as he moves your hand to palm over him. “you get it now, baby?”

“uh-huh,” you mumble, sighing along with him, simply at the feeling of his size under your palm.

“y’know,” he says, softly, watching your expression. your eyes are nearly turning black. “sex feels, like, a million times better when you’re high?” 

“really?” you respond, innocently, eagerly. he fights back a whine. 

“really,” he repeats, running a hand through his hair. “d’you wanna give it a try w’me?” 

he props himself up against his headboard, and you mirror his movements, kneeling up to sit on your ankles. he rids himself of his shirt. you nod. 

“lie down, then,” he tells you.

“but you—“ you start, but he presses at your shoulder gently to get you laying on your back. 

“we’ll take care of me in a sec’, baby” he says, not skipping a beat as he unbuttons your denim shorts that he’d been waiting, rather impatiently, to get off you. 

your mind lags by half a minute, barely noticing how he tugs your shorts off of you, yet you still lift your hips for him. 

you don’t know where to look, your view foggy and manipulated by the drug in your system. your eyes finally settle on something, and it’s a few seconds later that you realize it’s donghyuck and his messy head of hair spreading your legs apart. 

“wanna feel good,” is all you can say, ending the sentence with a soft giggle. he laughs, too, but you can’t remember why. 

“‘m gonna make you feel good, pretty girl,” he says, caressing the fat on the inside of your thighs gently. 

he props one leg up against his shoulder, kissing at the skin of your knees. as he does so, his free hand travels from your navel down to your core. he slides an experimental thumb across your slit. he finds your clit as quickly as he can manage, rubbing his thumb in slow, pressurized circles. 

the action, as gentle as it is, causes you to arch your back, as waves of pleasure echo from your core up to the tips of your warm fingers, down to your toes. 

he continues with his ministrations for a few more seconds, before using his palms to spread your legs as wide as he can. 

he frees one hand to tug his dick out of his sweatpants. he’s too lazy to get them off of him — and with the way you seem to be nearly begging for him, he doesn’t see the use of making you wait any longer, anyway. 

he spits, letting a wad of spit fall onto his tip, tugging at his dick for a few seconds. 

watching him, you decide to follow similarly, sucking two fingers into your mouth and letting your spit coat them, before lowering them to stretch yourself out as best you can. well, at least, before he takes your hands and pushes them away from you. 

he prods at your entrance for a few seconds, the only sounds heard in the room being your soft whines and his deep sighs. 

he’s right, when he says it feels better high. you realize it when you feel him slowly push into you, his thick length stretching your walls as they do every time—except this time, each stretch, each movement, sends ripples of heat throughout your body as if the motion were happening a million times over, repeatedly, infinitely, within milliseconds of each other.

by the time he bottoms out, there are stars in your eyes. there’s a wanton tingle at the tips of your fingers, gripping at the sheets to find a release. you’re already gasping for air, and he hasn’t even started moving yet.

speaking of which. 

“move,” you whine, slapping your palm against the mattress for good measure. “please?”

he looks down at you, chest heaving, eyes tightly shut. “gimme a second,” he pants. “if i go now, i might fucking cum.”

the two of you laugh. he presses another soft kiss against the skin of your knee. “a second, baby. i needa collect myself a bit.”

you nod. “mkay.”

as he gathers himself, he leans down, stretching your leg against your chest (which makes you whine again, no doubt. he does it because it makes you laugh), and presses your face in kisses. ever so slightly, he’ll move, or twitch inside you, and the movement makes you gasp. when you do, you make direct eye contact with him and he gasps with you, as though humoring you. it’s sweet. weirdly enough, a part of him wants to stay in the moment forever. 

“okay,” he says, when he pulls away. “good?”

“mhm,” you hum, taking in a deep breath as he begins thrusting shallowly.

he then pulls out, practically to the tip, and thrusts in at a tantalizingly slow pace, letting you feel every ridge and vein as it passes through your gummy walls. he wants to make sure you feel every bit, he wants to make sure that you feel it so well that you remember it once you’re both sober. 

he does it again a few times, before his face twitches and he realizes he has a release to chase, too. 

keeping one hand on your thigh and the other by your side, he begins thrusting faster, quicker, harder, leading you to let out some of the most heavenly, uninhibited moans he’d ever heard come out of your mouth. 

“feel good?” he asks, mid-thrust, sweat forming across his dewy chest. 

“mhm,” you sigh, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. “like you said, baby.”

“yeah, like i said,” he smiles. “fuck.”

his thrusts grow erratic, and fuck, you feel yourself growing closer, too, clenching more and more around him as if you were trying to keep him there, too. 

“m’ coming, hyuck,” you moan out, and he nods simply, grabbing both your thighs and wrapping your legs ‘round his waist. he leans down, placing both hands down on either side of your head, pressing soft kisses to your face. 

“you gonna cum?” he asks, and you nod, whining. “go on and touch yourself.”

listening intently, you bring your hand up to wet it with your tongue. donghyuck shakes his head, using his own hand to direct your fingers into his mouth. 

he sucks on them for a few seconds, letting his tongue dance between your digits, hearing you moan and whine before pulling them away. he still thrusts, shockingly keeping pace.

“now go,” he instructs. who are you to disagree?

you run your slick fingers down to your core, rubbing circles into your clit, and donghyuck moans out your name. 

skin sticks to skin, and the two of you release sounds of pleasure practically in time.

you cum first, your body tensing and arching as you moan and whine a string of expletives along with his name. 

he thrusts faster, harder, no longer worrying about your release. he watches you, all fucked out under him, drool passing the corner of your lips, hair mussed up, body dewy from sweat, and he comes with a deep moan. 

the two of you stay like that, for a moment, letting the feeling of pleasure wash over the both of you. the high is coming down. you feel a little less floaty, and the sticky sensation that runs down your legs when he pulls out is a little more bothersome than it would have been half an hour ago. 

donghyuck leaves the room momentarily, slipping his sweatpants back on to grab some things to clean you up. he walks back in to see you staring dreamily at the ceiling, twiddling with your hair. he laughs softly. 

“how do you feel, baby?” he asks, propping you onto his lap. 

he looks down at you, and you up at him, red eyes and all. “good.” you respond.

“really good?”

“really good. can we do that again?”

he laughs. “again? yeah, i mean, i’m free tomorrow—“

“no, i mean, like, now.”

donghyuck looks at you incredulously. “see, now i don’t know. is this for the ridiculously good sex? or is it for my weed?”

exaggerating, you purse your lips in thought, humming. “the weed. definitely. the sex comes second.”

You walk through the door after the long day of work, you sigh loudly as you set yourself down on the couch. You don't see your boyfriend anywhere in the living room so you decide to make your way up to the room. As your steps get closer to the door, you hear low whimpers and whines, which sounded way too familiar for you, coming from your shared room. Your hands do not hesitate in holding on to the door knob and twisting it.

The door opens to reveal a very sweaty San, his figure half-naked and only in grey sweats rutting against a pillow… your pillow certainly. His crotch rubs against the soft material, desperate and in need of a relief as his hips move faster. His whines fill the room and his hands desperately clutch onto the pillow, his lips letting out low 'Mommy' and little 'please's. You could feel yourself getting wet at the sight, your hands grip onto the door knob tighter. Your eyes moved down to his ass, which looked so plump in those sweats, the need to put your hands on them, grip and spank them made you feel breathless.

You walk into the room slowly as you try not to make any noise, you slowly close the door from behind before approaching the whimpering boy. Your hands slowly yet caressingly move to his thin waist, damn did he have such a slutty waist. Your hand grips harder onto his waist but the whining boy is still too high on pleasure to notice your presence. «"Mommy, I miss you so bad I've started to feel your hands on me, s-so h-hard, w-wanna cum so bad."» San whines loudly, his voice sounding hooded as his hips continue to thrust over the pillow.

You finally decide to take the matters into your own hands as you place your hands on his hips to stop them from moving, «"Shh, Mommy's here baby boy, wasn't such a pleasant surprise to see you having fun without me though."» His pants are loud, and his eyes look back to find your cold but soft features looking down at him. «"I-I'm sorry M-Mommy, was horny and wanted to cum.."» He pouts looking down, trying hard to make you forget about giving him a punishment for disobeying.

«"Did you cum?"» You ask firmly, making his head snap back at you, «"W-What?"» He asks nervously, looking at you with confused eyes. «"Did you cum?"» San decides to just shake his head at your question, not quite trusting his vocal chords into not making him whiney. «"Well you certainly aren't getting away with the consequences, but why don't you put on a show for me slut? Maybe I'll think about it."» You say as you sit back and lean against the beadboard leaving a dumbfounded San on his knees in the middle of the bed.

«"What? Get started with it, don't make me repeat my words."» He is instantly snapped out of his thoughts and he scrambles to get his legs around the pillow again. But this time tho, his hands move down to slip into his sweats only to stop mid-way at your words. «"Ah Ah baby boy, you don't get to touch what's yours. I want to see you grind on that pillow and cum only by that."» You command as a smirk makes its way onto your lips.

San whimpers at the thought, and his hips automatically move against the pillow, his bulge rutting against it. His little moans escape him and he grips onto it desperately, having been edged from his orgasm before, it's no wonder his cock twitches in his pants. You smirk at his state when you notice little tears in the corner of his eyes, his breaths are intense as he gasps for air. «"M-Mommy- f-feels- s-so g-good, w-want you to touch me p-please"» Your eyes watch his movements intently, you could feel yourself getting wetter from the show he was putting on for you.

«"Not yet baby boy, mommy is not quite satisfied with whatever you're doing."» Your words make his whines get louder as his hips rut against the pillow faster, desperate to get a release. His cock twitches from the pleasure, and before he knows it, ropes of cum is shot into his boxers while his hips slow down due to the intense reach.

He whimpers loudly when he is pushed on to the bed out of nowhere, and you mount onto his thighs. Your hands caress his bulged biceps, and you trace your fingers down to his chest. Your eyes look at his, before trailing down to his red plumpy lips. You aren't able to control yourself as you let your own lips smash against his. San's little moans in between the kisses, and loud kissing noises resonate against the walls. Your hands trails down to his waist, caressing it with oh so much intensity while your lips trails down to his neck. Your tongue darts down to lick his soft spot before your teeth bite over it harshly.

«"Moan for me, beg me for pleasure, little boy."» You whisper into his ear as your hands continue to caress his waist slowly, he lets out a long cry while mumbling «"Mommy, w-want y-ou to use me, p-please, w-want your p-pussy, m-mommy"» Your lips curl up in a smirk against the soft skin if his neck, and your hand raises up to his nipples to give them a harsh pinch. «"Such a good boy for me"» You say as he whines loudly, «"want mommy to make you cum don't you?"» You ask him in a teasing tone before slipping your hands down to his shorts.

He nods, burying his face into the crook of your neck, «"p-please m-mommy"» His pleas are muffled but desperate enough to make you wrap your fingers around his long cock. «"So fucking hard for me already, want to cum so badly don't you?"» Your thumb drapes over the tips of his cock, caressing him, «"y-yes mommy, please, j-just w-want to c-cum p-please"» «"Say no more, my little slut."» You say before letting your fingers move back and forth around his hard cock, which instantly twitches at the sudden pleasure. «"F-Fuck m-mommy, 'm sensitive"» You smirk at his words before increasing your pace around his length intentionally, making him moan loudly. His vocal chords contract as he moans loudly into your neck while your hands jerk him off.

«"M-mommy- g-gonna c-cum, s-soon"» Just as those words escape his mouth, your fingers move down to flick at his balls making him flinch and ropes of cum to shoot down his pants. He is quivering in his place and his thighs shake intensely as adorable mewls fall off his mouth. You pull him into your lap by gripping his waist, and in a few seconds, your hands rip away his boxers, stripping him naked. «"I hope you're not too sensitive babyboy, mommy needs to have her turn."»